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taegularities · 9 months

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colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the cornea.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my cornea's been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough.

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don’t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your corneas in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription.

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep.

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.”

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But.

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room.

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Will fight me in a restaurant. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive.

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything?

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts fic #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook

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darklordofthesimp · 1 year

Text

Anything V (König x Reader)

The 5th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Like the characters?

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: Ya’ll are in for a treat with this series. I just figured out the plot like 10 minutes ago hahaha

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

You glared at the woman before you, fury simmering beneath your skin. You felt like you were on fire, you felt like you could commit heinous crimes- you knew that you could kill them.

“I understand that you may feel like this isn’t needed,” the stupid fuck soothed. “But therapy is a proven solution. I can help get you back up and running.”

Therapy.

Your fingers dug into the armrests.

“They told me this was training.” You were chewing on the words, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Deep down you’d known that this was coming, you’d declined ‘help’ after the initial incident but now there was no hiding the darkness that plagued your mind. Everyone had seen it.

Everyone.

“This is training,” the doctor smiled. “Training of the mind.”

You visibly cringed. They’d made sure to give you the most disarming person they could find. Kind eyes, an easy smile and a relaxed posture. They looked vulnerable. If the doctor was the most fragile in the room, then it would encourage you to step out and spill your trauma with tears and snot bubbles. Not you.

You sneered, leaning forward to rest your arms on your knees. “Being chosen to be my therapist is a shit go, Doc.”

“Actually,” the corner of their lips curled upward. “This’ll piss you off more but I’m doing a friend a favour.”

You blinked, surprise snatching the next crude words from your tongue. The doctor leaned back into their chair, clicking the pen a couple of times as if emphasising a point. As you stared at them, they stared back, and you suddenly realised that maybe they weren’t as vulnerable as they seemed.

“Laswell?” You queried.

The therapist snorted softly. “Price.”

Your spine straightened, a deep sense of anger twisting violently within your chest.

Price.

“Ooh,” the doctor tutted softly, leaning forward in their seat. “Didn’t like that one, did you?”

You sneered at them, your eyes narrowed and your walls higher than ever. What did they know about what you liked and disliked? What did they know of your relationship with Price?

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you had it your way, you wouldn’t talk at all,” the doctor frowned.

“Then take the fucking hint.”

Their gaze trailed over your body, taking in the way you leaned away from the conversation. You were an open book and no matter how aggressive the mask you wore was- you were readable. With a huff, the therapist tossed their notebook over their shoulder lazily. It clattered onto the bench behind them, scattering the miscellaneous items in its path.

“Alright, Birdy. Let’s go off the record then,” they gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “You’re shitty with Price.”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about him-”

“You feel like he’s betrayed you.”

You blinked, fingers trembling even though they were curled into fists. The overarching thought that had been plaguing you for weeks was picked apart by some random fucking doctor. The words were out, you weren’t the one that had said them but they were in the air anyway. It felt good to hear them aloud rather than the screaming thought over and over in the recesses of your mind.

“Yes.” The confirmation was bitter on your tongue. You waited for the doctor to shut you down, you waited for them to monologue about how your feelings were childish and unprofessional. They were providing you this service as a favour to the Captain, you could only assume that they were friends.

Instead, the therapist simply nodded. “I would too, Birdy.”

You loosed a breath that you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“What was your name again, Doc?” You rasped, eyes narrowing. They shifted in their seat, taken off guard by the sudden change in subject but willing to share nonetheless.

The doctor shot you a smile- genuine this time.

“They call me Saint.”

____

While you didn’t appreciate being ambushed with it, therapy hadn’t been as bad as you’d imagined. Your fingers clenched and unclenched in an attempt to release some tension as you walked.

Every day, you were required to present to the doctors office for a psych appointment.

Every day, Saint had picked your thoughts apart bit by bit.

Although you hadn’t intended to talk, you realized quickly that Saint didn’t just look disarming- they were disarming. There was no judgement as you spoke, not when you told them about your murderous nightmares and not when you told them that you’d wanted to beat down the new sniper.

They only nodded, explaining that it- surprisingly- was natural to feel like that after what you’d experienced.

You felt validated.

Less like a liability and more like a recovering victim.

Your thoughts stuttered to a halt as you laid eyes on the kitchen, the light spilling from the open doorway and out into the hall. You raised a brow at the sight, knowing that only one person would really be awake at this time of night.

Ghost.

The flutter in your chest caught you off guard, the thought of seeing Simon had you excited. It’d been a while since you’d both last spoken, a hand on the shoulder as he muttered a “see you soon,” and a “be safe.” All that, right before he boarded a plane with Sunshine in tow.

“Yeah,” the newest sniper had winked at you with a curved smile. “See you real soon, gorgeous.”

You hated them, you were sure of it. They were nauseatingly glib, each word rolling off their silver tongue with all the ease but no truth. You couldn’t believe anything they said, you’d be stupid if you did.

As you approached the kitchen slowly, you heard hushed voices. They were arguing- aggressive and quickly spoken.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Sunshine snapped, their words breathless. “For the rest of our time here, this is how you want it to be?”

From what you’d seen, the new sniper had a reputation for being self-posessed and controlled. They wanted to watch you unravel beneath their sentences, but in order for them to do that they’d have to be unphased by whatever’s thrown at them.

Right now, there was no sign of that person.

“What “I want it to be” is you doing your fucking job and me doing mine." The hostility in Simon's tone had you taken aback. You’d never heard him so aggressive towards a teammate and for a split moment, you felt bad for Sunshine.

“It was!” The sniper shouted, their exhaustion and frustration painstakingly clear.

“You were reckless.”

“I was saving you!”

“I don’t need you to save me!” Ghost finally snapped. The sound of something clattering followed by Sunshine’s sharp breath had you tense. “I don’t need anything from you.”

There was a soft touch against your shoulder and your heart stuttered in your chest. Fear electrified your body as you spun around. A hand pressed down firmly against your lips, suffocating the scream rising from your throat.

König’s eyes were narrowed, his head ducked so that he could meet your gaze head on. The look he gave you was accusatory and shame quickly flooded your cheeks. Your fingers came to rest shakily against his wrist, pushing weakly against his hold.

His brows pulled into a frown.

“Are you asking me to just let you fucking die?” Sunshine rasped, their seething voice reminding you of where you were. König’s eyes drifted from yours to over your shoulder aimlessly as he listened to their conversation.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ghost drawled. You could hear him struggling for control, the way he drew each breath like it was painful.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” The sniper exclaimed. “If it was Birdy instead of me today you wouldn’t have an issue with it-”

“But you’re not Birdy,” Ghost snapped, “are you?”

Silence flooded the space between you all.

You felt ashamed of yourself. You were somewhere you shouldn’t have been, you were listening to a conversation that you were never intended to hear. This was something personal, the hatred and electricity between Sunshine and Ghost forbidden for your understanding.

König must have come to the same conclusion. The man shot you a hard stare, his hands falling from your lips to grip your shoulders. He guided you backward quietly, trying to provide an escape that wouldn’t alert them to your presence.

“No, Sir,” Sunshine’s voice was faint now as you pulled away from the two. “I’m not Birdy.”

You knew then that something had changed. It was in their voice, it was in the air, it was in the venom of their words- it was a suffocating emotion that you knew too well.

They were hurt.

But, hurt breeds bitterness and there was nothing but hatred in Sunshine’s final words.

I’m not Birdy.

König sucked in a breath and you knew that he’d heard it as well. When he finally managed to pull you both through the doors of your dormitory unscathed, he let you go. There was no gentleness in his expression this time when he appraised you.

“What were you thinking?” He growled, running rough fingers through his hair. “That was wrong.”

“I know,” you whispered, shaken.

“You shouldn’t have been there,” König continued with a large step away from your quivering body. He was riled up and his anger stimulated your own. Who was he to lecture you?

“You shouldn’t have been there either,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

König shot you a stern look. “I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t find you eavesdropping, naseweis.”

You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. While you weren’t falling apart at the sight of him anymore, it didn’t mean that you wanted to be around him. You still wanted nothing to do with König, no interaction, no contact- nothing.

“I don’t need you, of all people, lecturing me on being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” you threw over your shoulder as you walked. There was a huff from the man behind you, then the fall of his footsteps following in suit.

“Doesn’t the incident make me an expert on that?” König questioned from beside you, keeping pace as though it were a leisurely stroll. You glared up at him, forcing the growing rage clawing at your chest to stay caged.

“You think it’s funny?” You hissed. “Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not!” König’s voice hardened. You both rounded the corner towards your room, it felt like the quicker you moved the easier it was for him to keep up. Another infuriating feature that the Austrian possessed, you’d add it to the already mile-long list.

“Then why can’t you just leave me alone?” You spun on your heel, facing the beast head on. “It’s like you’re everywhere, König. I can’t escape you, I enter a room and you’re there. I turn a corner, you’re there. I go to sleep and there you fucking are.”

König raised a brow, leaning his shoulder against the frame beside him. “I’m not stalking you, Birdy. If that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

“Is that why you’re standing in my bedroom doorway?”

The man’s spine straightened as he took up his own weight, emerald gaze pinning you to your place. It was as though he were surprised, as though he was just now realising that he had been following you. Your chest was heaving as you glared up at him. You wanted him to deny it, to tell you that you were imagining it all- you wanted to be angry.

“You’re a worrying person,” König finally said. The words almost sounded like an admission, although of what you were unsure. You jaw tightened as you retreated another step back into the safety of your room.

“No,” you corrected, “you’re a worrying person.”

König sighed, letting the silence fall in between you for a beat. There was conflict across his expression before finally his eyes narrowed. He stepped into the room.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Do you think I want to hurt you?”

There it was.

It was the question that plagued you as you lay in bed every night, staring at your bedroom door. Or lack thereof, you should say. There was nothing on the hinges, not since König had kicked it down.

He’d thought you were in danger. You lay before him, unconscious and dreaming. He could have done anything, he could have finished the job.

But he didn’t.

König’s head tilted as he observed you, watching you struggle for an answer. His fingers lightly brushed against your forearm and you froze, eyes wide as you stared up at him. He was so tall, dominating every space he entered. He was a giant amongst men, a god.

“Do you think I want to hurt you, Birdy?” König said again. He didn’t lean down, didn’t drop down to your height this time. He wanted your answer, he wanted you to look at him and take him as he was- he wanted the truth.

“No,” you whispered.

The truth.

Your body trembled as though the room had dropped to subzero temperatures but your skin was on fire. Heat bloomed across your chest, racing the length of your spine, neck and cheeks.

König’s eyes softened and he swayed backward lazily, as though he were drunk fighting for his balance. Neither of you said anything for a long moment. He didn’t ask why you were still afraid, he knew that was an unfair question. He never expected you to be comfortable with his presence.

But the shift between you both was tangible.

“Am I right?” The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, desperate and vulnerable. An offering, an olive branch an extension of trust.

Something washed over the man before you, something you’d never seen before. His gaze was ferocious, jade fire burning beneath those lashes as it scorched your skin. Determination tightened his jaw and his thumb brushed across the skin of your arm like a promise.

An unspoken response.

Yes.

Your breath left your chest as you took another step away, suffocating in his presence. König inhaled heavily, his hands falling back to rest at his sides.

“I still-” You began, twisting your fingers anxiously.

“I know.”

You still hadn’t forgiven him.

There was a long way to go, but now the path had changed. Rather than there being a straight road, shrouded in hatred, there was a fork. A split in the path that required a decision, one that you weren’t quite ready to make yet.

König cleared his throat, softening his stance with conscious effort. It was as if he remembered that he was meant to be disarming. Watching the huge man try to shrink himself for your comfort was surreal, nothing like what you’d imagined when you’d first laid eyes on him after your recovery.

Ghost had never made himself smaller for you when you came out of hospital. He was slower, gentler, as though dealing with a frightened animal- but he never pretended to be something that he was not.

“Do you think they heard us?” You changed the topic as your mind fell back to Ghost and Sunshine. “How would we explain that?”

König blinked, clearly glad for the break in intensity. He shifted backward, moving to make his escape as your interaction came to a close. For once, he was the one running from you.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” he muttered, an ironic smile playing at his lips. “They won’t have a hard time believing that given our history.”

The man offered you a nod, fingers tapping against the door with finality- his own farewell. You were glad that he hadn’t said ‘goodnight’, that he hadn’t bothered with niceties. You were not friends. Not allies.

You weren’t sure what you were.

When he disappeared around the door, his footsteps retreating down the hall, you finally let yourself relax. Jitters skittered across your body, the remnants of electricity from your confrontation buzzing beneath your skin.

Wrong place, wrong time.

The words struck a chord of discomfort within you.

They followed you through your night routine, plaguing you in the shower, lingering as you made a cup of tea, whispering sickness as you laid in bed. They made you nauseous, they made you dizzy, they were disconcerting.

Wrong place, wrong time.

The whole accident had been such a tragic coincidence, a monumental mistake. Almost impossible in an environment where communication is key, everything working in perfect tandem to ensure your demise.

Throughout the length of your military career, you’d always been taught to never take anything as chance. If a bush rustled beside you, there was a possibility that it was an animal- but also that it could be an enemy. If there was a light beneath a door, it could have been left on or there was someone waiting for you on the other side. You were taught not to trust coincidence.

The failure of comms, the false intel of a sniper on a roof, the unexpected of KorTac, the largest soldier of their team being sent to find you- all of it was a perfectly timed but tragic coincidence.

You tossed in your bed, trying to drown the thoughts from your crumbling mind. It seems you didn’t need a nightmare tonight to bring on terror. Your resolve began to slip, the sudden sense of dread gripping you by the throat.

Wrong place, wrong time.

You wanted to rake the thoughts from your brain with your bare fingers. You wanted to rip out the connection you’d made and go to sleep in bliss ignorance.

Wrong place, wrong time.

The way König had brought it up, the way he’d said it, maybe he was feeling it too. Maybe you weren’t as insane as you felt. Maybe your thoughts weren’t as unreliable as they seemed. You clenched your jaw, nails digging into the skin of your palm hoping that the pain would pull you back from the edge you teetered on.

Wrong place, wrong time.

Wrong for both you and König … but, as you lay staring at your missing door, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe it was all just right for somebody else.

#könig cod #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig #könig mw2 #könig modern warfare #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader

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martiansodas-blog · 1 year

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Talk me through it

• Joel Miller x reader

• Summary: Your sexual experiences were never a priority for your partners. They never even cared for you when it was over. When your friend Joel finds out, he wants to be the one to change that.

• Contents: Smut, age gap, friends to lovers, huge praise kink, aftercare, fluff.

• Authors note: My first fic in a few years… would love your feedback! ☺️ I take requests babies.

Your body in Jackson but your mind a million miles away, you were daydreaming about a man two decades your senior.

What did his hands feel like after a hard day of work? Coarse and dry most likely.

But we’re they gentle when they came in contact with someone else? When they were taking off someone’s clothes…

Snap out of it

He’s simply a regular at the bar. An acquaintance. And even that was pushing it. The only people he truly softened for was Ellie and Tommy.

You gaze at the clock : one hour left. The last hour is always the longest. Most customers had filtered out and you were cleaning with your coworker Amanda.

“How did your date go?” You asked

“Didn’t know if he was my type at first, but after he ate me out I decided he was.”

You tried to chuckle with her but your body cringed.

“You enjoy that?” You asked embarrassed.

It seemed like everyone liked it but you. Was there something wrong with you? Dumbfounded Amanda looked back at you.

“You don’t?”

“I don’t know, receiving head is just…boring. It’s not painful, it’s not exciting, it’s just meh. I’d rather move on to the main event, ya know?”

Her expression didn’t change.

“What are you talking about!? Receiving is practically the only thing that makes being born female worth it.” You both laughed as you stood on your tip toes to put a glass away.

Your words made Joel’s whole body stiff.

One night with me. One night with me and I’ll give you the head you deserve. Stupid boys your age don’t know how to pleasure a woman.

He couldn’t say that tho, especially not in public. Hell go for something calmer.

“Maybe you just haven’t been with an experienced enough person.”

You jolt around in shock. You had no idea until now he was in the bar, let alone listening to your conversation.

“Um, yeah, maybe. It’s not a big deal for me.”

You shrugged the topic off and quickly turned around making yourself busy. You went beat red knowing the most attractive man in town heard about your sex life, or lack thereof.

It’s a big deal for me, you’re torturing me here.

Joel decided he shouldn’t say anything else and risk making you uncomfortable, it wasn’t his intention. Without saying another word he headed home.

“Maybe he’s right, maybe you should have a night with someone older.” Amanda said in a suggestive voice. When you laughed this time it was out of awkwardness.

“Good one, I don’t think so. Im not one for one night stands. Plus, in a commune this size, Ive had a good look around and haven’t been attracted to any guys.”

Lie.

You and Joel were on good terms. You don’t use the word ‘friends’ because Joel isn’t really friends with anyone. At least he wouldn’t say that. He doesn’t let his walls go down enough for that. But he does care about his inner circle and that’s obvious.

You could tell you were one of the people he softened for. Mainly it was Tommy and Ellie, but somehow you always managed sneak your way in there. Most of the reason being you were giving him drinks.

Your affection for him was one sided, but it didn’t matter. He was never going to find out. Your crush just gave you something to look forward to during work.

• • •

It’s an hour before closing and Joel had yet to come in. Odd. Maybe he was under the weather today.

Pulling you from your thoughts was the bell of the door opening.

Speak of the devil

“Hey! Was wondering when you’d show up.”

He smiled at you. Thats rare. He liked a little too much that you wanted to see him. He wanted to see you too, he just still not good at expressing his emotions and letting people in.

“Whiskey?” You assumed.

“Actually, I was thinking of not drinking here tonight.”

The smirk on his face showed that he had a plan but you couldn’t figure out what in the world it was.

Why would he come to a bar if he wasn’t going to drink?

“How about I be the bartender for once. I hope that’s not forward of me to ask, but would you like to come by my place after your shift? If you’re too tired I understand-“

“Yes that sounds great, yes.” You could hear your smile in your voice.

“Alright then, peach. You know which house is mine. See ya then.” He got up and walked away.

Peach. He’d never called you that before.

Yes, you did know which house Joel lived in, but you’ve never been in it. You wondered what kind of decorations he hung up. Did it smell like him? You could barely stand still the remainder of your shift.

You have to put away your school girl crush.

• • •

As soon as it hit the hour you threw off your apron and went into the bathroom to freshen up.

You wished makeup survived the apocalypse, just a little to make your eyes pop.

What are you doing? He’s not your boyfriend.

You really must stop letting your mind wander. You ran your fingers through your hair and tried to get the smell of spilt beer off you. You don’t know what to expect. You’ve never hung out with Joel like this.

A few minutes later you’re knocking on his door. Nearly vibrating with nerves.

He opens it and

God

There’s that enchanting smile again.

It’s contagious. For a few seconds you two just gaze at each other with grins.

“Hey” you said shyly

“Glad you came, come on in.”

He opened the door as far as it went and you stepped in.

Definitely Joel Millers place.

Not much decorations, but his presence is here. Things Ellie has made for him hung around the living room. Things that survived of his from before the apocalypse. It felt homey. It felt safe.

He led the two of you into the living room. When your legs hit the couch you let out a sigh.

There were already two cold beers and glasses of water on the coffee table in front of you. Normally you don’t like to drink because you’re around it almost everyday and the smell gets annoying. But with Joel it seemed fun.

You both picked up your bottles and instead of making small talk or clinking the drinks together, you just nodded at each other and sipped.

Oh wow, this was actually kind of good. Where did he get this from? You groaned as it warmed your body.

“Haven’t been able to rest that much today. Work was busy. This is nice, Miller.”

He shifted closer to you. Closer than a acquaintance would normally sit. Not that you’re offended, you almost feel flattered. Joel speaks in actions.

“As long as you don’t go tellin people I’m nice.” He joked

“I like nice Joel.” Your voice wasn’t light anymore. “I hope I get to see more of him.”

You knew once those words came out of your mouth that they pushed a boundary. It’s a miracle anyone in this type of world is nice. It’s not an expectation you have anymore.

Your sentence didn’t seem to bother him, though. He stared at you for a few beats. He scooted once again until your knees touched. You’d never been this close to him, it was making your face get hot.

