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osaemu · 5 months

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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be.

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant.

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace.

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you.

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?”

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read.

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once.

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now.

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time.

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door.

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie.

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches.

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door.

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes.

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

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ao3commentoftheday · 5 months

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I've always found it hard to find the right words for comments, but I used to try and put down something on all the fics I liked but after seeing what some of my writer friends, who are fairy popular in their fandoms, say privately in the groupchat about some of the comments they get, I can't bring myself to leave any comments at all any more.

I know it's a form or unloading where they can salt without hurting anyone and I generally think that's a good thing, saltmates are needed so you can talk about all the crappy annoying things in fandom in a private space and not spread shit on tumblr or ao3 etc.

But It's so so disheartening to me as a comment shy reader because it's never good enough. If it's just emoji hearts or someone saying "second kudos" it's too short and worthless. If it's epicly long well-written, funny, sweet, and clever love bombing, then it's too much and annoying.

I just don't understand, I don't write myself, I draw, badly, and I never get the kind of praise they sometimes get, but I would LOVE to have some of those things said about my work.

I love my friends a lot and I'm a firm believer in saltmates, but it makes me a little crazy and very paranoid to see the difference between what they say in private and what they actually answer to the comments in public on their fics.

I've read a lot here on tumblr about how fic writers love ALL comments etc etc and a lot of tips and tricks for people who have problems leaving comments, but I dont trust that now and I never comment anymore because I do not want a writer of a fic I love to think such things about me, even if it's just in their minds in private.

Do I have extra salty friends or is this a common thing among writers that no one wants to admits out loud?

From my experience, as a writer in fandom on and off for 20-ish years and as the mod of a comment-positive fandom ask blog, your friends are extra salty.

Have I heard people get frustrated with "I liked this!" comments? Sure. But for every one of those, I hear at least 10 people who are giddy and bouncing and just over the moon that someone liked their fic. I've never heard anyone complain about "epicly long well-written, funny, sweet, and clever love bombing." Most fic writers I know would probably pass out from happiness if they received one of those.

I don't know your friends, of course, but it sounds like someone in the group got a little toxic at some point and the rest of them went along, for whatever reason. Maybe burnout was a factor. Maybe they had a specific thing they wanted to get from their comments section that they weren't able to receive. Whatever the cause, the effect on you is bad.

I know you didn't ask for what to do about this, but I'm going to lay it out for you anyway:

stay in the group chat and feel worse and worse about every comment you've ever left on a fic

say something to your friends and ask that they have those conversations when you're not around (your choice if you include the part about it being because they make you feel bad)

leave the group chat and maybe also lose those friends

None of those options are great, but your current situation already sucks so it might be time to try something new.

I'm so so sorry that they made you feel like your comments weren't enough, anon. You don't deserve that. No one does. I hope if those authors see this ask that they pause and reflect and realize the audience they were speaking in front of.

I agree that people need a place to be salty, and I appreciate them doing it in a private space - but it wasn't private enough. ❤️

#asks and answers #long post

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skyefeys · 19 days

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A Comprehensive Guide to Writing Gina Dialogue!!!

Do YOU like writing tgaa fics, but find yourself struggling to understand the speech habits of Gina Lestrade? Well, fortunately for you, I love linguistics and accents almost as much as I love Gina - so I've compiled a breakdown of every quirk in her speech!

(Full analysis under the break!)

Most of Gina's speech patterns can be broken down by three fundamental facts:

She speaks with a thick Cockney accent

She's uneducated, which leads to various grammar troubles

She uses a lot of informal cockney terms/slang

Let's get into it section-by-section!

(Note: Formatting looks a lot better on mobile!)

Section 1: Cockney Accent

So I’m an theater kid, and I've done dialect training for Cockney accents before - it's one of my best ones imo - so that certainly helped me write this section! Even without that, though, it's pretty easy to identify how her accent appears in her speech. Let's break it down!

Drop h's

Example: Here becomes 'ere

Drop g’s at the end of words

Example: Going becomes goin'

A few other word ends that get dropped:

Of becomes o'

And becomes an'

Th changes depending on the word - Thank you to annoyingloudmicrowavecultist for properly explaining how this works in the tags!

Voiced th becomes v

Example: With becomes wiv

Unvoiced th becomes f

Example: Nothing becomes nuffin'

For writing purposes, if a word would become unrecognizable with this change, it's left the same (but in actual speech, it would be pronounced differently)

Example: Father remains as father (but would be pronounced like fovva)

Th always remains intact at the start of words

Example: Thing remains as thing (but would be pronounced like fing)

Miscellaneous word changes

Something becomes summat (but other times is just somefin' - she's not consistent with either)

What becomes wot, whatever becomes wotever

Tomorrow becomes tomorra

Because is often shortened to 'cause, which becomes cos

Isn't almost always becomes ain't

Thank you / no thank you becomes ta / no ta

Some words spill together or are slurred

With that becomes wivvat, with it becomes wivvit (This one isn't actually used in-game, so you don't have to use it either, but it reflects how she'd actually be pronouncing it)

Isn't it becomes innit

Doesn't it becomes dunnit

Suppose becomes s'pose

Don't know becomes dunno

Probably becomes prob'ly

You might change - Another loose/inconsistent rule. Can depend on how the sentence would be pronounced out loud, but mostly is just a vibe

You becomes ya

Your/you're becomes yer

Yourself becomes yerself

Section 2: Grammatical Errors

Gina is an uneducated East End orphan, so it should come as no surprise that she makes mistakes here and there. Here are her consistent ones! Some of these are confusing/hard to explain, so I included specific examples.

Will say me instead of my, and meself instead of myself

Example: "I dunno much about guns meself."

Incorrect tense usage of was/were in negatives - Instead of I/it wasn’t, she’ll say I/it weren’t

Example: "I was up in a balloon, weren't I?"

Incorrect tense usage of does/do in negatives - Instead of he doesn’t, she’ll say he don’t

Example: "Somefin' wot 'e don't want people readin'."

Double negatives

Ever becomes never in negative statements

Example: "I swear on my life, I ain't never laid eyes on that dandy before."

Never + anything becomes never + nothing

Example: "I never done nuffin' o' the sort!"

Never + anyone becomes never + no one

Example: "All me life, growin' up in the slums, I've never trusted no one."

Haven't you ever becomes ain't you never

Example: "Ain't you lot never gone over an 'ouse lookin' for dough when the owners are out o' town?"

The word that or who in the context of ascribing a feature to a subject is replaced by the word what

Example: "She's always goin' on about all them cases wot Sholmes is lookin' into."

Other example: "I think I wouldn't fancy me chances wiv a lawyer wot lives in a place like this."

Will say them instead of those

"All them skylights open, dead easy."

Will say no more instead of anymore

"Ya dropped it, so it ain't yours no more."

She’ll sometimes mess up bigger, unfamiliar words. This one's entirely in your discretion what words she might mess up. Some canon examples:

“Supperment” instead of supplement

“Mantlescript” instead of manuscript

On a similar note, she'll sometimes confidently get sayings wrong and think she sounds smart

“Toby's...'ow did they put it...? ...Oh, yeah! A 'bone-fide' detective!”

Section 3: Cockney Terms/Slang

In addition to her thick dialect, growing up in the East End means Gina has also adopted a plethora of unique words and phrases. This'll be more like a vocab section!

Cockney rhyming slang - Some words are replaced with phrases that rhyme with them. She uses a few in canon:

Instead of believe, she’ll say Adam an’ Eve

“Would you Adam an' Eve it, eh?! Wot a mug!”

Instead of face, she’ll say chevy chase

“Yeah, I can see it written all over yer chevy chase!”

Interjections/Exclamations

Blimey - Express surprise or shock

"Blimey, yer right! That streak o' light in the photo looks just like an arrow, dunnit?"

Cor - A general interjection, kind of a euphemism for god

"Cor, listen to you! Ya stumble across a bit o' balloon an' suddenly yer the best investigator in the world!"

Oi - I doubt I need to define this one, but it's basically the equivalent of "hey"

"Oi! That's off limits up there!"

Words for people

Cove, bloke - A boy or man. Gina tends to use cove more often than bloke.

"That's where the cove ended up after 'is 'instant kinesis' or wotever they call it."

"When I lifted the last bloke's purse, 'e got wise to me."

Dandy - A conceited, fashionable upperclass man. Can be used as a noun or adjective.

In reference to Ashley Graydon: "I swear on my life, I ain't never laid eyes on that dandy before."

Dee - Thank you to uzukirie for figuring this out in the replies of this post - dee is short for detective!

To Sholmes: "I don't need no 'elp from some stuck-up dee!"

About Gregson: "Yeah, the dee let me keep it. After I looked daggers at 'im for long enough."

Swell - A wealthy or elegant person. In canon, Gina uses this exclusively in reference to McGilded.

"It's because o' that, this swell found me. …'E did 'elp me get away, mind."

Miscellaneous vocab

Dodgy - Suspicious

"It was amazin' when you showed that dodgy professor's dodgy experiment was a total fix!"

Rum - Odd or strange

"I mean, wot's the point of spendin' a joey to make a few bob, eh? That's a rum idea, innit?"

Coppers - Cops

"If you do wot the grown-ups tell ya, it'll get yer mates dragged off by the coppers. Or worse."

Scarper - Flee/run away/leave in a hurry. Also comes from rhyming slang - Scarper = Scapa Flow = Go

"If I did that, 'e said 'e'd let me scarper before the coppers showed up."

Have a butcher's - Take a look. Also comes from rhyming slang - "butcher's hook" = look

"Most days I push the cushion up wiv me 'ead an' look out the crack. Then I can 'ave a butcher's at who I'm gonna fiddle."

Rude words/phrases :)

Gordon Bennett - Expresses surprise or contempt - kind of a euphemism for goddammit.

"Gordon Bennett! You lot!"

Flamin', bleedin', - General emphasis. Pretty much just gentler ways of saying fucking.

Note!! You might be tempted to make Gina say "bloody", since that's well-known British slang, but she never says that. She says bleedin' in its place.

"Don't be so flamin' rude, 'Oddo!"

"It's lies every bleedin' place ya look in this world, innit?"

Bleedin’ Nora - A variation of "Bloody Norah", a surprised/irritated interjection.

"Wot the bleedin' Nora, 'Oddo?! Wot 'ave you gone an' done?!"

Bogtrotter - A derogatory term for an Irish person. She uses this to refer to McGilded.

"Look at the mess it's got you into, believin' in that bogtrotter!"

Mug - An idiot.

"You can't do it from inside, you mug."

Blue blazes - An alliterative exaggeration of "blazes". A euphemism for hell.

"Where the blue blazes 'ave you been, eh?"

Cobblers - Rubbish/nonsense. Literally, it means testicles - derived from Cockney rhyming slang, where "cobbler's awls" = balls.

"All this nonsense about the boss plannin' to kill people… It's cobblers!"

And 1.2k words later, that's pretty much it! Now you can write Gina dialogue spot on <3

Feel free to suggest anything I'm missing/got wrong - I come back and edit this for accuracy's sake every time I notice something I left out, or when people in the replies/tags point things out!

#tgaa #dgs #ace attorney #the great ace attorney #gina lestrade #dai gyakuten saiban #gaac #tgaac #the great ace attorney chronicles

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nexysworld · 26 days

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Dead Dove, Content Entitlement, and Fandoms

There's been no end of posts clogging up popular fandom tags with arguments and opinions on dark content, dead dove, and related things. While I've seen some decent posts that go over media literacy and dark content, I personally feel like none fully encompass my entire feelings on this nor provide all the points that I feel are important.

I know people have strong feelings on this subject, and I'm not expecting to immediately change anyone's minds. But I hope maybe I can toss some food for thought out there, or provide further context from both a victim of SA as well as a content creator. This has been bothering me for a while now to the point where it has been making me no longer want to write or engage in fandoms on Tumblr, and so I needed to get this out there with my stance. I've also had people in my inbox stating that my dark content is somehow morally better than other writer's dark content. TW: Mentions of dark content including discussions of noncon/dubcon, harassment, SA, etc.

Addressing Common Points

If you write or consume [INSERT CONTENT], you're romanticizing and endorsing it and that makes you a bad person. Or, you're weird/wrong/gross for it. I see this brought up primarily with dubcon/noncon topics. It should go without saying, but fiction is fantasy, it's separate from real life. Adults who consume this type of content understand that these things are NOT ok in real life. But to take it a step further, I want to stress that having noncon fantasies is actually INCREDIBLY common. In studies regarding these fantasies, nearly 50% or more of people who participated admitted to having fantasies that align with these topics the majority of which are women. Not only that but these kinds of fantasies are even more common in people who have been victims of these crimes. This isn't some niche thing only liked by a minority of people. If you don't believe me here's an example of ONE study, but there's plenty of easily accessible information out there. By conflating consuming/writing this content with someone's moral character stigmatizes these feelings further and does more harm than good. And I know what you're thinking though. But why? Why would someone who's gone through something like that fantasize about something so awful? Why is this appealing to anyone, victims or not? Fiction creates a safe space to explore topics. In fiction there are no real victims, no one is actually getting hurt, it's all fake. The characters aren't real and if at any point as the reader you are too uncomfortable to continue, you can stop and exit. You can like the idea of a fictional person tossing you around, while also feeling uncomfortable if a real life man tried to pick you up a the bar or didn't take no for an answer. There's also "normal" things you can fantasize about, but not want to participate in IRL.

Hypocrisy and what is considered dark content? This won't apply to everyone, but I've seen a number of people who claim to be anti-dark content but reblog things that are non consensual, perhaps without realizing it. And this is especially true for those who are younger on here. Please understand that noncon/dubcon does not inherently need to be violent or gory. Any situation in which there's a lack of consent or a power imbalance is inappropriate. Somno fics? If it's not explicitly stated that it was agreed upon prior in the fic, that is still non consensual even if it's written to be "sweet.", even if it's a pre-established relationship. Professor x student fics? There's power imbalance there. There's a reason you cannot have a relationship with your teachers in real life. Hybrid fics? Most people write hybrids as completely sentient people who are treated as sex slaves. They have little choice or are "following instinct." You cannot consent to someone who literally OWNS you after adopting you. You get the gist. There's far more to consent than physically manhandling someone. Yet because these things are written in a way that contextualizes them as being "sweet" and "normal", they aren't considered dark content by many people. If you're ok with the above, you have to understand that these ARE forms of dubcon/noncon. I would even argue that these are more romanticizing of these topics than stuff that's far more explicit in nature. If you would be pissed if your IRL partner tried to feel you up in your sleep, but enjoy somno fics, or enjoy the Taboo of Professor Leon, but wouldn't fuck your actual college professor - then that is the EXACT way in which people who enjoy even "darker" content can enjoy the fiction whilst not partaking in real life.

It sets a bad example for younger people on the website/"protect the children." Children shouldn't be looking at smut in general, dark content, vanilla content, etc. I don't know what else to tell you. It is NOT the job of content creators to try and police what teenagers do on the internet, that's between them and their parents. The majority of creators who make 18+ content explicitly state MDNI and block those younger than 18 if we discover them trying to interact with us. That is the most that we can and should be expected to do.

[INSERT CHARACTER] would NEVER act like that, it irritates me when people write them as OOC. Fanfiction is by definition NON canon. The only people who truly know how a character is supposed to act are the people who created those characters. But I want to add on to this, there are plenty of times in which a character acts entirely OOC even in fluffy or vanilla fanfiction. Every writer is going to have a different interpretation of how a character acts or thinks - and yet it's only really complained about when it's dark content. These characters are not real. Leon cannot be upset or hurt by people writing dark content about him, because he doesn't exist. Part of the fun of fanfiction, at least in my opinion as well, is justifying certain things within the context. Many dark content writers will and do explain why the character became how they are or why they think that way using canon as context - not that I think it's required because fanfiction can be whatever you want it to. The point is, dark content or not, not everyone will be on the same wavelength as you about your favorite character.

Even if you're a victim of SA or other crimes, you should get professional help, not read dark content. This is a very bad take in my opinion. Mental health care can be incredibly hard to get. Reading fanfiction is free, it's harmless. But genuinely, imagine you're a victim of a heinous crime, and you're already struggling with feelings regarding it - to then be mobbed by people online telling you that you're weird and wrong for having the feelings that you do? This is also in league with my first point, but having these feelings are actually VERY normal. This is a healthy way to process the emotions in a safe environment where no real person gets hurt, where you can leave whenever you want. Stigmatizing these things does hurt real people though.

You're hurting other people who're victims of these things. Look, if a fic is not properly TW then I fully understand. Every victim will have a different experience, and while some may be ok with dark content, others won't. So if you open a fic expecting it to be one thing and it's another, that's shitty. But tags are there for a reason. If you see something marked Noncon, and that's triggering for you, no one is expecting you to read it. And here's the thing with tags/tw's as well, everyone's trauma is different. Something that one person might not consider dark content, or is generally considered innocuous might trigger someone else. If you are one of those people who think even seeing the trigger warning could be harmful to people, then that's a prime example of WHY you must curate your own experience online. Block certain words, tags, and phrases to make sure you don't see them. But that's on YOU to do, not people who create content. Their only responsibility is to warn you about the contents of the content they've made, their responsibility stops beyond that point. You know what DOES affect real people besides the stigmatization of their feelings or kinks? Harassing them. Leaving hate comments, telling people to unalive themselves. These affect the mental health of the real people behind the content that you don't like. I've seen death and rape threats SENT to dark content writers.

Dark content in other forms of media. It's interesting to me that the majority of discussion around dark content comes from people criticizing fanfiction specifically. Take horror movies for example. The Saw Franchise, we'll say. Do you think the creators of that series want to enact those horrible things onto other people? Do you think they want to be the victims of Jigsaw themselves? What about people who watch content like that? You probably don't think that they do. There's TONS of movies, music videos, even horror novels that have incredibly, and I mean INCREDIBLY dark dead dove content - and yet most people understand that the appeal is in the taboo. That it's fiction. That people who consume THOSE forms of media don't want to participate in those things but do enjoy consuming that content. But when it's fanfiction it somehow becomes a problem.

Entitlement and demand of fandom content. In addition to all of the above, there is a major uptick in people complaining about the content within fandoms some not even relating to dark content. "There's too many stories where reader acts like X." "I hate how so many people characterize this person because that's now how they would act!" "Why is there so much smut? Why can't there be more of {insert what I want}". This is FREE content made by people who do this stuff as a hobby. No one owes you content, and no one HAS to write the way you want them too. If there's tons of content like that, then it's because it's popular. Perhaps your version of a character is in the minority opinion, and that's completely ok!

What's the solution to all of this discourse?

