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miedei · 2 days ago

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sick day

roommate!spencer is sick (and lovely)

a/n: wrote this in a fugue state i think, just couldn't get the thought of being spencer's roommate out of my head

cw: best friends who definitely don't love each other noooo why would you say that, spencer is sick and annoying but also the best

wc: 2k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

Living with Spencer Reid is usually wonderful. He’s relatively neat, but messy enough that you don’t have to walk on eggshells around him. He’s always willing to recommend you a new read, he doesn’t judge you when you spend an entire day slumped on the couch, and is always up to help you stress bake.

It’s decidedly wonderful, until it’s not. A week into your living together, you’d realised what a workaholic he was. After the first time you’d caught him asleep on top of paperwork in the living room, you’d understood how much of a pain Spencer Reid really can be.

Unfortunately, today is one of those days. Spencer returned from a case last night, and the moment you’d seen the slump in his shoulders, you knew you were going to have to work from home today.

“You really don’t have to stay home. I don’t even have to stay home! I’m seriously not sick, I swear!” His voice is low, as if attempting to mask the rasp in it. It doesn’t work.

His rambling doesn’t cease, not the entire time you steer him away from the front door and into the living room.

“Yeah? Spence, do you even remember the last time you got sick? I came home to find you lying on the dining table! I’m not going to leave and come back to you trying to climb out of the window or something.” You deadpan, watching him cross his arm and grumble something about ‘elevating the upper body’, and ‘actually very good for the immune system’.

Having shoved him not-too-lightly onto the couch, you stand with your arms crossed, eyes narrowed on him.

“I can’t believe you were going to go to work! Living with you is like living with a child sometimes, god. You know you would have been sent home straight away, look at you.” You gesture wildly at him.

He’s a pathetic sight, curled up on the couch looking distinctly sorry for himself. His hair is limp, flat against his scalp, his weak limbs shoved haphazardly in a button down and slacks. He hasn’t even knotted his tie, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck.

Grabbing his phone out of his bag, you thrust it towards him.

“Call your boss and tell him you need a sick day. You said it yourself, it’s just paperwork today, right? You can take a day off once in a while, Spence, it won’t kill you.” Once finished, you stomp out of the room, heading to his bedroom to grab him some clothes. Surveying his closet, you grab one of his Caltech hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, grinning to yourself when you hear his hoarse voice on the phone.

As you walk back into the living room, he’s settled in, clearly resigned to his fate.

“Yeah, Hotch, I need the day off. I’m sorry, I’m just- Oh. It’s okay? You’re sure? Um, okay. Thanks Hotch.” He hangs up, his eyebrows pinched as if he’s loath to admit you were right.

You can’t help it, snickering as you dump the sweats and hoodie on his chest.

“I told you so.”

“You’re so mean to me.”

It’s nice, spending a day with Spencer like this, even with how whiny he is. Sitting at the desk in the living room, you’re not being incredibly productive, but Spencer’s fever-induced rambles more than make up for it.

“So, some moron made a blog called ‘What Would Carl Sagan Do?’, and Garcia - remember her, my coworker? She showed it to me, and oh my god, it’s so ridiculous! I mean, to start, all the entries were lifted from different sci-fi movies and books, and they were all so inaccurate, like, ‘The Martian Chronicles’ were good, but it’s been debunked so many times! Carl Sagan debunked it!”

He’s laying on his back on the couch, slender fingers waving in the air above him, eyes lidded as he speaks animatedly.

“Yeah? What was wrong about it?” You rise from the desk chair, heading into the kitchen. “Also, do you want tea?”

His voice softens, speaking slower as he answers your question. “Yeah, that black tea you brought home last week, please.”

You can hear the moment he slips back into his rant, words growing more and more spirited as he continues to rail against whatever that blog was. Puttering around the cramped kitchen, you let his words roll over you, balancing two mugs and a plate in your hands.

He doesn’t stop speaking, but flashes you a grateful smile as he takes a mug from you, swiping a cookie from the plate before delving back into the topic at hand.

“So, Bradbury, and a lot of the other sci-fi writers of the time, believed that colonisation of Mars would be possible within the 20th century. And then, in 1960, Carl Sagan, along with a bunch of other astronomers, discovered that Mars doesn’t have an atmosphere, so humans living there long term is virtually impossible without a huge improvement in technology, which probably won't happen until the latter half of the 21st century. And this moron with a blog is pretending like Sagan wouldn’t care, and that he would advocate for irresponsible space travel and I hate him.”

He finishes with a huff, taking a large gulp of tea and sitting up against the couch. His eyes are hazy with exhaustion, eyelids drooping as he looks at you. You can’t help but giggle. He looks adorably dishevelled, and his eyebrows pinching together at your laughter only intensifies it.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“I’m- I’m sorry Spence, you just look really cute right now, like you’re going to fall asleep.” You can barely get it out, body shaking with mirth. His eyebrows furrow further, a slight pout forming on his lips.

His attempts to get you to stop laughing go unanswered, and he huffs once more, crossing his arms and settling against the couch cushions.

It’s the late afternoon when a knock on the door stirs you from your reverie. Spencer is sitting next to you, your legs slung over his lap as he leans back, eyes trained on The Fellowship of the Ring on the television as his hands tap out something on your calves.

“Are you expecting anyone?” He shakes his head no, not averting his gaze from the screen.

You sigh, jostling his shoulder.

“Spence. Spence, can you go get the door? It’s probably a salesman or something.”

He hums, shaking his head once more.

“Can’t. Too sick.”

You groan, tipping your head back in frustration before hauling yourself off the couch, flicking his shoulder as you walk past.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” His only response is a grin, before he turns back to the movie.

Grumbling under your breath, you trudge through the room to the front door, frowning when you look through the peephole to see two figures.

One is shorter than the other, a woman wearing a hot pink and orange dress that should be garish, but looks completely natural on her. The man next to her is grinning, holding several plastic bags in one hand, the other arm linked with the woman’s.

Not salesmen.

Concluding that they’re probably not a threat, you swing the door open, causing their heads to pop up.

“Hey, Reid- Oh.” The man speaks immediately, but pauses when he sees you.

“You’re not Reid.” The woman concludes.

You tilt your head to the side, confused.

“Yeah, I’m not. Um, how do you know Spencer?”

They share a confused look.

“We’re his coworkers. Derek and Penelope. Sorry, who are you? Do we have the wrong apartment?”

You brighten, recognising the names from Spencer’s many stories about work.

“Oh, that’s who you are! No, you’ve got the right apartment, of course. Come in.” You turn to the side, allowing them to walk in, although their expressions remain bewildered. “I’m Spence’s roommate, Y/N. He’s in the living room.”

“Roommate?” Derek exclaims before setting his sights on Spencer, striding over to him.

“Hey, pretty boy.” Spencer jolts, the haze of sickness having made sure that he didn’t notice them till now. His voice is higher than normal, squeaky.

“Morgan! What are you- Garcia? Why- why are you here?” Penelope smiles mischievously, plopping down on the couch next to Spencer.

“Well, we obviously wanted to check up on you, Boy Wonder. This is the first sick day you’ve taken in the last two years - don’t try to lie to me, I checked - and now, we’re very interested in your friend here.” Her smile loses its teasing edge when she turns to you.

A grin spreads over your face, recognising the same teasing affection you feel towards him in the two newcomers. Retaking your seat on Spencer’s other side, you pull your feet up on the couch, tucking them under Spencer’s thigh.

Penelope squeaks quietly, but averts her gaze when you look up at her questioningly.

“So, you guys have worked with Spence for a while, huh?”

Derek sits in the armchair across from you, chuckling under his breath.

“Since he was 22. Back when he straightened his hair and wore those sweater vests that were three sizes too big.” Spencer lets out a strangled noise of protest next to you, but you both ignore him in favour of continuing your conversation.

“Seriously? I’ve seen one photo of him back then, but then he started hiding them all from me. You got any?”

Penelope perks up, pulling out a tablet from her work bag.

“Yes! Oh my goodness, sweetheart, I have so many. Did you know, he used to do this thing where he would gel his hair back, said it made him look older but it was honestly just really cute, hold on…”

She shifts and moves to sit on your other side, huddling over the tablet with you and Derek.

Spencer is suddenly left in the lurch, stuck observing the three of you from the other end of the couch. He feels like he should be irritated, angry even, but he can’t do anything but watch, eyes softening.

“Oh my god, Spencer, you were so cute, what happened?” Never mind, he’s feeling a bit irritated now.

It’s not endearing, no. No matter how lovely you look, your face flushed with excitement. No matter how easily you fit in with some of his favourite people in the world.

It’s not captivating, not at all.

#requests are welcome!!#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer.r #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert

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thoughtfulfiction · 1 day ago

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While We’re Young

Author’s note: Anon requested, Hope you all enjoy!

“Wait,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car. You twisted one of your hoodie strings around your finger, tightening your grip on it and staring at Justin as if the realization had just crashed into you. “What if they don’t like me?”

Justin glanced over, his brows furrowing before his expression softened. His hand found its place on your thigh, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern through the fabric of your leggings. You were convinced that his soothing touch could change lives. “They’re going to love you,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t even a question. “My mom’s already planning to interrogate you about your favorite foods so she can cook for you. That’s her love language.”

You wanted to believe him, but your mind was already racing. “I mean, what if they think I’m not good enough for you? Or—oh god—what if I say something stupid and embarrass myself? Bad first impressions are impossible to recover from, and if this doesn't go the way we hope…” You trailed off, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

At the next stoplight, Justin leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “First of all, you couldn’t embarrass yourself even if you tried. And second, I’ve seen you charm complete strangers. My family doesn’t stand a chance.”

Despite his confidence, your nerves didn’t fully settle. “Thanks, babe,” you murmured, managing a small smile. “But what am I supposed to do with the next thirteen hours? That’s so much time for me to go through worse case scenarios.”

“And to make me listen to your Sad Girl playlist,” Justin switched gears to remind you, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed, connecting your phone to his car’s Bluetooth, taking a break from your negative self-talk. The opening chords of your favorite melancholic ballad filled the car as you leaned back in your seat.

Justin groaned dramatically but didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over to squeeze your hand, the warmth of his skin a quiet and comforting reassurance that you’d carry with you all the way to Eugene.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good. I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, giving him a long winded breakdown of what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane. And definitely take me to Nike. It honestly feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.” You note with a laugh. If Nike made suits, he'd definitely be first in line.