You both seem to have fallen into a comfortable silence, studying each other. There are details on his face you’ve never seen before. He pulled off facial hair like no other. His beard a mix of white, gray and brown.

You don’t know how long it stayed like this, but when you looked up at him to feel out the situation, he wasn’t looking back at you.

He was looking at your lips. You assumed they were dry or you had something on them. Instinctively you licked them.

“Don’t do that to me.” He whispered.

Your heart stopped.

“What?”

Instead of answering he put his hands on each side of your face. You made eye contact and thought you must be dreaming.

I’ve had dreams of him before, this must be another one.

But no. You can smell the drink he had and feel his big hands.

“Do you trust me?” He asked. You didn’t need time to think.

“Yes.”

In milliseconds your lips touched.

If this is a dream I never want to wake up.

The kiss starts gentle. Feather light. Sweet. Your noses bumping into each other. Not at all what you expected from Joel Miller.

You press your face into his to make the kiss more intense, but he puts his hands on your shoulders to keep you where he can be tender.

You pull away. Both taking a moment to process.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks.

You can’t help but laugh because who wouldn’t want him. Especially after that kiss.

“I’ve been wanting you for so long.”

He breaks out into the biggest smile you’ve seen. Any nerves or unfamiliarity between you two is gone.

“Com’ere”

Now you’re both giggling and hugging. So happy that feelings have been confessed.

Your head nuzzled into his neck gave the perfect opportunity to whisper in his ear.

“You’re not going to break me. I want you to kiss me like I’m not delicate.”

Something snapped in him.

Maybe it was your warm breath on his ear, maybe it was that you were close enough to straddling him but not there yet. Maybe it’s because he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in town, no, on earth.

He grabs your face with more force this time. Kissing you aggressively. You enjoyed how his fingers dug into your jaw. You gasped and he took the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours.

He grabbed your legs and settled you over him. It was obvious he was strong but goddamn. He lifted a fully grown woman like it was nothing. It made a fire start in your lower belly.

“I need you. I need you right here on this couch.”

You didn’t respond. Too drunk on him already. You knew once his cock touched you there’d be no thoughts left in your brain.

He chuckled at your state, snapping his fingers to get your attention.

“Sweetheart are you with me?”

“Yeah sorry, I just can’t believe I’m doing this with you. You’ve already made me feel better than any guys I’ve been on dates with and-” your words got muffled by you taking off your shirt. You went braless today.

Now Joel was the speechless one. Staring at your chest. Running his hands up and down your sides.

She isn’t real. She can’t be.

“You’re so … beautiful. Now I really can’t wait, darlin.”

With the same urgency as before he picks you up and laid you out on the couch. Kissing your stomach, not giving you time to process.

He continues kissing down your body while unbuttoning your jeans. He rips them off along with your underwear in one motion.

Jesus, fuck.

“You’re already dripping for me, aren’t you babe?”

“Yes, it’s all for you.”

He lets out a noise that can best be described as feral.

“But, um, you don’t have to do that. It’s not a big deal to me.”

The man looked up at your from between your thighs.

“Will you let me have a taste? If you say stop, I’ll stop.”

“…Okay.”

“Mmm, let me show you how a real man makes you feel.”

All apprehension and doubts you had floated away. Joel licked up both sides of your folds slowly, and you swore you could cum right then.

Your core fluttered around nothing. You needed it again and again and again. He was taking his time with you. Mapping your body out. His tongue making sure to know every inch of you.

The deeper his tongue went, the more your body relaxed. You don’t think it has ever relaxed this much.

The house filled with sinful noises. Your moans, him lapping against you, the couch cousins being gripped.

When he groaned it sent vibrations through your whole body, pushing you closer to the edge.

He went back to licking you from bottom to top. Flattening his tongue as much as possible. Leaving a kiss on your clit before going to the other side.

I love it when he does that. God.

He started to pick up his pace. Inserting his tongue as deep as it goes. Eating you out like a starved man. And he was. You were his new favorite meal. He’s perfectly fine with not getting laid tonight and doing this instead.

“Fuck please- ohh-”

He loves that he can make you sound like that. It makes his cock beg to get out of his pants.

“Joel,” you whimpered out, grabbing his hair.

“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me. You’re the sweetest fuckin thing.”

His words were sweet but his tone was filthy. It made your back arch. He knew you were close. He kicked it up a notch and inserted a finger in you.

You gasped at the size and feel. You could finally clench around something and your body was so happy.

“Fuck it feels so good! I’m close.”

I know you are

“You’re doing so good.”

He added a finger and moved them in a come hither motion.

You were done for. His calloused hands bringing you to release. He kept pumping in and out of you, getting all he could of your liquid. When he saw you regaining your breathing he removed his hand.

Laying there for a few minutes with half lidded eyes, you felt like you were on drugs. You were trying to find your composure but your body wouldn’t stop tingling.

The man who just gave you your best orgasm crawls up and appears in your view.

“Hey there sweetheart.”

He has the biggest smirk on his face, arms on either side of you. You don’t care. You’d give everything up if it meant you’d get more of his talent in your future.

“That was incredible.” You exhale

“For me, too.”

In what was becoming classic Joel Miller fashion, he presses the gentlest of kisses to your lips, then rests his forehead against yours.

“Did I wear you out?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. I have a lot planned.”

You bite your lip in anticipation.

“Oh yeah, cowboy?”

He liked the nickname.

“Yeah, but I prefer to fuck my pretty lady on my bed.”

With that he stood up and carried you bridal style to his room. It was darker in there with one orange lamp on which made the mood even more sensual. He placed you on his bed and resumed the position he was in before.

“I’m gonna make sure you feel me tomorrow, sweetheart.”

You let out a whimper. Crashing into another kiss.

It was his turn to take off clothes.

You hastily unbuttoned his flannel and threw it across the room. He would laugh at your urgency if he wasn’t just as bad.

You smooth your hand over his new bare skin. Soft with scars. You reached his belt and he pushed your hands away to do it himself. Taking the belt then his jeans off much faster than you could’ve.

You stared at his outline, unable to mask your expression. You can tell he’s big without even seeing it yet. By the smirk on his face, he knows it too. You were really boosting his ego tonight.

“You gonna gawk all night or should I take it out?”

Fuchsia creeping onto your cheeks.

“I don’t think I’ve been with anyone your caliber before.” You say meekly, still looking at his clothed cock.

He bring his face right above yours and tilts your chin so your eyes meet.

“Sweet girl, I’ll be gentle. I’ll start slow for you.”

You’re reassured. You feel safe with him.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

He brings his lips to meet yours once more. Not breaking it while he tugs off his boxers.

Your breath quickens as you get nervous again. He immediately takes notice and strokes your cheek. Caring about you in every touch.

You feel the head of his cock meet your entrance. Your head falls back against the pillows. He takes this as a sign to push in a few inches deeper.

“That’s my girl.”

Your gasps like angels singing. Your legs squeezing around me because you need more.

Joel goes like this for several minutes. Pushing in, letting you adjust, making sure he doesn’t immediately cum, then pushing again.

You needed movement. Unable to control the pleas that left your mouth.

“Joel, fuck me. I can take it. Stretch me out.”

He can’t say no to you. Especially when you’re like this.

He pulls almost completely out of you then slams back in. Going from 0 to 100. His tip touching your cervix.

He was reaching depths of you no man ever had before. You couldn’t help but be loud.

“I know baby, I know. Let it all out.”

His words made you moan even more. You’re so turned on it got caught in your throat. No one had ever talked you through it before. No one had said such dirty things to you while making you feel this good. No one has made you feel as good as you deserved.

“So good. So good for me.”

You were so wet it was seeping out of you and onto the sheets. You’ve had the briefest feel of him and are already addicted. You rolled your hips into him and hooked your legs around his waist. Instantly he groaned at the feeling.

“Just like that baby, there you go.” His low voice registered in your ear. You always admired the sound of his voice but you never thought it’d be praising you. It was a fucking drug.

He kissed you hard on the mouth and it made the little bit of your body you had control over go limp. He took this opportunity to take your hands and pin them together above your head. It turned you on so much, your back began to arch. Anyone within a ten mile radius would be able to hear you.

Joel had to focus to get a complete sentence out because of how tight you were clenched around him.

“You sound so good. I love hearing how I make my girl feel. You’re so spent on my cock, aren’t you?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Of course you are. Never truly been taken care of, have you?

“N-No.” you whimpered.

“Think you can take more of me, sweet thing?” He let your hands go so he could caress your cheek.

You were nervous but you nodded.

“Good girl.” He smirked at you when he said it. He loved how much power he had over you.

He grabs your legs and put them over his shoulder. With intense speed starts fucking you again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he pulled obscene noises from your mouth.

“Oh god oh god”

“That’s my girl. I love being buried in your perfect cunt.”

Your back was arching, your fists were gripping the sheets and your clit was throbbing. Your orgasm was nearing quickly.

Your moans got higher and closer together as your legs squeezed around him.

“Words baby, use your words.”

“Fuck, I’m close. Oh I’m close, oh Joel please. It feels so fucking good.”

He knew exactly what you needed. He circled your clit with his rough thumb and continued to thrust into you hard.

“Good girl, cum for me. Cum on my cock.”

“Oh god oh god-”

You came harder than you ever have before. Leaving a mess on and beneath you. Your ears have a light ringing in them and you were seeing stars. You couldn’t even register if Joel was still near you until you felt a warm washcloth bringing you back to reality.

You opened your eyes and saw him. Someone you knew now you couldn’t live without.

He delicately rubbed one of your legs with one hand and cleaned you up with the other. Making sure you wouldn’t be uncomfortable if you fell asleep right there, which after that experience, was likely.

His actions are a huge juxtaposition to his reputation. He is not stoic and harsh and self centered. He is caring and affectionate and thoughtful.

You smiled up at him while half asleep.

“Thank you.” You managed to choke out. Your voice was half gone.

“Of course, darlin. It’s only the decent thing to do.”

He tossed the cloth on the floor and placed a soft blanket under where you both came. He’d wash the sheets later.

“No guy I’ve been with has really given me aftercare before…”

For some reason saying that was more venerable than the act you just did with him. Your face feels hot.

“You deserve so much more than what’s been given to you. And I don’t just mean with sex.”

You knew if either of you said much else you’d burst into tears. You made grabby hands at him and the two of you fell into a warm cuddle, touching as much of each others skin as possible.

“Goodnight, cowboy.”

He kisses your forehead.

“Goodnight, peach.”

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal x you #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #Joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #Joel miller smut #Joel miller fluff #Joel miller friends to lovers #Joel miller praise kink #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Daughters of Poseidon Are Bad for Productivity!

content: leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader fic warning: language bc i curse like a sailor author's note: live laugh love for leo valdez fr. also this one is sooooo silly goose fr like i have no idea where this thought bubble came from but kinda grateful bc it's so fun yall.

‘daughters of poseidon are bad for productivity! (looking at you, y/n!!)’ was borderline carved into a post-it note with thick black sharpie and slapped on the bulletin board inside the hephestus cabin, leo shyly shuffling past it every day. it wasn’t his fault…entirely. well, it was largely his fault. y/n had stayed the night, having accidentally missed curfew after a nap with leo and refused to deal with bloodthirsty harpies. nyssa lent her some pajamas and everyone else in the cabin was more than happy to welcome the daughter of poseidon, who thanked them with fun games and snacks well into the night.

the next morning, y/n, still feeling like she didn’t appropriately thank her hosts, offered to clean the place up a bit. admittedly, cabin 9 wasn’t exactly known for its cleanliness. soot was basically the wallpaper, scrap metal taking up most of the cabin, and tools scattered all over the place, which were worse tripping hazards then percy’s skateboard. nyssa cringed at the thought but y/n wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.

“you really don’t have to, y/n,” leo tried, grabbing the cleaning bucket from the girl, as she was beginning to struggle with it. she popped up, flipping her hair up into a high ponytail with a wide smile.

“i know! but, i want to. cabin 3 is basically sterile and i tried to clean the athena cabin once but let’s just say they are very particular about where their things go. this is fun for me, i promise,” y/n mused, pressing her lips to leo’s. he pulled back with a shrug, leaving her to her own devices.

she stared in one of the rooms off the main part of the cabin, giving the inhabitants of the cabin space to do their own thing, which was tinker and work. leo had earplugs in, as he was grinding down a massive shield that will solace had requested for capture the flag, a plan he wasn’t willing to share with leo yet, but he told leo all of this with a scary smile. maybe an hour or so had passed before he was jolted by someone, leo turning to them with a slight frown. it was nyssa, who was glaring at the boy and speaking but leo couldn’t hear a thing she said.

“what?” he asked, loudly. and nyssa started over but leo still had his earplugs in.

“what?” he repeated, his brows furrowing as he tried to read her lips. nyssa let out a frustrated noise that even leo heard before she reached up and took one of the earplugs out.

“you’ve got to get your siren of a girlfriend out of here!” nyssa all but yelled at him, huffing as she crossed her arms. leo frowned, taken aback by her tone towards y/n, who he believed to be well liked within the cabin.

“nyssa, what are you even talking about? she’s just cleaning,” argued leo, setting will’s project down and crossing his arms. nyssa was nearly blowing steam out of her ears before jerking her head over her shoulder as a nod.

“does that look like just cleaning to you?” she questioned and leo’s eyes drifted over to where his half-siblings were trying to be subtle about lingering around the door but they were clearly distracted.

most of them looked like they were in the middle of walking and just had to stop, their heads tilted and turned towards the door to the other room. leo rolled his eyes, having a feeling he knew where this was going as he shoved his way past his distracted siblings, who didn’t even seem to mind. he looked into the room, shaking his head with a small smile. y/n truly was just cleaning…while music played from a speaker. typically, for most other demigods, that wouldn’t be a problem. but, as y/n hummed along to the songs that played, one of her least favorite traits from her father subconsciously worked its magic. being so closely related to the sirens led to magical singing that could drag even the most dedicated and hardworking hephaestus children from their projects. save for leo…kinda. he could feel the ringing in his ears, feel it starting to lure at his mind, but he could shake it off, knowing it was just y/n. it also helped that she wasn’t trying, her siren-like abilities could rival charmspeak from the aphrodite cabin if she put in even half-effort.

“y/n, honey,” leo called, softly, over the music, y/n spinning around to face him with a dopey smile and a broom in her hand. her eyes caught on his siblings, her head tilting as they all seemingly jolted out of a daze, shaking their heads and slowly moving away from the doorway with frowns and mutters. y/n’s eyes instantly darted to the radio and she paled, worry filling her.

“oh! i’m so sorry! i just…got distracted,” y/n instantly apologized, shame blazing inside her and a blush settled over her cheeks. leo laughed, easily, wrapping an arm around the girl.

“it’s okay, y/n, no harm no foul,” he mused, pressing his lips to her dusty-red cheeks. the girl still shook her head, though his comforting was starting to ebb away at her shame.

“new rule on the bulletin, valdez!” nyssa called, proudly, from the main room. leo led y/n out to the main room, now his turn to flush at the post it note slapped on the board. his siblings laughed as they saw it, shoving him and joking as they went. y/n flushed once more, bashfully laughing.

“ha, ha, very funny,” leo mocked, reaching up to tear it down but was met with shouts of resistance.

“ah, you know the rules, leo, at least a week before you can request a rule change,” nyssa mused, a shining smile on her lips.

“it’s on a post-it note! that doesn’t count!” argued leo with a huff.

“it’s on the board, it counts!” one of his other siblings called and leo shot a glare into the crowd.

“whatever! you are all just jealous that i'm dating the most beautiful sirenin all of camp!” leo called, loudly, earning groans and mutterings back in response from his siblings. leo smirked, proud of himself as he wrapped his arms around y/n, who was borderline mortified. y/n looked up at him with wide eyes and permanent frown on her lips.

“you’re an idiot, valdez,” she huffed and leo smirked.

“yeah, but i'm not the idiot who caused that,” he taunted, pointing up at the post it note. y/n growled, shoving him off her before returning to her cleaning.

“you’re insufferable!”

“and you're bad for productivity!”

"go to hades!"

"only if you come with, mi amor!"

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP! WE GET IT YOURE IN LOVE!"

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez

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lvrslvt3 · 1 year

Text

ANOTHER BLANKET | h. lewis

main masterlist | youtube masterlist

pairings : harrylewis x reader

summary : reader is being harassed by a creepy man harry is a little too late to save her. [ words ]

warnings : creepy man, verbal sexual harassment, very mild violence, alcohol use, drugs mentioned. established relationship

notes : this is my first ever fic so i’m very sorry if it’s bad and for any mistakes, if you have any suggestions or requests feel free to say.

halfway through the third day of the festival you had left most of your group to go and see another band with a few of the girls you had met — not interested in the artist the boys were obsessed with.

obviously, despite harry trusting you with his life, the boys had instructed you to meet them by a certain group of port-a-loos so they could take you back to the campsite safely, the girls you were with had kept you company until it turned quiet and they had to leave to find their own tent, meaning you were now stood alone.

your outfit was way too revealing for the current weather since you hadn’t fully realised how cold it would be until now, when all the adrenaline and excitement was rushed out of you and all you wanted was to go to sleep. you were almost leaning against the makeshift toilet as you waited.

sighing out, you glanced down at your phone but harry hadn’t sent any more texts except the last one only ten minutes ago reading ‘on my way’. crossing your arms you tried to find any body heat as you looked for your boyfriend and his group of friends.

“you cold?” the voice almost made you jump but your body had slowed down with todays activities. at first glance you could tell that the man speaking to you was on something with his fuzzy looking eyes and slurred speech. you weren’t sure what he was on but you didn’t want to be around it.

you didn’t answer his question directly, instead just shaking your head with a polite smile. “i’m fine, thanks.” you expected him to go away but instead he continued to stare you down, causing you to pull up your low waisted trousers a little more to hide yourself from the creepy man.

“just waiting on my boyfriend and his friends to come and get me…” you felt extremely uncomfortable in his presence, so you used the trick you usually did. men — especially ones that are drunk or on drugs — didn’t fully respect you until they knew you had a man.

of course he was different, a lazy smirk finding its way onto his dirty looking face. “so?” he shrugged while taking a step closer to you, now only a little bit away from where you stood backed up against the loo’s.

you glanced down at your phone and typed out a text quickly before sending it, simply saying the words ‘hurry, creepy man’ because you knew it would have harry running across the field until he found you. “are you okay?” you questioned the man in hopes he would back away.

you were trying to keep him distracted so he wouldn’t be solely focused on getting close to you. “i am now i’m with you, baby.” his bad attempt at being smooth made you physically cringe, but you stood up straight instead of showing weakness.

“my boyfriend is on his way right now, he’ll be here any second.” you stated in hopes on scaring him off. instead, he took another step until he was directly infront of you. he smelled disgusting but he didn’t seem to notice or mind.

“i don’t see any boyfriend, girl—“

he reached out his hand to touch you just as you kicked him straight in the balls as hard as you were able to. he let out an very audible grunt before falling to the ground quickly after.. “you little bitch!” he swore out before hissing in pain again.

you took a few steps away from the man on the ground, ignoring his rambles when you heard the noise of people trecking over the grass using a very fast pace. the sudden noise only installed more fear in you — right up until you realised who it was.

harry, ethan and tobi were running toward you full speed, all of them looking relieved when they saw that you were fine. “there’s my little guardian angels.” a smile graced your face at the sight of them.

harry immediately began to check you were okay before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and placing a kiss firmly on to the top of your head. “jesus christ, you scared the shit out of me.” finally, you felt safe.

“no worries, i handled him.” you referenced to the man still on the ground. “what the fuck did you do to him, y/n?” ethan chuckled slightly at the agony the man on the floor was currently experiencing.

“i only kneed him in the balls, he’s overreacting.” you brushed the creepy man off while leaning further into harry’s chest, beginning to walk away from the scene, feeling glad the boys hadn’t spoken to the drugged out man.

“you’re not going off on your own again—“ harry squeezed your shoulder to get his point across, “i’ll come wherever you want, ‘kay?” he peered down at you as you nodded with a small smile on your lips.

“where’s the rest of yous?” you questioned as all four of you joined the much smaller crowd walking towards the tents. most people had headed straight for bed while others took there time. “they copped out early.” was the answer.