Be the change you want to see! If you feel like there's too many x reader fics where the reader doesn't act how you want - then write it the way you want. Do you have head canons about a series or character that you haven't seen discussed before? Make that post yourself! If you don't feel there's enough fluff in the fandom - then create some! And if you don't want to make content yourself - request it, commission it. Interact with your favorite writers! Encourage them, don't demand. Talk with them about their work, leave comments, and reblog, reblog, reblog!! Being a part of the discussion and interaction is the BEST way to help the community thrive. Surround yourself with the content that YOU want, curate YOUR experience. Block every dark content writer you see if it helps. Go into your Tumblr settings, block words, block tags. Don't set yourself up to be upset or bothered by the content you're getting. Even if you read the above and you still think every dark content writer is a horrendous, awful person - the best thing to do is still block them. Block their content. Harassing them and complaining on it will NOT stop that content from existing. But you will continue to upset yourself by not curating your own experience.

~~~~~~~~

If you made it through all that, thank you for reading. I want to add that my blog WILL continue in the future to have a mix of both dead dove and regular content. I also interact with other dark content blogs, so if you're someone who followed me because of my "regular" fics and want to unfollow/block me, I'm ok with that. <3

#nexyspeaks #Leon Kennedy x reader #resident evil #fandom culture #resident evil writers #resident evil x reader

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joelmillers-whore · 6 months

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Hard Light | Chapter Two

chapter one | ao3 | masterlist

series summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be but it doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right?

chapter summary: becoming obsessed with your english professor and imagining what fucking him would be like was never part of the plan. you seem to think about him whenever least convenient and read more into innocent words and touches than you should. but, your infatuation with him comes screeching to a halt when you discover something about him. crush done and over with, right?

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.7K

series or one-shot

chapter warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), sexualization of the male form, allusions to sexual and explicit scenarios, drinking and glorification of getting drunk

A/N: okay, listen, i won't beat around the bush, i kinda let this series die after like one chapter. my brain works in mysterious ways, as in, i lose interest in stuff quickly, and that includes writing certain fics. that's why i have so many unfinished wips. but, here we go with another chapter of hard light. i re-read this chapter and was suddenly inspired to write for it again. enjoy and don't forget to comment, reblog, and like.

You’d been stuck at the coffee shop for the majority of the day, constantly checking your phone to see if Jeremy had answered you yet. But it didn’t look like he was going to be able to cover your shift. Where the fuck was he? You normally had no problem with covering a Saturday shift but you really needed to leave early, the application for the internship was due soon and you hadn’t started it yet. You flinched, feeling the burn of scolding oat milk drip onto your hand. You shook your hand out, trying to ignore the pulsating emanating from the skin.

You’d been burned before and worse, but you just wanted to get through this shift. You tipped the ceramic cup and poured the frothed milk into it, moving your wrist in tandem with tipping the cup, trying to quickly do the design that had become second nature to you at this point. Your mouth flattened into a tight line, almost smiling at the student as you handed them their coffee beverage. You were always glad that the coffee shop on campus had only a few options to choose from when it came to coffee orders. And they were all pretty easy to memorize and make.

Heaven forbid you worked at a Starbucks, where you had to nail down complicated drink combinations and fulfill nauseating orders. Coffee was a sacred thing, at least to you, and it was the perfect concoction of bitter and sweet that had you hooked each time you drank it. People needed way too much sugar to actually enjoy a caffeinated beverage, and there was nothing wrong with that, but it wasn’t something you personally liked.

You looked up from putting the oat milk back in the fridge when you heard the chime on the door, ready to greet the person who had just entered with a welcoming smile, but that smile flattered when you saw who had just walked in. Your new English professor, the one with the tight ass. You shook your head. Okay, from here on out you were not allowed to think of him that way. He made his way to where you were, an easy pace to his walk. You swallowed as your eyes raked over him. He was wearing brownish-green slacks that seemed to fit him snuggly in places that you couldn’t look away from, and a stylish brown tweed jacket, which stretched across his forearms and chest tightly.

He gifted you with a smile, his lips perfectly rounded and pink even though they hid underneath a subtle stubble. You opened your mouth to speak but apparently, you had no knowledge of the English language at this current point in time.

“Could I get a latte?”, Professor Miller asked.

You had heard him speak in front of nearly a hundred people earlier this week and yet, you were taken completely off guard by the throaty yet softspoken quality of his voice. How soothing and intimate it was when it touched your ears. It made you shiver, imagining how it would sound in the harshness of night when he was on top of you, thrusting slowly, and giving you words of encouragement while you took his thick—

“Yes”, you squawked, stepping back from the counter and burying your head in the coffee machine as you prepared his latte, trying not to let it show how heated your cheeks probably were.

You heard a low chuckle from him as he paid, turning on his heels and standing in front of you, the bar of the counter the only thing acting as a barrier between the two of you.

“You’re from my English Lit class, right?”, he asked, his Southern drawl sweeping over your whole body, making your stomach flutter.

You looked up briefly, not ready to meet his eyes for fear that he could read your thoughts if you let him. You nodded, ducking back down and concentrating.

“Thought so”. His voice was filled with amusement and something else as you felt the weight of his stare.

You placed his finished latte on the counter, stuffing your hands into your back pockets as you waited for him to grab it. He took hold of the cup and the saucer but he didn’t move, plastered in place as you locked eyes with him. His pupils were double their original size as he scanned your features, seemingly staring into your soul. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t find the strength.

His mouth tipped up at the edges, “Since I can get an unbiased opinion from one of my students...”, he paused, thinking about his next words thoughtfully, “How did you find my first day? Been meaning to ask one of you...”.

You cleared your throat, “I think you did well. If my opinion matters at all”.

Professor Miller snickered under his breath, nodding, “It does. Thank you for your honesty”, he twisted around but spoke over his shoulder, “I think you’ll find that I have a lot that I can teach you, and I look forward to the rest of the semester”.

And with that, Joel continued to a table near the back corner of the coffee shop, setting his beverage on the surface and taking out his phone. He didn’t look up at you for the duration of his time, sipping his coffee, head buried in his phone for about an hour before leaving. He gave you a small wave as he left, which made your cheeks flame.

You really needed to get a grip on yourself and not read more into his words. But you couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything else. I think you’ll find that I have a lot that I can teach you... He meant it in terms of the course, not whatever your idle mind told you it was really about. But you couldn’t help but dig into the double meaning behind those words. You were sure he could teach you a thing or two, he definitely looked like someone who had more experience when it came to sexual things. God, what was wrong with you? Joel— Professor Miller was a nice man, someone you could surely rely on when it came to your studies, you shouldn't be thinking of him that way.

You were just tired and in need of some sleep. Yeah, that’s why you were letting images best left in the dark corners of your mind float to the forefront. Occupying yourself for the rest of your shift, eventually, Joel and that whole interaction became a distant memory, leaving your mind as fast as it had manifested.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You settled into a lacklustre routine as the week came and went in a flash. You hadn’t had another one-on-one conversation with Professor Miller, much to your relief. You’d been using your job at the coffee shop, studying and catching up on homework, or even spending time out with friends, as a diversion when your mind began to wander back to that man that made your head spin and your every nerve ending light ablaze when his eyes settled on you in class.

It wasn’t just a one-off coincidence when you felt it the first time, it wasn’t even a coincidence the second time that you’d felt it either. It was becoming something permanently stuck in your head; when you would see him again, and you made a bet with yourself before every class. Would you get that same flutter in your stomach when you saw him standing before the class, back turned to you and that backside calling out to you? And every time, you would win or lose, depending on your outlook that day. You had a monster crush on your English professor and it was becoming a hindrance.

Each day you’d wonder what he would think of your outfit, because yeah, now you were actually having to think about your appearance, you actually cared. You wanted him to care, to notice, for his heady gaze to bore into you for a little longer than any of the other girls in your class that he looked at. It was maddening, having him on your mind when you were awake and when you were asleep. You’d conjure the dirtiest images of him and you when you were alone at night, not caring in the slightest as you slid a hand into the waistband of your panties, driven to the edge of insanity if you didn’t ease the overwhelming flutters that never seemed to quit.

You told yourself that what you were doing was innocent, that because Joel was in your proximity, it was only a natural progression that you’d develop something of a crush on him. But what you didn’t account for was how badly you wanted to act on it. How sometimes when you hung around after class, trying to work up the nerve to talk to him, you’d half-expect him to throw you onto his desk and pound into you, roughly, eagerly, your name slipping past his lips as he worshiped your tight cunt. But, he never did. And the more you thought about how much you wanted it, the more it became unrealistic.

He was your teacher, for fuck’s sake, and you were his student. Nothing would happen and nothing could happen. But at night, when the stillness of the darkness crept in and you were having trouble falling asleep, your mind still strayed to the man old enough to be your father and you’d cum to the thought of him, over and over again, until your sated body and mind lulled to sleep. And then, when your alarm shrieked in the morning and you had to peel yourself from your bed and get ready for the morning, you’d be overcome with shame. Shame and regret. Because you were getting yourself off to the image of a man who probably wanted nothing to do with you, and you felt like a creep.

You’d go about your day as normally as you could until you saw Joel in class again, and something as innocent as making contact with his hand as he gave you a quiz would ignite those flutters again, making them unquenchable.

You were currently out with a few friends from your English class, and Jeremy had decided to tag along. The guy was a social butterfly and could fit in with any group easily. It was actually getting on your nerves, how your friends were currently swooning and chatting to him while you just sat there, waiting for them to loop you into the conversation. Jeremy caught your eyes over the shoulder of your friend, Cat, who was shamelessly flirting with him. Not that you minded, it was great that he was looking for someone. You had thought that you’d broken him when you broke up but it must have been all in your head.

“Let’s dance”, Jeremy said to Cat, taking her hand in his, making her giggle as she stood up from her seat, and letting him guide them to the dance floor.

You watched as his hands moved down her body, settling on her hips, and swaying them both in time with the slow song that was playing from the jukebox in the corner. Feelings you’d thought you had buried long ago came swelling to the surface, which had nothing to do with Jeremy moving on right before your eyes and everything to do with how lonely you felt. It hadn’t really hit you until this moment, watching two people who you considered friends, getting closer.

You had a stupid habit of putting your needs on the back burner and suffering because of it. But growing up in a household that would rather see you be quiet than entertain any of your ideas or thoughts or feelings had done a number on you. Instead of seeking out what you wanted, you always held back, afraid of upsetting someone and losing their respect. It was the dumbest hang up but you couldn’t shake it. Even when you were in your twenties, it lingered. The feeling of not being good enough, for anyone.

You turned around in your seat, giving Jeremy and Cat some privacy, the call of alcohol in whatever form suddenly calling out to you like a siren song.

“Shots?”, you asked the remainder of your friends, which elicited a resounding and enthusiastic response.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The time was crawling into the early hours and yet you still knocked back shot after shot, not caring much that the bar manager was growing annoyed at you and your still rowdy group of friends, probably seconds away from kicking you all out. Jeremy had brought Cat home hours ago but the rest of you decided that the night was still young, and so were you.

You’d been dancing for the majority of the night, switching dancing partners as much as you’d switched between different liquors, but you were alone now, moving your hips from side to side as you nursed a drink of some kind, not really knowing what was in it. Your friend, Ayesha came over to you, stumbling and almost knocking into you.

“Look what I just found”, she slurred, holding her phone near your face.

You squinted, trying to get the dizziness to subside long enough for you to focus on the image she had pulled up. But it was difficult, you were really drunk.

“What’s is it?”, you asked, hiccuping loudly. You covered your mouth with your hand.

“It’s him”, she screeched, jumping up and down, “Professor Miller, I found his Tinder. God, he looks yummy”.

Your heart sank to the dark and twisted pit in your stomach and you felt like retching right then and there. But, it was inevitable, for the spell to break, it was only a matter of time. Fuck. You rubbed at your eyes, hoping that this was all a dream. Just a really demented trick that your mind was playing on you. But when you removed your hands from your face and everything around you came back into view, you knew it was reality. Because of course a man like Joel Miller, the rugged yet charming English professor from Austin, Texas would have a dating profile. He was surely dating people and having sex. Lots and lots of sex with women his own age, not with his students.

You took a step back from your friend and uttered something about feeling sick and wanting to go home. They offered to Uber back to your apartment with you but you made up some excuse about it being dirty, so you didn’t want them to see it like that. A short Uber ride and you were sinking down against your front door, running your hands through your hair, and smacking your head back in frustration. You were an idiot, and right now, you were a drunk idiot.

Getting up from the floor, you fished around in your purse for your phone and settled into bed, not bothering to change or take your make-up off. It was way out of the realm of what you could muster from yourself right now, and honestly, it was a whole task in and of itself. You mindlessly scrolled through various apps on your phone, trying to occupy your mind, anything to not think about the shocking and devastating revelation you’d had tonight.

You paused when you hit your email inbox, seeing a new email from Professor Miller. You sat up in bed, fumbling with your hair like he could see you through the phone. You clicked into the email, your eyes struggling to focus on the small text. You skimmed it, something about a missing attachment from the previous email you had sent him. You groaned, feeling like your world was spinning on its axis. Maybe it was from the alcohol or maybe it was because of the damning truth that you never had a shot with Joel, to begin with.

You thumbed the tiny icon to attach the missing document to the email, replied back to him, and threw your phone away from you. Maybe you’d feel better about things in the morning, but you strongly doubted it. Nothing could cure how heartbroken you were and nothing could help you through it. Wallowing would have to do but for tonight, all you wanted was sleep.

taglist: @joeldjarin @pedrorascal @magpiepills @eliza-8 @noisynightmarepoetry @untamedheart81 @eldauvs @paanchusblog

let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist!

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 6 months

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every love i've ever known has been drenched in blood; teach me how to unfurl these fists, show me where to put down this knife.

ax72 x reader: the fireman feels like something special.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling, oral sex (f on m), biting (briefly, okay?), crying, dirty talk (tasteful but serious. i'm not kidding), just all my typical stuff (and all my usual ax72 stuff - so legs and limbs and size and the like). don't read if you're not 100% sure).

(a/n: my favorites! thank you for being patient with me. for your reading pleasure, may i present to you a ax72 fic in which he is a volunteer fireman and you are plagued with fear and self-doubt! i'm joking, but not really. i couldn't not write something for him after the insane start to the season he's had - penalty minutes leader darling deserves a treat. obviously none of the details make sense, none of the dialogue is realistic, there are way too many dramatic speeches and angsty confessions, but you guys know that at this point. to anyone who may relate to what this main character is going through, please know you are not alone. it is very easy to push good things away because they scare you. but to be scared is to care about something. follow your fear, stalk it, don't let up on it until it leads you to something lovely, something real. pretty please tell me what you think. i think jh86 may be next but i'm still storyboarding. for now, i'm sending you and your snakes every single bit of courage and love i've got. go canucks. until next time).

that first night was cold like an absent mother. cruel and unforgiving, unavoidable.

the cold was weathered, however, but the hushed laughter and bickering amongst your housemates as you all exited the front door, smoke alarms blaring, loud and relentless.

"do we actually have to evacuate if we know there's not a fire?" your roommate asked, covering her ears with her hands.

another housemate sighed. "maybe we wouldn't have to if you hadn't left your curling iron on for three fucking hours."

your roommate grimaced. "my bad, guys. this one is on me."

you couldn't help a laugh as you threw an arm around her shoulders. "we know, sweetness. live and learn."

someone groaned. "it's frigid out here, jesus."

you nodded in agreement. the alarm had begun to sound at just after two in the morning, meaning everyone in the house was dressed for bed, all thin sleep shorts and fleecy sweatshirts, no where near enough to combat the brisk air, which was already starting to make your teeth chatter.

"great. here comes the government," one of your friends said, eye roll evident in her voice as the sound of the siren began to overtake the tamer sound of the smoke alarm.

you and your roommate giggled at her comment as you huddled together. as a polysci major, she had an opinion on everything, including all facets of the public sector. for example, the fire department, who pulled up to the curb at that moment in their truck.

"who's going to do the talking?" your roommate whispered to you.

"you?" you proposed, raising a brow. "it's your iron, hm?"

she groaned, but nodded. "this should be good."

three firefighters hopped down from their massive rig, looking even more menacing in their heavy fireproof gear.

"hello, officers," your roommate began, stepping forward and away from you to speak. your shoulders shook in a laugh.

"they're not officers," you whispered to her.

"hello, gentlemen," she corrected. "i speak on behalf of our entire house when i say we appreciate your punctuality."

one of your housemates hung her head in her hands. another one groaned.

"i'm gonna go out on a limb here and say there is no real danger?" one of the firemen said, his tone steady.

your polysci friend nodded. "correct, sir. your services are no longer required."

the three men now stood just in front of you, allowing you to get a true look at them.

the one who had spoken was older, probably thirty five, shorter than his coworkers but obviously the chief. he continued to speak with your roommate about the situation as the rest of you watched on.

the next in line was taller, lankier, with a goofy face and a goofier presence. he appeared unsure of his limbs, how to keep them still.

when your gaze drifted to the third, however, your breath caught, that familiar but long-forgotten whirlwind in your stomach. your eyes drank him in greedily, the way a child gulps down a soda at a friend's house. so similar, someone in your mind whispered don't tell mom.

he was the tallest of the three, and the broadest, too, his chest a wide expanse, arms and legs practically tree-like in his canvas uniform. it was his face that really had you, though. he was beautiful in a way you had never seen before, in a surreal sort of way. the kind of face that saved you in a dream, that you tried to conjure when you woke up but never could.