He gave you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning while helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your fries, swapping spots with him after lunch so he could take a break from driving. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and they smell like you. Anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood, actually. Take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich, so I take from you and...give to me. The poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free, but that is a pretty solid comparison.”

After about 8 hours of you being on aux, you decided to cut him so slack and let him take over on music as you continued to drive, mouthing the lyrics of the latest song that was playing from his phone, quickly getting lost in the rhythm.

He glanced over at you, chuckling softly, nodding his head along to the beat. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. Hate to admit it but this is kind of a banger." You smirked, tilting your head toward him. "You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head. “No shot. You’re not doing this to me.”

You turned up the music, singing loudly and deliberately off-key as he sighed deeply, his head dropping back against the headrest. But to your surprise, he joined in during the chorus. Both of you were screaming the lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, the car practically vibrating with your energy.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he said, holding out his pinky.

“Deal,” you laughed, locking your pinky with his before refocusing on the road.

A few hours later, Justin motioned for you to take the next exit. “Let’s hop out right here. I want to show you something,” he said cryptically.

The stop turned out to be a scenic lookout, the perfect place to watch the sunset with Mt. Shasta looming majestically in the distance. Justin laced his fingers with yours as the two of you walked toward the edge, stretching your legs after hours in the car.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, mesmerized by the golden and pink hues painting the sky.

Justin turned to you with a warm smile, his eyes full of something that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah… me too.”

You smacked his arm, keeping your gaze on the horizon. “Justin, focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry, I just got really distracted by the view in front of me. It’s kind of become my favorite.” He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. His beard—something that came and went whenever he felt like it—tickled your temple, making you smile.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still stealing your breath even after all this time. His green eyes were softer in the glow of the setting sun, flickering between your eyes and lips as if he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“You’re my favorite view too,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while...the rest of my life even.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. You hadn't even meant to say that last part out loud and you almost backtracked. But then, his lips curled into a small, hesitant smile, like he was processing the weight of your words.

“Really?” he asked, his voice low and steady. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “You—you see us doing this? Getting married, spending our lives together?”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart ache in the best way. “Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

Justin didn’t respond immediately, but his actions spoke louder than any words ever could. His hands slid to frame your face fully, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and deliberate, like he was pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into that one kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away until it was just the two of you.

His hand gently cradled your head, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might slip away. You gripped the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, your heart racing as the kiss deepened. There was something so raw, so unspoken in the way his lips moved against yours—it wasn’t just passion; it was promise. Everything you saw, this bright beautiful future together? He saw it too.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. He let out a shaky laugh, his hands still cradling your face. “I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with either,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “Until now.”

The kiss lingered for just a moment longer, both of you savoring the connection, the sound of your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your breath. When Justin finally pulled back, there was a brief moment of silence, a quiet understanding between you. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giving you a small smile before pulling away completely to open the door of the car.

“I think we’ve stalled long enough,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual but still carrying that calm confidence you admired. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both shared a laugh, though it felt a bit nervous on your part as the reality of the day hit. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew this was a big moment for Justin—and for you.

Justin took the keys from your hand, giving you one last reassuring squeeze before getting in the driver's seat. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jittery nerves you hadn’t even realized you were holding onto.

The final leg of the drive felt like it stretched on forever, even though only a few hours had passed since you were on the mountain. There was something different in the air now. The soft, quiet hum of the road felt more like a countdown to something important.

Every few minutes, Justin would glance over at you, a soft smile curling at his lips as if trying to reassure himself just as much as you. His hand eventually found itself encasing yours, his thumb making lazy circles over your skin. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence, calm and unwavering, was more than enough.

When the exit for Eugene finally appeared, you felt your pulse quicken. This was it. This was the moment.

“Here we go,” Justin murmured, his voice somehow more steady than his movements, as he guided the car off the highway and toward the familiar road leading to his childhood home.

The transition felt sudden, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet moment of realization that everything you’d shared so far had been leading to this point. He was letting you in. You were meeting the people who mattered most to him, the ones who had shaped him into the man he was today.

As you approached the house, you could see the familiar outline of the porch, a few trees swaying in the breeze, and a small garage you guessed held memories of Justin’s childhood. The house was modest, but there was a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to radiate from the front door, even from the car.

Justin slowed as he approached, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours one last time before he parked the car. He looked over at you, eyes soft but serious, like he was searching for your reassurance.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with both excitement and nerves.

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah. Ready.”

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and walked toward the front door of his family’s home, the journey that had brought you here feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

The door swung open before you even knocked, and there stood his mom, her arms outstretched.

She was gorgeous, her dark hair a stark contrast to Justin's much lighter features. But she wasn't interested in him at all, making a beeline for you straight away. “Oh, you’re even more beautiful than he said! I’m Holly—come in, come in!"

You barely had time to process her words before you were enveloped in a warm hug, her energy immediately putting you at ease. Over her shoulder, you spot Justin’s dad, Mark, standing on the porch with a reserved smile, and Justin’s brothers are leaning against the doorway, smirking. Justin laughed softly behind you, side stepping you and his mom. "Alright, let her breathe please? It'd be helpful if she made it through this entire night without suffocating," he jokes as his mom pulls away, rolling her eyes as she gives him a hug.

A younger guy who looks almost exactly like a mustached version of your boyfriend greets you next. "Hi, I'm Patrick. Glad Mitch wasn't lying and you are a real person, but pro tip? You're way out of this dork's league," he says with a serious face, nodding his head towards his older brother.

Justin glares at him and doesn't respond, muttering something under his breath that only Patrick catches as he bursts into a fit of laughter. You give Mitch a hug—the familiar face of Justin's older brother a welcome sight. He was a first-year orthopedic surgery resident at UCLA, the perfect situation for him and Justin to live together again. You'd been able to meet him on several occasions which proved useful in easing your nerves about meeting everyone else. “How was the drive? Are you guys staying at the ranch tonight?”

“We are,” you replied with a smile. “I’m really excited to finally see this infamous place.”

Justin’s dad steps forward, his handshake firm but warm, his eyes studying you with quiet curiosity before his face softens into a welcoming smile. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re happy to finally meet you. Let's head inside, I think Holly already has the baby pictures set out and ready for you to go through," he smiles, patting Justin on the back as his son shakes his head.

"You're lucky your dad talked me out of making a PowerPoint Presentation because we were seconds away from watching a pre dinner slideshow." Holly says to him with a small smile as everyone steps inside.

Patrick's voice cuts through everyone's laughter, "she's not even kidding, it was about to have music included and everything but dad saved you. I was about to give her some of the best material." He looks over at you, overenunciating for emphasis. "Two words: bowl. Cut."

"See what I have to deal with?" Justin whispers, gently pulling you into his side. Mark and Holly exchange knowing looks but don't say anything.

The house smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, like warmth itself had settled into the walls. Framed pictures lined the hallways—some faded with time, others vibrant and new—each capturing a story of childhood adventures and hard-won victories. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cozy living room. This wasn’t just a house; it was a sanctuary, a place where love was stitched into the very fabric of its foundation.

On the table in the living room is a stack of photo albums from when Justin was a newborn all the way up until his senior year of college. Countless memories were shared in these frames, a clearly busy but joyful childhood filled with love, laughter and lots of sporting events of all kinds. You could see that this family valued quality time with each other and the home you were in radiated warmth and love.

You ran your fingers lightly over the plastic covering of one album, tracing the faded marker label: Justin – Year 3. Inside, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinned back at you, his tiny facial features stretched in a mischievous but slightly forced smile.

“He never changed,” Patrick teased. “Still hates cameras.”

His words made you laugh a little because it was true, but you also saw something deeper. A boy who had grown up in a home where love wasn’t measured in trophies or contracts but in moments. The same boy who had fought to protect his private life in the face of stadium lights and national attention. You understood now—it wasn’t about secrecy. It was about keeping his people, the most important part of him, safe.

Your gaze flickered to Justin, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a telltale sign of deep thought. He wasn’t just reminiscing. He was remembering what it felt like to carry all of this, to be seen as something larger than life before he even had a chance to grow into it. And yet, here, he wasn’t the NFL quarterback. He was just...Justin.

"He was the starter by the end of that season, kind of became the hometown hero from then," Mitch sighs, sifting through some of the photos. "Things kind of got chaotic after that, with comparisons and people talking on social media."

"It was annoying," Justin cuts in, "deleted my Instagram after that. Only got it back around the draft for endorsement purposes." His words are dry, like it was painful or embarrassing thinking back to that time.

You had always respected, even admired, Justin’s need for privacy. But sitting here, surrounded by the people who had shaped him, you understood where it all came from: it wasn’t just about keeping the world out—it was about keeping his world safe. The weight of expectations, the relentless scrutiny, the unspoken pressure to be perfect—it had started young. He hadn’t chosen to be private. He had been forced to learn how to protect the things that mattered most.

And that’s what this house and his family was.

His one refuge from a world that always wanted more.

"Alright," Holly says, breaking you out of your epiphany, "who's ready to eat?"

This was a family you could definitely see yourself being a part of. Justin seemed so much more relaxed and at ease here which was a stark contrast to what you'd seen from him recently. His job was unforgiving, unrelenting. And the fans? You thanked your lucky stars daily for the fact that Justin wasn't on Twitter, especially after the Houston loss. This is where he belonged, these were his people. They didn't care about the stats or the money or everything that came with it and that's exactly how he wanted to be treated. He had a home in these people. He'd only found that comfort and peace one other time since he left Eugene.

And that was when he met you.

Dinner went on seamlessly, Mark joking asked if you two had a wedding date set after watching his son not-so-subtly check in on you throughout your stay. There were inside jokes, little moments of laughter from your relationship with Justin like how you had to adjust to his crazy hours in the facility from Monday-Wednesday but Thursdays were the days that really mattered, it was just the two of you. And sometimes Mitch and Isabella. But those were the days that brought you even closer, those little moments, just like this one that brought you so much joy it felt like you'd explode. There was easy laughter, Patrick telling some story about Justin being so private and how much he likes to keep to himself that he never thought he'd see this day. You spoke up and reassured him that you think you've successfully peeled back some layers and found your best friend in the process. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Mitch giving Patrick a nudge. Even Mark cracked a little smile, but all you could focus on was Justin's subtle smile that spoke volumes, in his own unique way. After everyone was finished with their meal, you found yourself in the kitchen with Holly, helping her plate dessert while the guys debated football in the other room.

“He’s different with you, you know.” She nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter.

Your hands froze mid-reach. A small knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. “Different good or…?”