“yeah, like big losers.” ethan’s own comment sent him into a fit of laughter, far too drunk to realise that no one else was joining in. tobi chuckled slightly at his friend until they finally reached there campsite. you all had paid extra for a nicer area, in which there wasn’t campfires set by drunks ready to burn down all of your belongings.

“night, tobs, thanks for making sure i was okay.” you gave the boy a half hug before glancing at ethan that was already stumbling off to go and find his own tent. “need any help with him?” you referred to the almost black out boy.

“nah, he’ll be fine.” tobi answered before following after the ginger. “come on, then.” harry wrapped his arms properly around you to lead you to your shared tent, climbing in quietly to not disturb anybody else.

“i feel dead.” you murmured with a grunt while harry zipped back up the opening. you quickly changed out of your restricting clothes into a baggy shirt and some pyjama shorts, finally able to become fully comfortable.

“we’ll don’t die until monday,” harry joked as he aswell changed into sweatpants to sleep in, “i’m not driving home with those idiots.” he referenced to your friends that were currently in there own tents.

you only chuckled before climbing into the large sleeping bag you had purchased together, a very thin mattress underneath that kept you both off of the ground by a few inches and made sleeping a lot easier for the both of you.

“hurry up.” you groaned out while harry set his clothes away, “i’m freezing.” you complained until he finally climbed into your shared sleeping bag, the goosebumps on your arms slowly fading as you snuggled into him for warmth.

“alright, babe, i already have a blanket i don’t need another.” he teased you but held you closer until you were practically draped over him. you didn’t even bother to react — too used to your boyfriends teasing comments.

instead you let the silence respond to him so you could finally close yout eyes and let exhaustion take over. thankfully, you fell asleep quickly thanks to your sore limbs and harry’s overly warm body making the sleeping bag feel like your own personal oven.

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sarahsmi13s · 3 months

Text

Duckie

Chapter 9

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x bradshaw!reader; bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x twin sister!reader

characters: y/n bradshaw, nick bradshaw, jake seresin, penny benjamin, serenity hart, denver miller

word count: ~10.7k (don't kill me i know the chapter lengths are all over the place, i'm sorry)

warnings: language, parental doubts, canon character deaths mentioned, drinking, thunderstorms, jake being an absolute sweetheart

a/n: i want to apologize that is has been 8 months since i have last updated the main story, i really didn't think it would take that long... but i just wanted to make sure i was proud of the chapter and i really do think i am proud of it. so thank you for your patience and i hope you enjoy 💜

series summary: daughter of goose and carole and twin sister to bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, y/n bradshaw also got her papers pulled when she tried to enlist in the Navy. which turned out to not be as bad as she thought.

chapter summary: a week after duckie and jake went on their "not-date" she is seriously regretting not getting jake's number before he left -- considering they haven't seen each other since. though, as fate would have it, that weekend they see each other at the beach and as duckie is walking away jake gets a push from his friends to get her number. little does he know he'll be getting much more than that from her

'duckie' universe

previous chapter || next chapter

It had been a hectic week since your ‘not date’ date with Jake and honestly… you were missing him. Nick was missing him too, hugging the cowboy manta ray every afternoon when he napped. You were really kicking yourself for not getting his number, you had no way of talking to him. And you both were busy, you with school stuff and softball practices and Jake with his Top Gun classes. So you just had to bet on the off chance of running into him again.

Late that Saturday morning, you and Nick were walking the beach, occasionally splashing in the surf. You wanted to tire him out so when Serenity came over later to babysit, he wasn’t too much trouble.

At some point when you had been distracted, Nick had run off without you noticing, most likely seeing something he liked or wanted.

When you do notice his absence, it’s because you don’t hear giggling and splashing. You look down next to you and panic shoots through you when you see that your son isn’t right at your feet.

“Nick? Nick! Nicky!”

Your chest heaved with your panicked breathing, thoughts running through your mind a mile and a half a minute as you shouted and ran across the beach like a mad woman – shouting for your son.

How could this happen? How could you not notice that your toddler wasn’t right next to you? What kind of mother gets that distracted that she doesn’t even hear her child run off? How did you not notice? Why didn’t you hear him? Why did you let something else pull your attention away that fast and for that long?

Maybe those middle aged mothers in the store were right? Maybe you were too young to be a decent mom… Maybe you shouldn’t–

“Han’man!”

The small, but excited voice shut your thoughts off in an instant, relief flooding your entire body as you ran in the direction you heard your son – nearly tripping over your own feet in the panic.

You spotted the classic beach volleyball court and saw Jake pick him up, looking equally as confused as he was happy.

“Nick where’s your-”

“Nicholas Jacob!” You called, adrenaline still pumping through your body.

Your son yelped a little and turned into Jake’s neck upon hearing you shout as the pilot cringed. The first and middle name? Never a good sign.

“Oooh, someone’s in trouble,” he mumbled, instinctively rubbing the child’s back in order to keep him calm.

The other aviators noticed this and gave Hangman a confused look. They were in the middle of a volleyball match and then boom a toddler’s running into the pilot's legs. And now he was comforting said child, not something they would expect from him usually.

Nick threw his arms around Jake’s neck, not turning to look at you as you ran over, sliding a little as the sand shifted under your heavy steps. “You can’t just run off like that! Do you know how worried I was?!”

The other pilots probably should have looked away, minded their own business. But now they were very intrigued as you came up to Jake as he held your son.

And by the time you got in arms reach you had calmed down slightly, trying to channel your mother to help you handle this situation.

“Nicky,” you coaxed, as you got closer and reached out to rub his back. He just buried his face into Jake’s shoulder, a small cry coming from his lips as he hugged the pilot tighter. He hates yelling, he doesn’t like it when people are mad at him. You played with his curls, knowing that he thought you were angry, “Baby, I’m not mad… You just worry me when you run off like that. You are too much like your Uncle.”

Nick looked at you finally, but still rested his head on Jake’s shoulder. His eyes were red and you sighed, knowing that he still thought you were mad. “I’m sorry I shouted, Nicky. Mama’s not mad at you. I promise.” He sniffled and reached out for you. You smiled softly and took him into your arms, then he promptly buried his face into your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, guys,” you apologized, looking around at all the pilots. “I don’t know how he got away from me.” Jake shook his head, waving it off with a flick of his wrist, “It’s okay. I was winnin’ anyway.” You laughed, bouncing Nick instinctively, “Alright, well, we’ll leave you to it.” You adjusted Nick on your hip, smiling at the men before walking away.

Jake watched you walk away before turning back to his classmates, clapping his hands together and ready to start the next match. But he was met with crossed arms and expecting looks. “Okay let’s – What?”

“You’re in so deep, Hangman,” Denver, also known as ‘Ransom’, said with a teasing scoff. “Have you gotten her number yet?”

The blond shook his head, “No but I figured she’d offer it when she was ready.” The other pilot rolled his eyes. “Seresin, since when have you ever waited for her to make the move?” Jake huffed, “She’s different. I don’t want to move too fast. I want her to know that I’m all in first.”

Denver crossed his arms, “Hangman, go ask her. Show her you’re all in. She won’t know if you don’t tell her. And I’m pretty sure she’s a little nervous to ask you. You know… given that she doesn’t know!”

Jake’s eyes widened in realization, making the brunette laugh as Jake jogged after you, “Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

You turned as he called out to you, Nicky looking up as well from his spot on your shoulder. Looking up at him as he slowed down to a stop in front of you, you tilted your head a little, “Yeah?”

He took a few deep breaths, talking with one hand as the other rested on his hip, “First I want to preface, it’s totally cool if you say no. But we’ve been getting to know each other, and I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You looked at Nick then back at Jake, thinking about your response carefully. “I’ll be at the bar tonight. Come by and we’ll talk about it.”

Jake nodded, and smirked, “I look forward to it.” He ruffled Nick’s hair before going back to the group.

You smiled, eyeing him as he walked away – a little more confidence in his step as he walked up to his friend.

You know you were kicking yourself before for not getting his number, but now that he’s asked you… you were hesitant, you felt like you had a lot you needed to tell him before you took this step. Sighing a little, you adjusted Nick on your hip again and made your way back to your car.

During the drive home, Nicky was quiet and played with the shells he had found on the beach.

You knew he was still upset from when you yelled, and you knew that he didn’t quite understand why you were so worried. He was only three after all, and he had so much wonder that it was a miracle he didn’t run off to squash his curiosities more often.

He did need to understand why you had shouted and why you were so worried, it was important that he knew that.

But neither of you were ready to give nor receive that conversation. You were still thrumming with that anxiety from the 90 second eternity it took to find him and he was still upset from when you yelled at him. You just needed to wait for when you got home after you both calmed down.

When you got home, you gave Nicky his bath in near silence as you made sure all the sand was gone and he was clean of salt water.

You had thought through your side of the conversation and decided on how you were going to talk to him.

After getting him bathed and getting some comfy clothes picked out, you knelt in front of him as you helped him dry off.

“Nicky? Can we talk about what happened at the beach?”

He sniffed, nodding his head under the little shark hood of his towel.

You smiled softly at him and gave a gentle squeeze to his arms. “You know Mama isn’t angry right?” “You yelled… people yell when they’re angy…” His voice was soft and timid, he was trying not to cry again.

“Oh baby…” You tilted his head up and cupped his cheek. “Sometimes people yell when they’re angry or mad. But not all the time.” Confusion flashed over his tearfilled eyes and you sighed.

You sat back on your heels, wiping his tears away with your thumb. “People can yell for a lot of different reasons, Nick. Sometimes we yell or shout because we’re excited, we’ve done that before haven’t we? Like when you saw Hangman and shouted because you were so excited to see him.”

He nodded, using the towel to wipe his other eye as you gave him an encouraging smile.

“It all comes down to how we say something, and I know that might not make sense just yet, because you’re three, but it will and we’ll talk more about it then. But I know you don’t like yelling when people sound angry or mean, it’s loud and it can be scary, right?” He nodded again, sniffling a little, “Yeah…”

You nodded, dipping your head a little to look him in the eye. “And Mama’s sorry if she sounded angry or mean, that wasn’t my intention. But you running off like that scared me, it really really scared me. I didn’t know if you were hurt or lost.”

“But I was safe with Han’man… I was okay Mama…”

“I know that now. But in the moment I was really worried about you and I didn’t know where you had run off too. That’s why I shouted.”

You rubbed his arms, making sure to hold eye contact. “You can’t just run off like that without telling me. It makes me worried for your safety.”

The dam finally broke and Nick started sobbing. “I’m sorry Mama… I-I jus’ saw Han’man an-and wa-wanted to s-say hi…”

“I know, I know baby,” you cooed, wiping his tears as they fell. “And Mama forgives you, I know you didn’t mean to. And I know there will be times where you’re really really curious and you want to explore, but you have to tell me so I, or someone else, can make sure you’re safe. And there will be times I’m gonna yell, but I still love you okay? And I will do better to control my tone in the future.”

He sniffled and hugged you tightly, his little arms wrapping around your neck in a grip that rivaled a grown man. You smiled and adjusted your legs, crossing them before wrapping him tighter in his towel and pulling him into your lap.

You sat on his floor for a while, holding him close and rocking back and forth as you pressed kisses to the side of his head.

It wasn’t too long after that conversation that Serenity was using her spare key to come in, finding you and Nick giggling in the living room as you watched Kung Fu Panda.

“Looks like I’m missing all the fun,” she laughed, sitting her backpack down on the bar.

Nick sat up, a wide smile on his face, “Ren!” She smiled and walked over, her arms out wide for a hug, “Nicky J!” He got off the couch quickly and ran to her, hugging her with a high pitched giggle.

You smiled as you stood up, “Oh I don’t know about missing the fun, just a little late to the party.”

“Well, I guess I have some fun to catch up on,” she said as she ruffled Nicky’s curls. “And Mama can relax a little bit.”

You nodded because now that she was here you could take a shower and get ready to go to the bar. You needed the moment of solitude to collect yourself after your mild panic attack on the beach. Needed to take a second alone to let the parental mask slip and just let yourself feel.

“Yes, and I will be showering and getting ready to go to the bar. You both can finish the movie and give me the rundown when I come back.”

Serenity nodded, “You got it, we’ll take notes. Won’t we buddy?” Nicky nodded, “And we can act it out for you too!” You smiled and played with his hair, “Yes you can, and I look forward to it.” Nick giggled, running back over to climb on the couch and continue watching the movie.

You looked at the college student, brows raised as you let out a breath. She arched her eyebrow inquisitively, “Mama need me time?” You nodded, rubbing your hands on your thighs. “She needs so much me time. Had a bit of a scare at the beach and I need a minute to process it, without him two feet away… God, that sounds so bad doesn’t it?”

She shook her head, grabbing your wrist gently, “Not at all. You need space to breathe, that’s why I’m here – well, and cause I love that little man over there.” You both laughed, glancing over at the couch where Nick was zeroed in on the TV.

Her grip tightened momentarily to gain your attention again. “And you’re doing great, Y/N. Don’t ever question that.”

A rush of tears filled your eyes, a weight you hadn’t realized was sitting on your chest lifting ever so slightly and allowing you to actually breathe again. Biting your lip to keep from crying in front of your son, you hugged Serenity letting out a heavy exhale that released the obsessive thoughts that rattled in your head.

“Thank you…”

Your voice was no louder than a whisper, but your gratitude was nothing short of a scream.

Serenity rubbed your back, “And I will fight anyone that says otherwise. Even you. Understand?” She pulled back only when you did as you nodded and wiped your face. “Good,” she nodded towards your bedroom with a smile. “Now go shower.”

You nodded, squeezing her shoulder in thanks before jogging towards your room.

She smiled after you before turning to your son, clapping her hands as she walked over, “Okay Nicky, let’s make sure we get all the details for Mama.”

After your much needed shower, taking the solitary moment to breathe and let more tears fall to just release the stress, you got dressed in a pair of jeans and an old band t-shirt you had held onto from when you went through your mom’s things. And you added a black jacket because it had clouded over while you were in the shower.

And of course, Nicky gave you the rundown of what you missed of Kung Fu Panda while you got ready before going back to let you finish up.

You took a deep breath as you clasped the guitar pick necklace behind your neck, letting the engraved gold rest against your sternum. Kendall had gotten it for you for graduation, having your favorite lyric of Great Balls of Fire engraved on the front – because he indeed drove you crazy and vice versa. For Christmas, Penny went and had Kendall’s initials engraved on the back, knowing that you’d be giving the necklace to Nicky once he was old enough.

Letting the breath out and calming yourself down, you stepped out of your room and slipped your jacket on as you walked to the door. “Okay, I’m heading out. It looks like it might rain, so just call me if anything happens or you need me to come home, okay?”

Serenity nodded from her spot on the couch, popping a goldfish cracker into her mouth “Got it, go have fun.”

You squatted down and Nicky ran over to give you a hug. “Bye Mama, have fun with Han’man.” You smiled and rubbed his back, “I will. Be good for Ren okay? I won’t be back until after you go to bed, so I love you baby.” You gave him kisses all over his face, “Mwah, I love you sooo much.” He giggled and kissed your temple, “I love you too Mama.”

You shared a smile and he ran back to the couch to curl up in his corner.

“Okay, you know all the numbers Ren. If I don’t answer, call Penny or the bar. Okay, I’m gonna head out now, see if I can beat the rush of pilots that are gonna get grounded soon. I love you both, bye.”

They both waved at you as you grabbed your purse and walked out the door.

About 90 minutes and one Amarello after you arrived, you watched Jake stroll into the bar, his green eyes finding you leaning on the bar immediately despite the crowd in front of him.

“Howdy,” you greeted with a smile as he walked over and leaned on the bar next to you. “Hi, Darlin’,” he replied, grinning down at you.

You glanced around, the bar wasn’t as packed as you thought it would be, but it was still full of pilots since the surprise showers grounded their classes for the rest of the day.

You looked back at Jake, remembering his question from earlier today on the beach. As you drove over and the hour and half you had to yourself at the bar, you had tried your best to prepare your speech, get everything you needed to say in order so you didn’t fuck anything up and miscommunicate your feelings.

Sighing, you closed your eyes, recalling everything you had lined up to tell him. You didn’t look in his eyes, keeping your gaze centered on his chest, knowing his green irises would wipe your memory.

“I’m gonna be honest here Jake…”

He held up his hand, gently interrupting you, “I get it, Y/N. If you still aren’t ready for a relationship, I understand. But I still want to be a friend that you can call, whether it be just to talk to me or if you need help.”

You sighed, relief filling your chest knowing that he was willing to wait, but you still wanted, no needed, to tell him how you were feeling.

You finally looked up in his eyes, swallowing the word vomit of emotions that wanted to escape, “Jake, you have done a lot these past few weeks. You’ve taken the time not only to get to know me but to get to know Nick. That means so much to me, more than you know. And I can tell that Nick already likes you, so I can’t just let you out of our life easily.”

Jake smiled, bashfully looking down at the bar as a chuckle broke through his lips, “I try my best. And I’m a little offended that you thought getting rid of me would ever be easy.”

You rolled your eyes before continuing.

“And I do like you, Jake. I like you a lot. While you are cocky as hell, you’re sweet and a gentleman. It’s just…” You rocked on your feet, thinking of everything you needed to say but couldn’t put into words – your rehearsed lines disappearing into thin air now that Jake was here. Damn those eyes.

You hung your head, trying to see if looking away from him would help re-materialize the pre-coordinated words.

But Jake ducked his head to meet your eyes, showing you he was listening and chasing away your coherent thoughts, “It’s just what, Y/N?”

You glanced at Penny, receiving a reassuring nod from her and sending a short one back. “I’m gonna step outside really quick Pen, watch my drink?” She nodded and gave you a small, encouraging smile.

“Follow me,” you patted Jake's shoulder, and slid your hand down his arm to grab his hand.

You pulled him outside to the covered deck and leaned on the railing, taking a deep breath to inhale the scent of the rain – trying to reign in your racing thoughts.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Jake’s whiskey smooth voice asked as he leaned on the railing as well, his back facing the clouds.

You cleared your throat, dropping your head to look at the damp sand as you pieced together the puzzle of emotions and words in your head.

“My dad died when I was 4… He left my mom alone to raise 2 kids that were too much like their father. I told myself that I need to stay away from service men, definitely pilots. But you, and your perfect teeth and perfect hair, those damn green eyes…”

Jake was flattered but he could feel how this was going to end. You’d build up his ego to cushion his fall when you turned him down.

“You have become an exception to my one rule.” Okay… Jake certainly wasn’t expecting that. “A rule that I gave myself on my own. I’m just scared, Jake. Nick and I have grown so… close to you and I’m afraid–”

Jake lifted your chin, cutting you off, and quietly spoke to you, noting the thin line of tears in your water line. “Hey… I understand. But I’m a damn good pilot, I ain’t goin’ down easy.” You laughed, shaking your head fondly before smiling up at him, “There’s that ego.”

He chuckled softly, his trademark half-smile flashing a canine, “What can I say? But seriously, I will do whatever it takes to get back to you both safe. If that’s what you want.”

You nodded, stepping closer, unconsciously straightening your back to be closer to him, “I want it, I do.” You bit your lip, a shuddering breath escaping your lips.

His soft gaze hardened slightly, reading your body language, but it softened again as he tilted your chin up. “Then why are you hesitating?” You shrugged, shaking your head subtly, “I don’t know.”

You knew why, deep down you knew why you were holding back. Why you wanted to spray the butterflies in your stomach with vinegar. Your brain knew why. But your heart was pounding on your ribcage, trying to get to your brain to tell you it was okay. That you could love again, and it would all be okay.

Jake leaned down, seeing the fight in your eyes. “Is this okay?” You nodded, your breath mixing with his as you looked from his eyes to his lips and back again.

There was a soft eagerness, a puppy in those green eyes waiting to run around, bouncing as he waited for his command – a command only you could give. It was familiar but completely new at the same time. But it felt safe.

Instead of giving him the words he was looking for, you rested your hand on the side of his neck and pressed your lips to his – letting your heart take the wheel.

The kiss was soft, but it didn’t change the fact that butterflies went wild in both of your stomachs. Jake couldn’t help but smile against your lips as he cupped your jaw and tasted the hint of Amaretto on them.