sharp jaw, sharper nose, the kind of cheekbones you had seen before only in a museum. full, pink, upturned lips, downwards sloping eyes that made him appear drowsy, like the personification of a midday nap. cheeks made rosy by the cold. even under his helmet you could see his thick, dark hair, so soft-looking. that was it, you thought. he just looked so soft, even though he appeared to be made of stone.

his presence made you shiver, which was only deepened when you met his eyes, dark and clear, found them already looking at you.

something in your gaze made him smirk, made your stomach drop. you crossed your arms closer around yourself, suddenly insecure under his scrutiny.

you hated the not-knowing, wished you could see yourself from his eyes, from the outside, so that you may correct yourself, angle and present yourself in some better way.

but his eyes only sparked with danger, not disappointment. cold? he mouthed to you, so as not to interrupt the conversation. his mouth formed the words slowly, deliberately, deliciously.

yes, you thought, half stunned he was communicating with you, the cold is why i'm shivering. definitely not you. definitely not your eyes.

so you only nodded slowly, felt your eyes widen as he walked towards you, shrugging off his jacket.

you stood, frozen in place, as he held it out to you in one huge hand. he offered it to you, someone he didn't know, someone who he owed nothing to, someone from whom he knew he could possibly receive nothing in return. and yet he offered it to you, regardless.

he was so close to you, now, just a step away. you tilted your head up to look at him. "don't you need it?" you asked, willing any squeak out of your voice. surely he would realize his mistake soon, realize you weren't worth it.

his chest shook in a low laugh. "what i need is for you to not freeze," he said, his voice much deeper, rougher, than you could have imagined. "just take it, darling, yeah?"

something in your mind screamed what do you want? at him in a voice dreary with fear, raspy with experience and expectation. what's the catch?

had you met him before? surely he couldn't be this sweet to you upon just seeing you, upon not even knowing your name. had you lent him notes in one of your classes, maybe spotted him a drink at a bar? you searched for an explanation that never came.

but at that point you probably would have done anything he asked, which you knew was not good. which you knew was very, very dangerous.

which was bad, but true, so you shouldered his jacket on, found it almost oppressive in warmth. "thank you," you told him, little more then a whisper, letting your voice trail off like a question.

"arber," he finished for you.

"arber," you repeated, knowing as soon as the name died on your tongue your mouth would feel empty, would long to form the word again.

he didn't walk back to his former place, either, instead electing to stay just next to you. just close enough to make you feel almost faint. one of your housemates wolf-whistled. you imagined the image looked fairly comical, a massive oak tree of a fireman with an 80's mullet and mustache combo next to a university pre-dentistry junior in pajamas, swimming in his coat.

but you couldn't think too much about that as you gave him your name, tried to keep your eyes trained on his face. a tough task, considering the way his arms looked unobstructed by his jacket.

everything about him was distracting. your heart was racing. how were you going to be able to get back to sleep after this?

"well, ladies, i hope you've learned your lesson," the chief said, appearing to finish a speech you had missed entirely.

"sure have, officer," your roommate said stoically.

"not an officer, miss," he corrected. the shake in his head was telling, made your housemates snicker.

"apologies, sir," she finished, giving him a salute.

"sorry you guys had to come all the way out here," one of your other housemates said.

"no trouble at all," arber said, his first time speaking to everyone. he was looking only at you. melting you like snow in the morning.

"until next time," your roommate said with a little bow, turning to go back into the house, now silent.

"there won't be a next time, sweetness," you amended, forcing your gaze away from arber. she waved you off.

reluctantly, you made to shrug off arber's jacket, hand it back to him as the other two firemen got back into their truck, your housemates walking back inside, leaving just the two of you.

"sure you don't need it?" he asked, the roughness in his voice somehow gentle. his words coming out in exactly the shape of the hole in your chest.

you gave a light laugh. "think i'll survive the trek back," you said, referring to the several steps between you and the front door. "thanks again, arber."

"my pleasure, darling," he said, and your cheeks flushed at the term. this brutal cold, you thought, making my face pink.

his lips quirked in a way that made your stomach flip. a way that made you so suddenly sure he knew exactly what effect he had on you. exactly how little the cold had to do with it.

"well," you said, your hands laced behind you, your voice taking on a melodic sort of cadence. "i guess i'll see you around, hm?"

"hope so," he hummed, something amusing in his tone. something careful. "sweet dreams, darling."

"good night, arber," you answered, dazed and blushy. like saying goodnight to an old friend, to a middle school boyfriend, to someone who knew you too personally to be real.

but somehow, it was saying goodbye to someone whom you had known for only moments.

the truck pulled away, you shut the front door behind you.

"should i just leave my iron on 24/7?" your roommate asked immediately, not giving you a moment to catch your breath. "maybe throw some rocks in the microwave?"

you rolled your eyes at her. "oh, please," you said.

"don't worry," she finished, an impish smile on her pretty, round face. "i'll wait until you're in the shower, next time."

you playfully slapped her arm as you made your way back into your room, not bothering to stifle both of your giggles.

you went to sleep that night with mirages of dark brown eyes and corded shoulders in your head. you swore you could smell smoke, could feel flame, could sense danger.

the feeling stayed with you, settled like ash in your bones. a heat, a skepticism, a want, a worry. you halfway hoped you would never see him again, because when had one person ever had such an effect on you? when had you let them?

you halfway hoped you would never see him again, but as soon as you did see him again, you knew that hope had been a complete and utter lie.

it was only a few days later, in the middle of your serving shift at the pub close to campus. only a wednesday, so nothing too busy, just a regular shift. your regular black uniform, long braid down your back with black ribbon, everything the same as always.

and then he was in a booth, practically taking up the whole bench, his deep laugh at something one of his friends had said making you dizzy.

surely it's not him, you thought as you took out your guest check pad, it couldn't be him. how could you have gone twenty one years without seeing him once, then see him twice in a week?

what trickster god was toying with you, now?

and then you were standing in front of his table, and it couldn't be him, but it was. of course it was.

but you didn't know if he would recognize you without your pajamas on, couldn't fathom that he could have dreamed of you with the vigor you had him, so you went on, business as usual.

"hi, guys," you said, your customer service voice ringing through the air like a bell. muscle memory had you placing napkin coasters down in front of each person. "can i get some drinks started for you?"

you took the orders of the others before finally locking eyes with arber. it wasn't any easier than you remembered. it wasn't any cooler, didn't feel any less like being engulfed in flame. "and for you?" you asked, hating how you couldn't just admit to recognizing him. hating how your mind preferred crafting protective plans to just being honest.

but he upended you, as you should have perhaps expected. his smirk was subtle. "am i that forgettable, darling?" he asked, like it was just the two of you.

the answer was so obvious you could have rolled your eyes, but you just cleared your throat and choked on a laugh, happy to have an excuse to show your delight. the insecurity in your head sighed in relief.

"arber!" you exclaimed, clicking your pen nervously, "thought that was you."

he nodded towards your general figure. "good to see you warm," he said with that rough voice you could feel in your chest like a bullet.

you hummed. "good to see you," you said, not bothering to add a condition.

something he noticed, something that made him smile, therefore something so, so worth the risk. your grin overtook your face all at once, toothy and real.

it appeared to shock him as much as you, his expression suddenly one of wonder, of awe.

you cleared your throat again, rediscovered the other people at the table, went to get everyone's drinks and then ran their food orders to the kitchen.

and you tried not to dwell on the way his hand looked around a glass, like it was kid's toy in a play kitchen, tried not to zone out on his lips as they formed words, not to blush whenever he looked at you.

you only laughed, mumbled a thank you when he joking said this was the best service he had ever had.

when he asked how you day had been, you had just blushed, muttered something affirmative, tried not to drop the glass you were holding, hated how anyone's attention, never mind a man's, could render you so helpless.

it was a whole lot of trying, a whole lot of awareness and controlling your own limbs, your own reactions like a marionette puppet. this way, you guided your arms, lined with plates of food. that way, you led your legs. these words, no, not those ones. no, no blushing, no not like that.

your marionette puppet appeared defective in many ways, many frustrating ways.

it was the slowest shift of your life. you felt oh so tired by the time arber's table asked for the check, felt oh so embarrassed by how hard you had been trying all night, hated how it was impossible for you to hide your effort.

it was all over you. it was in the slight sheen of sweat on your upper lip, in the strands of hair that had come free from your braid, in the way your voice shook when he spoke to you, the wobble in your knees when your eyes met.

you were trying so devastatingly hard, and you knew he could see, that everyone could see. was it terrible, was it so naive of you to hope maybe he wouldn't mind? that maybe the effort would flatter him instead of scare him away?

when you came to give back the card and receipt, his friends had gone. it was only him, taking up all that space in the booth.

he smiled when he saw you. it was soft. he was soft, this marble man.

you placed the check on the table. "there you are," you said, threading your empty hands together behind your back, part of you scared their idleness would lead to reaching for him. "thanks for coming," you added, then physically cringed.

thanks for coming? what, like this was some party you'd thrown?

he laughed, low and gentle, at your expression. of course, he was laughing at you. how could he not, with how you were acting? your head dropped like it was full of bricks as you flushed, as hot shame began to pull at the edges of your face.

but then you felt him take your chin in one of his large, rough hands, tilt your head back up high to meet his gaze. there was nothing but softness in his hands, in his eyes. no judgement, nothing of the sort.

his touch felt like drowning in flame, even in this small dosage, and you knew immediately it was too dangerously good. you swallowed.

when was the last time someone had touched you like this and you hadn't secretly wished they would only just leave you alone?

"thanks for inviting me," he said, playing along with your words so mercifully. "think maybe you'll have me again?"

you nodded, couldn't stop your shy smile. "maybe," you said, your voice a breath.

too soon, his hand was gone, leaving your face cold, lacking.

"can i tell you something?" you asked, quiet and hopeful.

"'course," he said, like he would never deny you such a request.

"i sort of feel like i've met you before," you said.

"i don't know," arber said thoughtfully, "think i'd remember someone like you."

your mouth ticked. "someone like me?"

he tilted his head, just looked at you for a moment, his gaze comfortable in its greed, its genuine appreciation. "why do you think we've met?"

you shook your head. "something about you," you said, trying to figure it out yourself. like i dreamed you up, you thought, are you real? are you sure?

his smile was subtle. "hope it's something good, eh? something like you?" too soon, he was signing his receipt, and then he was up, walking towards the door, to his waiting friends. "sweet dreams, darling," he said, like there was no one else in the pub, in this universe.

if he had told you as much, you would have believed him.

after a moment to catch your breath, you took the receipt from the table, found not only a generous tip but a phone number and a child-like scrawl that read coffee?

your head bowed in delight. when was the last time someone had asked you out? had not texted you deep into the night, at the time when the parties were ending and something much more terrifying was just beginning?

when was the last time you were nervous for a date, but the innocent kind of nervous?

you were that innocent kind of nervous when you approached the agreed-upon coffee shop several days later, at the middle of the day, between your classes.

there he was, standing in front of the cafe, hard to miss in stature and presence.

you had spent a scary amount of time deciding what to wear, eventually landing on what you wore everyday. you gave him a timid wave, were met with a confident wave back.

do i shake his hand? you thought. no, i've worn his jacket. maybe a high five?

your overthinking was quickly overwhelmed by the realization that he was pulling you in close for a hug.

you froze for a moment, your mind short-circuiting, your body uneasy, unused to such casual gentleness, ease.

your head against his chest, his arms all the way around you, you probably could have passed out. your mind mumbled something about cardiac arrest as you slowly hugged him back.

he smelled like the forest, like dull smoke and wooden fog.

"swear you get prettier every time i see you, darling," he said as you both pulled away, his eyes full of sweetness.

you had to close your eyes as you breathed out a laugh, already turning pink. "you sure know how to embarrass me," you said, teasing, trying to recover.

he held the door open for you as you both entered the cafe. "it's too tempting," he argued, smiling. "that blush you get..." he trailed off as if lost in his mind. sparks, smoke, flame, ash.

you knew the feeling.

he ordered some kind of sugar-bomb, practically a coffee milkshake, you ordered your usual flat white with soy milk.

and you were out of practice when it came to first dates, but it didn't seem to matter. he didn't seem to notice the pauses you took to think about your words, or if he did, he didn't say anything.

you learned that he was on the hockey team, that he was a volunteer fire-fighter for the school, about where he was from and his family.

he asked about your family, about your studies, about your job, what you did for fun.

and when you told him how much you loved your pre-dentistry classes, he made a joke and popped his fake tooth in and out, which made your laugh come so easy.

you told him how much you looked forward to seeing your sister, how funny your shift the day before had been, how much you loved your house's movie nights.

he asked about you, and it dawned on you that your last boyfriend had never truly asked you simple questions like that, and he certainly had never cared about the answers.

you had sudden flashbacks, you and your ex in bed, you asking him about his week, him giving you some dismissive response as if you had asked him if you could take out some of his teeth sans anesthesia.

how, towards the end, it had felt as if you were engaged in some kind of corrupt exchange, sex for tolerance of your curiosity, sex for tolerance of you.

the memory sent a shiver down your spine, a wave of shame. you could not go through that again. you refused to put yourself through that again.

through the relentless begging for something, for attention? no, begging to be treated like a person? like a girlfriend? begging for him to just be a little more gentle. yes, that's it. you had gone months feeling like nothing but a burdensome bag of stones he had reluctantly agreed to carry around, and you refused to feel that way again.

you just wanted gentle. you just wanted soft, and when arber waved a hand in front of your face to break you from your trance, you realized it might not be crazy to think you were close.

"you okay, darling?" he asked, concern lacing his expression. "lost you, hm?"

"'m okay," you said, shaking your head. "sorry, just thinking."

"'bout what?" he asked.

your heart jumped at the intimacy of being asked such. of someone wanting to know what was going on in your head.

so, you decided to be honest, to an extent. "'bout how 'm very happy to be here, with you," you said, looking him in the eye. feeling no desire to look away.

his face was so utterly pleased. he looked so beautiful then, the sun drenching the side of his face, lighting him up. "makin' me blush, now, darling," he said, and his tone made you swoon.

"sorry," you said, an instinct that made you want to smack yourself.

"don't apologize," he said immediately, "i know i'll get you back."

talking with him felt just so easy that you were again struck with a disbelief that you had only known him for a few days, had only spoken with him a couple of times. you felt like he was inside of your head, like he always had been. something you had never felt before, something that had you saying yes much too quickly when he asked if you wanted to come skating with him that weekend.

you had never skated before, but you were sure if he had asked you to watch paint dry, you would have said yes, because it would have been with him.

but the rational part of your brain was currently overwhelmed by fear, by insecurity, by the terror that you would lose this great thing before you had ever really had it.

"what was i thinking?" you said to your roommate as you struggled to find something to wear. "i have no idea how to skate! i'm going to look like an idiot!"

she waved you off. "you won't, you know you won't. deep breath."

you both took a breath together, tried to exhale some of your nerves.

the quiet that followed felt like another friend. you sighed, sat down on the edge of your bed, held your head in your hands.

"i can't keep thinking like this," you said to her and yourself. "i can't be so fucking scared all the time."

"c'mon, love," she said, sitting next to you and holding you tight. "what will feel better, do you think? coming home after avoiding rejection, walls intact?" she squeezed you. "or maybe coming home with another person to lean on?"

you both knew the answer. you wanted so badly to act accordingly, hoped your overactive mind would let you.

so, when you showed up at the rink, you made the ittiest-bittiest promise to yourself that you wouldn't let your fear get in the way.

if only you knew he would never have let you. that he could never be so easily scared.

he greeted you with a hug once again, and you held him tighter than you had the first time. "thanks for coming," he said, a spark of a shared inside joke in his eye.

"thanks for having me," you replied immediately, a mirroring smile on your face. "'m gonna be honest with you-"

"please do," he said immediately, and you could have melted.

"i have no idea how to skate," you rushed, "so i'm going to be very slow and probably fall and it's probably gonna get ugly."

he let you finish, an amused sort of smirk overtaking his mouth.

"what's so funny?" you asked, furrowing your brow.

"i think you're funny," he said, simply.

you scrunched up your face. "you makin' fun of me, arber?"

he laughed, then, low and rough and grumbly as he reached his hands around you and settled them on the small of your back. "oh, pretty baby, promise 'm not, yeah?"

you pouted, but rested your palms on his chest nonetheless.

his gaze cut through you. "don't expect you to be good at everything, okay? i'll help you," he explained. "just think it's funny you think anything you do could be ugly. imperfect isn't ugly."

"i'll prove you wrong," you said immediately, although you were flushed already, could feel yourself soften, your walls crumble just a bit.

his shoulders shook again. "promise you'll stick around long enough to?"

you had nothing to say to that. what could you ever say?

and then you were out on the ice, more off-balance than you had ever been, and not just because of the skates.

he held your gloved hands in his, tight but not restrictive, keeping his eyes on yours. you willed some of the steadiness in his gaze into your body, found stability in him and let it flow into you like water. he was basically pulling you, but you were moving, and you weren't falling, so you took it as a win.

"'atta girl," he said when you made a turn, soft, proud, and you could have laughed. surely he knew what he was doing, no?

your eyes darted up to his, found a lazy smirk, found your answer.

you shook your head, continued to push with your legs, gaining confidence, gaining balance. "turn off the dream boy for a second, would you?" his smirk deepened. "'m tryna focus, here."

"my fault, darling," he said, false apology saturating his voice as he suddenly dropped your hands. "by all means."

you stumbled forward into him immediately, your body unused to the ice without him to ground you.

you narrowed your eyes at him, looking up at his face, your palms against his chest, his arms around your waist. "not funny," you said, giving him a playful slap. "i could have broken something."

he shot you a look. "you honestly think i'd let that happen?"

your gaze dropped for a second. "no," you sighed. "no, i don't." a revelation in itself.

he pulled you closer, pressed his lips to your hair in a kiss that singed. so quick, you could have missed it. maybe you would have, if you hadn't been so unconditionally in tune to him, to everything he did, to every breath that shook his chest, to every quirk of his mouth and glint of his eye.

your heart sang at the affection you had been so lacking, had somehow missed even though you had never really had it.

so, of course it was a no-brainer when he asked you to come to his next home game.

"i'd really like if you were there," he said as he untied your skates for you, bent on one knee in front of you.

"then i'll be there," you said, flushed, because it was the easiest answer you had ever given. when he gave you that big smile in return, so genuine and goofy, you knew you would have a hard time saying no to anything he asked. just keep smiling at me, your mind begged him. that's all i ask.