She smiled, her eyes soft with something unreadable. “Good. Really good.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, something unspoken lingering in the air. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking. “Oh?”

“His grandma. My mom,” she said, voice quieter now, like the weight of memory had settled over her. “She was the only one who could ever get my dad to slow down. He was always moving—always thinking about the next challenge, the next goal. But with her, it was…different. She had this way of pulling him back to the present, reminding him that love isn’t measured in achievements. That life isn’t just about what you do—it’s about who you share it with.”

Her eyes met yours then, her meaning unmistakable. “Seeing you and Justin felt very similar to seeing them together again. It’s really nice to see him be with someone who helps him to reel it in a little.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small laugh. “Well, he’s still a workaholic, so I might not be that good at it.”

Holly chuckled. “That’s just who he is. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always checking in. You’re his home. His safe space.” She paused, and added softly, “And that’s all a mother could ever want for her son.”

You blinked back the unexpected sting of tears and watched as Holly swiped at her eyes. Before you could really process what you were doing, you were hugging her again. All the nerves and tension from earlier have completely vanished. Justin might not say much, but his actions had always spoken volumes. And now, hearing it from his mom—knowing that she saw it too—meant more than you could put into words.

The two of you walked back in with trays holding little bowls filled with apple crisp and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with caramel drizzle.

As Justin watched you, something settled in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t even known he was searching for. His mom was smiling at you in that way she only did when she had already decided someone was family. His dad—usually quiet, reserved—nodded along to your words like he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. His brothers, relentless as ever, had already started pulling you into their teasing.

And there you were. Sitting beside him, laughing like you belonged here. Because you did.

An hour later, after lingering goodbyes and a few last jokes, you walked side by side to his car. As Justin slid into the driver’s seat, he exhaled slow and deep. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally lifted. Maybe it was the fear of his two worlds colliding. Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken worry that you wouldn’t fit into this part of his life.

But you did. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like you were always meant to.

“Well,” you said, patting his thigh with a teasing grin, “that went great. Can’t believe you were so freaked out.”

He turned to you, feigning offense before shaking his head with a laugh. The sound of it filled the car, warm and easy. You joined in, your laughter melting into his as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

This. This is what home should feel like.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured.

But as he pulled back, hand still wrapped around yours, the thought hit him like a slow-burning realization.

I think I might love you too.

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert fic

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bwat5-blog · 3 days ago

Text

It Was Never Jinx's War

**Spoilers For Arcane**

I have written quite a bit about Jinx, and touched on this topic briefly, but I felt that it deserved more than my sarcastic blurbs. Today I wanted to talk a little bit about Jinx, and her being forced into the role of a revolutionary by her people and fans alike. So what do I actually mean?

I mean to address statements like these from fans:

Jinx should have lead Zaun in a civil war!

Jinx should have ripped Caitlyn apart!

The writers are coward for making Jinx apologize to Caitlyn!

What did they do to Revolutionary Jinx?! She was meant to lead the uprising!

I'm not going to spend time going through her whole story again. I have done so many times in various forms as have many others. And I have to assume if you are on Tumblr reading some grouchy nerd's rambling about Jinx, you already know her story. So first let's discuss one question.

Does Jinx hate Piltover/The Enforcers?

OBVIOUSLY. And she has every reason to. Growing up as a Zaunite means she grew up suffering under Piltovan oppression. And the Enforcers took her parent's lives. Take Silco and his teachings totally out of the picture and Jinx still has every reason to feel how she feels. I don't deny that at all. But feeling that way is not the same as being a violent revolutionary for her own reasons and choices. So let's discuss the moments from season 1 that created this false idea that the Jinx we know was fighting for her people's freedom with what she did.

SEASON 1

As A Kid:

It probably seems silly to most of you, it certainly did to me. But I have legitimately seen the example used that Powder was making bombs and had filled one with nails for the Enforcers to justify this idea. Listen folks, she was 11. I'm not saying she didn't want to help her family or wasn't willing. But equating that with wanting to be part of a violent revolution is foolish. In fact we see that childish (not said negatively just honestly) enthusiasm without consideration of consequence play out when she tries to help save Vander.

2. The Theft:

Okay. So this is her first real act as Jinx that I have seen attributed to her being a revolutionary for Zaun fighting the system. Most of the justification for this comes down to the simple fact that she stole from Piltover and hurt Enforcers. Jinx lights a building on fire, drawing Enforcers in using a fake child's voice, then blows it up killing six Enforcers and stealing the hex-tech gemstone. What does that mean?

Stole a source of power from Piltover that gives Silco and opportunity to study hex-tech

Killed Enforcers

Okay. I can see the revolutionary point for sure. Except for one problem. Jinx didn't do any of this for Zaun. Let's roll the tape!

Our reintroduction to Powder who has now become Jinx is the fight between Silco's people and The Firelights on Progress Day. During that incident Jinx sees a firelight that resembles Vi and loses control. This leads to conflict with Sevika.

Later, Sevika and Silco are discussing what happened. Sevika is angry:

Sevika: "She's a problem and we all know it" Silco shuts her down. It is then revealed Jinx has been listening the entire time and she talks with Silco: Jinx: "one of those firelight wackos was a girl with pink hair" Silco: "todays screwup will set us back weeks" Jinx: "I'm sorry" Silco: "I need to know I can rely on you..... Sevika will clean up todays mess" Jinx: "Sevika? That ogre couldn't clean a dust bunny with a blow torch" Silco: "Take some time" Jinx: "I don't need time" Silco: "Take it anyhow"

Jinx is quite visibly upset and leaves

We rejoin Jinx later in her hideout. She is upset, convincing herself it wasn't Vi, talking to the specter of Mylo, justifying the incident that it was just her getting confused. then she says some key dialogue here:

"Now, he thinks I'm weak...I'm not weak... and I'm gonna show him. Oh, I'm gonna show him. You'll see".

And the explosion and theft are how she does so. How she proves to her adoptive father that she isn't weak. And it works! It gives her the validation she is desperate for. When he first comes in he is the most outwardly angry with her we ever see him on screen.

Until she shows him the stone:

Silco values strength above all. We see him espouse this over and over. Jinx has certainly heard it plenty although unless I'm mistaken we don't see him preaching it directly to her until later. She is worried he sees her as lacking the most important quality to him, so she goes out and proves it and now she feels accepted and safe again. Not to mention the fact that her early childhood trauma left a very real mental scar in her regarding feelings of being weak/not ready/a Jinx. I mean come on, it isn't exactly subtle that the specter we see tormenting her more prominently than any is this fucker (calling the delusion that not the dead child. Don't yell at me lol)-

She didn't do any of this for Zaun. She did it because part of her is still a little girl that's terrified if she isn't strong enough she is going to be all alone.

3. The Bridge:

Alright moving on. The next big one that gets mentioned frequently is Jinx attacking the bridge. Again, I can see the argument to a point. Killing the leader of The Enforcers and reclaiming the stone. Definite points for the "Zaunite Revolution". Except for a few things.

She is watching the bridge when Vi says goodbye to Caitlyn & Ekko. Mostly just arguing with "Mylo" about Vi.

2. She doesn't look angry until she sees the stone. The stone that symbolizes Silco's acceptance and recognition of her strength, and therefore his love.

3. She doesn't attack when she sees the stone. she doesn't attack when Marcus shoots Ekko. She is overwhelmed by her mental illness and attacks when Vi "leaves her" again, running back toward the bridge after the gunshot.

4. The symbol of Silco's love is in jeopardy, and she feels like Vi is leaving all over again. Once more she is a little girl facing the terrifying prospect of being all alone again and it's quite simply too much. Look how big Mylo is over her.

I mean this just isn't subtle. This was not the act of a freedom fighter assassinating an enemy. This was the act of a mentally ill young woman losing control and unleashing violence in an attempt to hold on to what she is terrified to lose.

4. Abducting Caitlyn:

Not much to say here but it is worth mentioning as it frequently gets filed under the "Jinx = Oppressed, Caitlyn = Oppressor, so Jinx abduct and possibly torture Caitlyn = Okeydokey Artichokey!" crowd. This didn't have a damn thing to do with Zaun. Because of Silco and Sevika's manipulations, Jinx's history with Enforcers, and Jinx's mental illness she viewed Caitlyn as the one keeping Vi from her and she acted out jealousy, fear and rage.

5. Attack On the Council:

Ok. This is in the big one that is probably the most hotly debated. By now we all know the context here. Jinx has abducted Silco, Vi and Caitlyn to host her dinner party. Silco is now dead, and in a moment of "accepting" who she is Jinx strikes at the Council of Piltover, unknowingly during the very moment they are ratifying Zaunite independence.

Silco's words echo over the strike while the hauntingly beautiful "what could have been" plays. It is truly a moving moment and all sarcasm or nastiness aside let me say that I do understand how people are interpreting this scene the way they are.

Jinx sits in the chair seemingly accepting herself as the daughter of Silco and inheritor of his legacy

Vi blames herself for creating jinx. The camera cuts to Vi multiple times during the song.

Jinx gives the whole "I thought you could love me like you used to" speech. Onece again just piling onto Vi and implying Jinx knows who she is now.

Jinx is clearly remorseful for shooting Silco and striking at his enemies would be a logically fitting way to respond

However, it is not that simple. Jinx is not making the first strike for her people in the wake of her adopted fathers death. She is a grieving, enraged, and yes mentally ill young woman in the middle of a breakdown lashing out at a symbol of pain and loss in her world.

I recently wrote a short sarcastic little blurb about this and that was my bad. This topic deserves more. But someone responded that I was implying Jinx was not capable making plans or decisions in that moment because of her mental illness. That is not what I mean. What I mean is that Jinx's heart and mind are an open ragged wound in this moment, and she lashes out at something that has always symbolized loss and pain and anger. Smashing it down into a first strike for freedom is not only illogical based on narrative evidence, but robs the moment of what Jinx is really going through.

"What Could Have Been":

This song narratively takes us into Jinx's pov as this moment plays out. It is beautiful, and haunting. The key however, as we are hearing Jinx's perspective play out, is to remember that her mind is not well.

We have been watching her unravel more and more since the beginning of S1 A2. Think back to when she and Vi first reunite. She is clearly ashamed of what she has done with Silco. Put that up against her shooting at Vi even one episode later on the bridge.

2. She is still extremely fresh from the Shimmer procedure that even though it saved her life was horrific and painful to the point it could have killed her.