You pulled away, needing to get air into your lungs but Jake chased your lips, catching them in their minty trap. It was clear he came prepared for anything, not that you minded.

Your free hand fisted in his jacket, wafting his cologne into the air – an all consuming, but not overwhelming scent.

You both finally pulled away from the chaste kiss, light headed and breathless. You stayed close, your noses brushing against each other.

“What’s gonna happen when you leave?”

Jake smirked, his breath still tickling your lips as he pulled out his phone, “Well, I’m not sure, but it’d be a hell of a lot easier with your number.” You laughed and finally looked up at him, stepping back a little to take his phone, “Smooth Lieutenant. Very smooth.”

As you and Jake held eye contact a smile settled across your face before you looked down at his phone, typing in your number and sending a text to yourself.

Jake couldn’t help the blush that darked his tanned cheeks at the sparkle of your smile that not even the rain could dim.

You weren’t like anything he’s ever seen before; a strong, single mother that did everything for the sake of her child and someone that had gone through so much at such a young age.

“You’re amazing…”

Jake hadn’t realized what he said out loud until you giggled and looked down at the deck with pink tinted cheeks.

“I said that out loud, didn't I?” He laughed at the end of his question. You nodded, “You did. But I’m flattered, so thank you.”

You messed with his jacket, “And you’re good, Lieutenant. Maybe too good to be true.”

“You’re stroking my ego, Darlin’.” You giggled and gave him a quick kiss, “I better head back in.” He grabbed your waist, “Do you have to?” “Do you want to have fun or not?” He bit his lip and you patted his chest and walked in.

He watched you walk in and shook his head. Laughing to himself he adjusted his posture and went in and straight to the pool table.

You and Jake hung out at the bar for hours after that, having the time of your life.

You danced to the music that came from the jukebox, played darts and you watched him play pool. You drank and ate, Penny keeping an eye on you both because you had to drive back home to your son and Jake did not need a hangover in the morning.

But you didn’t need the drinks to have a good time. Like right now. Jake had suggested another round of darts, but this time, you added a few spins before your throw. Almost like kids getting ready to hit a pinata at a party.

Jake grinned as he spun you around a few times. “Okay, now that you’re properly dizzy, why don’t you try and get a bullseye?”

“You’re kidding me,” you giggled as you swayed a little on your feet. “I doubt I’m gonna hit the target. I can’t hit it when I’m standing straight, what makes you think I can hit it when I’m dizzy?”

He shook his head and turned you by your shoulders to square up to the board. “Who knows, maybe you’ll be better?” You snorted as you raised the dart, “I highly doubt that.” He scoffed playfully, “Just throw the dart, Y/N.”

You giggled, “Okay okay.”

Your tongue poked out of the seam of your lips as your vision swam a bit and you lined up your shot.

Taking a few balk throws, you finally get ready to actually throw it when there is a harsh crack, followed by a loud, booming sound – loud enough to rattle the windows.

“Oh shit!”

Any attempt you had made to actually aim the dart didn’t matter, because when you jumped at the harsh thunder the dart was sent on its own journey.

You laughed at your reaction to the sudden thunder and leaned back against Jake, “I can blame that horrible throw on the thunder, right?” He looked over your shoulder, seeing the dart about a foot and a half under the board in the wall.

“You sure it was thunder?”

Your jaw dropped and you smacked his chest with the back of your hand, “That was uncalled for Seresin. But I walked into that one.” You both laughed as Jake nodded, “Yeah, I guess I can give you another shot Bradshaw.”

“Well, thank you oh so gracious Hangman,” you sassed a little as you readied another dart. “I’m actually gonna try this time.”

He chuckled and crossed his arms as he watched you repeat your process, his eyes drawn to your lips as your tongue once again pokes out.

You managed to throw the dart just as the lights flickered out.

“Are you fucking serious? The weather really doesn’t want me to hit this board,” you grumbled as you pulled your phone out to use your flashlight.

Jake did the same, him immediately shining it at the dart board.

“Look at what we have here, you actually hit the board,” he teased as he walked up to the board. “Not a bullseye, but you hit it.” You flipped your hair, “Look at me go. Mama’s still got it.”

Jake gave you a look, his face deadpanned and his brow low. You held his eyes, yours playfully squinting.

It was a standoff for about 20 seconds before you both started laughing.

“C’mon Mother Goose, let’s go to the bar,” he chuckled as he grabbed your hand gently.

You froze for a second, confused as to where he got that nickname from – forgetting it was just a nursery rhyme to everyone else at that moment.

He looked at you, frowning in concern, “Hey, sweetheart, you okay?”

You shook it off, swallowing as you nodded, “Yeah, yeah… I’m okay.”

With a furrowed brow, he stepped closer, tilting your chin up with a crooked finger, “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

His light tease pulled you back fully.

“N-No, I’m fine, it’s okay,” you said softly as you shook your head. He cupped your cheek, “Are you sure?” You nodded, “Yeah, yeah, just thought of Nicky… He’s not the best with storms sometimes.”

“Do you wanna check in on him? Make sure he’s doing okay? Especially now that the power’s out.”

You chewed on your lip, your thumb and pinky tapping rhythmically on your thigh. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

Jake nodded, “Of course it is! That’s your baby, do not question if it’s okay. It’s always okay.” You immediately open your contacts, “Thank you.”

He smiled, squeezing your hand, “I’ll be at the bar when you’re ready, if you gotta go home, that’s okay.”

You gave him a smile and mouthed a ‘thank you’ as your phone rang, waiting for Serenity to pick up.

Jake nodded again before going over to the bar.

Penny and Jimmy were turning on battery powered lanterns and setting them up around the bar.

“You guys need some help?” Jake offered as he leaned on the bar.

She looked up at him as she sat a lantern down on the bar, “You don’t think you could get the power back on, could ya?”

Jake laughed lightly, “If my call sign was Sparky, I might be able to give it a shot. Unfortunately, it’s not.” Penny shook her head with a laugh, “It’s alright Hangman, once we get these set up, we’ll hopefully get the generator up and running.”

He nodded, “In the meantime, I’ll take two waters, if you can spare them.” She nodded with a smile, “Coming right up.”

As she got the bottles out of the ice bucket she prepped after looking at the forecast, you came over after finishing up your call.

You sighed a little as you sat down.

“Hey,” Jake greeted as he rubbed your knee. “How’s the little man holdin’ up? He alright?” You nodded, smiling as you rested your hand on his, “Yeah, Serenity said he was snuggled up on the couch with his turtle and his manta ray, watching movies with plenty of goldfish crackers.”

Penny popped up, “You have power?”

“Nope,” you laughed a little awkwardly. “He’s watching it on Serenity’s laptop. Which I told her she didn’t have to let him do that. She’s got stuff to do for summer classes but mine was dead. I just hope she doesn’t get behind.”

She gave you your water, “She’s a good kid, I’m sure she’ll be okay for one night.” You nodded and sipped your drink, “Yeah.”

You looked around noticing that everyone started to mellow out since the place was practically pitch black – save for the lanterns.

“Man… seems the lights weren’t the only thing the storm took out. How long until the generator is up and running?” You asked, leaning on the bar.

Penny shrugged, “I don’t know. It depends, we haven’t used it in a few years. It shouldn’t take too long, I think Jimmy checked on it after the clouds rolled in and the forecast changed.”

You nodded and looked around, “Well, maybe some live music can hold everyone over until then.” Penny and Jake furrowed their brows as you grabbed a lantern and went over to the piano.

“What? Did you seriously think that Bradley was the only one of my father’s kids that could play? C’mon now Penny, you should know better than that,” you teased with a playful wink over your shoulder.

Jake furrowed his brow, “Have you been holding out on me Mother Goose?” His tone was entirely playful as he came over to piano with his phone flashlight on as a fresh toothpick hung from his lips.

Penny blinked and looked up, a rush of nostalgia hitting her, “Wait did you just call her ‘Mother Goose’?” Jake looked up at her and nodded as he rolled the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, “Yes ma’am I did.” She nodded and glanced at you as she wiped down the bar, “And um… w-where did that nickname come from?”

He shrugged, “She’s got a little duck on her keychain and she’s a mama. Just kinda makes sense, I guess. Why do you ask?”

You couldn’t help but smile a little as you tapped the keys.

“Oh I was just-” Penny started but you cut her off gently.

“Goose was my dad’s call sign, Jake. A lot of his friends from the Academy and flight school called him ‘Mother Goose’,” you said, emotion present in your voice but you weren’t sad.

Jake stumbled over his words a little, “Oh I-I had no idea. I can stop if you w-want me too.”

You shook your head, a smile gracing your features as you looked up at him, “No no, it’s okay Jake. It definitely shocked me when you called me that earlier, but it’s… nice.”

He smiled back at you and sat down, “I’ll call you whatever you want, Darlin’.”

A giggle slipped past your lips and you were now thankful that the poor lighting hid the blush on your cheeks as you tested more keys.

You took a breath and readied your fingers on the right keys, “Okay okay, let’s get these people fired up.”

Jake arched his brow but then you played the opening notes to a song he heard non-stop in flight school when the class went out to a bar.

“Jerry Lee Lewis? You really are Bradshaw’s sister,” he laughed, gently nudging your shoulder but not so much as to mess you up.

You just rolled your eyes before jumping into the song. “~You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!~”

Jake chuckled as people in the bar began to cheer, a few patrons jumping in to sing with you. He looked around, seeing that the flashlights on phones had been turned on and everyone’s moods seemed to flip on dime.

“~You broke my will! Oh what a thrill!~”

“~Goodness gracious great balls of fire!~”

His eyes landed back on you, watching you play the piano like he had only ever seen your brother play. It was lively, bringing an energy to the bar that got zapped out with the electricity. Almost as if the lightning hit you and you soaked up all the energy in the bar, and now you were returning it when it was needed.

He felt himself singing along, unable to escape the way that your infectious voice seemed to latch on to everyone that heard it.

Jake had always fought the urge to ‘feel the music’ when it was your brother. Be the one person in the bar unaffected by him. But here with you, he didn’t fight. He didn’t want to fight it. And he was unashamed to be sitting next to you on that piano bench, singing a song that you were sure your brother had played to death.

He saw you smile at him when you noticed it, feeding off of his energy just as much as he was feeding off of yours.

You found yourself looking only at him to see if he was enjoying himself, using him as a reference point for how the rest of the bar was feeling. That your attempt at entertainment was working.

It felt good to see everyone having fun because of you.

Now you could understand why your dad and Bradley did this so often.

Your smile never left your face as you continued to sing, though you hated how the song was coming to an end so soon.

Jake met your eyes as you started the last verse, his smiling matching yours.

“~I chew my nails and I twiddle my thumbs!~”

“~Real nervous but it sure is fun!~”

He watched your eyes light up as he sang the words back to you and the blush crawled up your neck. You clearly weren’t expecting him to sing that line to you – telling you how you made him feel through the song.

So, he continued to look at you, holding eye contact as he sang through a wide, infectious smile, using the lyrics to convey what he had trouble putting into words once again.

“~Come on, baby! You’re drivin’ me crazy!~”

His heart fluttered when you seemed like you were at a loss for words, despite them already being written for you – all you could do was smile as your muscle memory continued to play.

“~Goodness, gracious! Great balls of fire!~”

You played the last string of notes, your face dangerously close to Jake’s as the soft glow of the lanterns and phone flashlights illuminated his features almost angelically, the lights creating a halo around him and blurring the crowd like a camera focusing in on the subject of its image. His green eyes, though casted in a shadow, twinkled softly as he looked your face over like you were the only thing in the room – and to him, you were.

He was seeing the same thing. The blues of LEDs and the yellow of the lanterns created a harsh but gorgeous contrast on your face as your chest heaved when you attempted to catch your breath and the light sheen of sweat made your skin shine in a way he never thought about before. Your eyes were illuminated, but they held a shine of their own when you looked him over.

The cheers behind him all melded into one sound, one that Jake could confuse for his own heartbeat if it wasn’t pounding against his ribcage.

There was no hesitation this time as he pulled you close by the nape of your neck and pressed his lips to yours with breathless passion.

Your outside hand fisted in his Henley shirt, the fabric warm but a little rough under your fingertips. His heart was thumping rhythmically against your knuckles, giving the butterflies in your stomach a beat to dance to.

His hand moved down to the side of your neck, his thumb finding your pulse point. The sensation of your heartbeat under his fingertips was mesmerizing.

The kiss felt both like an eternity and not long enough when you finally pulled away, both of your lips damp and as your breath mixed as your foreheads rested against each other.

Around you, the crowd was still buzzing with energy, talking to each other as they started mingling again.

But you and Jake couldn’t hear them, not when you're so consumed with one another right there on the piano bench. You were in your own little world, a small sanctuary in the middle of the bar. Just you and him.

Smiling, you can’t stop the giggle from escaping as you try to smooth out where you had gripped his shirt. “That was um…”

“Electrifying?” Jake offered, his dimple appearing as he smirked playfully.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah,” you said with a light, slightly breathless laugh.

He chuckled and opened his mouth to say something else, but the overhead lights flickered for a split second before they stayed steady and the sound of the jukebox started up again.

You both sat up straight, looking around the bar as the patrons started back up in their games they abandoned.

“Would you look at that – one song and you managed to light up the whole bar, literally,” Jake said as he looked from his surroundings and then back to you, taking in how you smiled at everyone having fun again.

You hummed, turning your head with a playful glint in your eye, “Well, thank goodness it was only one song. I don’t know if I could’ve played another one. Unless Twinkle Twinkle Little Star counts.”

Jake laughed as he stood up, offering you a hand to pull you to your feet. “Well, if Nick was here, I’m pretty sure he would have a blast if you played that.”

“Oh, yeah, he definitely would,” you said with a laugh as you pushed some hair out of your face. “Another drink?”

He nodded, fluffing his shirt a little. “I can go for another.”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bar, “Penny!”

After you got your drinks, you and Jake went to a booth by the windows.

“That was really impressive, Y/N. I knew Rooster was good, but he’s not that good,” Jake complimented as he sipped his fresh beer. The bitter liquid soothed his throat, his voice a little raw after singing.

You shrugged and sipped your Amaretto, the warm liquid warming you up from the chill of the rain outside. “I don’t know about that. He’s been playing since he was little. I started getting into piano in, like, middle school. And then in college I um.. I picked up a little guitar.”

Jake watched you bite your lip, your nails tapping against the glass of your drink. He wasn’t entirely sure what caused that far off look to appear in your eyes, a fogginess he wasn’t familiar with. But one thing he did recognize was that flicker of love, a shine of longing and admiration peaking through the fog – like a lighthouse on the shore.

He didn’t know much about Kendall, just what you had told him. He knew that you had met in college, you had been friends before you began dating, and that Kendall played the guitar – his favorite one tucked into the corner of Nick’s bedroom.

You cleared your throat, blinking the fogginess away and pulling Jake out of his thoughts.

You rubbed your hands on your jeans before resting your elbows on the table to talk with your hands, desperate to keep the conversation flowing.

“But like I was saying, Brad and I are very different when it comes to singing and playing the piano. He definitely channels our dad a little more than I do.”

He chuckled and leaned forward, resting his upper body on his forearms, “Well, I think I’m a little biased when it comes to that. But don’t sell yourself short, Darlin’, you put on quite the performance.” He added an unnecessary wink, but it didn’t stop you from smiling and looking at the table to hide your blush.

You lifted your head and smiled at him, sniffling just a little. “Thank you, Jake. That means a lot.”

Jake reached over and squeezed your hand, “Anytime.” He cleared his throat, “If you don’t mind me asking, that song clearly means a lot to you and Rooster, why-why is that?”

Tears stung your eyes a bit, again, but your smile didn’t falter. “Our dad, he um… he played it all the time. And I mean all the time. I’m surprised our mother stayed sane.” Jake reached up and wiped a tear that slipped through. You leaned into his warm palm slightly, as you continued.

“One of our last memories with him was sitting at the piano as he sang that song. Our mom in his lap singing with him without a care in the world about who was watching…” Your voice was a little heavier as you neared the end of your sentence, the memory making you a little emotional.

He smiled and squeezed your hand again, his thumb rubbing your knuckles, “That’s beautiful.” You gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand back.

“Can I show you something?” He asked softly, not wanting to disturb the moment too much.

You nodded and sat up a little straighter, wiping your eyes as you spoke, “Of course.”

Jake nodded his head towards the window and your eyes followed the direction.

The glass was a little foggy, sweating as the cold temperature of the rain was meeting the warm air of the bar and the glass acting like a mediator between the two.

Your brow furrowed in immediate confusion though you weren’t going to question Jake just yet. There was certainly much more to it.

And he proved your suspicions by bringing his finger up to draw in the condensation.

It was a quick drawing, a simple sun with a smiley face and a little heart next to it. But the look on Jake’s face told you it was so much more than just a little doodle on a window.

“That’s really cute Jake,” you said softly, as you smile at him.

His grin widened and he shifted in his seat. “When I was little, I was never good with storms. My sister was even worse. She was scared and I was upset because I couldn’t go play in the rain.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up when he said that, the picture of a young Jake pouting in his room as he watched the rain out of his window in your head – he definitely picked out two droplets to race against each other, maybe even him and his sister picked one and had a competition.

He just smiled at you before continuing.

“My grandma and my mom had this routine with us where they would have us by the bay window in the living room and we would draw in the condensation. And I, of course, rubbed my wet hand on my sister’s face,” he said with a small chuckle.

“That I’m definitely not surprised by. Bradley pestered me too, still does, it’s a brother thing.”

Jake nodded, “Oh yeah, for sure. But aside from that, there was a purpose to why my mom and grandma had us do this. Because as you can see now-” He pointed to the drawing, seeing that it was already dripping and disappearing, more condensation taking its place. “-it’s already going away.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. You still weren’t exactly sure where Jake was going, but it was clear this was something he held onto and cherished. Especially for him to bring it up now, years later. Plus, he had you roped in now, you were invested in this little smiling sun.

“The whole point of drawing in the fog was because it doesn’t last forever, and neither would the storm outside. Or any storm, really. As I got older, we stopped the window drawings, but my mom kept it up with us for little things. Like when my sister was going through a break up, she drew a sun with a little heart on a note and put it in her backpack. I can bet you that she still has every note, because I know I do.”

Tears pricked your eyes a little bit, “That’s really really beautiful, Jake. Your mom and grandma sound like very wise women.”

Jake nodded, a proud smile pulling at his lips, “They are, I’m lucky to have them.”

You mirrored his smile and you both went back to conversing with each other, planning out ideas for your next ‘not’ date.

“There’s so much to do here, so much it’s like there’s nothing,” you said, laughing as you sipped your drink.

You had listed off a lot of places to go nearby and all the things you could do together, but it all sounded so fun that you were having trouble deciding.

Jake nodded, rubbing his face a little as he laughed, “Yeah, seems like it.” He glanced around, noticing a pool table nearby. “Hey, how about we think on it some more later and just play a game of pool?”

You hummed a little and glanced over your shoulder at the pool table.

A sly smile came over your face as an idea popped into your mind.

You turned back to face him, biting your lip a little, “I um… wow this is embarrassing, I haven’t really ever played pool before.”

Jake squinted at you, almost analyzing you to see if you were just fucking with him. But you just played it up by hiding your face in your hands, hiding the grin that you knew would give you away if he spotted it.

“You’re serious? You’ve never played pool before?”

His tone was inquisitive, but it also had a laugh behind it that he was hiding as best he could and it almost had you laughing.

“No no, I have played before. But it’s just been too long. Last time I played it was maybe 10 years ago when I was in high school, and I was awful.”

Jake’s laugh finally broke through at that.

“Hey! Don’t laugh!” You whined, holding back giggles of your own.

He nodded, trying to stop himself by clearing his throat. “You’re right, you’re right. It’s not funny. It’s… it’s kinda sad actually.”

You dropped your jaw and reached over the table to swat at his shoulder. “Oh shut up!”

He chuckled as he dodged your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile as the corners of his eyes crinkled and his dimples poked through. “Okay okay, I’m sorry. But c'mon let’s play at least one game,” he proposed as he slid out of the booth and stood. He offered you his hand, a wink accompanying his next words, “And I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

You rolled your eyes and took his hand, “Fine, one game.”