the game came quickly, suddenly, after a busy week of shifts and school and everyday things. before you knew it, the day was here, and then you were in the stands, watching him skate like it was second nature, like it came easier than walking.

you had been able to tell at your rink date that he was steady on his feet, but this was different entirely. this was like seeing him at home, like watching him fall asleep.

and it beautiful, it was lovely, it was so intimate until two players started to fight and you realized one of them was him.

one of the people throwing punches that looked lethal, taking fists to the ribs, to the jaw, one of the people with a bleeding nose, a gashed lip, one of the people with blood running down his knuckles - that was your arber. your dream boy.

it wasn't, but it was you - you were the one throwing the right hook, you were the one doubled over, you were the one spitting out blood. you were equally the one punching and being punched. you had set the flame, you were burning.

was it terrible that you felt a little sick to your stomach? you clutched at the edge of your seat, exhaled a short breath, immediately decided you would rather leave than watch blood run down his face on the jumbotron.

as you left the arena, got into your car, drove back to your house, someone in your head was screaming at you, someone with a shrill, panicked voice was screamed scared, scared, scared, scared, scared and you didn't know how to get them to stop.

why are we running? you asked the voice in your head, what are we so afraid of?

what are you so afraid of?

because it wasn't him, you explained to your roommate at some later time, maybe the next day, after the desire to bathe in silence had been overcome by the desire to tell just about anyone.

you were not afraid of arber, knew there had never been anyone in the world more gentle with you. no, there had never been someone who had treasured your heart so truly, who had wanted to understand you to an almost scientific extent, who had dropped into your life like an asteroid and blown it apart just as similarly.

if not him, then what is there to fear?

what is there to fear, if not placing your beat-up heart in his bloodied hands? what is there to fear, if not the desire to press your lips to each of his cracked knuckles, the urge to know him to the point of no return, the want to feel his teeth on your neck, his fingers in your mouth?

sirens went off in your mind. scared, scared, scared.

scared of you, yourself, of offering yourself up to him, to being devastated by him. scared of being so completely vulnerable, of taking all your armor off, finally.

in the end, you were terrified of how scared seeing him hurt made you, because that meant you cared much more than you thought, perhaps much more than you had ever before.

how come no one told you that as much as being scared for yourself hurt, being scared for someone else, that was real fear, pure and undiluted.

a fear captivating enough that you decided to just not deal with it for days, to ignore his texts even though it hurt like a dagger to the chest.

he'll lose interest eventually, you thought, he'll leave me alone eventually. then, finally, i won't have to be scared.

so why did that admission feel like being burned at the stake? why was some small part of you screaming at you to stop?

regardless, you held fast for three days.

and then your roommate put rocks in the microwave.

so you and your housemates stood in the front yard, the air deja-vu-inspiringly cold, the situation almost exactly the same as that first night.

"what's wrong with you?" you whispered-yelled at her. "how do you accidentally almost blow up our house?"

she waved you off, pouted for a moment. "you know how forgetful i get."

"yeah, i don't know if forgetful is the adequate descriptor here," one of the other girls said. "i have a few more specific words in mind."

"oh, come on," you roommate said to the group as the fire truck siren began to yet again overwhelm the smoke alarm. "god forbid a girl make a mistake around here."

you didn't hear the rest of the bickering, too busy sending up a silent prayer, begging some god, any god to listen. please, don't be him. please, if there is anything good in this world, it won't be him.

but, of course, as soon as you saw the massive figure climb down from the truck, you paled.

there might not be anything good, some voice told you then, but perhaps there is something right.

"long time no see, ladies," the same older fireman said, and that was the last thing you heard. the last thing that any of your senses consumed before all of them were so brutally and totally overwhelmed by arber.

because what was he, if not overwhelming? especially now, after having deprived yourself of him for days? how had you managed that?

seeing him here, in front of you, you had no idea.

because he was here, in front of you, this beautiful oaken man, and his hair was messy under his helmet, and his face was flushed from the cold, and his five-o'clock shadow made his jaw sharper, and you could feel his warmth from here.

because he was here, walking to you, right in front of you, dropping his giant jacket onto your shoulders silently, somehow, somehow he was still that kind, and then he was whispering to you.

"alive, are you?" he murmured, as if he almost couldn't believe it.

and you felt so selfish then, the guilt growing like poison ivy in your veins, up your throat, until you couldn't open your mouth for fear that only three-pronged leaves would come out.

you looked up at him, met his eyes, found them burning but unreadable.

a pause that felt infinite deflated as you struggled for words. "listen, arber-"

but he shook his head, almost looked sorry. "don't think i will, darling," he whispered, the name making your stomach sink. someone screamed in your head. "don't care much for hearing why 'm not worth a phone call."

you were shaking your head before he even finished. "no, no, arber, please, that's not it-" your voice was so close to cracking, splitting apart like brittle wood.

"what is it, then?" he said, and you noticed a quiver in his voice too, a warning, "because i've been trying to come up with something for days, and every option i've got hurts."

oh, good god, you had made him hurt? that alone was dizzying.

dizzying and so, so sobering, enough for you to mutter something aloud about arber helping you turn the smoke alarms off, pull him into your house, up into your room.

you barely noticed the alarms subsiding, him hitting all of the necessary buttons wordlessly on his way up the stairs.

and then he was in your room, and you two were alone, and he was sitting on the edge of your bed, taking his helmet and boots off, crossing his arms across his chest.

"by all means," he prompted. "tell me i'm crazy, darling, please, please tell me i've got something wrong."

you took a breath, set the marionette puppets strings down, finally. there was no leading your limbs anywhere, no running words over one million time in your head until you had the right ones.

it was finally time to set aside the fear, to unfurl your forever clenched fists.

your exhale was liberating as you approached him, not touching him, not yet, but close enough so that you could see his eyes, so that he could see the revelation in yours.

"you're not crazy," you said, the softness in your voice surprising you. "i've been trying so, so hard to make you think i don't care."

he scoffed, ran a hand through his messy hair, mercifully waited for you to finish.

"and i'm so, so sorry that i didn't call, and that i left during your game, and that i treated you like you were anything but special, arber."

he looked up at you then, and you saw a soft spark of hope in his eyes that spurred you on.

it was silent for a beat, and then he reached for your hand, held it in his grip, warm and consuming.

"i thought i scared you away," he said, vulnerable, completely honest.

you squeezed his hand, stepped closer, cupped his jaw in your other palm. "i was afraid," you admitted, and that alone felt like salvation. "but not of you." you swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb. "never of you."

with a single swift motion he tugged you onto his lap, both of his hand on your hips. there might not be anything good, that voice whispered like a gossipy teen, but perhaps there is something right. perhaps this is it.

"tell me," he said, not an order but a request.

you would have told him anything, then, as you reached up to loop one arm around his neck, use the other hand to twist one of his curls around your finger. "i hated seeing you hurt," you confessed, moving your fingers down to trace lightly over the greenish bruise next to his eye, the healing gash on his lip. "you give me so much more to lose, baby."

he was silent, still, so close you could feel his shaky exhales on your hand. you willed yourself to finish your thoughts, refused to leave him anything but completely certain, even if it was hard to focus with him under you, against you, all around you. even under the exceptional spotlight of his undivided attention.

"i was lying when i acted like i didn't want you," you said, your tone every bit as ultimate as you felt. "and i understand if you don't forgive me, and i won't hold it against you, but i promise i won't lie to you again, okay?"

you held his face like it was made of glass. his grip on your hips tightened, eyes bursting further into flame.

"let me convince you," you pleaded, willing every genuine thing from your bones into your words. "you have to believe me, baby, i care so, so much. a scary amount."

and something in you sighed, swooned, when you saw that amusement you had missed creep back into his gaze like a fog on the ocean.

his thumbs rubbed circles into the flesh of your hips as you relaxed further into him. "scary, hm?"

you nodded, peered up at him through your lashes.

"how about this, darling?" he offered, voice a tired rasp. "i'll believe you if you do one thing for me, yeah?"

"anything," you said, meaning it more completely than anything before.

the glint in his eye was dangerous as his grip turned firmer. he gave a hum of approval. "tell me something true."

after trying just so deliriously, terrifyingly hard for so long, nothing had ever come easier. with him, now, the truth was easy as breathing. "i want you," you breathed, running your nails lightly down his neck, relishing in his stifled groan. "so, so bad, arber. need you, please." your chest rose and fell in a hurried breath. had you ever been so free of fear? so buoyant with hope, with courage?

he hoisted you up on his lap, pulled you against his chest until it felt as if there was barely enough air to share between the two of you. "good girl," he said, a rough, low, rasp, and he caught your whimper in his teeth as your lips met his.

his kiss felt like molten iron, like forest fire smoke, like initials carved into a heart on an ancient oak tree. he felt like sun on your face and like drowning, drowning, drowning, this kind of torture one you would happily submit to over and over again.

you tangled your hands in his hair as he groaned into your mouth, pulling you up on his lap until you could feel him, so big and hard under you that you let out a gasp.

he smiled against your lips at your reaction, and you knew there would never be anything so glutted with bliss.

you kissed him harder, with the urgency of a thousand missed chances as he rocked you back and forth across his lap, slipping his hands under the waistband of your sleep shorts, his hands now scorching your bare skin.

"look so good in my jacket, darling," he rasped, "let me take it off, hm? want to see you."

you shrugged it off in obedience, placed both your hands on his chest and looked him in the eye, pleading.

one of his hands brushed your hair away from your face, gentle, soft, as you had always known him to be. he dragged his thumb down to your swollen lip, let it rest there for a moment.

"'f you want something, just ask," he grumbled, transfixed by your mouth. "know i'll give you anything you want 'f you ask for it, darling."

you pulled at his shirt, willed any oncoming flush or fear away. "please can i suck you off, arber?"

his smirk was devastating, delicious. "pretty baby wants me in her mouth?"

you nodded, a shy smile gracing your lips.

"course you can, darling, askin' so pretty for me, too."

you glowed at his praise, sunk down to your knees, admired him as he pulled away at his layers of clothes until finally you could reach for him, hold him in your hand, hot and heavy and just so big, so much so that you couldn't help your eyes widening, your mouth watering.

he groaned at your touch, tilted his head back and scrunched his eyes shut at the sensation of your soft palms on his cock.

you hid your grin, spit into your hands and pumped him up and down a few times before taking him in your mouth, making him moan, almost growl as he gathered all of your hair, wrapped it around his fist, the other hand bracing him against your bed.

"fuck, darling," he rasped, watching you bob your head up and down, "feels so good, so good for me, hm?"

you would have nodded, but instead you were overcome with a desire to take more of him, as much as you could. so you sunk your head down further, until your eyes watered, until air came in short spurts, until you gagged, felt him grow impossibly harder in your mouth.

he gripped your hair tighter, making you moan on his cock. "oh, darling, you want more, hm?"

you hummed, looked up at him through watery lashes, reddening eyes.

"want to take it all, do you?" he asked, "just want me to feel good, is that it?"

you moaned in affirmation, sunk your head down on him again, as far as you could go, relished in his groan, the way his thighs tensed, the way his forearms flexed.

already, your jaw was growing stiff, your shoulders strained, your knees warm from the carpet. too soon, though, he was pulling you up off of him, up from your knees back on top of him, wiping the spit from the sides of your mouth with his thumb, pressing a gentle kiss to your tired lips.

you pouted, wanting more still, and his shoulders shook in a low laugh. "not done, darling?"

you shook your head, ran your nails across his shoulders, down to his biceps, loved the way you could feel shivers erupt under your fingertips.

"i'll give it to you if you ask," he reminded you, simply, because of course it was that simple, that gentle.

you pressed your lips to his chest, his neck, his jaw, bit down softly on his collarbone. "please fuck me," you begged against his skin, "been wanting it forever, arber, need you to fuck me, need you to stretch me out."

in a moment he flipped you so that your hips were angled up to him, your chest against your bed, your cheek to your sheets.

"been waiting, have you, darling?"

you whined, nodded.

"no more waiting," he said, running his fingers through your folds, already so wet, "promise, no more waiting, pretty baby, okay?"

"please," you mustered, the end of the word becoming strangled as he began to push into you. it was altogether too much - every possible voice inside of you screaming too much and not enough in some cacophonous harmony.

his groan was raw, full of relief, release, confirmation. he held onto your hip tightly with one hand, the other wrapping around your stomach to keep you grounded, keep you here as you felt like you were floating away.

the pressure was dizzying, staggering, enough that your breathing was choked, your mind completely clouded, your already watery eyes just barely holding back tears.

you reached a hand back to grasp at his forearm as he pushed further, almost all the way inside of you. you whimpered as the stretch reached a peak, as he stilled, making the stray, warm tears finally fall down your cheeks, hang on your jaw before collecting on the sheets under you.

"so pretty when you cry, darling," he breathed, tight and short as you adjusted to him, and he to you.

"please, arber, just move, hm?" you pleaded. "need it, please."

his embrace around your middle tightened as he began to move in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, almost undetectable.

"so whiny, hm?" he bit out. "pretty baby knows what she wants?"

you nodded feverishly. "just give it to me, baby, please, just let me take it."

"don't know if you can," he said, and you pouted. "don't want to hurt you, hm?"

you clutched at his forearm, began to fuck back onto him, determined to get the motion and pace you needed so desperately.

"want it to hurt, arber, please, please give me all of it," you spoke with all of the greed of a sinner seeking salvation. "need all of it."

he abandoned any qualms about hurting you, immediately adopting a brutal pace, so hard and deep you swore your teeth began to chatter. you bit out a choked moan, grabbed at your sheets with your fist, scrunched your eyes shut at the pressure building inside of you.

his grunts grew rhythmic in time with his thrusts. "feel so good, know that, darling?" he rasped. "being so fuckin' perfect for me."

you hummed in response, gasped when he ran a hand across your clit, making you clench tighter around him.

he cursed at the sensation, continued to tease you as he thrusted deeper.

"like that," you breathed, growing dangerously close, "fuck, just like that baby, right there."

"gonna make me cum, darling," he warned, pressing his palm flat against your clit, the friction maddening. "feel too good."

"please cum for me, baby," you begged, your voice raw, "need it so bad, arber, need all of you." you moaned. "fuck, give me all of it."

he groaned as he came, triggering your own orgasm, an overwhelming wave of pleasure that consumed you utterly and entirely. you felt him collapse on top of you, barely registered him pulling you into his side as you both caught your breath in comfortable silence.

moments passed slowly, thick like aged honey, fragrant, sweet.

he lazily traced his thumb across your cheekbone, down your jaw, your collarbone. eventually, you looked up at him, found his eyes full of something homely.

you thought briefly about how you looked in that moment, what he was seeing - spit on your face, skin probably splotchy and red in places from wear, hair fussed and skin sparkling with sweat.

notably, though, the thought evoked no fear, not even for a moment. because you were beautiful like this, like always.

you exhaled a breath, soft, gentle, and buried some ancient curse with it.

the silence was blissful. eventually you heard loud footsteps on the wooden hallway steps, eye widening as you realized there were other people that lived in this house, in this room.

you pressed a hand to his chest to prepare him. "sweetness!" you called out. "do not come in here!"

"why?" came your roommate's voice through the door. "is there a fire?"

you exchanged a look with arber.

"kidding!" she added, her voice growing more distant. "i'll be in the kitchen. big guy, chief left without you!"

your shoulders shook in a pleased, peaceful laugh. he smiled at you, then, a warm, soft smile with teeth, and what was there left to do but smile right back? "what'm i supposed to do, darling?" he asked.

you got up, slowly, reluctantly, tied your robe from the bathroom around yourself, handed him his clothes. "c'mon," you said, "i'll show you the kitchen."

he leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to your lips before tugging on his clothes, grabbing his helmet.

i'll show you everything went unsaid by you, but not misunderstood by him.

he held your bedroom door open, holding your gaze with a goofy grin. "after you," he rasped.

you bowed past him and wordlessly told the picture frames in the hallway to behave, we have guests.

fin.

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cheeseceli · 2 months

Text

When their S/o is taller than them

Pairing: skz!Ot8 × Gn!Reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, reaction

Request: what either skz or bts would be like with a tall s/o? (5’8”) and while I’m here I just want to say I really love your writing and I look forward to reading your fics <3

Warnings: one kill joke in lee know's, not proofread at all, I think that's it.

A/n: thank you so much for the lovely words 🤍 as a (kinda) tall girl I love to think about this lmao. BTS version here !

Bang Chan

Hugs all the time. He just LOVES how your hugs seem to be different (and better) than anyone else's. Maybe it's because of your height or for the simple fact that you are you but he adores how warm and safe he feels in your arms. His favourite hugs from you are the ones that you either back hug him when he's distracted and put your chin on his shoulder OR when you hug him normally but add a kiss to the crown of his head. He falls more and more in love with you after every hug.

Lee Know

You know he's never gonna admit this but he loves the height difference. Your teasing gets 200% more efficient just because of it (but he'll kill anyone who points out how his ears are getting a little too red). When you guys were just friends but he already had a crush on you, he'd get truly flustered if you got closer than usual, like you were towering him - and he still does, he just likes to pretend he doesn't tbh lmao.

Changbin

We all agreed that this man would have and love and support a taller s/o to the extreme. He's like your personal cheerleader, always making sure to let you know that you are BEAUTIFUL and he loves every single detail about you - your height included. The first to tell people to shut up if someone ever comments on the height difference with a rude tone. Like, he will NOT accept someone trying to say shit about your relationship, especially when it's something he loves so much.

Hyunjin

It doesn't matter if you're one centimeter taller or a whole ruler taller, he's in love and he thinks that your height makes you look ethereal even. If you're up to it, he'll definitely buy you high heels and encourage you to wear them on any occasion that's possible. Finds it kinda fun how he has to tilt his head up in order to kiss you and always ends up giggling over this, even after years of doing it. He's just that enamoured, can you blame him?

Han

Oh he's enjoying this a bit too much. Feel free to reach all the tall shelves for him and open every can/jar. He has the babygirl reputation for a reason lmao. Jokes aside, I think he'd really enjoy a taller s/o, no matter what your height is. Has literally no patience to outsiders "teasing" and making rude comments about this dynamic, he'll quickly shut them up. (Also, get prepared to lift him up if you're strong enough like that video of him with lee know because when I said he's enjoying this I meant it😭)

Felix

HE LOVES IT. You can't tell me that he doesn't get all flustered and giddy over the height difference, I won't believe you if you do. One thing that I believe he'd love to do would take mirror pics with you. Like, the way that you can see that you're taller in the picture just makes him smile for some reason (he's whipped). His phone's wallpaper is most definitely a picture of you two like that. I also believe that he thinks it's cute the way he has to tiptoe to kiss your cheek (it is).

Seungmin