3. She abducts Caitlyn nude from her bathroom and tells Vi she be Powder again if Vi will just murder Caitlyn.

4. She kills Silco in the middle of a breakdown

5. Quite frankly. The whole "dinner party" itself. There is not a damn thing in the world about her behavior or mental state at this time that suggests she is level or even. Her sudden calm after killing Silco isn't a patricide induced clarity. It is a breaking.

She is angry, she is grieving, she is ill and she is afraid. She feels that Vi cannot love her anymore because of who she is and she killed the only other person she had. So she lashes out. And in so-doing actually obliterates her peoples chance of independence.

Intent:

Now I have seen the argument made that it doesn't matter what her reasons or intent were. Because ultimately her actions served Zaun. Did they though?

Blowing up the building and killing six enforcers caused the bridge blockade Her attack on the bridge almost killed Caitlyn, which all personal character bias aside, if she had successfully caused the death of a council woman's daughter Piltover would have gone nuclear. She also almost killed Ekko successfully who was actually a champion for Zaunites. Her attack on the council opens the door for Ambessa and kicks off the events leading to Caitlyn's strike team and the occupation. The most obvious and one that should be taken with a grain of salt given the extenuating circumstances. But Jinx was a part of Silco's operations. Piltover's neglect and oppression may have allowed bad men to rise up and take control, but Silco was their chief. He flooded the lanes with Shimmer regardless of the harm and Jinx played a part in that.

SEASON 2

Alright, moving into season 2. This is where people were angry and feeling that the show was throwing away Jinx's revolutionary arc. But as I've stated it is my belief that is never where her story was going to begin with. So let's dig into some points I feel lend themselves to this point.

Aftermath of Jinx's attack:

What is she doing in the wake of her first strike? Leading battle planning sessions? Nope. Wandering the streets while Chem-Barons rip Zaun apart. Why? Because she wasn't firing the first strike. She was breaking down. And now she is all alone. Her adopted father gone, his organization failing, her sister lost to her.

Ventilation Chamber Battle:

Alright so I see this battle mentioned as well because Jinx and Sevika let The Grey loose in Piltover in retaliation. I wasn't sure if I should discuss this or not, since some people like to pretend Jinx never did this and I don't want to confuse them. But better to be thorough.

As I'm sure you know this is the battle when Vi & Caitlyn finally confront Jinx & Sevika down in the pipeworks of Zaun. They all engage in a massive and brutal brawl to some truly outstanding music, and in the end Sevika detonates a series of charges that send the Grey up into Piltover all over the city.

I have spoken AT LENGTH about the hyperbole and nonsense the fandom has engaged in when it comes to The Grey and Caitlyn. I can assure you I'm not going to magically assign it some ultra-lethal quality just because Jinx is now doing it.

"Jinx was acting in retaliation against their oppressors for Caitlyn's strike team poisoning Zaun's air!"-- You get the idea

The issue of course is that this was not some strategic retaliation in Jinx's rebellion. This was intended to be her suicide and end Vi as well. Jinx wants to die here.

Hard to lead a rebellion when you intend to die at your sisters hands. However I will give Jinx partial credit if that makes anyone feel better. She was at least retaliating against Piltover as well.

Becoming A Symbol:

Alright. This is where we get into Zaun trying to force her into this box as well. Let's do a very quick rundown of events leading up to the occupation of Zaun under Martial Law:

1. Caitlyn leaves Vi after the battle and becomes the commander 2. Caitlyn and Ambessa's forces hunt Jinx throughout Zaun, cannot locate her. Place Zaun under Martial Law until she is caught and try to get Zaunites to turn on her 3. Zaunites make Jinx their symbol of resistance. Their flag to rally behind. Even the spy Maddie says "we made them desperate for something to believe in".

And what has Jinx been doing the entire time?

Which by the way. AS. SHE. SHOULD. She finally found some fucking peace and happiness. But she was not in any fashion out throwing Molotovs and getting arrested. She did not become the symbol of the rebellion because she earned it. She became the symbol because she's the one they had when they need something to believe in. Even when she frees all those people from prison she only does so because she is trying to rescue Isha. And by the way the show is not subtle about what this means for her:

She and Isha are living happily-

When Sevika comes in angry and slamming things and demanding Jinx consider what Silco sacrificed (aside from Jinx's second family of course) Jinx starts glitching and yells.

2. Jinx tearfully admits to Silco's chair she doesn't want to mess up what she has with Isha

3. When Isha is taken and Jinx has no choice but to rejoin the fight, the show is quite clear about the tone it sets for Jinx.

Pop Quiz class, does it seem like they are implying its a good thing?

Side Note:

Jinx has too many barbs, comments, taunts and so on to name regarding her feelings for Piltover. I didn't include them because… duh? She hates Piltover and she hates Enforcers. Again. That is not the same as being a revolutionary. Not to mention at the least in the context of her talking shit to Vi for putting on the badge, it should be noted that all you usually have to do is go a few words in either direction or consider the actual context and her clever jabs at her sister lose some of their luster.

"I busted half of Zaun out of prison while you were passed out in the bottom of a mug" INITIATING TRANSLATION FROM JINX-SPEAK TO REALITY….. "While you were in a self-destructive spiral that was probably going to kill you and caused among other things by my actions as well, I was chilling with Isha during the entire occupation until she went full feral gremlin and got arrested. I freed the others while I was there to get her also"

And that isn't hating on Jinx by the way. But people like to use all her clever little comments to really sell this whole image of her character and justify screaming about her not leading the massacre of Piltover or something at the end so it seemed worth mentioning.

Conclusion

So. When it is all said and done, why even touch on this? Because I think people so stuck on wanting her to be a revolutionary for Zaun are missing the point. Sure her feelings were there, but the actions she took were never for Zaun's freedom. That isn't her story, just like it isn't Vi's. People watched this show expecting everyone to follow traditional heroic journeys. But not every character is meant to become the leader on the throne. Sometimes, they are the long suffering victim of a system that doesn't really care about them, and although they can fight for and defend their people, their greatest victory is getting to live for themselves and their loved ones in peace.

Think about "Silco's" final speech to Jinx: Break free from these labels and restrictions. These "prisons". Walk away from the cycle because otherwise it will. not. stop. Like most of you I'm sure, I wanted to see Jinx and Vi together as sisters at the end of the show. And I have seen SO. MANY. comments saying it's bullshit that Jinx had to go off on her own so Vi could have a happy ending but these people are seriously missing the point.

Jinx not only gave Vi a chance at a happy ending, but she set off to find her own. She was never going to find peace in Piltover where no matter the circumstances, there were very real people living with the aftermath of her crimes. And she was never going to escape the shadow of Silco returning to Zaun, either being held to account for her part in his crimes or expected to lead their people. And that is to say nothing of the memories of everything she'd lost haunting every corner of Zaun.

I understand if her story wasn't what you wanted. We all had our own preferences and ideas and theories for how things were going to go. But by trying to force Jinx's narrative into a certain box and being angry at the parts that don't fit, you miss out on the story we were given.

A tortured but loving young woman who reclaims her soul, and sets off into the unknown to find her peace. Fulfilling the dream of a bright and inquisitive little girl who dreamed of better days.

*** Yall Tumblr had a seizure right at the finish line and the formatting got all messed up and I wasn't really able to fix it completely. Sorry if this looks weird***

#jinx arcane #arcane powder #silco arcane #arcane vi #caitlyn arcane #arcane #arcane season 2 #jinx and isha #arcane season 2 spoilers #vi and jinx

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misspelledwordswizard · 1 day ago

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How about a reaction from the Chain to a witch Reader, but in a Harry Potter style?

Reader, in addition to being scared at first, would undoubtedly be confused by the blatant display of magic without punishment. It doesn’t help that she quickly mistakes and identifies Twilight as an Animagus after seeing Wolfie just once. It would definitely lead to an interesting conversation where Reader reveals herself as a witch and explains how, in her world, the Statute of Secrecy exists, along with the reasons it was created.

The Chain would be horrified not by the massive concealment of magic itself, but by the reasons behind it, with the main one being the indiscriminate hunting of magical beings.

Hey, I'm back baby! After a while on vacation and having to deal with the return of my classes, I was finally able to organize myself to return fully, I hope. But hey, I'm sorry for the huge delay with the requests, and happy new year to everyone, considering that this is my first post of the year!

Oh, thanks for the request, I really love crossovers, and I love Harry Potter!

I’ve been here for a few weeks, traveling with this group of men who claim to be heroes of the realm, or something like that. I’m not sure how I ended up here, but it was obvious that this was a different world from mine. For starters, the humans here have pointy ears, like elves. Okay, I can deal with that. And then there are other races, which I’ve never seen anything like in my world. I mean, a race of stone men, seriously? Not to mention the totally different monsters.

But none of these things surprised me as much as the lack of care with the exposure of magic. Everyone, even the supposed “muggles” who don’t have magic, are fully aware of its existence. It’s natural, it’s normal. But it’s also strange that they don’t have any organ that regulates its use, considering how much it is used.

From what I could see, one of my traveling companions, who took me in for some reason when I fell on top of them after passing through a strange portal, has magic and uses it medicinally. I don’t know if the others can do things like that, but from what I’ve noticed, most of them have some object that has some magical property and makes things easier. That boy with the rings – I think his nickname was Legend – has one for every situation.

Well, okay, I know they’re all called Link, confusing, even more confusing when I found out they’re from different timelines. Is temporal magic really that normalized around here? I’ve only been with them for a short time, and I still find it hard to associate them with their nicknames, because not only are they all blond with blue eyes, which doesn’t help much, but each one seems to have about three different nicknames, and each one is weirder than the last.

Okay, I’m in a different world, where magic is common and doesn’t need to be hidden. I’m traveling with a group of heroes from different eras who consider themselves brothers, and are, from what I can understand, reincarnations... so why are they acting like this wolf that appeared is some kind of pet?

— Soooo... you know that this wolf is one of you transformed, right? – I ventured to say.

Everyone’s eyes turned to me, surprised. They didn’t know? Seriously? They looked at each other momentarily before someone finally answered me.

— Well, we do know, but how do you know? – The long-haired hero spoke, the Cook, if I’m not mistaken.

— And how could you not know? It couldn’t be more obvious, I mean, even the markings on his face are the same as the wolf’s, they’re never seen together in the same place, and, to tell the truth, Twilight kind of smells like dog. It’s pretty obvious that he’s an Animagus.

— Animagus? Huh, Wolfie, are you that thing she said? – The youngest of the group spoke, and the wolf just tilted his head in confusion.