A victorious grin crossed Jake’s face as he pulled you to your feet, squeezing your hand as he turned and pulled you to the table. Your lips pulled up in a similar fashion as you stumbled a little when he drug you behind him.

“Okay,” he said as he came to stop at the pool table. “I don’t have to explain the rules, do I?” His brow arched with his question, only using it to further his teasing. You rolled your eyes, hand going on your hip, “No, I know that much, Seresin.” The sass in your tone made Jake laugh, “Alright, Bradshaw, let’s play.”

You nodded and grabbed the two pool cues, “Let’s.”

He chuckled and shook his head playfully as he quickly racked the pool balls. Once they were all in order, he took the triangle off and tossed it on a table as he walked over to you.

His fingers wrapped around the taller cue, his warm hand encapsulating yours.

How had you not realized how large his hand was until now?

“Y/N?”

You shook your head, not having realized that you froze, “Oh um, sorry, sorry.” You let go of the pool cue, clearing your throat as you pushed some hair behind your ear. He chuckled at your sudden shyness, “It’s alright, darlin’. It’s cute when you get all blushy.” You huffed, though a smile pulled at your lips as you shoved his shoulder.

Jake laughed and held his hands up in defense, only slightly jostled by your shove. He gestured to the table and grabbed the cue ball, “Okay, okay, you wanna break?” He punctuated his question by putting the ball on the table with a *clack*.

You bit your lip, still feigning nervousness as best you could. You nodded and walked around to the end of the table beside him.

Tossing the cue up and catching it lower, you leaned over and nearly fell into muscle memory – letting the end come down and rest easy in the dip between your thumb and pointer finger.

You rolled your shoulders a little bit, moving your hand much lower on the stick so you would have less control of the cue. You relaxed your shoulders, letting them drop as your right hand tightened its grip. The maple cue rested on the walnut of the table, using it as the support for the middle of the stick.

Jake tilted his head, taking in your posture. It was… unconventional, and maybe a little awkward. But he wasn’t going to step in just yet, because maybe that stance just worked for you. And the look of concentration on your face was just too cute for him to interrupt.

Much like earlier at the dart board, your brow furrowed and your tongue poked out from between your lips. Jake grinned at the sight, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Nick made the same face when he focused on something. Like if his nose crinkled like yours did when he colored or if he stuck his tongue out when he did a puzzle.

Then his mind wandered a little further.

The image of a little girl appeared in his head, basically a clone of you in your lap as you sat at the piano. You guiding her hand along the keys, then having her repeat the order on her own. Her tongue sticking out as she tries to remember.

But before he can fantasize any longer, he shakes himself out of it once you take your shot.

He watched the tip of the cue whiff the ball as the butt nearly became perpendicular to the floor. “Woah there!”

You covered your mouth with your hand, doing your best to feign embarrassment at your ‘failure’. “Oh.. my.. gosh.. I can’t believe that just happened,” you snorted, laughing at yourself as you looked up at the ceiling, hoping that a blush was covering your cheeks to really sell it.

Jake came over to stand next to you, chuckling just a little. “So um… is that how you held it in high school?” He leaned against the table, the cue snug against his side as he crossed his arms, looking down at his boots as he crossed his ankles before looking up at your profile.

You swallowed as you kept your eyes on the ceiling, and Jake couldn’t help but watch the column of your throat move with the action.

Sighing, you looked at him, “I mean, kinda, like I said, it’s been awhile. But that felt so wrong.” You looked away from him and focused on your cue. “And now I’m embarrassed… because you just saw that.”

He sighed gently, a smile pulling at his lips. While you were embarrassed, he couldn’t help but admire the blush on your skin. He didn’t like the reason, because you shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you looked cute.

He reached out and turned your head to face him, smiling softly at you. “Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed. It happens, and I guarantee that is not the worst shot I’ve seen.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

He sighed and propped his cue against the wall, “C’mere.” He adjusted the cue ball again and gently pulled you to him when you hesitated to move closer. “I don’t bite, unless you ask,” he whispered the last half of that in your ear, his accent slightly thicker as you felt his lips curl into a smile against the lobe of your ear.

His warm breath raised goosebumps on the skin of your neck, a shiver going down the nerves of your spine. He chuckled, his chest rumbling against your shoulder and making you giggle as a genuine flush covered your face and neck.

“Okay,” Jake said, turning you gently so your back settled against his chest. His hand rested on your hip and everything just felt right. Both of you slotted together like a puzzle piece, it was comfortable.

He looked down at you, “Am I too close?”

Your head shook almost embarrassingly quickly. If anything he wasn’t close enough.

“No no, you’re okay.”

He nodded, smiling at you, “Alright, just let me know, okay?” You swallowed, nodding back, “I will.”

“Alright, now, I’m gonna show you how to properly hold a pool stick. Do what you were doing before.”

You nodded, bending back over and mimicking the stance you had done previously.

Jake looked at you gaging what to adjust. “Okay, so one issue is, your back hand is too low. Don’t shake hands with the bumper.” He took your wrist and tried to slide your hand up but it barely moved. “And you don’t need a death grip on it, it’s not going anywhere unless you move it.” You nodded and relaxed your grip to let him adjust your hand placement.

He moved it to about the middle of the weight and watched your guiding hand adjust itself to a bit more of a natural position.

Smiling, he glanced down at you, “There we go, how does that feel?” You nodded, “A lot better, definitely more comfortable.”

“Perfect, and that’s how you know you’re doing it right. Before you were uncomfortable and it threw off your control. You guide the cue, it doesn’t guide you.”

You snorted a little, hanging your head as you laughed, “You sound like a therapist, or a yoga instructor.” Jake laughed along with you, “Unfortunately I’m neither of those. Not qualified nor flexible enough.”

You arched a brow and looked at him over your shoulder, a cheeky smile on your lips, “Not flexible enough? Oh, that’s a shame.” His eyebrows raised, almost as if he was sizing up a challenge, “Oh is it now? I mean, I’m sure with enough stretching, I’ll be good to go.”

You laughed before shaking your head, “Okay okay, let’s stay on task, Lieutenant, yeah?”

“Right, right, of course.”

Jake cleared his throat as his fingers wrapped around your shoulders, “Okay, being relaxed is fine. But you’re too loose and that makes it awkward.” He slowly pulled them out from their slouched position, straightening your back a little in the process. “That’s better.”

You swallowed a little, the heat of his chest against your back making you both nervous and excited.

“Do you feel more in control?” You nodded at his question, not trusting your voice to be steady. “Good, now, let’s test this.”

Worry shot through you for a moment, afraid he might step back and let you do this on your own – squashing the mini fantasy that you created.

But your worry was smothered when Jake adjusted his own stance, his knees nudging the backs of your thighs. His right hand encased your own as his left hand acted as a stand for yours – keeping your guiding hand steady.

“Loosen your grip, Duckie. It’s not gonna change your power. In pool, the speed determines the power.”

Jake’s voice was steady, but it was raspy as he spoke in your ear again. His breath fanned along your ear lobe and your jaw, raising goosebumps once again.

He felt your wrist and hand relax a little, and he just hoped you couldn’t feel his heart beating against your back.

“Alright, there we go. Now, all you gotta do is bring it back and–”

His sentence fell short as the felt tip collided with the cue ball and he felt a vibrating sensation against his hip.

“See? So much better. And now, if that’s your phone in your pocket, I think you’re getting a call.”

He stepped back and let you stand straight as you pulled your phone out.

Your heart dropped slightly when you saw Serenity’s contact flash across your screen.

Did something happen to Nick? Was he okay? Did something happen to the house? What went wrong?

Jake must have noticed that your face changed on dime, because his face fell into one of concern. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Was it Serenity? Was it Bradley? Was it a chaplain? Or hell an NCIS agent?

“It’s Serenity,” you said as you pressed the green answer button and brought the phone to your ear. “Hey Ren, what’s up?”

Jake sighed in relief, his worst thoughts going off to the wayside in favor of just worried thoughts.

You brought your hand up, chewing on the edges of your nails as she spoke.

“Hey, Y/N, everything’s okay–”

Jake watched your body visibly relax, your hand rubbing at your mouth much like he’d seen Bradley do when he was stressed.

“Nicky’s okay? Nothing’s on fire?”

“No, nothing’s on fire. But Nicky is not wanting to go to bed without you here. I think it's the rain, the storm I should say. He doesn’t want to go to his room. Won’t even get up off the couch.”

You sighed but nodded, “Okay, I’ll be there in a little bit. Get his turtle and his manta ray, then get my body spray and lightly spritz a blanket and let him curl up on the couch until I get there.”

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I know you wanted to have a fun night out… I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m glad you called. I’ll be home in a little bit.”

You hung up and looked at Jake, “I’m so sorry, Jake. Nicky is–”

He held his hand up, “Nope, no apologies, go be with your baby. We can meet up later. Tell Nicky I said ‘hi’.”

Your heart skipped a few beats as you smiled at him. He smiled back and nodded towards the front door, “Now go Mother Goose, you got a duckling waiting on you.”

The look in his eyes was nothing short of fond, the yellow overhead lighting making his eyes a comforting shade of green.

He wasn’t upset at all, no disdain for your sudden departure on his features. Was he disappointed? Yeah, but you were always going to be a mother first. He couldn’t and would never get in the way of that, or try to change it.

You hugged him, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist in reciprocation.

“Thank you,” you kissed his cheek in thanks as you pulled away from the hug. “You don’t have to thank me, Darlin’. Just text me or call me when you get home safe, okay?” He said with a smile, gently squeezing your shoulders.

You nodded, matching his smile, “Of course, as long as you do the same?” He winked, “You got it.”

He grabbed your purse for you, “Drive safe, Sweetheart.” You nodded, “I will. Bye Jake.” “Bye Y/N.”

You smiled at him again before going over to the bar, patting the top with the palm of your hand. You opened your mouth to get Penny’s attention but she was already smiling at you. “Heading out?” Your head tilted as you nodded, “Yeah, how’d you know?” She shrugged, nodding down to the bag hanging off your shoulder, “Lucky guess.”

Chuckling, you pulled your wallet out, “Nicky won’t go to bed, the storm is keeping him up.” You pulled out a fifty, “For my drinks and Jake’s, the rest is your tip.” Penny shook her head, pushing the money back towards you, “That’s way too much, Duckie. 25 is plenty. Plus, Jake’s tab is open and your drinks are on it.”

“Penny Benjamin–”

“Y/N Bradshaw, don’t argue and go home to your son,” Penny pointed to the door to punctuate her order, the damp towel swaying slightly from her movement.

Huffing out a ‘fine’, you put the fifty away and put a ten on the bar, “I’m still tipping you, because I love you. Not as much as you deserve, but you’re gonna fight me on it.” She smiled gratefully at you, taking the bill, “Thank you, now go home. Text me when you get there.”

You patted the bar again, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you later, don’t let Jake get too drunk.”

With that you walked to the door, though Penny stopped you with a shout.

“That was an Oscar worthy performance by the way!”

You rolled your eyes, waving to her as you slipped your jacket on, “Bye Penny!”

phew!

that was a long one huh? but hey, we finally got a kiss! they kissed!! and before hand we got a little peak into duckie's insecurities as a mom. though we can all agree she's pretty great right?

i hope you guys liked this chapter and are ready to see where the next chapter takes duckie, nicky, and jake!

hi darlings i know it's been a long time, too long, but like i said before -- i wanted to make sure this was a chapter i was proud of and lately my creative battery just wouldn't behave and it's been hard to write and like what i write. but i think... i think i did it here.

my ducklings <33:

@roosterscockpit @milesdickpic @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hisredheadedgoddess28 @malindacath @avengers-fixation @shawnsblue @caitsymichelle13 @classycolorpeach @mamachasesmayhem @bobby-r2d2-floyd @twsssmlmaa

@horseshoegirl @startrekfangirl2233 @babyreads @amatswimming @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @hangmansgbaby @callsignwidow @kmc1989 @goodstuff28 @pjngpp3501 @lunamoonbby @joyfulpandamiracle @craftyinfluencersandwich @averyhotchner @emily-roberts @teenwolf01 @sunderland-6 @bethabear12

@coldmuffinbanditshoe @dempy @djs8891 @ingoaliesitrust @novavida @tigerfan24 @lynnestra44 @lilmonstrjedi @yourlocalloser-core @adventures4ever @onlyheretowastetime @mygyn @buckysvinyl @allyyssaa @clockworksficstoread @elisha-chloe @abaker74

#duckie universe #duckie #duckie bradshaw #nicky bradshaw #duckie and nicky #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #🤠🐤#duckie and jake #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin x bradshaw!reader #jake seresin x bradshaw!reader #bradley bradshaw x sister!reader #bradshaw!reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #sarahsmi13s

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 7 months

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Pairing : Hwang Hyunjin x F!Reader TW : none ; it's just cringe fluff ; Hyunjin and reader are that couple ; Word Count : 1.0k Request : nope! A/N : it was my birthday yesterday and I had to work and y'all, I'm so exhausted. I'm writing this from the future, but I just know I'ma be soooo fucking sleepy!!! I hope everyone is enjoying these and please, know that I am getting to the requests, I just really want to do some cute stuff before I jump back into angst. My life has been angsty enough.

“Send me a picture of your face.” The text came in as Hyunjin walked through the main doors of the airport. Of course, it was from you, so he immediately responded, unable to hide his smile even under the mask that he was wearing.

“Whyyy? You miss me? Hmmm? You miss me so much??? Wanna hug me? Wanna kiss me? Hmmmm????” He teasingly texted back before slipping his phone in his pocket, giggling to himself and earning disgusted looks from the two youngest guys in the group. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Don’t be jealous that I’m in looove.”

“Gross. How long have you been dating? Isn’t the honeymoon phase supposed to wear off already?” Seungmin retorted, his nose scrunched up just to emphasize just how disgusted he was. Jeongin nodded in agreement, although they both didn’t hesitate to fall back just so they could keep up with Hyunjin, although it was mostly so they could continue teasing him.

“The honeymoon phase doesn’t wear off if you’re really in looove.” Hyunjin responded, trying his best not to laugh along with the two youngest. He himself thought it was cringe, as did you, but for some reason, although he didn’t mind it one bit, you both agreed on acting the part of that couple just to see the reactions from the guys. It had been an agreement made at the beginning of your relationship, and now two years in and already engaged, the act had become the real thing and neither of you could shake it.

“I bet you paint her a bunch of pictures and put cheesy little poems along with them. Don’t you?” Jeongin baited, knowing damn well that he did, but the three of them had made it a habit, almost like yours and Hyunjins habit of being the cringiest couple in the universe, to tease each other about these things. “Bet you guys have matching bunny slippers that you wear around the house.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about the bunny slippers, you don’t know about the bunny slippers. They’re comfortable and they grip the floor really well.” Hyunjin said, although with that he couldn’t help but let out the laughter that he was holding in.

“Oh yeah, I bet the bunny slip grips work wonders when you’re chasing each other around having your late night pillow fights.” Seungmin chimed in once more, and now all three of them were laughing loudly, catching the attention of the other members who were walking ahead.

Truthfully, Hyunjin didn’t mind the teasing all that much for the main reason of being able to talk about you, he loved talking about you, you were his life, his soul, you were his everything, and as long as the teasing stayed aimed towards him most of the time, he was fun with it. You made him beyond happy, and if the guys thought that it was a little cringe, or moreso, majorly cringe, he didn’t care because at the end of the day, he still got to say he was with the most amazing girl in the world.

“You gonna send me that picture yet or are you gonna make me wait until the tour is over???” He pulled out his phone to read the text from you when he finally sat down outside the gates at the airport, smiling at his phone screen which had your face as the wallpaper.

Tours were the hardest part of your relationship because you had your own job to be at and you couldn’t just ask for days off, you had to request for them in advance, and Hyunjin wasn’t really the best at telling you about tour dates with much notice. Your relationship was built on trust, a lot of trust, because it was no secret that Hyunjin was by far the most handsome man in the universe-your words, not his-and you knew that a lot of people wanted him. Of course, Hyunjin only had eyes for you, you were the most beautiful girl in the universe, and everyone else-his words, not yours-was a goblin.

“So impatient babe. Hold up, let me take one.” He teased back before opening his camera and snapping a quick selfie which, for anyone else, would be the worst angle, but with Hyunjin there were no bad angles. He quickly sent the picture with a heart as the caption, watching the little text bubbles pop up almost immediately.

“How are you so perfect? How am I so lucky? Why are you going so far away this time? Dammit, I miss you. Come back home soon. I love you.” The text read, and his throat tightened as he felt the sudden urge to cry. His heart panged with a sadness and loneliness that he only felt when he was away from you. The tour hadn’t even officially started yet and he was already going through withdrawal from your kisses, your touch, the heat that emanated off your body when you were both curled up under the blankets at home.

“Send me a selfie a day, I miss you too, you and your beautiful face. I love you so much more… I’ll be back home as soon as I can. We’re boarding now though, I have to turn my phone off. I’ll text you during the layover. I love you babe.” He quickly wrote back before turning his phone onto airplane mode and slipping it back into his pocket, the playful smile that he had been wearing a majority of the time falling ever so slightly.

“You look like you’re gonna cry… You okay, man?” Seungmin asked, coming up from seemingly out of nowhere to stand beside Hyunjin as they walked through the gates. “Is it because you miss her? Oh man… You’re like… Love whipped or something. It’s weird. Good for you though. Shoulda brought the bunny slippers.”

Love whipped… Was it a thing? Hyunjin wasn’t sure, not until now. He had heard of guys being whipped by only one other thing, and while he’d certainly, secretly, fall under that category as well, he loved you for so much more. He loved you for everything that you are, everything that you were, and everything that you will be. You had him wrapped around your finger, his heart was connected to yours. He loved you so much that it felt like he was being torn in two just being away from you. Yes, he was love whipped… But god, did he love the feeling of it.

Perm. Taglist : @whatudowhennooneseesyou @duchesskaren @mytherapisttoldmenotto @lovesunshinefelix @moon0fthenight @kurolils @maruskz @hello-2-u-from-me @mrswolfiechan @bunnychangbin @his-angell @if-spearb @yomomma104 @lanatheawesome @facelesswrittes @grannyindehouse @cutie-wooyo @felixmainacc @syuuji @jiisungllvr @yukichan67 @randomwimp @silentreadersthings @cutiespaghetti @furiousheartpoetry @its-hannjisung @lixpixstix @felixluvr915 @wordsofkpop @kayleigh-28 @szkstay @spnwinchestersd @fleatree @yehsehneeah @vampcharxter @iloveksmohsomuch @lvlnijiro @neteyamsmate4life

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fictionaltrvlr · 7 months

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Roman Empire this, Roman Empire that. I don’t really think I have a Roman Empire-

The Overwhelming Hatred of Rachel Zegler

This rising star of a 22 year old woman is being torn apart by men and women alike and I’m so tired of it.

I’m disgusted by the amount of hate she’s getting and you best believe I’m gonna lay it out. I’ve tried to organize this but I’m really tired so bear with me.

Main Controversy

Her saying that it’s no longer 1937 and Snow White doesn’t need to be saved by the prince is not her saying that women can’t want to have a husband or a family. Simply that they don’t need a man to give them value.

And to be clear, yes, okay? Yes. Women should be allowed to soft, they can want families, they don’t need to be badass to be happy. They can fit “traditional” roles. Women can want different things. Meg March, the icon that she is, “just because my dreams are different than yours doesn’t mean they’re unimportant.” 100% yes. But Rachel wasn’t saying otherwise.

She said the prince was a bit of a stalker so they’re not doing that this time… and yes? The prince was weird. I thought we agreed on that. Snow White was 14 in the original and got kissed while she was unconscious by an adult man… but sure, ✨iconic✨.

And it’s fine if you don’t like the *apparent* girlbossification of Snow White, but people are acting like Rachel wrote the movie?? Did it ever occur to people that maybe Disney wants the “girlboss independent woman who doesn’t need a man” picture presented?

She’s doing press for the movie, is she maybe taking the direction Disney gave her?? Also… we. haven’t. seen. the. movie. The teaser only just came out!