You can be the taller one, but he's the one defending you and giving you the royalty treatment all the way. One thing that I think he'd love tho is to steal your clothes. So like, if you left a sweatshirt in his place or something like this, don't expect to have it back so soon. He actually loves how he is just kinda engulfed in your (indirect?) warmth and he has something bringing him closer to you even when you're not near. And he kinda likes to flex that "this is from my partner" lmao.

I.N

Other one to get all shy over the height difference but never let you know about it (actually, you'll know. It's just so obviously shown in his face, just don't let him know that lol). But besides the casual flustering state he finds himself on at times, he really doesn't mind it. I'd say he barely notices it. When he does tho, he finds you extremely beautiful, like those ancient greek statues, and even sexy if I may.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Moodboard (pics) by @haelyubi

Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

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bamsara · 18 days

Text

A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

#sara shush

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sunflower-lilac42 · 29 days

Text

✧ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐞 | trevor zegras ♔

summary: jack and the brothers show up to their sister's apartment and words were said and things were done

warnings: fighting between siblings, slut-shaming, jack being a dick, jack being sad, mentions/allusions to eating disorders/lack of eating, mentions of dying, negative/bad thoughts, allusions to panic attacks, crying, jack being sad, jack crying

file type: fic; part two - the secret's out

published: 3/29/24

notes: so here's this. i don't know if this is actually good or not or if i just babbled on for almost 5k words. however i hope you guys are pleased with this, thank you for the huge support on part one, i honestly wasn't expecting that! i am so grateful for all of you. let me know what you want to see next!! | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

part one (the secret's out) | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

She wasn’t expecting that. Maybe if she looked at her phone she would have a little bit more of a warning but she didn’t. She and Trevor exchanged wide glances, trying to figure out their next move. Lia looked between them, “I can tell them to fuck off if I need to. I got this.”

“I’m going to have to face them at some point. Might as well do it now.”

She pushed the covers off of her and stood up, making her way to follow Lia when Trevor stopped her, “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” She would soon regret those words.

She made her way into the foyer of their apartment, opening the door that Lia had previously closed. She looked between all three brothers, drifting her eyes to make eye contact at the various heights of the three. At first glance, they seemed perfectly fine. But to her, and Trevor, they looked pissed.

They all did this weird thing when they got angry or frustrated, y/n included. They stood with their hands in their pockets as their faces settled into a glare. They stood shoulder-width apart and stood eerily still. They could be a statue with how still they stood. Now it sounds normal, but to anyone who knows them, it wasn’t. They would all stand that way when at least one was mad.

Knowing that, when she saw them she shrunk into herself. Her eyes flickered to the ground and she stayed silent. Trevor stood off to the side and out of sight, not wanting to make matters worse for her. Luke was the least mad, he understood why they hid it and honestly was supportive of the couple. He had no reason to doubt their relationship.

At this point, Luke was the one who was most worried about her. He knew how she could tend to always do what everyone wanted her to do. She hated making people upset and hated disappointing people, especially her family. She stepped back and allowed the three to walk in, proceeding to stand in the living room.

Jack looked around and spotted Trevor, “Oh of course you’re here.”

Another thing she hated was fights. It meant that someone had done something wrong and when she was involved, it meant that she did something wrong. On top of that, the sound of fighting had always been triggered from a young age. No matter who it was, why they were shouting, where they were, it always hurt her. She couldn’t remember what made her feel this way but her parents always told her she got into a fight with her brothers and ever since then she hated it.

“Don’t be mad at-”

“Don’t be mad? You’re fucking my best friend of course I’m mad!”

“Justice for Cole, for real,” Lia murmured as she walked into her room, having no energy to deal with the situation.

Y/n flinched at his words, she really didn’t think he would be this mad. Jack redirected his attention to the boy standing in the corner, “And you? Putting your fucking hands on my sister?! Come on, dude.”

Quinn and Luke stood behind Jack, allowing him to blow off some steam. They wouldn’t let things get too out of hand. Jack continued to ramble about how betrayed he felt by both Trevor and y/n, only some words sticking out to the two of them. At this point, she was pretty sure he was getting angrier than calmer.

“You just had to go and ruin everything, didn’t you?” His eyes fell on his sister and everyone gaped at him.

Trevor pushed himself off the wall and made his way over to stand next to her, “Don’t do that, Jack. It was both of our decisions. Not just her.”

“Can’t fight your own battles anymore?”

Y/n was in shock at how he was acting. He had every right to be mad but he didn’t have to say what he was going to, what he had been saying. Though, as much as she was surprised by it, she knew she deserved it. She thought she deserved every negative thing that came her way and this was no exception. She allowed Jack to yell at her, slowly shrinking into herself as Trevor stepped in front of her.

“No wonder relationships never worked out for you. Wonder how long you’re gonna keep him around. Should’ve known you’d go after any guy that pays attention to you. Don’t know why everyone was saying I would be the slut of the family.” He ran a hand harshly through his hair.

That made her eyes tear up, it was a low blow, and everyone in the room knew it. She had never had the best track record with relationships, she was always scared of her brothers finding out that she broke them off before they had a chance to notice. There was one time when they found out that they hated him and hated the fact that she hid it from them. They got too protective and demanded she break up with him but she was going to anyway so she didn’t fight back.

Luke tried to interject after he said that, noticing the way she was practically crying. Jack silenced him by holding a finger up. Jack’s gaze once again flickered between the two before finally landing on Trevor, “You’re a dick you know that. Can’t keep a girl for the fucking life of you, can’t keep it in your pants. Well, I guess neither can she, can you y/n?”

She raised her head to look at him, eyes watering as one lone tear fell down her cheek. Jack’s mind was clouded, he couldn’t think about anything but the anger he felt. It clouded his judgment, laced his voice, and triggered his words, that’s all he could focus on. He would never speak to her like this but when the article came out and more and more people started to agree with it, he couldn’t see past the frustration.

“I mean are you even my friend anymore? What kind of friend hooks up with their friend’s sister?”

“Of course, I’m still your friend Jack, but-”

“But what? You thought with your dick instead of your head?”

“Jesus, Jack can you calm the fuck down? I get you’re mad I do, but you don’t need to say that kind of shit. Especially to y/n.”

“You know you’re gonna have to choose right? Between me and her.”

“Okay.”

Y/n looked up at her boyfriend with worry, he had just said all of these nice things about her and their relationship. It’s not that she didn’t trust Trevor to pick her, it’s just that with all the guys that she chose her brothers over, she thought this was finally karma. But Trevor’s lips turned into a smirk, “I choose her.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, matching Jack’s eyes, “You what?”

“You heard me. I love her and frankly, I’m not willing to be friends with a little bitch who yells at their sister because she finally found someone who she loved and who loved her back. And someone who’s got a bigger ego than their dick.”

If things weren’t silent before they sure were now. Trevor cocked an eyebrow as Jack stood there in silence. Not even two minutes later Jack was storming out of the apartment with his two brothers following after him. When Luke reached the door he looked back at his sister and went to take a step back but Jack called out his name and he disappeared down the hallway.

Trevor watched as y/n stumbled backward and caught her in his arms, slowly sinking down to the floor like he had done earlier when he arrived. He shushed her as the words “I hate them” tumbled out of her mouth over and over again. He placed a kiss on her forehead as tears dampened his sweatshirt, “I got you, baby. We’re gonna be okay.”

✧༺✎༻∞

Over the next week or so, y/n heavily debated what she wanted to do. If she wanted to go home to her parents, go home to Trevor’s new apartment that he had bought for them, stay away in London to hide from her problems or move to an entirely new country where no one could find her. However, none of these seemed like plausible, realistic options.

Jack’s words clouded her judgment, should’ve known you’d have gone after any guy that paid any attention to you, you’re a slut you know that, god forbid you let me have my own friends, you ruin everything. She would never be able to forget those words.

It hurt, knowing that her brothers didn’t want her as much as everyone else did. It was bad enough that she got spammed comments about her being a slut or a whore or a traitor (sure that last one wasn’t as mean as the others), but to hear it from her own brother, her twin brother. Nothing compares to that feeling and nothing will ever compare to that feeling.

She beat herself up every day about it, going as far as to try and break up with Trevor. But, Trevor was having none of it. He wasn’t going to let some self-centered jerk come and ruin all that they had worked for, and fought for, even if that self-centered jerk was her brother. Her happiness was what mattered to him and it was all that was going to matter to him.

It was five days after Jack and co. invaded her apartment. She and Trevor were on her bed, underneath the covers. She hadn’t really talked, still reeling from the events of the past week. Everything seemed to happen so suddenly, and abruptly, that no one gave her time to think about anything. It was like the Universe was punishing her for finally doing something for her and not for someone else.

“Baby?”

She looked over at him, eyes slightly becoming bigger as she hummed, “Hmm?”

“I asked what you wanted to watch.”

“Oh, I don’t care. You pick.”

Trevor frowned, “What’s wrong? I mean I know what’s wrong but like. What’s wrong?”

“Do you think they still love me?”

“Who?”

“My brothers.”

Trevor thought it was physically impossible for his heart to break anymore. He knew how much y/n adored her brothers, they were her role models, they were the ones who made sure she was at school on time, they were the ones who read books to her when they were little, they were the ones who bugged the ever-loving crap out of her, they were the ones who did everything for her.

He pulled her into a hug before pulling away and cupping her cheeks, “They love you with their whole hearts, y/n. I promise you everything I believe in.”

“Then why does it feel like they do? Like I could die and they wouldn’t care?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, suddenly becoming flustered and finding it harder to breathe.

Trevor couldn’t contain his tears any longer especially as he looked at the look on her face. He pulled her into his arms, practically shoving her head into his chest as he cried with her. Y/n felt his few tears drop down onto her head but didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything as she cried herself to sleep.

They both fell asleep not long after that, Trevor following in her footsteps. Lia had come in to check on them about an hour after and they were still asleep. She walked out of the room and saw a figure in the living room, “How’d you get in here?!”

The figure turned around and Lia mildly calmed down, “Luke?”

Luke gave Lia his ever so charming, but awkward, half grin, “Hi.”

“Okay, this still doesn’t answer my question. How’d you get in here?”

Luke pulled a key out of his coat pocket, “Y/n gave me a copy when she was drunk and I never gave it back.”

Lia audibly “oh’d” at the words and was about to shrug it off until she turned around, “Why are you here?”

His smile crumbled, becoming more awkward, “I wanted to apologize to y/n/n. I know I wasn’t much help on Saturday but I regret it. I regret it so much. She’s my big sister, of course, I love her. And I know how much Trevor makes her happy and I just want her to be happy. There’s nothing, no one, that would change that. She deserves it more than anyone.”

“Really?”

Luke’s eyes moved to find the voice and when they laid upon her figure, his eyes teared up, “More than anything.”

Luke was the one person who was by y/n through it all. The one person who always thought she was right no matter what. He thought that she could do no wrong. Y/n was the one who gave Luke advice on everything, the one who read him bedtime stories even when she barely knew how to read, the one who gave him shit for failing miserably at talking to a girl.

He hugged her, grateful that she gave him the time to actually apologize instead of throwing him out like he thought she, or Trevor, would’ve. After Luke’s surprise visit, the four sat down and ate dinner. As much as y/n tried to hold back from asking the question, it was burning in the back of her mind, “Is Jack still mad?”

Trevor stopped eating, a piece of food shoved into the side of his mouth. He looked up at her but didn't raise his chin. He moved his gaze from his girlfriend to the boy sitting next to her as he waited for his response. Luke himself had been in the middle of drinking when she asked, and he swallowed nervously, “No.”

“No?”

“He’s um been locked in his room all week, I can hear him crying through the walls. I don’t think he’s really eaten anything.”

Y/n frowned, “I should-”

“Nah, let him wallow in self-pity a little more. He rarely ever gets to do it.”

“But if he’s not eating, Luke, that’s a problem.”

That seemed to click into Luke’s brain, “Oh shit.”

Luke fumbled for his phone all of a sudden becoming a more worried younger brother. Y/n watched in anticipation as his phone rang with Jack’s contact splayed across it. She forgot that she stole their phones and created matching contact posters for all of them and she realized that they never changed it. It was the same layout for all of them, a collage of pictures together, some funny and some meaningful. And at the center of each of them was the same picture when they were little. They were at one of the boys’ hockey games and y/n sat in Quinn’s lap with her pigtails in and her custom jersey, one that was definitely way too big for her, with all three of their names on it.

It had been a long day when that picture was taken but you couldn’t tell. All of them were sporting huge grins and everyone was trying to hold y/n up because the three knew that she could and would collapse at any moment. Just after Ellen snapped the picture, she did indeed fall asleep in Quinn’s lap, who then carried her to the car as Jim grabbed his bag (because he refused to give either of his parents his younger sister).

She missed those days, the days when everything was just simple. Where they were just four little kids, where the boys were just three brothers who loved to play hockey, where no one knew about them (well, cared about them), where she could just be a girl with three brothers. She missed the days when they were too young to know about these kinds of emotions.

Jack’s voice brought her out of her memories, he sounded as if he hadn’t spoken in days (which he hadn’t), but also sounded as if he had just got done crying, “What?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Is this all you called me for? Aren’t you literally in the next room?”

“Yeah about that…”

“He’s with me.”

Jack was caught off guard. He sat up a little straighter, his tears stopped, and he rushed to pull himself together even though no one else was in the same room let alone the same apartment as him. His voice was hesitant as he spoke, “Y/n/n?”

“Hi, Jacky.”

The nickname sent a rush of sadness through him, he missed her and he knew he didn’t deserve to. He had been an ass and that was an understatement. His rage clouded his judgment and he took it out on her and Trevor. At this point, he wasn’t mad anymore, at least at himself. He would never forget the look on her face when he left. He’d seen that look about 5 times in his life and he was never the cause of it.

He knew he shouldn’t have said what he said, he knew he shouldn’t have even gone to London while he was mad. He wanted all of it to be over, to hide away and never see her face again because he didn’t want to face the reality of which he screwed up.

He kept repeating “I’m sorry” over and over again, all four of them listening intently and waiting for it to stop. Lia excused herself and she heard Jack sniffle, she knew this was a family, and Trevor, matter and not so much as a her matter.

When she left, Jack completely broke down. His sobs were loud against their ears, they could hear his breathing pick up, it was scary how much it sounded like y/n when she broke down, “Jack please calm down. You’re going to overwork yourself.”

However, Jack couldn’t. His mind plagued him with the idea that she was mad at him (which she wasn’t, but rather upset), that she was going to yell at him and call him names, and that she was going to stop talking to him forever.

Luke was grateful that he called Quinn before he left. He had made Quinn take a few days off to go see Jack knowing that he was going to be leaving. He didn’t want to leave him alone despite being mad at him for the way he treated their sister, especially when he was like this.

“Jack.”

It was common for y/n to take on the role of an older sister, despite being the second youngest of the family/ There was something that was always comforting about her words and her hugs that made everyone fall in love with her and make it so they opened up to her easily.

“I’m so sorry y/n/n. I love you so much and Trevor and you guys are so good together. I’m sorry I said what I said and I’m sorry I called you that. You’re not. I know you break up with everyone because of us and I hate that. I- I-'' He couldn’t breathe and she knew that. Call it twin telepathy if you please, but to them? It was just a known fact.

“Breathe Jack. It’s okay. We’re not mad at you, I promise.”

“Well…”

Y/n glared at her boyfriend who immediately shut up and sunk back into his chair. Luke stepped in while y/n went to scold Trevor, “Hey Quinn’s going to be there soon, okay? Let him in when he knocks.”

“What- why?”

“Because we’re worried about you, Jack.”

“Why? I deserve it.”

Y/n whipped her head to the phone, “No you don’t. Don’t you ever say that again. I know what you said was out of line, believe me. But you are my brother, okay? And I love you now and forever. Now unless you like to commit mass murder or do something you know is disgusting, that is never going to change.”

They could hear the knocking coming from the other end of the phone. Then they heard Jack shuffling and when he opened the door, they could hear his sobs. They were harsh, violent, and loud. Unbeknownst to the three in London, Jack practically fell into his older brother’s arms when he saw him. Quinn then picked up the fallen phone and said he would call black later, leaving the three in silence.

Trevor looked up at his girlfriend, seeing the worried look plastered on her face. He immediately stood up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder before bringing her into his chest, “He’s okay, baby. I promise.”

Her sniffles were audible but barely. Trevor thought to himself before kissing the side of her head, “Go pack. We’re going to New Jersey.”

He tapped her butt and she looked up at him with wide eyes, “What?”

“Yep, come on. I know you and you won’t stop bugging yourself about it until you see him.”

“Okay.:

Luke looked between the two, “Hey just because I said I was okay with it, doesn’t mean I want to see it.”

Y/n giggled and she wiped her eyes rid of tears, “That’s your problem, I guess.”

✧༺✎༻∞

They were lucky enough to get on the flight quickly. They were supposed to get to New Jersey at 9 Eastern time, so hopefully Jack would be okay by the time they got there. They were practically sprinting through the airport, Trevor dragging his and her suitcases behind him as Luke dragged his own. Y/n in all honestly felt as if they were in the scene from Home Alone except with fewer kids and a little more time.

When they got on the plane, they sat next to each other uncomfortably due to the lack of space, “I can’t believe we’re sitting in these seats.”

Y/n looked at Trevor with a deadpan face, “Dude are you shitting me? We booked these tickets like an hour ago.”

“Did you just dude me?”

“Did you expect anything less from her?”

“No one asked you.”

Y/n looked forward and rolled her eyes before making eye contact with one of the flight attendants, “Men am I right?”

The girl nodded her head and even gave y/n an extra set of earplugs. Trevor and Luke would not stop fighting the whole way to New Jersey it felt like, making little jabs at one another, all while y/n sat in the middle of them and blasting her music up to a “healthy” volume. One time Trevor looked over at her and hit her arm to get her input, “Don’t hit my sister.”

“Would you two actually shut the fuck up?”

The two held their hands up in surrender before slouching down in their seats like they were scolded by their mom. They crossed their arms across their chests and both held pouts, “You guys are children.”

The two didn’t say anything but an older lady came up and looked at the girl, “Thank you.”

Y/n looked up with a small smile on her face, “For what?”

“For shutting these two up.”

“Oh, it’s no problem ma’am.”

“Are you guys siblings?”

Y/n pointed to Luke first, “He is, this one over here is my boyfriend.”

“Well, you two better listen to what she says. Especially you, young man. You might lose her if you don’t.”

Trevor now turned so he was facing the older woman, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She smiled and then walked away back to her seat. Trevor then reached for y/n’s hand and brought it into his lap, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Ugh.”

✧༺✎༻∞