— Oh, great, it takes her three minutes to figure that out while eight heroes took months to do the same. – Legend complained.

— Speak for yourself, I knew from the beginning!

So, they already knew about it, and were just pretending so I wouldn’t find out? Strange people.

While the others debated who had been the first to find out about Wolfie, he retransformed, without having to worry about hiding his secret, and approached me, visibly confused and curious.

— So, in your world, it’s normal for people to turn into animals?

— I wouldn’t say it’s common, but it’s possible, and all wizards know about it.

— Wizards? What about people without magic, don’t they know? – The hero with magic joined the conversation, visibly curious.

— No, of course not. We can’t let the Muggles find out about magic!

— Muggles? – The little boy asked, interested in the way I called the non-magic users.

— They’re the non-wizards, we keep magic hidden from them, or else we’d go to war... it’s very dangerous, that’s why the Ministry of Magic exists, to make sure wizards don’t reveal themselves.

— For Hylia, your world is confusing. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to live in a society as segregated as this one... – I heard the comment coming from one of the quieter boys, the one called Sky.

— Yes, well, but it is necessary, or else wizards would still be burned at the stake for using magic to this day.

— WHAT?! – Everyone gasped as they heard my last statement, shocked by the brutal concept. Oh man, I think this conversation will go on for much longer than I had imagined.

#link x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #tloz #linked universe fanfic #lu x reader #legend of zelda #x reader #harry potter

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universefcb · 2 days ago

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↬❥ Pats and popcorn

Hector Fort x Fem!Reader

sy: Le das una palmadita en el trasero y él te corresponde.

a/n: This is one of the cutest requests I've ever received! And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.

warnings: Cute, butt pats!

SORRY ABOUT THE TIME, I SPENT THE DAY SLEEPING TO REST!

You and Hector hadn't seen each other in three weeks. He was busy with the team and you were busy with college. The calls became shorter and fewer, Hector would tell you how his day had been and you would do the same. Sometimes you would just stay silent on the phone, listening to each other's tired breathing. But now he was there, in your kitchen making popcorn for both of you to eat while watching a romantic movie.

“I love it when you cook for me.” She hugged him from behind, inhaling his bittersweet taste, and smiled, letting her cheek press against his back.

“And I love it when you hug me like this,” he said calmly, taking her hand and giving her a kiss. “Let’s see what I was like before you.

“Not again. We watched that movie last week,” he grumbled. As he waited for the popcorn to finish popping, he felt her small hand slowly caressing his stomach.

“But we didn’t watch it, you kissed me every minute of the movie” she laughed, still clinging to him.

“I can’t stay away from your mouth, sweetie.” He muttered thinly, feeling offended.

“Okay.” She released him, stepping away.

Hector Fort stood distracted, facing the stove waiting for the popcorn to finish. When he felt the first soft slap on his buttocks. He turned around with a start, only to see his girlfriend run away laughing, her eyes shining with mischief.

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, narrowing his eyes with a smile.

She was already in the living room, on the other side of the couch, ready to run away again. But Hector wasn't going to let it go. With a swift leap, he set off in pursuit, their laughter filling the house.

“Come here, you little minx!” he exclaimed, pretending to be indignant but unable to hide the amusement in his eyes.

face. “I’m going to turn your ass all purple!

"I doubt!"

She dodged, running in circles around the room, but soon felt his arms wrap around her in a tight hug. Hector spun her around, leaving her laughing and breathless, before giving her much-deserved revenge—a light but affectionate pat.

“Now we’re even!” Hector declared, leaning his forehead against hers, his heart still racing from the chase.

She smiled, lacing her fingers with his.

“I think I prefer it when you pat me like this…” she stood on her tiptoes, to leave a kiss on his lips.

“I love patting your ass, you naughty child.” Hector chuckled, grabbing his girlfriend’s waist, squeezing lightly.

“I love you!” She felt kisses being placed on her cheek.

“I love you too, my flower.” He left a kiss on her forehead and left for the kitchen, returning seconds later with the huge bowl of popcorn. And you sank into it, filling your hand and taking it all to your mouth.

And then, without further escape, they stayed there, together, laughing at something funny in the movie, eating popcorn, enjoying that love made of jokes, soft touches and a lot of complicity.

Your like is important and helps me a lot. Don't be a ghost reader!

#barcelonafanfic #hector fort x reader #fc barcelona #hector fort x y/n #hector x reader #hector fort imagine #hector fort #hector fort x barca!femeni!reader #hector fort x you #football imagine #football #fanfic #my fanfiction

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colibrie · 3 days ago

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Fang AU DTIYS: Compromise

What's this? Me showing up late with a project that was meant to be short but then got way out of hand and became huge...couldn't be me. This is my submission for the wonderful @trilobitepunch DTIYS. I can't draw beyond stick figures, but trilo is a wonderful artist who deserves to be celebrated, so I decided to write something instead. For full context, I highly recommend checking out the full Fang AU tab on Trilo's page. Having said that, congratulations on your milestone trilobug, lets do this!

"Uh...Raphel?"

"Hey CJ," Raph grunted, reveling in the burn of well worked muscles as he pressed the barbell up and away from his chest. Even with the events and marks of the invasion fading further into the past with each day, he didn't think he'd ever again take for granted the ability to control how he moved his body. Whether through the familiar burn of pushing his limits like a boss or fiddling with the puzzles that he'd been assured would help him regain better depth perception in his damaged eye, all of it was beautiful. All of it was...

"It's Raph, remember? Or Raphie. You're pretty much part of the family now kid and pops the only one who regularly bothers with the ael part."

"Oh! Right, sorry Raphae...Raph..."

"Eh, don't sweat it," Raph rumbled, heart squeezing fondly as he set the barbell on its stand and sat up to give the now rather awkward human his full attention. "Didja need somethin?"

"I was just wondering if you'd seen S-Leo around," Casey Jr asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Their future boy was doing a decent job at settling in and moving with the chaos that made up the Hamato family line, likely a benefit from having been raised by alternate and older versions of them. But that familiarity was a doubled edge sword, and ingrained honorifics like "Sensei" and "Master" were slow to fade from the kid’s vocabulary. That went for personal titles too. Raph still had to bite back the urge to laugh when he remembered the fish-eyed stare Donnie had given the first time CJ had slipped up and called him "Uncle Tello". Somethings were just too priceless, and April had been happy to print him a copy from the security stills. While that version of Raph hadn’t been around to raise Casey Jr, the habit of calling him by his full name was one this version of himself was determined to break.

"Raph hasn't seen him," Raph replied, leaning forward to snag his work out towel from its usual spot next to the dumbbell rack. "Have you checked his room."

“Mhm. I also checked the kitchen, the arcade, and the comic nook. There’s no sign of him.”

"Huh. Maybe he's on his skateboard?" Raph pondered as he wiped the towel across his face and neck.

As a family of awesome, world-saving, kick-butt ninjas, it wasn't odd for them to disappear from time to time. No matter how close they were, sometimes space was needed. Mikey would bake, Raph would organize his plushies, Leo would read comics. Donnie had made an art of disappearing from chaotic or boring situations, starting from when they were kids. The soft shell often needed periods of quietly productive tinkering before he could fully join in on the rough and tumble fun preferred by his harder shelled siblings.

What pushed it into the territory of weird, borderline concerning, however, was the lack of heads up. While they currently didn't need permission to leave the lair, the events of the invasion, and more recently the disaster with the GDF lab, had been weighing on all of them. There was a tension in the lair, a near tangible need to see each other, to be close enough to reach out and touch to confirm that, despite everything, they were all still alive. Mikey was alternated between fine and stage five clingy, constantly draped over Raph’s shell, slinging arm around April, or leaning into Casey Jr as he taught the young man how to cook. The twins had been all but glued at hip throughout their recovery. For Raph, it was a constant effort to not give in to paranoia every time he woke up from dreams of pink slime and pleaded apologies, a herculean effort of will to not lunge forward, ninpo ready, whenever one of the twins turned to fast. Heck, even Barry had all but moved in for a while, choosing to engage in his and Splinter’s endless bickering rather than be separated. It had taken a full month before he was fully confident that the serum was working as intended, and another month and a half before the Yokai had been even semi comfortable returning to his apartment.

When they had had to leave, it had never been without a thousand heads up and an iron clad enforcement of the buddy system. So, for Leo to apparently just disappear...

"Have you asked-?"

They both jumped as the front door to their home slammed open, and a loud, irate voice filled the air.

"Alright, where is he?!"

"April?"

Sure enough, the petite form of their adopted older sister was stalking towards them, drenched to the bone and nearly steaming with irritation.

"Whoa, what happened to you Comma...Apirl?" Casey asked, raising his hands and backing up toward Raphs greater bulk as the pissed off eighteen-year-old girl came into swinging range. CJ was a smart kid.

"Donnie was supposed to meet me at the park this afternoon to run some code tests on our tracking system," April growled, wet shoes slapping the concrete as she stomped over to stand by them, water rolling from clothes and hair alike to form a small puddle. "I figured the fresh air, and space would do him some good. And I told him to be on time, cause the weather app said it was supposed to rain at three."

"Wait... are you saying Donnie never showed up?" Casey Jr asked, trepidation clear in his tone as April tried to fruitlessly squeeze the moisture from her hair.

"Uh huh. I'm not trying to turn "soggy" into the next street style," April affirmed, sarcasm thick as she peeled off her sodden backpack and jacket. "Oh, when I get my hands on that boy! I know he's been in hermit mode the last few days, but not even a heads-up text?! He better build me a new laptop if this one kicks the can! I... wait... what's with the look’s boys?"

"You haven't heard from Donnie at all?" Raph pressed, something in his gut sinking as he and Casey Jr looked first at one another, then at April. "No texts, or calls? What about social media posts? Has he made any ta day?"

"No... now that I think about it... it's been kind of quiet on that front too," April replied slowly, her previous scowl rapidly shifting to a concerned frown as she looked at them. "What's going on?"

"I can't find Leo," Casey Jr sighed, one hand running nervously through his hair. "I didn't want to freak everyone out by sounding a code red if he was just chilling somewhere... but if he's missing, and now Donnie's gone radio silent..."

"Crap," April muttered, eyes widening in realization.

"I'll send out the code," Casey Jr said, the kids face and body language shifting into what they'd all come to call his "super soldier" mode. "Raph, find Mikey and send him to the Hidden City. We can't risk them revealing themselves by targeting unsuspecting Yokai. I'll head to Tío's and get him to shut down the portal there. Have Splinter call Draxum, then start sweeping the sewers in-"

"Whoa! Slow down now," April cut in, quickly stepping forward to lay a restraining hand on both boys’ arms. "Let's not overreact yet."