Strike Comments

Her comments being popularized during the strike is already suspicious enough. Is it not in the studio’s interests to portray the strike and those taking part in it as unreasonable?

Her saying she deserves to be paid fairly for the hours she spends in a dress playing an iconic Disney character is completely valid. She wasn’t saying she’s the most amazing actress ever or that she plays the hardest roles or does the most complicated stunts. Just that she deserves fair pay… like every other striking actor and writer??

Childhood Relationship With The Character

Her saying that Snow White scared her as a child and she didn’t revisit it until she got cast. Why does that matter so much?? There were scary things in that movie! The witch, the poison apple, the forest coming to life and trying to grab her.

Tastes change as we grow and Rachel has shared her excitement about getting to play the character now.

She was a child. *screaming*

The Extremely Different Treatment Men Receive in The Same Situations

May I present, Robert Pattinson?? Mr I hate these books and felt like I shouldn’t be reading them?? Mr Edward is creepy?

He mocked and joked about the Twilight series every chance he got and people ate it up. They loved it and still do. He’s funny, he’s confident, he’s so real for that.

Harrison Ford wanted his character to die off and said it had run its course. He was praised for his humour and honesty.

Oh but Rachel is ungrateful. She’s rude, she’s cringe, she’s mean, she’s annoying. She’s irredeemable, she’s overbearing, she’s smug, off putting. There’s just something about her that we don’t like…

She’s pitted against other successful women, like Halle Bailey. She’s pitted against Kristen Stewart. Against Elle Fanning, Jenna Ortega. Ignoring, may I point out, how hated so many of these women have been at the different points in their careers?

This is how Brie Larson is being treated and now she wants to leave Marvel too.

Women can be sarcastic. They can joke and speak their minds. They don’t have to package every thought with a pretty little bow so it’s palatable to you.

Rachel’s statements are being misinterpreted and twisted. But on top of that, even if she was what people are saying, have we forgotten about Tom Cruise? Leonardo DeCaprio?

These men are insufferable and problematic and yet some of the biggest names in the industry and, again, confident. Boss. In charge. Charismatic. Not annoying, not petty, not “oh you should be grateful you have anything!!”

Let me pull out Taylor Swift for a hot second because she does a wonderful job of describing the different ways we talk about men and women.

A man does something and it’s strategic. A woman does the same thing and it’s calculated. A man is allowed to react, a woman can only overreact. […] A man shares his experience in writing and he’s brave. A woman does the same thing and she’s over sharing, she’s over emotional, watch out!

America Ferrera when she said that the only difference between being bossy and being a boss is that one is a woman.

People need to listen to “All American Bitch” again -

I know my place, I know my place, and this is it! I don't get angry when I'm pissed I'm the eternal optimist I scream inside to deal with it All the time I'm grateful all the time I'm sexy, and I'm kind I'm pretty when I cry Oh, all the time I'm grateful all the time

And not that women need to be grateful because they don’t, but just to be clear, she is grateful.

She has expressed how lucky she was to get Shazam and how much she enjoyed it and made amazing friends. She was excited to play her version of Snow White. She shared pictures of herself as a child dressed as Snow White. She’s thrown herself into it.

Conclusions

Hate trains fun, I get it. But let’s not pile on young women when they’ve not even done anything wrong. Question why all of a sudden everyone hates this person, what are the facts, what else is going on, what confirmation bias do we have?

There is something so much worse to me about seeing other women tear her down. Like yeah, men will be pigs, but what are you doing? It’s so sad.

And women like hunting witches too, doing your dirtiest work for you, it’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together… (Mad Woman, Taylor Swift)

Rachel seems like such a joyful person and people are out here bullying her like she kicks puppies on the weekends.

Claiming to be a feminist because you want a wide variety of princesses (ie, ones that get saved by their prince), and then sending death threats to another woman for possibly appearing as though she holds a different opinion about one princess - is not only a contradiction, it’s just baffling.

Anyway stan Rachel Zegler

That’s my speech, please do contribute collaboratively if you want :).

#in this essay i will #rachel zegler #feminism #snow white 2024 #taylor swift #misogny #america ferrera #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #shazam #text post #raging feminist #all american bitch #mad woman #feminist #west side story 2021 #lyrics #thank you for coming to my ted talk #thoughts on things

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lizard-zombie · 1 year

Text

Just saw the Mario Movie and I got a few things to say

1) overall, I enjoyed it a lot and referencing stuff from the games tickled my brain. It’s a fun movie and I wouldn’t mind watching it again

2) heLLO???? THE MUSIC????? FANTASTIC. Hearing the little iconic tunes are making me giggle lol

3) the animation is so pretty! I don’t know much about art, but I thought it was really really nice. Lighting was really cool and the detail on the world and characters was impressive

4) Peach was not being an insufferable “Strong Woman” like I feared. She was there doing what she needed to do and not making a huge deal about it. Thank you for that. She’s my main in smash and kart and I would die for her.

5) speaking of Peach, she and Mario did not end up in a romantic relationship at the end. They are partners, friends. If they were to get into a relationship in the far future, I think this is a good starting point to build off of.

6) and speaking of Mario, the guy was pretty cool. The Pratt man wasn’t terrible. I was iffy at the beginning of the movie but I was over it after a short while. I cringed less than I thought

7) I am so so so happy they didn’t pull a “What is this? Im the chosen one? But im just a dude” trope. Mario is just like, “ayo im a guy and im confident that I know how to do plumbing things and I love my brother.” Love that for you, Mario.

8) The Mario and Luigi’s brotherly relationship is everything to me. It was beautiful and all I ever needed in the franchise. I want more. And to get more, i need Luigi to be by Mario’s side and not trapped in a cage for most of the movie. Luigi is my baby and I love him and he’s doing great in every scene. I just NEED him to have MORE screen time.

9) up until this movie, I did not ship Bowser and Luigi, but now I’m considering it. They’re interactions were sus as hell and the chemistry was undeniable. That’s just the truth sorry not sorry

10) JACK BLACK WAS AMAZING AND HES EVERYTHING AS BOWSER AND YES MAN SING IT

11) I love Bowser with all my heart and he was so good in this movie

12) D. K. DONKEY KONG

That was the BEST way to introduce him and I nearly went feral when it happened

13) I need more DK and Mario friendship please and thank you

14) I want more content and I hope the internet will supply me with fun and fluffy (or angsty) content otherwise, I will cry

15) Charles Martinet as the father makes me gakshsjgsksgsskyespleaseandthankyousomuch

16) so this is not “a few” haha I don’t remember everything wanted to say because it’s been a couple minutes since I started thinking and now my brain is foozy woozy mushy wushy bye bye

#mario movie #super mario #super mario movie #super mario bros #boswer #luigi #princess peach #mario

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rubyuji · 1 month

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Restless (Lee Chan) ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ ☕️

“OK enough, as far as I know, you know way more about me than I do about you. So, tell me about yourself?” 𓂃 ࣪˖

Genre: Fluff (this is just the sweetest thing ever, I can’t)

AU: Nonidol!au, College!au

Pairing: Dino x afab!reader

Warnings: none

Synopsis: After a week of traveling for school, Chan was ready to get home and crash onto his bed for the weekend. The problem? He was locked out for the night as his parents and younger brother had gone to visit their relatives on short notice, so he turned to his only option, you.

Note: Another recycled fic from my drafts that I never really finished ;; I’m popping out fics left and right atp but this one has a lack of proofreading and editing. Happy reading again guys, don’t forget to like + reblog!

Word Count: 2.8k

“Bye Ms Kim! Bye, everyone! It was so nice to be with you all in Japan, until our next competition. You all did well” Chan bowed toward his teachers and fellow students as he left the bus, bag slung over his shoulder.

Once he was on the pavement, Chan sighed and hastily walked into his building, ready to pass out on his bed. He clicks the elevator button to the floor he lives on while fidgeting with the new keychain he had bought as a souvenir. The ride was taking longer than usual for some reason.

When the elevator dinged, indicating that he had arrived, Chan eagerly stepped out and headed for the door of his family’s apartment. Instead of him being able to open it easily with the password, the lock buzzes and the sound causes Chan to frown in confusion. Did his family decide to change the house code while he was away?

As Chan was about to try one more time, his brother had texted him about how they had gone to see family and forgot he would arrive that day, adding that wouldn’t be back until the next morning.

Seeing this, Chan runs a hand through his hair and huffs. He was so ready to get the rest he badly needed until an idea came to mind.

Chan turns towards the apartment next to his family’s and grins, you were probably home, right? A girl who was his age, living independently next to his family, probably wouldn’t have many places to be, so he tried the last bit of his luck.

You hear your doorbell ring and wonder who would be at your door late into the evening. As per your paranoid self, you bring a knife to the door, being a girl and living alone with her cat wasn’t exactly the ideal situation to be in, especially at this hour.

You hesitantly peek into your peephole and your jaw falls slack as you struggle to open the door. What the hell was Chan doing at your doorstep? You thought his family would be at home like usual, the Lee family never really went anywhere and would often invite you over so this came as a surprise.

“Chan? That’s new, what brings you here?” You squint at the boy and he chuckles awkwardly, a hand scratching his cheek.

He had his backpack still on his back and a small stroller next to him, he looked like he had just come back from the airport. ‘Oh, I forgot he flew to Japan last week for a dance competition,’ you thought to yourself.

“My family forgot about me arriving today and left to go see my relatives without me, so uh, I had no other option? Unless you’re uncomfortable with me staying for a night, I can just call up one of my friends to let me crash at theirs” Chan cringed at his own words.

Seungkwan lived an hour outside the main city and Vernon lived in a one-bedroom apartment that barely had anything but a bed and a place for his pet iguana. Mingyu was at his sister’s place, and Soonyoung had gone with his family, the house already cramped enough with two grown kids and their parents. He genuinely had no other option.

“What? No, it’s fine. I’ve known you and your family since the day I moved in, it’s the least I can do since you guys have been nice to me. Now come in,” You moved aside so Chan could shuffle in, and in his head, he made a mental note to thank you later when he wasn’t as tired from the jet lag.

You helped him move his things into the guest room before getting him settled. He looked exhausted, and as much as your crush on the boy had started to take in how adorable he was, you couldn’t afford to scare him off when he seemed like he had no other place to go.

“You can use the shower, I have extra products for guests in the second drawer so you’re free to use that as you like. I was making dinner so you’re also welcome to join me in case you haven’t eaten yet. Make yourself at home,” You offered Chan a shy smile and the boy felt his heart skip a beat. Have you always been that pretty?

Chan snapped himself out of his daze and nodded before smiling back at you. “Thanks, I seriously owe you a lot for letting me stay the night. I’m sorry for coming up on short notice,” he says bashfully. You were very kind and the fact that you even offered him dinner was crazy enough as it is.

“Hey, it’s no biggie. I don’t have guests over that often so it’s nice to have someone around now and then. Call this our first unofficial sleepover if you will,” You laugh and Chan can’t help but feel flustered around you. You were so calm despite everything, it was almost impressive to him.

You put your hands together and excuse yourself, making Chan stand up and smile at you once more before you leave the room.

“Towels are in that cabinet under the desk, I think you already have the password here since it’s just my cat’s name in lowercase letters,” Chan once again nods as he watches your figure disappear into the rest of the apartment.

The silence welcomes Chan as he turns to observe every inch of the room. It was very minimal with a simple white desk, a few pictures on display, and two candles off to the side. A white double-door closet stood at the opposite end of the bed, a plant in a gray pot right next to it.

A part of the wall had postcards from places he assumed you had gone to, as well as some awards from your school. It was nice how the room still had a few elements of you in it despite it being a guest room, he would’ve never known that you had topped your class or that you had been to France.

Grabbing a towel from the cabinet and some clothes from his bag, Chan then made his way over to your bathroom. As he was passing the kitchen, he saw your back and got a whiff of whatever you were making for dinner. It smelled like meat and ramyeon, something he had missed dearly during his entire trip to Japan.

Chan enters the bathroom quietly to avoid distracting you and looks at how organized everything is, noting that the room itself is also well-lit.

‘Maybe I should take a selfie in here later,’ he thought while checking himself in the mirror, only to grimace at his appearance shortly after. He looked beat despite the flight only being three hours.

You hear the shower turn on from the outside and continue to finish up plating the food, your cat rubbing herself against you as you bend down to pet her.

“It’s a bit weird, but you don’t mind having him around right?” Luna meows as if saying ‘Not at all’ and you chuckle.

“Well Luna, you already know how much I talk about him and it’s no surprise,” you tell your cat in a whisper. The shower halts and you bring the food to the coffee table in front of your TV, turning Netflix on while waiting for Chan.

“Oh, no way! Ramyeon and meat? You made this for me?” You hear Chan say dramatically as he clutches his chest. The reaction causes you to laugh as the boy plops himself on the couch beside you.

Seeing Chan in your peripheral almost made you choke on your bowl because of how good he looked. He was wearing a white shirt and grey sweats, so simple yet he looked godly.

“Not for you but I made extra ok! Wash the dishes with me at least since you still are technically a guest,” you joke.

Chan hums without another word and that was when you choked on your food. Wow, it was that easy? You thought you were going crazy. He looks at you oddly and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Sorry, I was shocked at how you agreed so quickly,” Chan laughed at your words before taking in the last bit of food on his plate, collecting all the dishes once you leaned back on the couch and sighed in contentment.

“Y/n, you said you’d do the dishes with me!” Chan whined from the kitchen. After opening your eyes and huffing, you then make your way into the kitchen and see Chan’s back in front of the sink.

“I have a dishwasher by the way, we can just rinse these off and put them in,” you say as a matter of fact.

Chan turns toward you with a huff and watches you open the space beside him, seeing you put in the rest of the dishes and turning them on.

“Remind me never to do dishes over here ever again” Chan frowns, a pout set on his lips as you wipe your hands dry.

“I’m honestly way too bored to watch something right now, do you mind just chatting for a bit? I’m too full,” the two of you walk into the living room once again before the boy hums with a smile. You sit on the couch and throw a blanket over the two of you.

Chan shifts to make himself more comfortable, suddenly noticing a very obvious lump under the blanket that slowly starts making its way toward you. “Luna, what did I say about hiding under the blanket? You’re so naughty.”

Grabbing your cat from under the covers, you then put her on top of your lap, her blue eyes staring straight into Chan’s soul. “Does she always stare? Her eyes are very, blue. It’s like she’s staring straight through me” he says, and takes a closer look at your cat.

“Sorry about her, I haven’t had anyone over in weeks so Luna’s fascinated by a new presence at the house” You giggle while petting her. Chan feels his heart do flips, seeing you in your most natural state made him fall for you just a tad bit more if that was even possible.

“Anyway, where have you been? Your parents told me you were in Japan or something. How was it there?” You grin.

You had been to Japan quite a few times, from what Chan could tell. If he could vaguely remember, one of the postcards in your room said Osaka and Kyoto, even Kobe.

“Ah yeah, we had our most recent competition there, it was great. A lot of sightseeing and whatnot for the most, I wish I went outside of Tokyo but we couldn’t leave so I had to settle with just exploring the city,” Chan breathes out, recalling the memories he made with his friends Yeonjun and Changbin.

“That sounds so cool! I’ve been to Tokyo loads of times and honestly, city life is way too busy for me. I think visiting the more provincial areas is great if you want the feeling of peace.” Chan noticed a bit of a distant look in your eyes and wondered if you were thinking about your memories in Japan as well.

Luna suddenly meows and jumps onto Chan’s lap, causing the two of you to jolt up out of surprise. “Huh, she’s usually weary of everyone. This is a first for her,” you say with a soft smile.

Chan pets Luna with a soft smile on his face, the image making your heart flutter. It was impossible to contain your crush on the male any longer after everything that happened, hell, even your cat liked him as much as you did.

“Well, hi there Luna. You’re adorable and look just like your owner. Y/n, you legitimately like your cat, she’s like a mini clone of yours.” Your cheeks heat up at Chan’s stare, the male looking between you and the cat as his eyes linger a bit too long on you.

“OK enough, as far as I know, you know way more about me than I do about you. So, tell me about yourself?” Chan says after a minute of silence.

You jolt at his voice and look at him with an awkward smile. There wasn’t much to say about yourself if you were being honest, you couldn’t gauge anything interesting enough to tell the boy.

“I can’t think of anything, I’m a pretty boring person,” Chan frowns at your words. Boring? That didn’t seem right to him, there was probably more to you than you think, he just had to get it out of you somehow.

“Are you sure? Y/n, you’ve gone to Japan and a lot of other countries, judging from your guest bedroom alone, and I think that’s interesting enough as it is.” You blush at Chan’s words, this was the first time someone had ever asked about you, and you felt grateful towards him.

“Thank you, Chan, that’s honestly super sweet of you to say. I just traveled a lot from a young age since I was offered the opportunity to, but for now, I’m just taking a break from it all. Moving to different places in such a fast-paced environment becomes exhausting once you get older,” You play with your hands and recall every single place you’ve been to.

Traveling and moving was all you had ever known since early childhood, due to your parents moving around a lot because of their jobs and because they were always just super busy people in general. One day, you just got so used to all of it that settling down for the first time in college felt foreign to you.

“That’s honestly really cool, I’ve only ever known the practice room and the music so dancing is like my version of that. Now that I was offered the opportunity to travel, I didn’t realize it would be so overwhelming, especially as a first-timer.” Chan smiles comfortingly.

He truly admired you a lot. After getting a feel of what your life was like, before settling down into one place, he was intrigued by your way of life. How things worked after you had gotten used to it all, and how you coped with the amount of change you were faced with.

“I guess we still do have quite a lot to learn from each other then. You have a lot to tell me, and I think that’s very clear based on our current ordeal.” Chan laughs.

You shrug your shoulders and throw him a sheepish smile. No one had ever been curious about you, or how you lived your life, unlike how Chan did. It felt refreshing to be able to share your life experiences and what you had gone through with someone who listened.

Sure, you did have your friends who were also curious about you, and that's how your friendships even came to be, but Chan was different.

You always thought you’d only have a few chance encounters with the boy next door, but you never thought you’d have him sitting beside you on your couch as you go over your life with him.

“I never really got the chance to talk about my life as much, but you were willing to listen to me like it was nothing. If I continue yapping though, we’d take forever and I don’t want to keep you up any longer since you are still tired from your flight,” You say, and look at Chan beside you.

A pout stays on his face, but he had totally forgotten about the jet lag and how badly he wanted to just pass out after spending time with you.

Chan truly couldn’t get enough of you, and he starts to feel a crush blooming in his chest, not like he had one already, he just never acted on his feelings towards you.

“Don’t be like that, I live next door so you’re technically welcome to come over anytime. Now go on, I’ll let you rest up. I’ll be in my room if you need me ok? Goodnight Chan,” You tilt your head a bit as you greet him goodnight, and Chan swears he felt his heart melt right at that very moment. It didn't help that your adorable cat was rubbed up against your leg too.

“I will, thanks again for letting me stay Y/n. Goodnight, sleep well,” Chan breathes out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. You grin and turn in the direction of your room, Luna following closely behind you.

Chan was restless when he came but with your presence alone, it seems like he could stay up for a whole week if he could.

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wrathofrats · 23 days

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Day 11- long distance- Swiss and aether

Thanks to @forlorn-crows as always 🫶

Tensions rise on tour, Swiss calls aether to try and make it better.

“Hello?”

Aether answered the phone in a groggy tone. Swiss cringed at the sleepiness in his voice, rough as if he had just woken up. The time difference tended to escape him whenever he missed aether and sunny and picked up the phone to contact them, but neither minded. They were always happy to hear his voice.

“Aether? Did I wake you?” Swiss practically whispered. It was an unconscious attempt to not overwhelm him if he had actually woken him up, hoping the gentle tone could coax him out of being tired.

“Don’t worry about it, what’s up?”

Aether could hear the anxiety in Swiss’ voice. He could picture him picking at his nails and fiddling with whatever blanket was on his lap. He had always been a nervous fidgeter, one of his main tells that something was wrong.