Eight hours later, the three were back to running through the airport to get to their Uber. Yet, this time it wasn’t as urgent. They were jogging at best, trying to get there quickly but also not wanting to exert more energy than they had to.

They sat in the back of the car all crammed together as they watched out their respective windows. Sometimes Trevor or Luke would nudge y/n and show what they thought was oh so interesting to them. It usually turned out to be a weird-looking tree or a dog, which she couldn’t really complain about.

When the car pulled up to the apartments, y/n thanked the driver before running up the stairs with Luke and Trevor following behind her. She knocked harshly on the door and waited for someone to answer. Quinn opened the door, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Where is he?”

“In his room, he’s sleeping.”

She pushed past him and navigated her way through the apartment and to Jack’s room. When she pressed on the door and opened it slightly, she teared up. His eyes and cheeks were puffy and red, dried tears were covering them. His hair was greasy and messy from the amount of times he had run his fingers through it.

She sat on the edge of the bed and shook him awake carefully, “Jack.”

Jack stirred a little, opening his eyes in a daze. It had been days since he was able to sleep properly. When his eyes adjusted and focused he saw her sitting there, looking just like how she always did when something went wrong. He sat up quickly but scooted back so his back was against the headboard, “What’re you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re okay.”

“Why? I don’t-”

“Don’t say it, please. I understand why you were mad, I’d be mad too.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have called you a slut.”

She inhaled harshly, “You’re right. You shouldn’t have, but I understand why you did. And I’m not mad at you Jack. Sure, I’m a little hurt, but that hurt will go away with time and be replaced with other memories.”

Jack gave her a look as she stood up, cocking his head to the side. She stared back, “Well are you going to hug me or am I going to have to hug myself?”

He was quick to stand up and hug her, basking in her infamous hugs, “I love you.”

“I love you too, you dork.”

A moment passed and then they pulled away from each other. Y/n was the one to speak, telling him that he was going to have to eat soon. When he protested, she responded, “Come on, Hughes siblings movie night featuring Zegras. And we’ll all eat together.”

“Okay.”

When they walked out of the bedroom, the three were sitting on the couch watching whatever hockey game was on TV.

“No hockey. We’re watching a movie.”

“Don’t say it.”

“We’re watching Descendants”

The boys groaned and she pouted, “Meanies.”

“We love you, but Descendants? Again? How old are you again? 22?”

“Don’t give me that shit, Mr. “Oh there’s nothing else on, let's watch Mighty Ducks for the 100th time.”

Jack looked at her offended, “Hey, Mighty Ducks is a classic. Trevor, help me out here.”

Trevor shook his head violently, “No way dude. I was already scolded for being too loud on the plane.”

“You got scolded?”

“Your sister’s scary!”

Y/n gave the two a look, “Oh I see. ‘I choose her’ my fucking ass.”

“Woah, too soon.”

“Descendants or I’m going back to London.”

The boys groaned out a fine and made room for her on the couch, “Jack what do you want for food?”

The other three let out protests, asking why he got to choose, “Um when was the last time you three ate?”

They sat in silence, “Exactly.”

Halfway into the movie, the food arrived and y/n got up to grab it. When she got back she handed out everyone’s food and listened as they sang Did I Mention? She smiled to herself as she heard them singing, joining in herself, “I gotta know which way to go, come on, give me a sign. You gotta show me that you’re only ever gonna be mine.”

When she sat back down, she sat next to Trevor who continued to sing into her ear as if he had written the song to her. She started blushing and as the song ended he kissed her on the cheek. They stared at each other and then she felt a wrapper hit her head, “Hey!”

“No kissing in my apartment.”

Y/n only stuck her tongue out before continuing to eat her food, comfortably resting under Trevor’s arm.

𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑬𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #trevor zegras #tz11 #trevor zegras x reader #hughes!sister #jh86 #qh43 #lh43 #hughes brothers #hughes brothers x reader #nhl #hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey nhl

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buckys-wintersoldier · 4 months

Text

Mother Nature-Week | Chris Evans

Pairing -> Actor!Boyfriend!Chris Evans x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary -> You have your period while Chris is at work but when he finds out he makes sure to come home to bring you foot and comfort you.

Warnings -> (T) period cramps, one time talking about throwing up, a lot of fluff

Wordcount -> 1.5k

Request -> HAPPY NEW YEAR!! 🥳 Loved the new Andy image! 🥰 I’m in love with your writing, do you by chance have any fic with Chris or his character about where the reader starts her period and has bad cramps or something 👉🏼👈🏼 Mother Nature sent me a gift last night for new years and I’m dying need some Chris or Andy comfort or anyone lol !! Not even sure if you take requests but just wondering 💭 Have a good day 🌈✨😂

A/N -> Thank you and happy new year for you too. First of all thank you so much for those kind words, they really mean a lot to me. And I’m glad you love my work. I hope you’re oke and I hope the oneshot helps you a bit. Second, I take requests, yes so here we are. Sorry for mistakes, misunderstanding phrases, it’s so late but I wanted to finish this one before I sleep. So enjoy it ans thanks for your request.💕

Masterlist | Chris Evans Masterlist

You’re lying in bed, your hands around your stomach, trying to comfort yourself while worse cramps make your day shitty. It’s the second January of the new year, and Mother Nature thought you really needed your period again; otherwise, the start of the new year wouldn't be as great as yet, right?

Your arms wrapped around your body don't really help; they don't warm you, and they don’t stop those cramps. Sometimes you’re not sure if your body hates you or if you just need Chris with you, and your body shows you because when he isn’t there, your cramps are worse. Or his talented hands are just good when they hold your belly warm and his fingers draw small circles on your skin.

Chris is at work filming his new movie, and you’re at home with bad cramps. That’s definitely not the way you wanted to spend the day. You have nothing against being in bed for half of the day and cuddling with your boyfriend, but being in bed with cramps and your period but without your boyfriend? You can definitely imagine better plans for the day.

Something like a cold shiver along your spine while your whole body feels like you’re sweating lets you groan. You don’t care about sweating anymore; taking a shower isn’t included in the plan for today when Chris isn’t at home. Everything feels like it’s spinning, and if you try to stand for a while, you will probably fall down because your legs feel like jelly.

You don’t really have time to think about it all because your cramps are way too hurtful to focus on something else. The worst about the cramps and your period? You got them today, which means you will have them for another four to six days. So you can already plan the next few days in bed with a lot of cramps in your stomach and even more food you want to eat.

You have your blanket wrapped around you. Just your nose and your eyes looking out of it, and you feel like a burrito. Something you wouldn’t say no to yet when someone offered you a burrito. Before you can think about more food, you feel your phone buzzing. Somewhere underneath you. But you’re not really sure where it is, and you actually don’t really want to move right now.

With your one hand, you try to find your phone; maybe it's Chris who calls you, and you don’t want to ignore him. He could bring you some food, so you should definitely not ignore him. It doesn’t take long - maybe four or five times, rolling from one side to the other, touching every inch you can reach - before you roll back and try to find your phone on the other side.

You don’t know how it came to that place, but you found it under your left thigh. The blanket was between them, and you needed a moment to figure out how to reach it without unwrapping yourself. But you managed it, and you can finally pick up the call. It’s Chris, like you thought, and with a small smile, you roll to the side to place your phone so you don’t have to hold it in your hand the whole time.

“Hey, princess,” he says, smiling into the camera. “Still in bed, huh?” Chris jokes, and you nod.

When you just nodded, he immediately knew something was wrong, and his expression changed from a happy one to a worried one. You want to tell him that nothing is wrong, but it wouldn’t be true, and you also don’t want him to worry about you. Your period is something you have every month, but he is always worried when you have it because you don't feel well. And Chris hates to see you when you’re not as euphoric and happy as usual, especially when he isn’t there to comfort you and bring you as much food as you want.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asks, and you mumble something, but he doesn’t really understand it.

“Cramps,” you repeat.

“Mother nature?” Chris asks, and you nod.

He always calls it that because when he said it the first time, you felt way more comfortable. And especially when he is at work and everyone can listen, it feels more like a secret sentence the two of you use, and not everyone immediately knows what’s wrong. You’re not ashamed of having it, but you feel way more comfortable, and Chris does everything to make sure you feel good and loved.

“I will be back in thirty minutes; what do you need?” he asks, and you chuckle but shake your head.

“You need to work; I’ll be fine,” you tell him, but you know he is too stubborn, so he will be home in thirty minutes, and he doesn’t care if you say yes or no.

Of course you want to have him at home and cuddle with you, but you also know he has to do his job. He always told you he was just a call away, and right now you don’t want to discuss it with him; you want him with you, holding you close against him.

And when the next cramp in your stomach is worse than the others and you hiss softly, he is sure he won’t let you be alone at home. He will be there in thirty minutes with your food, and then he will comfort you until you feel better.

“Chocolate, burrito, sandwich with cheese and one with chicken, and a cucumber, please." You tell him the things you would like to eat, and he laughs softly, but before he hangs up, he stops.

“Ice cream and cookies, right?”

“Yes, those things too, please,” you say, and then he hangs up to finally come home.

It doesn’t take thirty minutes until Chris is home. He immediately comes into your shared bedroom and finds you still wrapped in your blanket.

“I’m home,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

He lets his fingers slide through your hair before he leans down and kisses the top of your head softly. You’re watching a movie where he plays the main character, and when he hears his own voice, he looks at the television and laughs.

“It’s still weird to hear my own voice on the television. I bought you something, princess,” Chris says, sitting up to reach for a little bag, which he places between your legs.

You sit up and lean your back against the headboard. Then you try to reach the bag, but your boyfriend is faster and pulls it closer to him.

“Wait, you get what I have, but let me give it to you,” he says, laughing, and you groan.

Chris looks into the bag before he gives you the chocolate, the sandwiches, and the cucumber. You take it all and place it in your lap. While he was giving you the things, you opened the chocolate, and half of it was already in your belly when he looked at you in amusement.

“Oke, you didn't tell me what kind of burrito you like, so I have two,” he tells you, and his smile gets bigger.

When he lifts something else out of the bag, you chuckle. Chris holds a little stuffie, which looks like a burrito, in his hand. He hands it to you before he looks for the other burritos to give them to you as well.

“Thank you so much,” you say, cuddling with the stuffie while Chris places the bag on the side and walks around the bed to let himself fall down next to you.

“Always for you, my love,” he says, kissing your cheek softly while grabbing a burrito for himself.

The two of you eat and talk a bit about his day on set. Your cramps aren’t really better, and Chris notices it because he slides his hand under the blanket and grips your waist to help you lay down. Then his one hand glides over your stomach, and he draws small circles on it.

“When I need to throw up, it’s your fault. I just ate a few minutes ago,” you mumble, but he shrugs and moves a bit closer.

He places his arm around your shoulders while the other scratches and warms your stomach. You feel your body relaxing, and within ten minutes the cramps are getting better, and you feel yourself slowly falling asleep in the arms of the man you love the most.

Chris looks at you, making sure to see every changing expression on your face. But when you almost fall asleep in his arms, he smiles at you, knowing he found the best way to get rid of your cramps and make your period less bad. He kisses your hair softly, then your cheek, and then he looks for his blanket to wrap around the two of you.

Your boyfriend will make it clear to his colleagues that he can’t come to work when you’re not feeling well. He wants to make sure to be there and cuddle in bed with you all day until your periods are better and you’re feeling much better.

“I love you, princess,” he mumbles and chuckles when you mumble a sleepy ‘I love you too' while you hold the burrito with one of your hands and his thigh with your other while you smile softly.

#chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans one shot #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x f!reader #chris evans x fem reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x yn #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x girlfriend!reader

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rowrory · 9 months

Text

FAVORITES

Want fics that don't just revolve around smut? Read these!

Fandoms include: jjk, bnha, haikyuu, aot, marvel, tvd

GOJO SATORU

Intrinsic Warmth — thatdesklamp (ao3)

Summary: “So stay with me. Forever.”

You make a weak stab at a joke. “For Infinity, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Satoru turns to look at you and your heart jumps at the clear expression on his face. There’s not a hint of humour: for once, he’s fully and completely serious. “For the rest of my life, and for all the lives after.”

You meet Satoru on 7th September, 1996.

Some time later, you realise you love him.

Notes: HOLY FUCK I LOVED THIS SO MUCH!?!?!??! THE ANGST?!?!? THE PINING?!?!?!? I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS!!!!!!!! THE AUTHOR WASN'T FUCKING AROUND WHEN SHE WROTE THIS!!!

gods, monsters, monkeys — yuzudrops (ao3)

Summary: A grossly under-qualified graduate of Jujutsu High is hired to teach a class of Special Grades. They learn there is more to strength than power. It doesn't end well.

Notes: chefs kisses, literally one of THE best gojo fics out there

Keep a Place For Me — alkhale (ao3)

Summary: A quiet story that takes place a little before Gojo Satoru was born to be the greatest shaman of this era, his youth, triumphs, losses, and his inherent rise to a place unknown by anyone else.

And the one person who bore witness to it all.

Notes: IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THIS YET, YOU ARE SERIOUSLY MISSING OUT

take me down (to the depths of your depravity) — Innka (ao3)

Summary: The story starts with you standing in the pouring rain. All you remember are your orders.

Gojo Satoru. Look for the white hair and the baby blues.

"This will be easy," they said. "White hair and baby blues, eyes like the sky. Pull him in, fatten him up and send him to the devil. In and out, one and done."

"You can do this with your eyes closed," they said.

"This will be easy," they said.

They were wrong.

Notes: Read trigger warnings first

watermelon sugar why — Innka (ao3)

Summary: You had marched into his office, looking like your life was in his hands. You held out an excursion request. For a beach trip, of all things. By the time Gojo finished reading it, he had wanted to do exactly three things: sign the paper, laugh in your face, and bend you over on his desk to fuck you until you were screaming his name.

Not necessarily in that order.

Notes: this is a one shot but i live for pining satoru so

all that is solid melts into air — GrilledTandooriSmoke (ao3)

Summary: Curse user.

The words weigh heavy like lead on your tongue. Something that needs to be swished around before it's spat back out like the black gunk it is. Evil and vile jujutsu sorcerers who would dare turn on humanity in the never-ending war against curses.

And it just so happens you come from a family of them.

Alternatively: political machinations have you attending Jujutsu Tech at the same time as Gojo Satoru.

Notes: in love with this

among dawn flowers (the face of god) — unolvrs (ao3)

Summary: Your grandmother calls the young master of the Gojō Clan a boy-god, and you, his destined bride who will further the cause of the All-Seeing Eyes.

—or, you are raised to be Satoru’s bride and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. (Everything is.)

Notes: i love angst

the witches' brew — orphan_account (ao3)

Summary: You are the co-owner of a small café in a small, eccentric district in Tokyo that is notorious for bizarre murders and supernatural occurrences.

You think you’ve seen it all, but it turns out that nothing comes close to the man wearing a bad Kakashi cosplay who terrorizes you with his increasingly complicated and awful drink orders.

Notes: im devastated i didn't get to see who actually wrote this

5 + 1 — script_nef (orphan_account) (ao3)

Summary: 5 times Gojou had a date with you and 1 time you realised it was a date.

Alt title: Watch Gojou be really obvious about his crush but it goes completely over your head every time. Well, nearly every time.

Notes: kicked my feet a couple times while reading this

Ripverse — seoafin (ao3)

Summary: “You don't need to worry about anything like dying. I won't let anything happen to you," he says quietly, and it sounds like a promise.

You wait for the punchline. The part where he laughs it off as a joke, and then tells you to snap yourself out of it in a way you would’ve expected from him in the past. But he’s dead serious.

Notes: This is a series of one shots in the same univ with the same character, i just used the summary for the very first part

FUSHIGURO TOJI

(and your love is) standing next to me — shidouryusei (ao3)

Summary: “I wanna meet your son.”

You regret what you’ve said the second the words leave your lips.

“Why the hell do you wanna meet my kid?”

Notes: holy hell is this one of the best toji fics out there

BAKUGO KATSUKI

what heroes do — sugiwa (ao3)

Summary: Shouto didn't know much about his twin sister. She was an Edgeshot fan, had a raging collection of manga, and liked Natsuo the best.

She also wasn't supposed to be at U.A., but he sure as hell wasn't telling their father about it.

Notes: i am not kidding when i say that even tho this thing has almost 600k words (it's a monster!!), i have reread this so many times it's not even funny anymore

MIYA ATSUMU

WHITE NOISE — 1keshi (ao3)

Summary: you’ve always loved atsumu— that was the problem.

(alternatively, you force a therapist to listen to the story of how you fell in love with your childhood friend, because what else are you supposed to do?)

Notes: lovelovelove

You Found Me — Amy_Stark117 (ao3)

Summary: Miya Atsumu had his life goals set - volleyball, fame, and success. Nothing could stand in his way.

You threw all that out the window, simply by sitting next to him in class.

Life is really funny like that, isn't it?

Notes: 10/10

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

premonition of love — peacchy (ao3)

Summary: A day after the freak quick duo sneaks into Shiratorizawa campus grounds, Ushijima gets summoned by his school’s student disciplinary committee.

Rule breached?

Assisted Trespassing.

While he steps out of the office with more than just a case under his name, you (unknowingly) step into the affluent stratum of Miyagi’s controlled elite.

In a world of either-or’s, you’re caught in between.

And possibly something more.

Notes: yall listen before this, i was NOT an ushijima girlie. now, i am ;)) this ff also has a love triangle in it (ushijima x reader x sakusa) with alternative endings (though it's not completed yet)

Shoot the Ball — alkhale (ao3)

Summary: As captain of the dying Shiratorizawa Kyudo Club, you're sick and tired of the biased favoritism that goes to the showier sports. Especially the worst of them all—the boy's volleyball team.

You're determined to show the entire school how great archery is, get the funding your club deserves, and by the end of it all, make the entire school a fan of your archery.

You just didn't know you already had a fan from the start.

And he may or may not be captain of the one team on campus you have a personal vendetta against.

Notes: i love alkhale so much

LEVI ACKERMAN

1,000 Steps — BaddieCurlsXo (ao3)

Summary: You're being torn away to another world every new moon, unable to connect the dots or find any real meaning in your travels. That is, until one night you stumble upon a man with grey eyes and a green cape, who asks you, rather suspiciously, "what are you doing outside the walls?"

Notes: lovette

Death's Door — SongsOfApollo (ao3)

Summary: You spent years of your life under the guidance of Dr. Helfen, the greatest physician inside Wall Sina. Now a physician yourself, you work alongside him with pride: stitching up wounds, nursing the sick, and helping to save the lives of many. But after the Battle of Trost, rapid changes begin to take place, starting with an inquiry from none other than Commander Erwin Smith and Captain Levi of the Survey Corps.

You have heard many tales from surviving Survey Corps soldiers on what it’s like on the outside: to face a Titan, to feel overwhelming dread, to watch your fellow man perish in such an insulting, gruesome way. You’ve witnessed the effects of Titans on the people you’ve doctored. Now you are to experience the horror firsthand.

You are to join the Scout Regiment as their field surgeon, and you will do so under the direct command of Captain Levi.

Notes: one of my fav fics of levi

BUCKY BARNES

Vacant Mirrors — pilotisms (ao3)

Summary: Dr. Hart shares an office with Dr. Raynor.

You share a waiting room with Bucky Barnes.

Notes: felt like crying even tho the ending wasn't angsty

Safe with me — bitsandbobsandstuff (ao3)

Summary: When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.