"We've lost the twins April, this ain't an overreaction!" Raph rumbled, hands clenching as anxiety for his brothers burned hot and acidic in his veins. "They'll have a head start, and if they've gone rouge..."

"If they'd gone rouge, we would have heard about it by now," April countered, her touch sympathetic as she squeezed his bicep reassuringly. "It would have been all over the web if two rampaging mutants were murdering people downtown, and Hueso is on high alert for anything that might resemble the virus in the Hidden City. Since we haven't heard either, that means they are probably still safe for now. And if they are having a tough time, the last thing we should do is spook them by overreacting, hear me? "

"Yeah, I hear ya," Raph breathed as Casey jr simultaneously deflated with a muttered "yes ma’am".

"Cool," April confirmed with a nod, huffing as a bedraggled clump of curls flopped across her forehead. "Alright, here's the new plan. I'm going to hunt down a towel and my spare set of clothes. You two are going to calmly find Mikey and Splinter, fill them in, and meet me in Donnie's lab. It looks like we're going to test the new tracking system after all."

"On it, Commander!" Casey Jr replied sharply, snapping into a full on salute before taking off towards the kitchen.

"...Dang," April muttered after a few seconds of shocked silence, "He hasn't done that in over a month..."

"Kids stressed. Not gonna lie, Raph gets the feeling."

"I know big guy," April replied, stepping in to hug him as best she could. "Go get Splints, and then we'll find those dumb-dumbs and give them what for."

"Yeah, Thanks April," Raph replied, arms lifting her in an quick bear hug before moving to find their father. Pizza supreme, they were lucky to have a big sister like April.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, how does this new system work again? I mean, Donnie said he already had trackers on all of us, so why did he make a new one?" Mikey asked from his spot perched atop Raph’s shell as they all huddled around Donnie's computer, watching Aprils' fingers fly across the keys.

"Think of it less as a new system and more of a super charged expansion pack," April replied as her right thumb spammed the space bar. "Donnie wanted a better way to not just track but get ahead of his and Leo's flair ups. Their new chips are, in theory, supposed to transmit bioinformation like cardiovascular rate, respiratory rate, and core temperature. He wanted to include brain waves and neurological patterns, but we agreed to hold off on brain stuff until the base enhancements are out of beta."

"I don't care if they make it all the way through omega. Absolutely no "brain stuff"". Splinter cut in sharply, tail lashing back and forth in an agitated way that had Raph instinctively scooting them back and out of said appendages strike range.

"MmmhmyeahtotalyANYWAY," April quickly agreed, though Mikey watched as a swift click of the mouse swooped several files into a file labeled "Unfolding Genius".

"Point in being is that with this, I can both track the twins and monitor their bio signs for indicators that something has triggered them into a hunt. I had it set up for the trials we were going to run today, but as soon as I disengage that protocol, we'll be able to find both in no time."

"What were you testing today?" Mikey asked, leaning forward to watch as wave after wave of purple binary code rolled across the screen.

"Just some technical stuff, attunement to baselines. Nothing very interesting," April replied nonchalantly.

"Uh, how were you going to get a baseline without-" Casey jr started to ask skeptically, only for the computer to cut in with an obnoxiously loud sound of triumph.

"We got our boys!" April cheered.

"Where are they? Are they hurt? " Raph asked, nearly knocking Mikey from his perch as when the big guy lunged in towards the screen.

"It says they're at... the old lair?"

"Donatello said the area was unstable. Why would they go there?" Splinter asked.

"Who cares? We gotta go get 'em before they move," Raph replied, and Mikey quickly adjusted his grip as the gentle giant lumbered to his feet.

"I don't have access to the full biometric spectrum yet, but their heart rates suggest they are calm and stationary for now. Mikey, are you getting anything on the mystic end of things?" April asked, wheels screeching against the labs concrete floor as she pushed away from the desk and reached for her bat.

"Not really?" Mikey hedged, lips puckering as he turned his attention inward to poke at their collectively connected ninpo. Their family tapestry was whole once move, thank pizza, blue and purple once more interlocked with red, orange, green, silver-gray, and aquamarine. Yet...

"They're still here, but they're...looser than they should be. Duller. Like they're missing some of their pizazz."

"Then let’s go pizazz things up!" Raph barked, making warmth bloom in Mikey's bones as the big guy turned and stalked out of the lab. Though his biggest brother still had moments where he defaulted back to treating Mikey like a baby, Raph always took his opinion on mystic things seriously.

"Dad, you and April and Casey Jr stay-"

"Hey now!"

"I can help!"

"You guys stay here and prep the lair and the med bay," Raph pushed on, deep voice rumbling across the protests. "They may not need it, but it can't hurt to be prepared."

"We'll call you once we've got them," Mikey promised, tossing his remaining a family his warmest smile as he and Raph headed for the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The path to the old lair was painfully familiar, walls and tunnels covered with Mikey's once flawlessly colorful art, now shot with deep cracks and cavernous crevices that still stood as silent testament to the Shredders ferocity. Seeing it, even years later, made something deep in Raph’s heart burn with the urge to either cry or hit something.

They didn't come back here often. The four of them had never discussed it out loud, but the consensus hung like a shroud, a silent accord they'd all secretly signed in their hearts the day they'd scavenged the last of their possessions from the rubble. This place, even for all the happy memories they'd shared with it, was where they had both gained and lost their grandmother. Where home had been forever marred by devastation too painful to be near. The old subway station had been unfamiliar, rough and raw with new potential, but it was their future and all four had leaned into gathering, shaping, and modifying it with every conceivable comfort and curiosity to make that future their new home.

So why would the twins have come here? Had something happened? Were the bio-what-zits wrong? Why hadn't they come to Raph for help? They had promised they'd would, in those family talks with Dr. Feelings (and a rougher session or two with Dr. Delicate Touch). Both Donnie and Leo had sworn to be honest, to tell them if the krangy parts of them were taking over again. Maybe they'd...

"-ph...aph...RAPHAEL!"

"Gah!"

Raph nearly jumped a foot into the air as his baby brother’s shout was accompanied by dexterous fingers prodding at a soft, ticklish spot at the juncture of his neck and shell.

"Aaaaaye! Mikey, what the shell was that for?!" he hissed, jaw flexing as he twisted his head to glare at his passenger.

""I've been calling your name for like the last five minutes!" Mikey scowled in reply, dark eyes returning the heat as they scanned his face. "You missed the turn off for the side door.”

"Oh...Raphs bad," he mumbled, turning away to pretend to look around and "reorient" himself before turning to head back the way they'd come. It was a stupid thing to do. Even half blown to smithereens he still knew these tunnels like the back of his hand, and so did Mikey.

"Soooooooooo...want to talk about it?"

"What "it"?"

"The "it" that's turning your Raph chasm into a Raph crater," Mikey pressed, leaning in closer. "You aren't subtle Raphie. Come on, spit it out."

"Nuthin. I'm jus worried bout the twins," Raph replied, grimacing at how weak and defensive the excuse sounded.

"They haven't moved at all in the last fifteen minutes. Aprils been sending me updates every few minutes to confirm it," Mikey pushed. "What else is rolling around in there?"

"Raph...doesn't like that they went off on their own. I mean, doesn't that bother you too? After all those talks and lectures. After that near miss with April! They oughta know better than to just up and disappear on us!"

"I mean, yeah, you're not wrong. They should have told us they were going out...But they probably wanted their own space, and none of us have been really good at giving them that as of late."

"It's for their own good! They know that! They agreed to it!" Raph growled, agitation growing in his gut as he turned left and stomped down another cross tunnel.

"That's probably why it's taken them this long to pull a Houdini. They've put up with a lot. Draxums checkups, restricted surface time... heck Raphie, we're like, super-limited-edition-mint-condition-lucky that they just went to the old lair instead of the other side of the city."

"So, what do you want us to do Mikey? Cut'em loose in the Hidden City and hope to pizza supreme that they don't lose their cool and maim a whole bunch of Yokai?! Let'em go out with a "have fun, try not to kill any humans on the way home?!"

"I want my family back to normal Raph! I want to be their brother again, not their jailer!"

"And you think I don't?!"

"I think you-"

The happy jingle of Aprils ring tone cut through their budding argument, bouncing and rebounding off the concrete and rebar. Raph turned his head away as Mikey fumbled for his phone, the muscles in his jaw rhythmically clenching as he chewed over what to do or say next.

Deep down, he knew Mikey had a point. The twins couldn't spend their lives locked up at home. And if he was honest, neither could he. As close as their family was, and as reassuring as it was to have them near, the frustration of being continuously chained to one another was a steadily rising tide under the surface of forced calm. Donnie wanted to go out to the junkyard. Leo wanted to bother Hueso. Raph...Raph really missed hanging out with Casey, the nights were the two of them would meet up to spar and end up gushing for hours about the latest wrestling match and which moves they wanted to try out for themselves. The decision to limit both the information about what happened to a few and limit the family's contact with outsiders who weren't Casey Jr or April had made a lot of sense months ago, but...

"Alright, yeah. We're almost there. Tell Barry to hold off for now, we'll call if we need a portal," Mikey said, pulling Raph’s attention away from his thoughts and back to the dimly lit reality of the tunnel. "Uh huh...yep...I'll text you the level once we get to them, promise. Gotta go Apes. Love."

"Everything good?" Raph asked as Mikey ended the call.

"Yeah. She said she did some techno-thingamagiggy with the trackers and got a better signal. Both icons are in Donnie's old room."

"Oh..."

"Dad also called Barry but told him to stay on standby. And Barry agreed, so we have backup!"

"Cool big man..."

"And...um...I'm sorry-"

"Raphs sorry-"

They blinked at each other for a moment, before bursting out in soft peals of laughter that bounced down the path, warming the space around them.

"J-jinx!" Mikey wheezed, "you owe me garlic knots!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll tell Hueso ta add'em next time we go...An we'll go soon."

"Soon?"

"Mhm. You're right big guy. We can't live locked up forever, and Raph's sorry for bein a jerk about it."

"You're not a jerk Raphie. You've been doing a lot to keep us safe. I'm sorry if I made it seem like I don't appreciate that."

"Already forgiven. Now, let’s go get our bozos back."