“Well nothings wrong per say- it’s not an emergency but-“

“Swiss, tell me” aether cut him off

“How do you do it? How do you make every situation better?” There was a solemn air to the question. Aether knew Swiss well. Aether knew that something had happened and Swiss wasn’t handling it well. The pack could tend to be a lot sometimes, they all loved each other but conflict could sometimes be hard to tackle. Rain tended to retreat instead of handling issues, dew tended to blow up without thinking before he acted, cumulus got overwhelmed easily, and cirrus usually shut down, equipped with sharp sour words to ward off others.

It was always aether and mountain who would have to handle things if they got out of hand, a calming presence to drag everyone back and figure out a solution. Swiss could do this, but as much as he seemed like a more forceful figure, he was a people pleaser at heart. A pushover in the worst cases.

“Did something happen?”

Aether assumed there would be mild problems now that he and Sunny had been replaced with phantom and Aurora. Both were sweet ghouls, a little rowdy, but knew what they were doing. There hadn’t been any changes in a long time, not since ifrit and zephyr retired.

Dew had always taken it the hardest, the transition and ifrit stepping down made dew practically shut down inside. Quiet and harsh with his words for the first leg of that tour. He had processed and gotten better after a while, especially with aethers help.

But now that aether wasn’t there, there was question on how he would handle having phantom around in replace of him.

“Not exactly, it’s just been …… tense, to say the least” Swiss sighed, “nothing feels right. No one seems like themselves.”

“It’ll get better, everyone just needs time”

“No, I know, but I feel like I should be able to do something. If you were here you probably would have by now.”

Aether sighs, an ache in his heart for how hopeless Swiss sounds. There’s no solution, there’s always some kind of tension on tour. Living in a bus with even those you love the most will create problems after a while.

“It’s not your fault stardust”

“Well no, but mountain can usually have everyone happy again with a bit of time, but it shouldn’t be solely his responsibility”

“The fact that you care so much is all you need to do, you can only be you, you can’t be me. And we love you for you only”

“I know, I just-“

“I’m proud of you. You’re doing fantastic. They don’t need another aether, they need you right now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you know how often I miss you guys and I look at your smile in photos and it makes me feel better?”

“You do?”

“You’re doing the best you can. You’re our stardust, remember? It’ll be ok”

“I love you aeth”

“Love you swiss”

#@ghuleh-recs for divider!#do you guys know how important Swiss and aether are to me #is it obvious #mushy may #don’t read too much into how much I project onto Swiss #it’s fine #don’t worry #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #swiss ghoul #aether ghoul #mushy may 2024

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ashraintarot · 8 months

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Pick a Photo Tarot Reading - What does October hold for me?

Photo 1

The main themes that will be highlighted in October for you are passion, desire, sensuality and will-power. The first thing coming up has to do with how you view and connect to cycles in life. There are things trying to die away, to let you move past them and embrace a new, better future, but it feels like you’re grasping onto these things for dear life. This could be a romantic interest, a friend, a not so good habit, a job, anything that isn’t serving you anymore. It feels very ‘lost in the sauce’. If there’s not a toxic attachment there’s just a sense of holding onto life as it is too tightly. You’re so lost in whats going on and the emotions you’re feeling that you can’t see the way out. But it’s there. You might be often seeking answers in readings like this which I realize is ironic to tell you mid reading, but you’re meant to look within to find the answers you’re seeking. Spirit is really telling you you’re guaranteed to success eventually, but you have to trust yourself and take a damn risk! If you’re sick of where you are, make a change. I know it’s easier said than done, but you have to take a step, even if it’s a small one. For many this is a reassessing your dedication to your craft. I see you getting back to the drawing board this month, putting in the hours of practice you need to improve. It’s important to remember our taste is always better than our talent in the present moment. That’s because you’re always evolving, learning and improving, so keep that in mind when you might be hating what you’ve created. It’s just proof you’re getting better, but it doesn’t mean what you made isn’t good too! Give it love, be thankful for it for what it’s taught you. There might be some times this month you need to stick up for yourself or your fellow man. If it’s safe, be sure to stand up for what’s right. Use your voice, be a champion for those less fortunate than you are.

Photo 2

Things might feel like they aren’t working out fast enough. You’ve planted a lot of seed and intentions recently and during October you might start to feel a little impatient. This is your reminder that things are falling into place behind the scenes. Let yourself breathe and relax for now. Focus on being present and enjoying yourself this month. I feel like you might be at risk of taking on more than you can handle, so really be honest with yourself when it comes to saying yes to things you don’t have the capacity or maybe even simply don’t want to do. It’s okay to say no! You’re also being reminded that you don’t have to go through this time alone. It’s okay to ask for help, to share the load. You’re not weak for not being able to handle something, humans need community, we were made for it. In that vein, there’s an emphasis on community this month as well. Whether it’s hanging out with a group, with family, or even just one person, surround yourself with those who make you feel loved, heard and understood. I see some fun times just in the living room watching movies with a friend. Don’t lock yourself away. I think some of you are going through quite a big spiritual upgrade and it’s easy to go into that hermit mode. If you need to recharge, by all means do so, but make sure you come back up for air and connect with loved ones. Your guides are also sccrreeeaming at me to tell y’all to meditate.

Photo 3

October is all about self love and compassion for the self, especially regarding how you view yourself and the things you do/create. If you’re someone that’s always talking down to yourself as a reflex, this is for you. It’s important for you to remember that you still have so much learning and growing to do left. I get the vibe of ya’ll being worried about being “cringe” or awkward and saying the wrong thing. October is all about stepping into who you are and your power. There’s a feeling of scattered-ness and frantic energy here. It would behoove you to work on getting organized, trying out new ways to keep yourself accountable for self care routines and just routines in general that help you to feel better about yourself, physically and mentally. It feels like you’ve been trying to manifest and do spiritual work and there’s a sense of something being stuck. I really think it has to do with this self image. I really recommend taking time everyday to work with affirmations to solidify a better perspective of yourself. Play around and see what works for you, maybe writing them in a journal, or listening to a meditation on self love, maybe if you write your own you can record yourself reading them and listen first thing in the morning and last thing before bed. Put time for self love and reprogramming that image into your routine we were talking about before. You’re someone who has big dreams, some of which you haven’t even fully realized yet, but this is a reminder you’re building a solid foundation. You’re still becoming who you’re meant to be to make these dreams work out. Let yourself be a student of life. Let yourself make mistakes without beating yourself up for it.

#tarot #tarot community #witch #tarot messages #divination #witchcraft #metaphysical #pick a card reading #pick a photo #pick a pile #tarot reading #tarot reader #daily tarot #o=

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gay-slime · 5 months

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Goodbye post :]

Hello & also - goodbye!

This is a formal post to mark this account as an archive - aka I’m just gonna be logging out & not deleting it for sentimentality reasons (also technically my main and other sides, granted they’re all tied together)

Thank you all for the support, there have been a lot of times in these past 7 years where I wouldn’t have been nearly as safe if it wasn’t for yalls help. Doing commissions & getting donos ocassionally through this account has saved me on multiple occasions; ranging from homelessness, feeding my cats, textbook/college tuition, and other situations I don’t know how I would have fared in if I had no income at the time. I seriously can’t explain how much this blog and all of you meant for me during such a painful & dangerous period of my life.

If for whatever reason you would like to get in contact; be it for commissions or anything else - my old art insta @CartoonyEyes will be the only way to reach me after tomorrow.

More context for my leaving below for the sake of getting it off my chest, but content warning for general mentions of abuse.

When I first made this account in highschool, I was going through some pretty horrific abuse at home, and I wasn’t ever really in a good state of mind during its prime. This blog was a form of escapism that made me feel seen, appreciated, and happy at a time in my life where I wasn’t getting that anywhere else. Because of that & my general naivety due to active grooming at the time, I also made a lot of ignorant shitty decisions, and had a lot of wild overreactions on here. Unfortunately, every post has a memory behind it, and despite the fact that I’ve done my best to scrub this blog of those old behaviors and posts- I still know at one point they existed. I can’t expect myself to comb through 7+ years of untagged posts, but I also don’t want to lose everything I posted here - it was such an important moment in my life. I have since left the shitty home situation, and I’m in MUCH better circumstances and spirits these days - but I still find myself not wanting to post because I’m anxious of possibly having some cringe ass behavior brought back up from a time where I should have known better, but didn’t.

That all being said, I will be remaking a new tumblr and a new side minecraft blog - I just won’t be directly associating it back to this account. Fresh slate kinda thing, even though there’s really no such thing on the internet. It’s just a little more distance between me and a period of my life I’d rather not have reminding of every time I look at my notifications. If you notice a new blog might be me? No u don’t!

Thank you, and toodles!

-Oli

#oli speaks

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m0llygunn · 11 months

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Strat and Jag (Eddie Munson x fem!reader)

Summary: an unfortunate bout of eavesdropping rocks the boat of friendship between you and eddie, and ex-sailor steve helps steer you right...

Warnings: 18+ for mature content (not too explicit yet) and eventual smut, mature language, mentions of eddie trauma (parents/alluding to drug issues). Authors note: howdy this is part 2. also i take back the prologue being a prologue, thats just part one idk what im doing. This part and the 3rd part will be the main chunk of this series, then I have bonus chapters coming after! ty! wc: 6.7k+

01/02

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The Fire of All Hells

“I can’t fucking do this anymore, holy shit. She’s killing me.”

“Killing you? I don’t think it’s that serious, man.” Gareth laughs.

“No.” Eddie says harshly. “If you heard what she was saying yesterday… holy fuck, you’d understand. She is killing me.” He groans.

“Well, dude, you know what you could do?” Jeff replies sarcastically.

Eddie, Jeff, and Gareth were all setting up in the drama room and you figured you’d show up a little early with the cookies you made after Eddie left you yesterday.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

While you didn’t play DnD, you were an odd sort of an ‘unofficial’ member. You and Eddie have been friends forever so it was kind of pushed into your lap when he wanted to start his little club. And since it was a group of dimwit boys, you unwarrantedly became the founding mother of the club… alongside the founding father, Eddie— who, have it be noted, has zero organizational capabilities, not an ounce of time management skills, and absolutely no faith entrusted in him by any school faculty members. And for all of those reasons, that is why you were roped into this weird little club.

Eddie practically begged for you to be the one to ask the teachers to start the group. His far from perfect rep with them would have made the teachers obviously turn him down… but you on the other hand… you're liked enough, get good enough grades, and although have been tied to Eddie in numerous ways (including physically that one time when Eddie bought industrial level handcuffs, brought them to school to show off, cuffed you and him together to demonstrate, realized he lost the keys, and then you both spend the day cuffed together until Wayne got home to saw you free), you keep out of trouble for the most part.

After a week of Eddie groveling and a few deals set between you too, you gave in. At the time, you were in your freshman year, and Eddie was promised Wayne’s old van once he got his license, so he set the deal that he would drive you to school and home everyday (which now that you're both in your senior year, it’s a promise that he has mostly held up overtime). He also promised his eternal friendship, which was already a given so that barely sweetened the deal. It’s kind of foggy at this point, being so long ago, but you’re sure he also bought you some other shit, probably stole you some beer too, because god knows you two were fiends for any alcohol back then.

Since you had to ask to start up the club, it was your name under the club registry so it was always the drama teacher up your ass about making sure everything was cleaned properly, put away, no food left behind because of the mice… blah blah blah. So yeah… you’re practically the sole standing reason hellfire exists at Hawkins High but you don’t like to think about that… if you think too hard about it, you can’t help but cringe internally. You don’t mind their little group but you’d rather not be known as their leader— that’s all Eddie.

You knew Eddie because his dad and your dad were friends back in high school. The only difference between the two men was when your mom got pregnant with you, your dad cleaned up his life. Eddie’s dad on the other hand was the first to get a girl pregnant out of the two of them— which coincidentally happened in the same year; however, Eddie’s dad couldn’t quite give up his lifestyle. He tried for a bit, he really did, especially after Eddie’s mom skipped town, but it was just hard for him. It didn’t help when he got an injury doing some kind of labor job either. The doctors prescribed him some heavy pain medicine and that’s kind of when everything went to shit.

As a kid you never noticed. At 8 years old, you were oblivious to the havoc being dragged through the lives of everyone around you. You thought it was all fun and games. Eddie had come and stayed with your family for a few weeks and you thought it was the best. It was like a giant sleepover, probably the closest thing you’ve ever had to a sibling.

Then Wayne came into the picture. He was living down south, working as a truck driver. Once his brother got his sentence, he moved up, got the trailer, got a job at the plant, and started taking care of Eddie. He was a saint in the body of a mean-looking, tough talking trucker. Not really mean though, he’s a big ole softy, he just doesn’t let most people know that.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You take a step further into the drama room, not purposefully trying to eavesdrop, you just didn’t mean to interrupt their conversation so abruptly.

“I can’t do that.” Eddie says flatly.

“You can dude. There’s no way she doesn’t know already. Everyone already thinks you’re together since you touch her nonstop. Seriously. You’re like, attached to her at all times.” Gareth says.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie’s always been touchy. Always. Gareth’s not wrong, he always has some part of himself connected to you, whether it’s a knee under the table or an arm around your shoulder, that’s just how he’s always been. He’s never shied away from physical touch and that’s normal for you two after all these years. He was your first hug with a boy, first hand hold with a boy, first kiss, second kiss. It’s always been innocent enough though, he’s your best friend after all, it just so happens to be that he’s a boy. Not a boy boy. Just a boy.

At 7 years old that’s when you two had first kissed. Then again at 10.

The first time, he was making you play some stupid game where he was a knight and you were a princess and according to him, obviously the knight had to kiss the princess. The second time he wanted to ‘practice’ playing spin the bottle. It was only the two of you so you had thought it was a dumb idea but it was Summer and you had been banished from the trailer after spending the weekend blasting the TV and probably stopping Wayne from getting any rest.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Summer of 1978

Eddie had spun the bottle 27 times before it finally landed on you. 27 times. You still remember counting each failed spin, laughter getting rowdier and rowdier at your best friend's terrible luck. The 27th time, he lit up like a damn Christmas tree when the neck of the bottle finally slowed, landing point blank in your direction. You couldn’t help the laughing fit that overcame you and you had thrown yourself backwards, clenching your aching stomach, head softly hitting the dirt floor of the forest clearing you two frequented. That’s when Eddie snuck up and stole the kiss.

You would have let him kiss you, cause that was all part of the game after all. You both had agreed on the rules before starting, but that didn’t stop your surprise when his scrawny little 11 year old body fell over yours.

You still remember distinctly the way he had grabbed your hands to pull them away from where you were holding your stomach. He pinned them both beside your head, similar to when you’d wrestle, and he looked at you with the biggest signature Eddie Munson smirk known to man. At this point, you were stronger than him still and could have easily tossed him off but it shocked you having him so close and so quickly. It took you by surprise so much so that it knocked all the giggles from you. You just laid there, in Eddie’s hold. His smirk fell and after a moment, he dipped his face to yours, and he kissed you for the second time.

“Gross Eddie!” You shrieked when you felt his slimy tongue harshly poking past your lower lip and into your mouth. He started to get up off you but you were embarrassed, so you pushed him making him land harshly on his butt.

“It’s called a French kiss.” Eddie stated matter of factly, face scrunched, hands rubbing over his lower back that stung from the impact of his landing.

“It’s disgusting and you smell like cheezies.” You say pushing yourself up from the ground and wiping his spit off your mouth.

“It’s practice.” He huffed. “And you taste like cheezies. It’s not just me.”

“I do not!” You shrieked before hauling yourself up into a standing position ready to stomp away from him. You were already embarrassed by Eddie shocking you into silence, then him telling you that you tasted like cheezies… even at 10 years old you knew that’s not what a boy would want to taste during a kiss.

“We ate cheezies, Strat.” Eddie said, rolling his eyes at you.

‘Strat’ was a nickname that your dad started. He was the guitar guy, and spent a lot of time teaching you and Eddie about music since you were toddlers. Once you got old enough to actually hold a guitar, he had two that he’d let you both mess around with; a Fender Stratocaster and a Fender Jaguar. The strat was a pretty baby blue colour that you adored, so naturally, you always called dibs on it, and Eddie got the red Jag. Your dad would call you both ‘Strat’ and ‘Jag’ and unfortunately the nickname stuck for you and you only— probably because you would whine and cry about the strat if Eddie tried to steal it from you.

At the roll of Eddie's eyes, that really set you off. You turned, stomping your feet back to the trailer park.

“Hey, I like cheezies, Strat! Don’t go!” Eddie called after you. “We’re not done playing, you still have to spin!”

“I’m telling Wayne!” You screamed, running faster to the trailer once you heard Eddie’s clumsy steps behind you.

“No! Please, don’t!” He yelled back pleadingly, making you smile to yourself revengefully. You heard his steps quicken behind you so you sprinted, making it to the door of the trailer in record speed.

You threw open the door, startling Wayne who was sat on the couch, and just as you were about to speak you felt Eddie’s hand clamp around your mouth from behind.

“Edward Munson. You take your hands off that girl.” Wayne warned sternly.

“B-but-”, Eddie began before you interrupted him by elbowing him in the stomach.

“Yeah. Hands off.” You said turning to face Eddie as he held onto his stomach. You smirked at him and he sent you pleading eyes not to tell. You weren’t going to. That never was your plan, you just wanted to see him squirm as payback for him embarrassing you.

“Ohhhhh Wayne.” You sang. Eddie’s eyes widening, his features turning increasingly pleading for you not to tell on him.

“What in god's name happened to you, you’re covered in dirt, missy.” Wayne said ignoring you. He stood from the couch, making his way over to you before his hands were patting at your back trying to get the dirt off. Your face fell and you couldn’t think of a response.

“She-she… we were playing a game and-” Eddie’s pleading look stopped and his gaze dropped to the floor. You could tell he was about to rat himself out. This boy couldn’t keep one secret from Wayne…

“I fell and Eddie helped me up.” You interject. Eddie’s gaze locked into yours, eyes wide before relaxing, sending you a small smile when he realized what you were doing.

“Her mom’s gonna kill us both, boy. You better go find her some clothes so I can throw these ones in the wash.” Wayne huffed.

Eddie ran into the trailer to his room.

“Clean clothes too, boy! Don’t give her dirty stuff!” Wayne yelled when Eddie was taking too long.

“I know Wayne.” Eddie yelled back, voice full of attitude.

After a few moments, he emerged, with his favourite Black Sabbath shirt that your dad bought for him for his birthday last year and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms.

“Go change, missy.” Wayne gruffed, patting you on the back.

Back in Eddie’s room you both sat on his floor reading his comics.

“You look pretty in that shirt.” Eddie said, interrupting the silence.

“Shut up Edward. I still don’t forgive you for trying to french kiss me.” You say, cheeks turning hot in anger, prompting you to pick up the closest discarded piece of clothing from his messy floor to throw at him.

“I'm sorry! It was just for practice.” Eddie groaned dramatically.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Before you both reached puberty it was all hugs, holding hands, sharing seats, sharing beds, just being innocently close to each other. After puberty his touchness did simmer a bit. Albeit not much though. Eddie still barely knows what personal space is, but he’s not grabbing at your hand every second like he did when you were kids.

“I don’t always touch her! Besides, it’s always been like that since we were kids, it’s normal.” Eddie says, focusing his attention on setting up.

“There’s nothing normal about the way you act around her.” Gareth says with a laugh.

“Yeah. You love her.” Jeff teases.

“And that’s the fucking problem. Thanks for really rubbing it in guys.” Eddie says exasperatedly, throwing his bag of dice onto the table carelessly.

“Just ask her out.” Jeff says, patting Eddie on the back as he slouches down onto the table.

“Oh great idea! Strat, I fucking love you. Please, go out on a date with me and potentionally fuck up our lifelong friendship. Great idea guys. Thank you so much.” Eddie says sarcastically.

During Eddie’s spiel he had picked up his bag of dice again. Finishing his scornful remark, he had thrown it down on the table, this time the dice falling out and skidding across the floor, most of them landing at your feet.

All three boys turn at once, moving to pick up the dice before they spotted you.

“Shit.” Gareth says, filling the silence of the room.

You look at Eddie and he’s gone pale, his whole face null of expression.

“I- Hey.” You stutter, clearing your throat. “I was just gonna drop these off.” You continue, stepping forward to place the container of cookies on the table.

“Hey Strat.” Jeff says nervously, being the first to snap out of his surprise. “You gonna stay today?” He asks.