Notes: Holy freaking heck was this beautiful. The plot? Chefs kisses. The writing? Chefs kisses. Reader's personality? Chefs kisses. The romance between reader and bucky? CHEFS FUCKING KISSESSSSS.

In The Shadow Of Your Wings — emmagnetised (ao3)

Summary: Margaret Stark is five years old when the Winter Soldier comes for her and her parents. But she survives the attack and is returned to her brother, though she's left broken and traumatised. She grows with a promise she made to herself on the night of the car crash. A mission.

This is the story of Maggie forging herself into her own hero, into something that no one expects: The Wyvern.

Notes: if you're a delulu marvel stan and haven't read anything by emmagnetised yet, are you even a delulu marvel stan?? p.s there is also an alternative for this story, go check it out on the author's acc on ao3 if you're interested!

STEVE ROGERS

The Siren — emmagnetised (ao3)

Summary: Austrian-born Alice Moser is new to Brooklyn when she meets and befriends a small blonde kid called Steve Rogers. Years later tragedy puts an ocean between them. When they meet again everything is different - Steve is about to go to war, and Alice is going to make the SSR an offer they can't refuse: her services as an undercover agent within the very heart of Nazi Germany.

The path is already written. The whole world knows the stories of Captain America and the Siren. Or do they?

Notes: ISTG IF U DON'T GO READ THIS MASTERPIECE RN

LOKI

A Twist of Marvel — GeneralofLoki (wattpad)

Summary: Naomi Swanson is fresh out of college, working as an assistant in a small paper supply company and inhaling coffee by the gallons. When an accident knocked her out, Naomi woke up in a world she had only seen through screens.

Armed only with her phone and a questionable data plan, Naomi attempts not to be killed as she comes face-to-face with the Avengers, and so much more.

Notes: do not and i repeat do NOT underestimate this just because it's a wattpad story ;)) it's literally the best girl goes to alternative dimension story in the mcu universe out there!!

KLAUS MIKAELSON

descent — tothelakes (wattpad)

Summary (since the summary on this one is a little long I'll be giving a brief description instead): Rory, the twin sister of Elena, unknowingly dates Klaus, the terrifying hybrid determined to sacrifice her sister. When the Mystic Falls events start, cue the beginning of their tumultuous journey as secrets are revealed and feelings come to light.

Notes: this is probably the best klaus fic to ever grace the world of fanfictions.

561 notes · View notes

jinkookspencil · 9 months

Text

til you make it | jjk

jungkook is startled when you call him in need of a favor... to play his dream role - your boyfriend - for a day...

tags/description: jk x chubby reader / fluff / friends to lovers / fake dating trope / rating: like pg13 or 15 with swear words / slow paced / it feels like one very long date :)) / this can be read as a oneshot but it ends in a way that sets up a part 2 which i will likely write but i still haven't gotten the chance to do so please bear with me / image from koomoments, i found it on goggle and edited it further

words: ~7.7k

tw+note: this fic includes fatshaming - detailed description: someone makes a comment about jk being out of oc/yn’s league and her not being good enough to date jungkook because of her size (the person says this to jk, behind oc/yn's back). oc/yn assumes people think that too, and talks to jungkook about her experiences dating as a plus-sized woman, mainly the fact that her ex was ashamed to go out with her. and in case anyone is wondering about where this fic comes from and any sensitivities regarding this fic, this is another fic that is loosely based on an experience i had myself... well, i wish this was what i had ~.~ i channeled my hurt into something comforting for myself and hopefully others. if anyone has ever been in a similar position and was fat-shamed or made to feel like they don't deserve good things because of your size, just know that you never deserved that treatment - you deserve all the good the world has to offer. lots of love always to my fellow curvy/plus/chubby people, and anyone who takes the time to read my fics <3

“Jungkook… Jungkook are you there?”

Your muffled voice echoed through his phone, thrown on the bed behind him as he searched his room frantically for his sweatpants. Talking to you on the phone wasn’t uncommon, but he jumped the moment he saw your name and when the clock on his bedside table confirmed the time. 3 AM. Later than you’d ever called. Dressing might’ve been a silly notion, but at this hour, his fight or flight response was triggered, and he couldn’t bring himself to think, let alone talk to you half-dressed. The urgency and/or intimacy of it all… frightened him.

“Yes! I’m here!” he calls out, hopping into his sweatpants before grabbing the phone and putting you up to his ear, feeling the cool glass of his screen nudged between his neck and his shoulder as he tied the strings at his stomach. “What’s up?”

“I need… a favor.”

“Anything.” He couldn’t have answered any faster. In the back of his mind, Jungkook hoped you’d called for another late-night talk, maybe one of your delirious, exhaustion-caused conversations where you’d fall asleep to his voice as he played along with whatever you’d wanted to talk about… Those were his favorites, even doing the same to you himself. Or maybe it was to inquire about one of his ramen recipes, going so far as to hope you’d ask him to come over and make it for you… In a perfect world, maybe. Well, if it were a perfect world, it’d be a confession.

A favor only made his heart race faster. Jungkook trusted his intuition in getting dressed, already walking to his front door, ready to go to you wherever you were... He already presumed you weren't drunk in a club and in need of someone to pick you up... you didn’t sound like it. The ramen recipe, perhaps? Though you sounded too anxious for it to be so. In any case, he meant his words - he’d do anything for you…

“It’s not serious, but it will take up some of your time tomorrow.”

“I said anything,” he reiterates, partly relieved.

“I’m invited to a wedding next week - my sister's best friend - and I need to get a dress. Do you mind coming to the mall with me tomorrow…”

That’s it? Jungkook joyously helped you pick out outfits, accessories, and even nail polish colors in the past, and every time he did - whether you’d asked or when he’d subtly recommended something he liked to you - his heart would flutter whenever he’d seen you actually take his advice, so he’d definitely agree, happily even…. but there had to be more to it.

“Well, I mean, of course….” he whispered quietly into the phone, his confusion apparent.

“Yeah, there’s more to it - don’t agree just yet...” In the moment of silence that followed, Jungkook silently prayed you’d ask him to go to the wedding with you. To be your plus one. Oh, what he’d give to spend the night beside you, the both of you all dolled up… Imagining the possible starlights at the scene with love in the air, he knew it’d be a great chance at finally confessing. If he chickened out, at least he’d be able to imagine what it’d be like to be your boyfriend for a night.

“Would you…. Would it be okay if you pretended to be my boyfriend?” Jungkook felt his stomach turn at the thought of the heavens answering his prayers that quickly and immediately regretted not asking for more. He almost missed what you’d said next. “If we go shopping tomorrow…. Would it be okay for you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“When… when we go shopping?” Jungkook choked, knowing you could hear his confusion through the phone once again.

“Yeah… You see… Most times when I go shopping… someone always has something to say about my body, and I’m kind of sick of it. ‘You won’t find anything in our store. Please leave.’ ‘I’m surprised this fits you.’ And then, just last week, I got the ‘Honey, no dress could flatter you enough that you’d be able to pull a man.’ That got me thinking, and…. I kinda suspect you, or someone, a man, being there with me might shut them up… some weird form of using the patriarchy and people’s internalized misogyny to, weirdly enough, protect my peace.”

Jungkook felt his blood boil as you went on. You, the most beautiful person he’d ever met, were being shamed… spoken to in that way…. often? People went out of their way to make you feel bad…. for having a body?

“What the fuck…”

“Yeah… I’m a bit embarrassed, actually… Should we forget it? Pretend I never asked. If it’s too much, I could just go alone - if I experience it, I experience it. I’m used to it. I just want to… try this as an experiment.”

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed. You don’t have to be. I feel embarrassed for not… for not knowing... I’m so fucking sorry you… ever had to go through that.” He’d felt a pang in his heart as the words left his mouth. An idiot was what he thought he was. It was something he’d never spared a thought about - how people, how you, could be mistreated in everyday life for simply existing as you were….

“No, don’t be sorry, Jungkook. It is what it is.”

It is what it is? It shouldn’t be, he thought.

“Of course I’ll be there, ____. Of course, I’ll be your boyfriend.” He told you he’d do anything for you, and he meant it - he needed you to know that - and this was the very least he could do. “And hey, for the record, I’ll never let that ever happen to you again, you hear me? You just call me, okay? Anytime. I’ll do whatever I can. You’re not going through this shit again, okay? I'm your boyfriend whenever you want me to be... ”

Did you take the hint?

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you say, with an exhale and a slight giggle that gives away that you’d been choked up, the final nail in the coffin for Jungkook’s composure…

It wasn't the right time to confess, he knew that, but an ‘I love you’ still rested at the tip of his tongue. Friends loved each other... 'I love you' was always a comforting thing to hear... would it be so awkward now? You both have told each other variations of the saying in the past - from ‘love ya’s’ to random finger hearts in crowded rooms- but never the exact phrase. It held too much weight - the weight of the confession that, similarly, he’d been dying to relay…. but he reminded himself... it wasn't the right time.

“I told you… anything”

“I’ll see you tomorrow… boyfriend.”

✿

“Hi… girlfriend.”

Jungkook didn’t even try to hide the smile on his face. It’d hopefully overshadow the bags under his eyes… He’d been up for hours after your call - pressure, joy, anger, and pain overwhelming him all at once as he imagined what you might’ve gone through before, what undeserving, cruel words you’d heard from people too blind to see the sheer beauty before them. It hurt him even more that you felt embarrassed about asking him for help. You never should’ve been embarrassed about a damn thing. If anything had been embarrassing at the situation, it was the time he’d spent in front of his mirror, rehearsing vague, angry threats and snide comments he might have had to make, tapping out after a cringey “that’s my girlfriend” line.

Jungkook was never one to insult and intimidate others so purposefully, his enigmatic baby villain-like exterior always doing the work instead. It'd work whether they saw him as the lovestruck, caring sweetheart he was or the tough, protective boyfriend he could also be... but he knew the tattoos, piercings, and his physique probably aided him with the latter option, with Jungkook himself assuming it was the reason you'd asked him specifically to help out, especially over Taehyung, your mutual friend who also happened to be an actor... And busy on a late-night shoot, Tae left him helpless. He could not prepare any speech or insult to save his life, stuck between how to go about his dream role. You'd trusted him, and Jungkook decided he had no choice but to trust himself too. Whatever he emulated was up to the other person, and whatever came out of him would be the truth he’d been feeling at the moment. Whether he leaned into either side - either knowingly or unknowingly - all of it was still him, and specifically him as a boyfriend... That killed the nerves more than anything and allowed him to focus on the silver lining. He’d gotten the role he’d always wanted, and though there could have been better contexts, you looked as beautiful as ever in your flowy sundress… even as you did roll your eyes.

“Boyfriend,” you greeted him jokingly, smiling too before looking at him up and down. “What do you have going on today, Koo? I can't tell if you just came from the gym or not.”

Jungkook shakes his head in response, a proud, bunny-toothed smirk on his face. After ransacking his entire wardrobe that morning, he paired his go-to ripped jeans with a Nike muscle tee, clutching his motorcycle jacket in his hand. It wasn’t like him to wear sleeveless tops outside of the gym, still shy to show off the muscles he’d worked so hard for, as well as the tattoos he’d designed himself…. but provided he was there to intimidate others - and hopefully impress you - he had no doubts about showing them off and his mish-mash of an outfit. “This is just in case anyone even thought about saying anything to you today,” he added, flexing his muscles before spreading his arms wide open. “Come here.”

It didn’t pass Jungkook’s eye that you’d hesitated to step into his arms, but when you do, he finds himself inhaling deeply - your scent, but more so the feeling of you. With you in his arms, everything fell into place, as it always had with you.

“I’ve always got you. I have your back, you know that right?” he whispered into your neck, digging his fingertips as hard as he could into your soft, plush skin, hoping it’d emphasize his promise when he noted how your heartbeat hadn’t slowed as it always did when you hugged.

You hadn’t said a word the entire time, even as you pulled away and glanced up at him - ever so briefly. He'd have waited until you said something first, but he’d always read your face with ease, and the panic he sensed emanating from you only agonized him further. Once again, he tries to push away the scenarios you must’ve gone through.

He murmurs your name, sparking your attention. Remembering his role for the evening, Jungkook allowed himself to follow an urge he’d always resisted, brushing a stray hair away from your face, cupping your round chin in his hands. It felt too good - a taste of his forbidden imagined scenarios and the person he'd always dreamt of.

“Always, okay? I won’t allow my girlfriend to go through this,” he said, forcing himself to emphasize the title he wanted to give you in a teasing way. Again, you roll your eyes and push his hand away.

“We’re just testing a theory, Koo,” you say, starting to walk with him alongside you. “Don’t… get too into it.”

“Are you kidding? The acting classes I took years ago are finally coming in handy. This is good practice,” he said, wishing he could just tell you that he likely wouldn’t be acting at all - merely doing all the things he wished he could do on a regular basis. He kicked it off by grabbing your wrist, intertwining your fingers into his.

Jungkook had been so cool, so collected until this moment. It was only until he actually did it that Jungkook realized that hand-holding was expected, and he cursed himself for not spending more time prepping himself in front of the mirror. It was such a simple act, what he always wanted to do.... and so it drove him crazier than the hug. You’d hugged in the past, as friends do, but never held hands... not like this, at least. Taehyung had urged him to try doing so in the past, to ‘gauge your response,’ but he’d always been too much of a coward to do anything besides ask for high-fives and offer his elbow for you to hold when he walked you home. You were braver, taking his hand and tracing his tattoos whenever your talks went a little too deep or needed a distraction…. just as you did now, with your finger rubbing the skin below his thumb... Still, this felt different for the both of you.

Jungkook bit at his lips, trying to hold back….something. He himself wasn’t even sure if it was a smile or a squeal, but he soon remembered the point of his presence. The favor. A boyfriend - he, as a boyfriend - would never be able to keep his eyes off of his loved one. So, he’d allowed himself to steal glances your way, noting every single time how low you’d kept your head as you walked.

"Hey," he says, stopping.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smiles, taking in your expression and the way the sunlight beautifully shone on your face. "I just wanted to look at you."

"Okay, Bradley Cooper in A Star is Born," you chuckle, nudging him to continue your walk. "You need to watch more movies."

"And you need to know that you look really pretty today. You do know you're pretty, right?"

"Oh, shut up, Koo... I know."

Jungkook didn't know if you believed him or if you were serious or not, but he knew damn well that he was... Perhaps he was overdoing it already, but remembering how quickly his prayers had been answered just the night before, he held out hope that the universe still had his back, silently praying you’d soon realize see how good of a “fake” boyfriend he was and asked him to be your real one.

“This is the main store I wanted to visit, Koo,” you say, stopping in front of a modern gold and beige storefront on the busy high street. Suddenly, he felt an emptiness in his hand and at his side when you let go to reach out and pull open the glass door. Already half open, he forcefully tugs the brass handle as far back as he could, holding the door open for you to walk in first.

“I’m your boyfriend, remember? Let me do it,” he whispers by your ears and into the stony silence of the cool room.

Looking around, Jungkook quickly saw plenty of dresses that’d look great on you. It was overwhelming at first glance, but the one you pulled out from a nearby rack trumped them all. A blush, floor-length tulle dress, with tiny embroidered daisies scattered all over the fabric, including the translucent balloon sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline. It was almost as beautiful as you were.

“I knew they had this in stock! What do you think?” you smile, putting it up against your body. For the first time that day, Jungkook’s mind went blank - he was suddenly grateful you hadn’t asked him to accompany you to the wedding. It’d be too much to see you in it.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, holding the fabric between his index and thumb, tracing over a tiny daisy.

“Right? I’ll go try it on. Wait here, okay?” you say, moving to leave but quickly returning to place a swift kiss on his cheek.

Jungkook was so taken aback he did nothing even long after he’d seen you approach the sales assistant in the back and disappear into a dressing room.

“You can sit over here,” said the woman, who now returned and pointed at the arrangement of chairs a few steps away.

“Thanks,” he whispered, only now realizing his hand had been on his cheek, tracing the ghost of your kiss. You’d kissed his cheek. He’d been happily playing the role of the boyfriend the entire time, he hadn’t realized you hadn’t done much to play the role of ‘the girlfriend’ in return. But you did it. You kissed him. You wanted to, at least in that moment…

Jungkook tried not to linger on the thought any longer, knowing it’d feed his delusions. Pulling out his phone as he plopped onto the velvet seat, he loaded up the mobile game he’d been struggling with, and it was a few minutes later when he realized someone had been calling him.

“Sorry?” Jungkook asked, looking up to see the sales assistant leaning on the couch opposite him.

“I said ‘Hey,’” she repeats.

“Hey…” he responds, perplexed until he realizes you might've been calling him. “Is she okay in there? Does she need me?”

“Uhm, I don't think so,” she replies, seemingly just as confused as he was. “But… I was wondering… what’s her deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is she rich or something?”

“What?”

“I mean, what’s the catch, exactly? Why are you with her?”

“Because I love her? There's no catch.” It was freeing to say the words so openly, Jungkook thought - they’d left his lips without a thought. Still, what's it to her?

“Oh, come on,” she went on, rolling her eyes. “You know you’re out of her league. Just keep her for 'her kind' and the fetish freaks on the Internet, you know? You’re too hot to-“

In utter disbelief and refusing to hear another word, Jungkook stood up and made a beeline for the dressing room, his long strides and huffs echoing throughout the store in response.

“Hey, babe - need any help with the dress?” he asks a little too loudly, knocking on the dressing room door in the same fashion.

“....Yeah, actually. Can you get the woman that works here?” you say on the other side.

“No. Let me in.”

“Jungkook, just call her.”

“Let me in. I’m your boyfriend,” he emphasizes. “Let your boyfriend help.”

“…This dress is supposed to be a surprise, honey,” you reply.

“Babe, I already saw the dress,” he half-chuckles, almost forgetting his anger. You were clever as hell but never thought of the wittiest comebacks - it was endearing.

Jungkook rushed through the moment you pried open the wooden door, turning the metal lock behind him. Still lost in his thoughts, he mindlessly zips up your dress before stomping to the room’s bench, sitting upon it with his head in his hands.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies, feeling just how furrowed his brows had been as he stared at the floor.

“You don’t seem like it. Why’d you insist on coming in here?” you say by the mirror a few footsteps away.

“.....Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, this was uncool. I just wanted to get out of there. The… uh… scents on their diffuser were too much. My nose acted up... started sneezing.” It was hard to lie to you. He’d rushed over because he always had, for you were his safe space even now, but it surely was to prove something too. His eyes darted around the cramped dressing room, trying to look anywhere but you... he was too ashamed. “I'm so sorry, ____. This was my first thought. I didn’t even think that you were obviously getting dressed. Should I leave?”

“Koo, honey, relax. I don't know what's up, but... I don't think I want you to leave," you softly whisper.

Pink obstructed his vision, the spot on the carpet he'd been so focused on. Daisies made him snap out of his rage. And the hand on his knee interrupted the voice in his head that’d been on a tirade on the injustices of the world. But looking up at you, the world suddenly seemed so beautiful - you were in it.

“I'd never leave, then,” he says with a smile. “I’m fine.”

The reassurance was enough for you to get up from your crouched position by his legs and return to the mirror.

“We both know you can't lie, so I need you to tell me how I look in this dress. My curves stick out a little more than I’d like, and I don’t know how I feel about the whole arm situation. But I think I’ll get it. Nice, huh?”