The original entrance to their old home had remained staunchly buried under tons of rubble, but the side entrance that had once served as the garage was still blessedly accessible to Raph's bulk. Water dripped from the ceiling, a softly rolling symphony of drip, plip, plop that beckoned them further in. It was not hard to find and follow evidence of the twin’s passage. Footprints, two sets, disturbed the thick layer of dust on the ground, and pieces of rubble had clearly been moved to widen the path.

Their bedrooms had suffered various degrees of damage from both the fire and falling rubble, and while his lab had been utterly destroyed, Donnie's bedroom had somehow maintained the most structural integrity. The hollow maw of the open door loomed as they approached, what little metal Donnie hadn't stripped when they moved ragged and rusting, hanging like broken teeth that warned against casual approach. Raph felt Mikey shrink back into his shell slightly as he crouched to peer past the door jam.

The twins were scrunched against the far wall, curled around one another on whatever was left of Donatello's bed. Donnie lay with his head in Leo's lap, long legs tucked to his chest. His goggles sat askew on his head, knocked off center by the hands were loosely pressed over his tympanum. Leo sat slumped against the wall; body curved protectively around his other half. The wicked claws of one hand drummed random patterns across the purple titanium of the battle shell Donnie wore while the other hand toyed with the tails of his mask. Soft hisses and churrs filled the air around them, words replaced by more instinctual vocalizations broken every now and then by a higher whistle or a deeper hum. Neither looked up at or acknowledge Raph and Mikey's intrusion.

Raph opened his mouth to call his brothers, but a quick tap on the shoulder redirected his attention to the other brother sitting on his shoulder, and the phone screen that was promptly pushed towards his face.

"They feel weird, lik thy rn't all there. Don't want to startle thm in here." Mikey had hastily written.

Raph quickly ducked back, tucking them against the outer wall before pulling out his own phone.

"R they full gone?"

"No, just loose. Think they're slippin in an out of it mentally."

"Any ideas? Raphs open."

"Operation BF-Prime?”

"Wow. Pullin out the big guns. Raph likes."

";D"

Raph stifled the urge to chuckle as his thumbs flew across the screen of his phone.

"Alright. Text Apes and CJ the plan, then head back the way we came. We're luring them out to the Atrium."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was easier to breathe here in the dark. The dark protected them, far away from the smells and the sounds and the eyes that always watched, always saw. It concealed their weakness, hid away the urge to lunge and claw and...

tap, tap, tippity-tapity tiptiptiptip…

He hissed weakly as the tapping broke through the buzz of their thoughs, tightening his hands as though smothering the ability to hear could smother the thoughts that raced round and round and round inside his head, wobbling nauseously between he, me, they, we, him, us at what felt like breakneck speeds.

A reassuring purr rumbled from their...from Leo's throat in reply.

That was Leo. His twin. One of four brothers. He was Donatello. A genius. A scientist. He loved fashion and dancing and Atomic Lass, and Leo loved the dramatic twists in soap operas and winning and basketball. He had to remember that. Had to organize and amend and enforce it on the thrashing, howling thing in his skull that though in plurals and endlessly chased and craved connection... to be together...together…

Taptaptaptap-CRASH.

They were on their feet in an instant, claws unsheathed, and teeth bared as they warily looked around. The shadows had not changed, but new smells had entered the safe zone. Familiar, so familiar. Family.

Togetherbite...

Nono...no....nobite…

They hissed in displeasure as they stumbled from their den, disapproval and discord swirling in their heads as they followed the path, and the scents, towards the open space in the center.

Those who belonged together...togetherneeded...theyneeded...Bite? No. Nobite. Promised. Promisedwho? Significantpromise? Yes! Promised...

Something sprang from the shadows, arms the size of trees pinning their arms down before hauling them back and in, lifting their feet clear off the floor.

"Mikey now!"

They screamed as fire exploded in their synapsis, thrashing and snarling as bright marigold and blazing red crashed into that thing in their skull, slamming it down with a devastating suplex before binding it in smoldering gold chains. The colors peeled the thing back, pushing it down, down, down and out of their precious space. His space, his mind...

"Donnie!"

"Mikey?"

The orange flames did not burn this time, permitting only the gentlest heat as they flew back to joyfully whirl around him. His little brother, happiness and sunshine and power incarnate. Their family's true north, constant and sure. He reached for that light, hazy purple seeking relief and finding it offered with open arms. Filaments of marigold wove a gossamer net, pulling him in and up until his head broke the metaphorical surface.

"...be home in five. How they lookin?"

"I got through to Donnie, but he's kinda woozy. I'll work on getting through to Leo next!"

"I sure hope April is ready for us, because we are comin in hot!"

His body was hanging from something, limp legs swaying weakly as whatever held him moved forward in a run. His hands pawed mechanically at something firm and leathery, finding insufficient purchase against whatever held him still. To his right something akin to a lawnmower dying could be heard, high pitched keens sliding down to incoherent rumbles that might, if one were to be extraordinarily generous with the definition, be classified as words.

"Got him! Lee, can you understand me? Blink once for yes, and twice for no!"

Leo...

"GerOooooofffff," Leo moaned, voice guttural as it warbled on the edge of a growl.

His blue-clad brother was tucked under Raphs other arm, hands weakly plucking and scratching at their older brother's forearm in much the same way he had. Slitted pupils glared at their brethren, their...his fangs on full display, a silent warning, and ultimately a hollow one.

Donnie could see it in the light that gleamed from behind those predators’ eyes, feel it distantly echoing from that thing in his skull that was still pinned down by red and orange energies. Leo was awake and rapidly regaining control over their-his, for the love of shell, his-mental faculties. He wouldn't be a threat to the family. If only Donnie could feel so confident of his own self-control. The world still felt...watery for lack of a better word, like it was contained in the cup Mikey used to clean his brushes. Colors and lights bled, melting down in big looping swirls as his mind fought to preserve the tentatively won separation of turtle and monster. The thing wailed, tugging desperately at the barren threads of his thoughts and powers, trying to pull him back in and down. It needed him. It was him. It was...lonely? Scared? Angry? Confused?

"Almost there Lee," Mikey's assurance pulled his attention back, the familiar sight and scents of their new home drifting into view. "Don't worry, Aprils got operation BF-prime ready to roll, so we'll have you feeling better in no time!"

Operation BF Prime... he knew what that was. He helped design it. With April. It had been his way to apologize, as funny enough, Hallmark didn't make a "sorry my freaky genetic makeup and unpredictable virus-based mutations made me hunt you down and almost kill you" card. So instead, he'd spent hours with her, first on the phone and then in person, coming up with safety procedures that covered the serious, the strange, and even some that were downright whacky. They had talked about what happened, and eventually even laughed. She'd promised that they'd fix things to...toge...

"Special delivery!" Raph called, charging through the front door without slowing down.

"Main area. April’s getting the last piece."

Casey Jr's scent hit his nose hard, and a strangled hiss slipped through his teeth before he could stop it.

"Easy Dee. Hold your breath for a minute."

He did as he was told, desperately squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to force himself to think about the code. BF-Prime. BF-Prime. Prime. Part of the Alpha series. Top protocol, used for their "bad days" as April put it. B, not A. Not something they'd need Draxum for.

BF stood for...

He squawked as Raph’s arm suddenly disappeared. Limb’s flailing, he dropped into a nest of...pillows? Yes. Feathery soft, well-worn pillows and felty blankets that smelled of the family's detergent.

Oh right... BF stood for blanket fort.

He churred as instinct had him burrowing down, swiftly burying himself in the ocean of softness as Leo hit the pile with an undignified yelp. Gentle fingers tugged off his goggles, smoothing down the creases in his mask before slipping his noise canceling headphones into place. Something big, heavy, and luxuriously silky covered them both, trapping Leo against his back as divinely weighted warmth infused his tight-strung muscles.

Voices, blessedly muted by the protective cone of his headphones, rumbled overhead. Like the burble of water through the pipes, there but easy to ignore. Less easy to ignore were the fingers that worked their way beneath the blankets and pillows to pry at the safety latches on his battle shell. He growled, mouth opening to snap at the intruder only to be met with something cold and semi-hard being pressed between his teeth. He instinctively bit down, and his mouth was quickly flooded by the refreshingly bland taste of cucumber.

"I know, I know," someone soothed, silky fur tickling the edge of his jaw as that someone adjusted the layers around him. "Bear with us Purple, you and Blue will be more comfortable if they take it off now."

He whined, fangs shredding pleasantly through the cucumber as the latches at his shoulders and hips flipped open. He dipped his head to chase that familiar touch as the weight of his armor was taken away, leaving the softest parts of him open and vulnerable.

"It’s alright, my clever purple. You can rest now; your papa is here."

Weight settled in around him, above and below, side to side, careful not to crowd, but close enough that he could feel their warmth. Leo shifted, rotating until he was laying fully across Donnie’s back, a reassuring pressure protecting his soft shell.

He sighed as cheerful tangerine tugged at the edges of his consciousness, wearily relinquishing his hold on wakefulness as he turned inward, following his little brother’s lead. The supernova that was his family's collective ninpo burst into life, rippling bands of color rich enough to put the aurora borealis to shame eagerly reaching out to draw him closer. Silver-gray, summer green, and vibrant aquamarine joined red and orange in holding back the thing, quieting its incessant howling until it was barely a whisper. He sagged in exhausted relief, swiftly followed by washed out blue as their family bundled them up and held them close.

"You dumb-dumbs," Red buzzed, worry and affection pulling them into its protection. "You scared the shell outa us."

"Sorry Raphie," Leo's blue slurred, sticking close to Donnie's purple even as Casey Jr's aquamarine stubbornly wedged himself in on his other side. "Didn't mean to."

"Why did you leave?" April asked, green sidling in, silently nudging him in gentle recognition when he buzzed in apology.

"Now is not the time for questions" Their father declared, silver-grey stretching to surround them all. "You boys need to rest and regain your balance, we'll talk when you wake up." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he woke, pulled from the loving tangle of his family’s network by his body's irritating biological needs. His mouth was dry and tasted of stale cucumber, eyelids itchy and gummy as he tried to blink sleep away from his eyes. His headphones had been knocked off at some point, leaving his tympanum free to begin picking out pieces from the low conversation flowing around him.

"So, who is going to..."

"Hueso said about an hour. Probably accounting for Leo time. So-"

"Dad's going-"

"-been down for a while. Should we wake them?"

"Donnie? Doooooonie. You awake?"

"No," he huffed, shoving his head further into the cradle of his arms when the voices cheered.

"Awake and talking! Good going Dee!"

"I am neither. It's a figment of your imagination."