“No, no… gotta help my mom with.. something.” You lie. You were gonna stay. You told the little twerps you’d stay today, but you really have to go now.

“I swore you told Dustin at lunch that you’d stay?” Gareth says, eyes narrowing in on you.

“No, I-”

“Hey guys! What’s up?” Grant greets excitedly as he enters the drama room.

“Hey Grant.” You smile before taking steps towards the door.

“Strat? You’re going?” He questions, brows furrowing at you. “Dustin said you were staying and that you had something for us?”

“No, I have to go. Bye guys.” You say, turning quickly before exiting the room.

“What’s up with her?” You hear Grant say to the guys from the hall.

“Strat! Where you going?” Lucas calls from the other end of the hall. You turn briefly, still walking backwards towards the school exit.

“Gotta go home! I left cookies for you guys in there.” You say, putting on your best cheery voice before turning and walking as fast as you can out of the school.

Shit. Eddie was right. He can’t just ask you out. That would be ruining a lifelong friendship. He can’t do that. He can’t like you. You guys are best friends. He can’t do that to you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

At home you flop yourself on your bed. What the fuck are you gonna do?

Nothing.

You’re going to do nothing.

You’re going to pretend you didn’t hear that. Eddie doesn’t like you. He doesn’t love you. He’s not ruining your friendship— you won’t let him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You spend the weekend convincing yourself you made up the entire conversation you overheard. Eddie called 6 times since Friday evening, but you needed the time to erase whatever you overheard in the drama room from your memory.

You spend Sunday evening contemplating if you should even take the ride from Eddie in the morning. He barely shows up Monday mornings so, who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and won’t have to see him anyways.

You were wrong though. You decided to start your walk, and halfway there, you heard the familiar rumbling of his van approaching before slowing at your side.

The van halts and you look over to see a fairly normal looking Eddie smiling at you. You try to muster a smile but you know it must look weird because he retracts into himself before motioning for you to get in.

You stop, contemplating if it’s a good idea before you hear a car coming up the road that makes the decision for you. You quickly hop into the van, buckling yourself in as Eddie starts driving before the car behind him has time to honk.

“Hey.” Eddie says.

“Hey.” You reply.

For a moment all that’s heard is the rumbling of the van engine.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while.” He says cautiously.

“Yeah. Sorry. Was busy.” You lie. You spent the whole weekend in bed doing fuck all but thinking about the situation at large.

“Busy?” Eddie asks. He knew you weren’t busy. You told him a few days that you had no plans. You were supposed to go over to his, but obviously that didn’t happen.

“Yeah. Busy. My mom needed help with something.” You say, sticking with the same lie from Friday.

“Something?” He questions. Without looking at him, you can tell he's smiling.

“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?” You say flatly, copying his same avoidant statement from Thursday night when he claimed to be helping Wayne with ‘something’. He huffs a breath out of his nose in what sounds like amusement, but you don’t think this is funny.

You don’t say more and neither does he for the rest of the ride. When you pull into the lot, you both get out before walking into the school. It’s mostly normal, except for the fact that it’s dead silent between the two of you. You don’t think it’s ever been this quiet between you.

When you see Robin, you use her as your escape.

“Robin!” You call. She turns to you and you wave at her. You start walking towards her and out of your periphery, you can see Eddie still trailing beside you.

“Bye Eddie.” You say, stopping to turn toward him. You can’t look at him though, not in the eyes. You haven’t yet, apart from through the window of the van.

“Bye Strat.” He says quietly.

You quickly push your way through the halls, leaving Eddie behind until you get to Robin.

“What was that?” She asks as soon as you’re close enough to hear her.

“What was what?” You question.

“What did you say to him, he looked like he was gonna cry?” Robin says furrowing her eyebrows at you.

“I just said bye?” You say.

“Just bye?” She says skeptically. You nod your head at her.

She grabs a book out of her locker, eyes still on you, clearly not believing you.

“Steve said that those little twerps said something happened.” She says flatly.

“Like what?” You ask hoping she has some drama that’ll take your mind off of all this.

“Something with you and Eddie.”

“Why’d they say that?” You roll your eyes.

“Cause something did happen?” She says, waiting for you to fill her in but you don’t.

She stares at you, waiting for you to spill but truly, there’s nothing to spill. You let your eyes roam the hall, feeling awkward under her scrutinizing look before the slamming of her locker startles you.

“You heard them talking didn’t you?” She asks.

“Heard who?” You ask and you physically feel Robin's annoyance rising.

“Strat. Stop playing dumb.” She scolds.

“Robin. I’m not playing dumb.” You reply, sticking to your guns. It didn’t happen. You didn’t hear anything. Nothing happened.

“Strat-” Robin starts, getting interrupted by the first bell.

“Gotta go Robs! Good talk.” You say before bolting to home room.

You usually sit next to Eddie, but it’s fine. Nothing happened, right? Don’t need to be weird around him, right?

You cross the class to your seat at the back of the room, the spot next to you still empty. Little by little the class fills and by the time the second bell goes, you’re still left sitting alone at the back of the class.

Halfway through the class, you’re still sitting alone.

You try to focus on taking notes— especially now since you know you’re gonna have to teach this shit to Eddie who’s currently skipping, but you’re having a hard time focusing.

When the teacher steps out of the class to get her forgotten worksheets from her office you lean forward in your chair, poking Jeff in the back.

“Where is he?” You ask, when he turns.

“Seriously?” He laughs. You frown, not appreciating being laughed at right in your face.

“Yeah. Seriously.” You reply sharply.

“I think you know the answer to that.” Jeff says before turning forward again.

Okay. Ouch. You always thought of Jeff as being the nicest out of the three older hellfire guys, but that was cold.

You didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the day. Matter of fact, you didn’t see him until the next morning when he did the same thing. You had started walking and he drove up behind you, slowing, and you got in. The ride was in complete silence. Not a word or a glance.

When you got to school, you parted ways immediately, without as much as a goodbye. Eddie didn’t show up to homeroom and Jeff didn’t look your way, not that you would have started a conversation with him after yesterday.

You had seen Gareth and Grant walking in the hall and you waved. You know they both saw you but they kept walking, not reciprocating your wave, and it really fucking stung.

That evening you walked home again. Alone.

The next morning, you walked the whole way to school. Alone. No Eddie in homeroom.

You were miserable. And to make matters worse, that morning, the drama teacher called you to his office over the intercom and proceeded to tear you a new one about how things were left in the drama room last Friday. You lied and said you weren’t feeling good and left things a bit of a mess, and that you were very sorry. By the end of the conversation, he was less so scolding you and more so giving you a pitiful look. Maybe you appeared as shitty as you felt, who knows, but you didn’t get detention so at least you got that win. He let you off with a warning instead but made sure to add that if it happens again this Friday, that’s it for your club.

Before lunch you set out to find the only hellfire members that you were certain would not give you the cold shoulder.

“Dustin! Mike!” You called, stopping them before they could enter the cafeteria. You really didn’t want to go in there, knowing Eddie would be there for sure.

You jogged to catch up with them, both of them stopped right at the door.

“Hey, do you mind doing me a favor?” You ask, trying to not seem like the shell of a person that you feel like.

“Yeah? What’s up?” Mike replies.

“Mr. Joels called me to his office and said if you guys leave the drama room like that again he’s gonna cancel hellfire permanently. Can you tell Eddie?”

“Can’t you tell him?” Mike says before Dustin hits him on the arm.

Dustin turns slightly, peering into the caf and your eyes follow, narrowing in on the person you’re always first to look for in a room. You feel whatever shards of a heart you have left dissolve when you see how miserable he looks too.

“S-so can you tell him?” You stutter, trying to pull your attention away from Eddie.

“Strat? Why didn’t you stay on Friday?” Dustin asks quietly.

“B-because.” You stutter again, feeling far too terrible to put up with any more interrogating and far too tired to keep up your lies.

“You heard him didn’t you?” He asks. Yeah. You heard him. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. You can’t pretend you didn’t. It’s not helping anyone. It’s not saving any friendship, because look at this. This isn’t preservation.

All you can do is nod your head, eyes glued to your shoes.

“He likes you, Strat.” Dustin says. You shake your head, disagreeing.

“He does.” Mike adds. You shake your head harder.

“No. He said he loves me.” You say, voice coming out croaky, lowering lip jetting out like you're about to cry.

You bring the palms of your hands to your eyes, pushing until all you can see is black. You’re not about to cry in front of these freshies. You’re not.

You hear the scuffing of their shoes on the floor before you feel a hand on your arm.

“Hey. It’s okay. Strat. Seriously, we can tell him. Don’t cry.” Dustin coos nervously, obviously not having the intent of making you teary eyed.

“I’m not crying.” You huff, pulling your hands from your damp eyes.

“No-yeah! You’re not crying. Don’t worry, we'll tell the guys.” Dustin says genuinely, his demeanor remaining soft yet incredibly nervous. Mike continues looking back into the caf, obviously looking for help from anybody. “So you’re not gonna sit with us?” He asks tentatively.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Well, if you want to come back eventually, uh- we miss you.” He says. You laugh and both boys look taken aback.

“Gareth and Grant pretended I didn’t exist when I saw them in the hall. Jeff laughed in my face when I asked about Eddie and then proceeded to give me the cold shoulder. They don’t miss me, trust me.” You say, exhaling deeply before standing up straighter, ready to end this conversation.

“We do miss you! Seriously.” Mike adds, looking nervous like it might not be the right thing to say.

“Thanks guys.” You say, accepting their sentiments. “Tell Lucas I said hey and sorry for running off on him on Friday. And sorry to you guys too, I did say I was going to stay and then I didn’t.” You add before turning on your heels, heading off to the library without waiting for their reply.

That evening, instead of moping in your room again, you decided to walk to family video. Making matters worse, your dad bought a new distortion pedal for his guitar and he’s been bugging you about getting Eddie to come over to check it out since Sunday. You're clean out of excuses and can’t handle him asking you again tonight, so getting out of the house seems like your best option. Robin usually doesn’t work Wednesday, which leaves Steve closing by himself. You’re not mad at Robin, you just can’t handle the interrogation.

Steve wouldn’t push you for answers like Robin would. He wouldn’t give you the cold shoulder like the other guys. He wouldn’t be the first person you’d hang out with, that of course would be Eddie but… yeah. Steve is a good friend though.

As soon as you walk into the video store you hear Steve calling your name from the register.

“Hey! Long time no see!” He says happily.

“Yeah. How are you!” You ask, trying to return his chipper attitude but it comes out meek.

“Eh, living the dream.” He says, smiling. He rounds the counter, leaning against it, beside where you’re standing. “And what about you?” He asks, quirking a brow.

“I’ve been better.” You say honestly. “Mind if I chill with you for a bit?” You ask, looking around the empty store.

“Not at all, in fact, I welcome it.” He laughs, his own eyes grazing the desolate isles.

You take a seat behind the counter with him, just talking about nothing. You can tell Steve’s waiting for you to bring something up though, he keeps giving you knowing looks whenever there’s a lull in conversation.

When he turns away to help some customers you mentally give yourself a pep talk to talk about it. You’re not going to cry.

“So… I assume the children and Robin filled you in?” You say, once Steve joins you again after the customers have left.

“That they did.” He says, smiling at you with a nod of his head.

“And?” You say, waiting for him to bombard you like Robin did.

“And what? What do I think?” He asks. You sit back, surprised by his response.

“I guess.” You say shrugging.

“Well… you and Munson are close. Obviously. Totally and completely close. I can see why you’re like… y’know… freaked out or whatever. In denial, like Robin said.” Steve says, shrugging his shoulders, mirroring your action.

You look up at Steve in total shock from his extremely validating answer and he just smiles back at you.

“Don’t you think… Am I not.. in the wrong? I mean, it feels like everybody's mad at me… but like, I don’t know what to do?” You say quietly, stumbling through your thoughts.

“I don’t think you’re in the wrong. Feelings are complicated, there’s not really a right or a wrong.” Steve says genuinely, surprising you.

“Wise.” You laugh.

“Well, you know. I’ve had my fair share of feelings.” Steve laughs.

“How did you know when you- uh…” You trail off. Steve waits patiently for you to speak and you’re beyond thankful for it. “With Nancy, how’d you know?” You say, mustering you all of your courage.

“I think that’s a little different because we weren’t close friends first, but… it’s hard to say. I guess I just really wanted to be with her, even if it was just hanging out. Thought about her like 24/7. All of that corny shit, like butterflies and blushing and feeling like you can’t breathe.” Steve says, grabbing a tape off the counter and fidgeting with it in his hands.

“Sorry for asking about Nancy.” You say, picking up his discomfort as soon as he starts playing with his hair, pushing it back over and over again.

“Don’t worry about it, seriously.” He says, reaching a hand across and patting your knee in a friendly manner.

“I guess, I’m just confused cause… I’ve never thought of Eddie that way, but… maybe I have?” You say, questioning yourself.

“Hmm.” Steve hums, thinking to himself.

“Like, I feel like Eddie’s my person. He’s the only one that I want to hang out with all the time, and I always think about him… but the butterflies and all that other stuff you said, I don’t know. I feel like Eddie's just Eddie, he doesn’t make me nervous like that.

“Well that could be because you’ve known him your whole life?” Steve gathers. “And I’m not trying to fuck with your head or anything, but you can’t say you don’t blush at stuff he does. I’ve seen it before.” Steve smiles at you genuinely.

“What?” You scrunch your face. You so do not blush because of Eddie. “When?”

“Halloween. Jonathon was taking all those photos and Eddie kissed you on the cheek for one of them. You seriously went bright as a tomato and there’s photo evidence.” Steve laughs.

You remember that night. You did blush, but you blamed it on the alcohol consumed… even though you only had half a beer at that point. You literally went hot all over and then you blamed it on not eating enough before drinking.

“Oh my god.” You say, mostly for yourself. Eddie had made you blush. He made you blush hard.

“Am I right?” Steve says smugly. You reach across, hitting Steve on the shoulder but he swats you away with a laugh.

“I hate to say it Steve, but maybe you’re onto something.” You smile in disbelief.

“You people have no faith in me.” Steve says, faking hurt.

All you can do is smile at him because things are finally starting to make a little more sense.

“Well, want to keep going or are you tapping out of feelings?” Steve says, quirking his brow at you, making you laugh.

“What are you? Dr. Harrington? PhD in love?” You joke, grabbing your own tape off the counter to fiddle with.

“Oh yeah. Took a lot of heartbreak to get my PhD but hey, if it helps at least one person, maybe it was all worth it.” He laughs.

The conversation lulls for a moment but you quickly break it, deciding you’re not tapping out of your feelings, how could you when you’re so close to understanding?

“Do you think it’ll ruin our friendship? Like what if it doesn’t work out?” You spit out your worst fear, but it doesn’t even phase Steve.

“Well, from what I heard from Robs, how’s your friendship going right now?” Steve says cautiously with a softness to his voice.

“Horrible. I’m miserable. He looks miserable, but I haven’t really talked to him since last Thursday and even then he was acting weird.” You frown thinking about how Eddie looked in the cafeteria, slouched in his seat at the table, eyes all sad, not even talking to the guys— and Eddie is a talker, it’s not fucking normal for him not to be talking.

“Right. And you’re still confused about if you have feelings for him?” Steve asks genuinely, curious but not prying.

“I mean yeah. Like, I pictured Eddie in my life forever, but I never even considered it in that way or really any way at all. I never put much thought into it, ever.” You say honestly.

“You don’t… you know.. think about him sexually.” Steve asks, grinning. You look down into your lap, shyly and you feel your cheeks heat but it’s an easy question you know the answer to.

“Truthfully? I always blamed it on him being so close to me. Like proximity planted all that shit in my head. And like… obviously I trust him and stuff so, like… if I thought about him like that, I always told myself it’s because I could trust him and that’s it.” You say, hiding in your hands. Steve grabs at your hands, before shooting you an amused smile. He’s so stupid, but this is fucking working, he’s actually making everything make sense.

“So you’re attracted to him?” Steve says once your blush cools.

“Eddie’s fucking beautiful. I’ve never been shy to say that. Well, except when he was, like, going through puberty, that was scary.” You say widening your eyes, remembering how gangly and extra clumsy he was right after his growth spurt, and the awkward squeaky voice he had for an entire summer before his voice dropped. Steve laughs at you, clearly enjoying the terror that flashes over your face when you remember the first time you found his porn stash that somehow moved in right along with puberty.

“And… correct me if I’m wrong but you’ve never had a boyfriend, right?” Steve says.

“You are correct.” You say sheepishly.

“And why’s that?” He asks. You shrug, starting to feel nervous.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m not judging you for your choices, just might be helpful to think about?” Steve says softly, leaving it as an optional question with a way out if you so please.

“Yeah. I think, just… dunno. Whenever I’d think about going on a date, I’d always think about Eddie and that would kind of cut the idea short, if that makes sense? Not that I’d think about going on dates with him, just like, if I thought about going on a date it was more so, like… ‘well I usually hang out with Eddie so there’s no time’.” You ramble, nerves getting to you.

“Makes total sense. But you don’t think you associated Eddie with dating because…” Steve leads, leaving open space in his point for you to conclude.

“Because I want to date Eddie?” You say out loud, trying to piece together the puzzle that you’ve been recklessly throwing the pieces around to for far too long.

“Once again, I’m not trying to make you think any particular way. Just helping you get to your own conclusions. Think of me as an impartial mediator.” Steve says, standing up from his spot, starting to pile some tapes back into a cart. You stand too, starting to help him since you’ve stolen so much of his time.

“You really should consider getting a PhD or something, cause damn. Much to think about.” You laugh. “When did you get so wise.” You joke, pushing at his shoulder.

“Yeah. Definitely would never qualify for a PhD, but thanks.” Steve laughs, placing the final VHS from the counter into the basket. “Now, want to do returns with me? Either that or we leave them for Robin tomorrow and when she chews me out I'll totally blame it on you so…” Steve says, tilting his face at you, raising his brows waiting for your response.

“Already had Robin chew me out enough.” You smile, grabbing the return bin for Steve.

You ended up staying with Steve until close. After he dropped you off at home, you spent the whole night thinking about everything you talked through with Dr. Harrington.

Even after a night of contemplation, you kept thinking about it into the next day. You thought about it as you walked by yourself to school, sat through home room alone, ate lunch alone, walked home alone, and spent the evening alone.

You like Eddie.

It’s so fucking clear now.

I mean, every time you’ve ever pictured your future? It’s always been with Eddie. Every dirty thought, every wet dream, every time you touched yourself, it’s always been about Eddie. You don’t go on dates and you’ve never cared to, because you have Eddie. Eddie is your person though and through.

You don’t just like Eddie. You love him.

And when that thought crosses your mind, you feel sick. Feels like someone is both tickling you and also absolutely bludgeoning you from the inside out. Is this what butterflies are? Holy fuck.

When you think about Eddie spilling his guts to Jeff and Gareth in the drama room, you get that feeling and, god, is it horrible. But also… it makes you giddy?

You think about Eddie and suddenly you can’t wipe the stupid grin off your face. You think about his eyes, his nose, his stupid jokes, his laugh, and you get that fluttery feeling.

Deeper into the night you think about Eddie’s lips. You think about his hands, his arms, the way he always is touching you, the ways he could touch you, and you get a different feeling. Like a heat brewing in you. A desire, a neediness. Sure, you’ve thought things about Eddie, but never this purposefully. It makes you squirm in your bed until you get up and go grab water to cool yourself down.

You wake up befuddled with feelings. Like Steve was a fucking train conductor and you just got run over.

It doesn’t help that you remembered that you kind of fucked this up already. It’s Friday. It’s been a whole week since you overheard him.

It’s barely been 24 hours of you feeling so full of feelings. If Eddie was sure enough to admit he loved you to the guys, how long has he been feeling like this? If he’s felt anywhere near the way you feel now, he must have been drowning. And you were just letting him. And now, you’ve made him go a week, knowing that you know that he loves you, and you just went awol.

Your mind goes to what he said in the drama room.

“She’s killing me.”

You’ve been killing him. It didn’t make sense at first, but now it does. It makes perfect sense and it took you until 5PM on Friday night to understand it after a long day of skipping school, laying in bed, and stress baking. And you need to stop it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

ty <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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