“Nice." Repeating your description was the only thing he could do, unable to think of anything else to say. You were covered in flowers, yet here you stood, prettier than every single flower he’d seen in his entire life, let alone the ones on your dress. The dress did cling to your body at certain angles, and that’s what made it even all the more alluring. He had no idea what you’d meant by 'the whole arm situation' - the skin he’d always wanted to bite on was even more tempting through the translucent fabric… and with your shoulders out... it was a sight too good to be true. A wave of envy rushed over him, thinking of all the wedding guests that'd see you in the dress for hours while he only got a glimpse... They had no idea just how damn lucky they were, but Jungkook knew that he was as well, grateful for this very moment and trying to take a photographic memory of how you looked, twirling so alluringly in the room with him alone.

“Beautiful, actually,” he quickly adds.

"Good. If your nitpicky Virgo ass thinks it's a beautiful dress, then that means it really is pretty,” you say, satisfied.

It wasn't the dress that was so beautiful...

He opens his mouth to correct you, but nothing comes out, and you speak before he does. “Uhm, help me with the zipper again?”

Jungkook’s anger had blinded him when he’d zipped it up - the intimacy of the moment only just sinking in when he stood behind you, facing the back of your neck and shoulders. He was unzipping your dress - granted, not in the context he’d always imagined, but he couldn’t help but do it at the speed he’d always wanted to… slow and steady. What felt like an eternity later, just a few centimeters from the top of the dress, Jungkook sees lace peeking through. Abruptly letting go of the metal in his hands, Jungkook inhales, trying to shove away the image, but it must’ve been the hardest thing he’d ever tried to do. He never imagined you were the type to wear a strapless, lacy maroon bra. He didn’t even think bras came in that color. The rare times he dared to take his imagination that far, only for fleeting moments, he’d mentally dress you up in pink or black… Maroon was, somehow, sexier. This... this was too good to be true.

But Jungkook, always so detail-oriented, quickly spots a tiny piece of metal at your waist. Another zipper. Did he zip that one up as well? His fingers pull the zipper down, only for your hand to cover his, stopping him.

*“*Thank you, Koo... I got it from here,” you say with a hush.

"I'm sorry," he says in a similar fashion, stepping away.

"Don't be. But, uhm... I’ll get dressed. You don’t have to leave, but… can you... look away?”

“Of course,” Jungkook panics, turning around to face the abstract art on the wall. He tried his hardest to make sense of the colorful shapes in front of him, but all he could take in were the sounds behind him. Soft fabric, falling onto the carpeted floor. The brushing of bare feet… bare thighs. Fabrics, zippers, a clanky hanger…. He reckoned that if he tried hard enough, he might’ve been able to hear the humming of a radiator that must’ve been hidden behind these walls - he could certainly feel the heat, wiping away a bead of sweat. Another zipper. Probably the actual source of all the heat.

“Done, Koo,” he hears softly from behind him.

With a blink, Jungkook realized the shapes in front of him clearly made up a cityscape.

“Koo,” you call again, and he finally turns around to face you, hoping his face hadn’t been as flushed as yours was. You’d been changing - what excuse did he have? The giggle you let out confirms his suspicions, which he tried to cough away... until he gets an idea.

"Oh, hey, wear this," Jungkook says, handing you his leather jacket.

"W-why would I?" you ask.

Because I always wanted you to wear my clothes, I finally have an excuse to ask you to do so, and this will drive me and everyone else crazy, Jungkook thinks.

"It's cold outside," he utters.

"Jungkook, it's almost summer... why else would I be wearing a sundress?"

"It can get breezy! And hey, you want my opinion on fashion? Your outfit will look better with this on." Not exactly what he wanted to say.... "You know... sundress and leather jacket? Pretty and tough... Juxtaposition... It's a thing. It's... what couples do."

"I don't know if it'll fit, Koo," you say quietly, staring at the piece of clothing in his hands.

"Drape it over your shoulders, then," he says, doing it himself. He guessed that it would have fit you but didn't insist on it then and there - even if it hadn't, he'd always find ways to make you feel loved as his girlfriend... And you looked adorable in his jacket.

"Looks even better this way, actually..." you murmur, brushing away the hair from your face, clearly flustered. It gives Jungkook the exact rush and confidence he needs. He unlocks the door, taking your hand as he walks out of the dressing room together - more than ready to nail his dream role once again.

“It was a perfect fit - I’ll buy this for sure,” you say to the sales assistant with a smile, placing the dress on the marble counter. Jungkook could feel you try to let go of his hand, but he wouldn’t budge and only held on tighter - he’d let you struggle with your purse one-handedly if it meant he was holding your hand.

It only helped him reach for his wallet with his free hand quicker, handing the woman his black card after she’d announced the price.

“Jungkook, no,” you whispered, hand deep in your purse, the other still trapped by his grasp.

“Baby, it’s only fair that I pay,” he starts, in a low, hushed tone just loud enough to be heard as he takes in your quizzical expression with a smirk on his face. “…Since I’ll be ripping it off of you later.”

Jungkook can't help but chuckle, seeing you go catatonic beside him after letting out a comically loud gulp in response. He doesn’t need to look at the sales assistant’s face to know she’d been startled as well, almost forgetting to hand him the receipt. Putting away his card and wallet single-handedly, Jungkook quickly looks back at you when he realizes your hand has turned limp in his. He’d only ever seen you so petrified when he’d suggested you watch a horror film together, in the hopes of you curling up in his arms - but he’d always stupidly ruin the moment with a laugh seeing your frozen state and wide eyes, just like now…

“I love seeing my girl all flustered. You looked so beautiful in it, honey... Just wait til Sunday,” he laughs with a wink, wrapping an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and finally place a kiss on your head. He didn’t even know if the wedding was on a Sunday - if the lie fits… “Excuse me, do you know if there are any lingerie stores nearby? A place they’d sell something that suits the dress? I’m not done treating her - well, the both of us, really….”

“There’s a place two blocks down,” the woman says with her face flushed, and Jungkook yanks the bag into his hands the moment he is able to do so.

“Thanks,” you whisper, seemingly to both him and the woman. Reaching for your hand once again, Jungkook intertwines your fingers in his, occupying both of his hands and awkwardly following you out.

The two of you walk side by side in silence, replaying the moment until the store is out of sight and Jungkook finally realizes the gravity of what he’d said.

“____... Sorry about… what I said back there. I really didn't mean to be disrespectful... I should’ve checked in with you first before just saying that shit. It was just where my mind went to, and...Wait… Fuck.. please don’t think I had those thoughts when-”

“You didn’t?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t have those thoughts?”

Jungkook could so easily read your face most times, but this wasn’t one of them. Did you want him to have those thoughts about you? Should he lie? Were you just playing the role of the girlfriend, even now? Should he answer as the boyfriend or just Jungkook or…

“Relax, Koo. It was just unexpected… a little jerky, if it wasn’t you or if I hadn’t asked you to pretend… I thought the maroon suits the dress, though,” you pout.

“It does!” Jungkook blurts. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Jungkook. That was actually nice,” you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm, interrupting his train of thought.

“Nice?”

“Yeah… this is all…. this is very nice,” you hum, tugging at his leather jacket on your shoulders before wrapping your hands around his arm.

Was it really happening?

“I know you’re just faking it, but… it feels good to be treated this way. To have a boy… treat me like this… publicly.”

“Publicly? What do you mean?” he asks, ignoring the urge to deny he’d been faking anything. “You had boyfriends before, no? What about your ex? Mr. Organic Shoes?” Jungkook could never remember the guy's name, remembering how distant the two of you had been at that time.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “No… no, he never… he never did this. He convinced me I wanted a too-private relationship - you remember, I barely told anyone anything… I barely saw you or Tae... anyone. We barely went out, not for our anniversary, not to events, dinners….. nothing. The rare times we did, he’d never even hold my hand. I went along with it, figured that was his dating style and that he was just that shy, but - surprise, surprise - he goes everywhere with his new actress girlfriend, as proven by me drunkenly Insta-stalking him the other night. I like nights in more than anyone, but it was clear he just wanted me in private. In the breakup, he actually admitted he’d be ashamed to go out with me. It was that messy.”

“What the fuck does that idiot have to be ashamed about?” Jungkook fumed, even more so when you laugh in response.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, ____….. Fuck that guy, honestly,” Jungkook spits out, surveying the area he stood in and considering if it was possible to somehow track the asshole down and beat him up then and there, but with you still latched onto him so tightly…. he wouldn’t leave for anything. “You were always way too good for him, for anyone… I wish I’d told you sooner.”

“Thanks, Koo,” you whisper, hiding your face against his arm for a fraction of a second. He didn’t have the guts to face you at that moment either, knowing he’d kiss you all over just to show you how loudly and publicly you deserved to be loved if that's what you wanted.

“Thanks for today, too. My theory seems to be correct… I wasn't fat-shamed, so ‘yay’ to being treated with basic human decency. But that means you'll likely have to join me again in the future. Congratulations, Koo - you're one-off acting gig turned into a regular role in the _____ Cinematic Universe. What favor do you want in return? What’s your price, Jeon?”

“Oh, I'm never letting you shop without me ever again. See how good my leather jacket is on you? Forget being a boyfriend, my fashion advice is like no other. No... no, this is a Marvel contract now. I'm in this for life... but we agree this isn’t a one-off cameo? Spider-Kook is the star of this universe, alongside you? Just the two of us?"

"What, do you want me to get another guy to pretend to be my boyfriend?"

Fuck no. Jungkook shakes his head.

"I’m still your boyfriend for the day, aren’t I?"

".. What did you have in mind?"

“....I wanna show you something.”

✿

Nagging usually works on Jungkook. Well, nagging was a bit of an exaggeration - he caved in quickly when it came to your requests, seemingly forgetting his sheer signature willpower. But now, even you would admit that you’d been unrelenting… you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had been very vague about ‘what he wanted to show you,' the favor you'd pay in return for his current and future fake boyfriend gigs. But he wouldn't budge, even going so far as to finally resign with a smile and tell you to ‘just shut up and let him lead.’ Jungkook had always been down to do whatever you wanted to do - a true highlight in your friendship - but now, your heart fluttered at him taking the lead…. and even more so when he took you by the hand and excitedly, physically led you to all the places he did… his hand never leaving yours.

First, he took you to a bookstore - nailing the part of the perfect boyfriend with that choice alone, then taking it further when he went on to say he’d treat you to two books - one of your own choosing, the other of his. Something straight out of a romance book, as your day had been thus far.... and Jungkook must've caught on. Of all the books in all the aisles, he had to pick out “Fake It Til You Make It” - the fake dating romance book that inspired all this, only the roles were reversed… In truth, you could’ve easily asked Taehyung to pretend to be your boyfriend and help test out your experiment instead - the two of you were friends as well, and though your relationship was strictly platonic, Tae was an actual actor… But you had to jump at the chance that there might be a teeny, tiny possibility that life imitates fiction and your crush would see you in a new light. And if he hadn’t ended up thinking that dating you might not be too bad of an option… at least you’d get a day of what you’d always longed for. It was a risk. You’d never been able to hide your emotions and already got teary-eyed a number of times, seeing Jungkook act as noble as he’d always been… even better than the perfect boyfriend you’d imagined him to be. It was getting harder and harder to muster up the courage to ask him to accompany you to the wedding as well…

The second place Jungkook led you to was a photo booth studio. He spent way too much money on many different takes and overpriced photo strips, trying different decorations, poses, and photo options. If his arm around your shoulder weren’t holding onto you so firmly, you’d have bolted when he’d insisted on taking a ‘couples version,’ as if the rest weren’t torturously coupley enough. He must have found you out, and it was getting embarrassing.

“I guess…. To back up this lie,” you’d said sheepishly, trying to remind yourself of the situation.

“Sit on my lap and sit still,” he’d instructed, helping you onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Looking off to the side, you couldn’t tell what Jungkook did for the first photo - probably a funny face. For the second, he turned your face to his with his fingers underneath your chin, and you heard the camera click. His features seemed softer, a twinkle present in his eyes… you’d missed the countdown once again, and suddenly Jungkook’s lips were on your cheek, your face held in his hand. He let out a loud mwah you could still feel against your skin after he backed away.

“You kissed my cheek earlier, so…” he quickly mumbled.

A stinging feeling hadn’t left your face. It was hard to say whether it was the lingering feeling of Jungkook’s lips or its effect, the smile you couldn’t stop from appearing on your face.

“Here,” Jungkook whispers, handing you one of the two duplicate photo-strips.

Oh… he was looking at me in that first photo. Why do we look so in love? Holy shit, is he a good actor. Oh hey, how did I not realize he’d also been smiling when he kissed my cheek?

“Put it on the back of your phone,” you hear.

“To back up the lie,” he says, repeating your own words when you finally look at him through your lashes, catching him slip his copy into his wallet as you did into your phone case. Before you were able to process what he’d just done and the photos staring back at you, he wrapped his around your wrist, pulling you out of the tight space.

It was still hard to tell what Jungkook had wanted to show you…. More glimpses of something you could never have, perhaps…

✿

Jungkook was running out of time. He wanted to do so much more for you. He’d imagined taking you out on so many different types of dates and crammed in as many as he could with the time he had left in the day, the possibly pivotal hours that he hoped would awaken something in you.

It was hard not to get carried away, as he always had a tendency to... He’d begun speculating that he actually was in a dream in the bookstore when he found the novel with a story eerily similar to his exact predicament. Ever the believer in fate, Jungkook took it as a sign that he was doing the right thing…. and if all that he was doing couldn’t wake you up, surely the book would... Then at the photobooth… Jungkook could have sworn you’d felt like a real couple then - you’d just been goofing around together, as you always had…. In such a cramped space filled with laughter and love, he’d finally mustered up the courage to kiss you back. He could have sworn he’d seen you smile so wide after that, and that made him happier than the kiss did. Maybe he had a shot....

The third stop was a quick run to the grocery store, which he knew would confuse you most of all. He mindlessly grabbed both of your favorite snacks and drinks in a rush before dashing out, thanking the heavens that he'd made it exactly where he wanted to be, right on time after that.

The park, before sunset.

As expected, the place was packed with couples, families, and friend groups all gathered around and enjoying golden hour. The cool sun shined through marshmallow-like clouds high in the warmly-hued sky. Laughter, music, and joy could be heard all around you - the sounds of happiness, home, and peace.

A perfect spring day.

A perfect opportunity.

Once you'd set up camp and his impromptu picnic, Jungkook leaned back and silently motioned to you to lean against his chest. You do so, cuddling right against him and making Jungkook feel so whole. He'd urged you to read the book he picked out, but you settled on the second one and suggested he give the other a go himself. Jungkook was never a reader, and he would read if you'd asked him to do so sincerely... but he put the book down five pages in. Why would he read a book, especially one that you needed, when he could bask in the beauty of his reality right there in that very moment?

Only thinking this far, Jungkook didn't know what to do after this, but he knew one thing: he’d never felt more alive nor more at peace.

"It's beautiful, Koo."

Jungkook opens his eyes, after closing them briefly as he took in the moment to see you staring up at the orange-pink sky.

"Yeah, it is. You're prettier, though," he says.

"Thanks, boyfriend," you scoff. "Thanks for showing me this... Thank you for the favor. Thank you for everything, Koo. I have to say that again.”

"The sky isn't exactly what I wanted to show you today, _____."

"Oh? Well, what is it?"

“Look at me, _____.”

Startled by his sudden command, you sit up to face him. He couldn’t say what he needed to say without seeing, knowing you believed him… Your eyes always told the truth.

“All of it... All of this... This day was what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you… the kind of love you deserve. The kind of boyfriend you deserve. Actually, no - this isn’t even half of what you deserve. This is just the shit I could think of on the spot on a Monday afternoon. You deserve so much more, _____. I want to show that to you. I want to… I want you to know that. You don’t need to thank me for anything. The favor wasn’t even a favor. You deserve to have someone do that for you, no questions asked. I said ‘always,’ didn’t I? You deserve to go on dates, a boyfriend who loves you loudly and proudly.”

When your ears perked up, Jungkook knew you were listening. Really listening. But the tears on your face interrupted his train of thought. He needed to do something.

“Here,” he starts, clearing his throat as he stands up. “I LOVE HER, WORLD - I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND! I AM IN LOVE WITH HER!” Jungkook’s voice echoed loud enough for every surrounding person to turn to him after his very loud declaration towards the sun.

“Jungkook!” you quietly protest, pulling him back down with a shocked smile on your face.

“I don’t know if you want exactly that….” he says, a proud, bashful smile still on his face as he reaches for your hand. “But you deserve it, regardless. Even if it’s not with me…. That’s what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show the love you deserve.”

Jungkook thanked the heavens for having his back once again. He'd imagined confessing a million different ways, but he'd never have imagined for it to go so smoothly and in such a spontaneously romantic setting. For such an important moment, he was thankful he could read you like a book once again. You took in every word, and your eyes began to water. This was it.

“Even if it’s not with you?”

Wait... what?! What did he say?! What did you say?!

"_____?”

Jungkook had been just as startled as you’d been at the calling of your name. It came from a woman who’d been sitting behind you, someone he had noticed earlier who had been clearly listening in on his confession, even smiling widely with the man beside her when he jumped up and declared his love so loudly. She… knew you?

"Rina?” you say, the shock you’d already been in still present on your face. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s our last date night before the wedding! Picnic in the park - a classic, isn't it? You would know, boo! You have a boyfriend! You're doing the same!”

You turn, mouth agape, to face Jungkook. “Oh, we’re….”

“Oh, don’t bother denying it. We all heard loverboy’s declaration - straight out of a 1980s film. I love it! I won't tell your sister if you don't want me too,” she cheers, smiling at Jungkook. “Oh wait, you aren’t even hiding it, are you? Look at your phone case!”

The photos of you in his arms, him kissing your cheek, were displayed right there through your crystal clear phone case on your lap. Behind his now bashful smile, Jungkook felt a thrill at the exposure.

“Oh, don’t be so shy now, you two,” the man speaks now. “You reminded us of ourselves.”

“____! He's just your type! What’s your name, cutie?” the woman, Rina, asks.

“Oh, it’s Jungkook.”

"Jungkook, I'm Rina. I'm friends with _____ and her sister! I assume you're coming to our wedding next week? _____ must have told you about it already. As long as you’re _____’s boyfriend, you’re welcome. Jae & I are going all out and want as many people there as possible!”

Jungkook had no idea what he must've done in his life, or a past one, for the universe to have his back like this. It’s exactly what he’d wanted… except it didn’t come from you. With all eyes on him, his dart to you, relieved and euphoric to see you smile and nod.

“I, I, I’d love to…"

“Great! I guess we’ll see you then, loverboy. Bye, my love,” Rina says, turning back to give you a hug. “I know me and your sister are the ones who taught you not to hear anything a man has to say but…. He’s a good one. Keep him. Listen to Jungkook, huh?”

Jae leads Rina away, the two of them waving goodbye and turning back until they are out of sight. But Jungkook can’t face you yet. He confessed…. didn’t he? He knew you were listening, but it still felt as though his words remained in the air, unfinished. Did you finally get it? Rina did. The whole damn park did. At least he’d gotten what he wanted. One more gig… One more gig to perfect it.

“I guess you’re my date…. loverboy.”

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