"Uh huh. Come on big baby, sit up. I've got some flavorless juice here with your name on it."

Warm hands pulled at him, ignoring his grumbles of protest as he was propped upright. A straw slipped between his lips silenced him, but the intrusion swiftly forgiven when his preferred beverage washed the staleness from his tongue and throat.

"There you go. Feel better?"

"Mmmm," he hummed, hand rising to take the cup as he gave up pretense and blinked his eyes open.

He was propped against Raph's plastron at the center of a frankly massive blanket fort. What appeared to be every cushion, pillow, blanket and quilt that the family owned had been piled into the living room, couches and chairs rearranged to provide a stable framework. April knelt to his left, dressed in the spare clothes that she kept in his lab. She seemed to hear his silent question, giving him an exaggerated grimace before replying.

"SOMEONE forgot to meet me at the park, and I got soaked on the walk here."

"Sweet Marie Curie, that was today?!" he gasped, his stomach twisting unpleasantly when April nodded. "I am so sorry April."

"It's alright man. I'm guessing you've been kind of out of it lately."

"Eh, not much more than any other day," Leo chimed in sleepily, and a quick glance to his right found his twin propped up against Raph's legs, firmly sandwiched between Mikey and Casey Jr.

He tried to frown, but like the drowsy smile he got in reply, it lacked any of the real power it should have held. Not when he honestly felt like he could easily fall back asleep if he blinked for too long. His mind was so blessedly silent, the thing muted by the collective weight of his family ninpo, and he was only prevented from drifting by a finger softly poking his cheek.

"Nuh uh, eyes open D. You can go back to sleep after you've eaten something," Mikey nudged, unrepentant as he forced Donnie to open his eyes once more. "Dad is on his way to pick up our favorites from Run of the Mill now. You don't want to miss that!"

"And, while we wait, you two can finally tell us what in the world made you two think disappearing like that was a good idea," Raph groused.

"Oh, yeah...that," Leo replied, voice carefully light and nonchalant as Donnie cringed. "It was really all a big misunderstanding. Dee had an idea, and we wanted to test it out first before we brought it to you guys. Must have lost track of time."

"Leo, you two were basically at alpha level coherence. That's a bit more than "losing track of time"," Mikey countered, his face dressed in earnest concern that border lined on distress, and Donnie felt vindicated when even Leo flinched away from it. "We were really worried about you."

"I'm sorry Mikey. We didn't mean for it to end up like that, I promise," Leo repeated, pulling Mikey in closer for a one-armed hug.

"What were you trying to test?" Casey Jr asked.

"Something, something, big-brained nerd stuff?" Leo replied with a wave of his hand. The attempted deflection fell flat amongst the cushions as all other eyes turned to stare at Donnie.

"I... was testing to see if it were possible for me to "reprogram" the mutations caused by the lingering Krang influence," Donnie answered stiffly, ducking his head as the atmosphere within the fort went tight with tension.

"You what now?!"

"Donnie!"

"And you didn't think we needed to know that?!"

"That's impossible!"

"No, it’s not!" he snapped, neck muscles cramping as he jerked his chin up to glare at the last person to speak, Casey Jr. "Let us recall that I was the one temporarily bonded to the technodrome, and thus I have a far better understanding in regard to its functions than any of you! It was as technological as it was biological. It had functions and subroutines, and it processed information as data. Even if this thing isn't a full technodrome, it still processes information the same way and it is integrated with my ninpo. The same ninpo that lets me replicate any technology I can comprehend?! If I can study this thing, if I can understand its functions, then I should be able to use my ninpo to rewrite them!"

"If it were possible to rewrite krang matter, Uncle Tello would have-"

"That version of me didn't know what I know. I can do things he never even dreamed of."

"Ooookay, let's put that bit aside for now," April cut in quickly as Casey Jr's face darkened. "What were you specifically testing?"

"Nothing complicated," Donnie shrugged, trying his best to ignore the way Raphs unhappy objection vibrated through his leathery carapace. "I was trying to establish what kind of interface the thing requires to send and receive commands."

"And you couldn't have done that here?" Raph prodded.

"No," Donnie replied, shoulders rising as his tone unintentionally turned irritated and snappish.

"Why?" Mikey pressed.

"Because you are all-"

"-distracting," Leo cut in smoothly, one foot nudging Donnie's thigh under the blanket in a clear signal to shut up.

"Oh..."

"It's nothing personal Mikey," Leo soothed, "it's just with everything happening in the lair, it gets loud, and that makes it kind of hard for Donbon to concentrate."

Even after sixteen years, the ease with which Leo pulled together plausible explanations from strands of truth and slivers of fact astounded Donnie.

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't come to us with the idea first," Raph chided, tenacious as a dog with a bone. "Raph isn’t kidding when I say you scared the shell out of us. We nearly called Draxum to find you two!"

"Because you would have listened to us anyway."

The words were bitter on his tongue, and he dragged in another sip of flavorless juice in the awkward silence that followed.

"What do you mean? Of course we would have listened!" Casey Jr protested.

"No, you wouldn't," Donnie shook his head hard, sitting up as he curled his knees up to his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the fingers on Leo's free hand begin to subtly flutter.

"Yes, we would have Dee," April rebutted. "We would have worked with you, just like you and I have been working on the new protocols."

"Any time the thing in my head comes up in conversation, you all shut us down!" Donnie snapped, fingers flexing and flicking as hot irritation filled his chest. "You ask a million questions about what it feels like, what triggers it, how Draxums’ medication does or doesn't affect it, but you don't ask me what I think about it, or what we want to do about it. You act like we'll go rabid if someone sneezes too loud! I can't even be in my own lab without someone watching me. If we'd told you my idea, you would have treated us like invalids, shut it down, and forbidden me to even try!"

"Donatello, that is not fair. We're just trying to-"

"Hang on," Mikey cut in, tone firm as he raised one scarred hand, "Donnie is asking to be heard here, so let's give him the floor and hear him out without interruptions. Go ahead D,"

"It's...I..." Donnie fumbled under the attention, fingers now frantically plucking at handfuls of the blanket as he strained to form some kind of coherent thought from the twisted mess inside of him.

This wasn't right. This wasn't how he wanted to approach things. He needed time to organize his preliminary data, and make a PowerPoint complete with charts and tables. Something visual, and respectable. Something that would make his family understand. Something to tame and order and hold back these gross emotions that stuck to his lungs like tar and gathered along his lashes like pine pitch, burning and stinging and making it hard to breathe or blink. He just wanted...

"We get you guys love us, and we get that you want to keep us safe, but we need you to back off," Leo spoke up, gracefully shifting attention to himself. Donnie shivered in relief, leaning over with silent gratitude when Leo stretched out to tangle their legs together.

"We need you to treat us like us," his twin continued, shoulders thrown back as a spark of leadership entered his eyes and voice, "like Donnie and Leo, not patient x. We need you to include us in the conversations, not hide them behind closed doors when you think we're not paying attention. You see it protecting us, but all it does is make us feel isomalated."

"Isolated," Donnie corrected, hiding a slight smile of affection in the crook of his elbow when Leo nudged him playfully with his ankle.

"What he said," Leo joked, flashing Donnie a smile and a wink before turning back to the others.

"Raph...didn't mean to make you guys feel like that," the giant of their family replied uncomfortably, one hand rubbing at the edge of the scar that stretched over his eye. "We just didn't want you to have to think about it."

"That ship sailed a while ago for both of us Raphie," Leo replied, a hint of sad frustration sneaking in between the syllables as he spoke. "You heard what Drax said, there is no fixing this, only managing it. This thing is with Donnie and me every second of every day. I wake up fighting the urge to bite something. I walk around the lair, and sometimes I have to stop to sort out which are things I'm seeing and feeling, and what things are from Dontron. Sometimes I dream about hunting and...and that's our lives now. We can't go back, and we can't ignore it. We have to figure out how to live with it on our terms."

"Is that why you went to our old place? So, you could face it on your "own terms"?" Mikey asked, his usual sunny face solum as Leo shrugged.

"Maybe a little," the red eared slider allowed, raising one hand palm down before tilting it side to side in a so-so gesture. "We also wanted to have some proof of concept before we got everyone's hopes up, and the lair being so crowded does make it hard to concentrate. We figured the old lair was isolated enough that no one would be in danger if we experimented with the thing, but close enough that we could be back before you guys noticed."

The blanket fort was silent for several minutes, and each second felt like it was drilling into Donnie's brain, winding his muscles into tense springs as he waited for his sibling’s judgement to fall. He could feel the same tension coiling inside Leo, and from the way his fingers were fluttering Donnie had little doubt that if his twin still had his katanas he would have already teleported out of the room.

It was their big sister who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry you guys."

"It's fine Apes,"

"No, it's not," she shook her head, one hand landing on Donnie's shoulder as she reached out to Leo with the other. "You guys shouldn't have to feel like you need to hide things from us in order to have a say, and you shouldn't feel ostracized in your own care either. We did that, and I'm sorry for my part in it."

A chorus of "Me too," "Our bad," and "I'm sorry guys", closely followed her statement.

"Aww, you saps," Leo teased, but the smile he gave as Mikey and Casey Jr pinned him a hug was his genuine smile, big and warm and a little crooked.

"We'll do better. Raph promises," Raphel added, and Donnie allowed himself to be swept into his big brother’s arms with only a minor theatrical groan.

"Yes, yes, acknowledgements and apologies given and received all around. Now please loosen your grip. I don't currently have the proper equipment to withstand a full force Raph hug."

"Yep, that's our Donnie! Sensitive as a soaked cat."

"I beg your considerable pardon! I-"

"-am gonna quit stalling and tell us the results of test you guys ran. Come on, I'm dying to know! " April redirected the conversation with teasing poke to his ribs.

"Sadly, the results were less than conclusive," Donnie reluctantly admitted, resuming his slumped posture against Raph’s plastron once he was released from the hug. "It does seem to have some form of OS, but one that doesn't respond to scripts like java, python, or R."

"Did you really think it would?"

"It was possible," Donnie shrugged, new energy sparking through his thoughts as excitement for his ideas blossomed. "It is part of me after all, so theoretically it could have altered itself to fit my cognitive process the same way it altered itself to my biology. And it has, only it hasn't altered to fit my way of thinking, but rather to fit my ninpo!"

"Wait, you think in code?" Mikey interrupted.

"Sometimes. It saves time."

"How does that even-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh, don't question the nerd logic," Leo counseled as he casually covered Mikey's mouth. "Just roll with it. It's way easier, trust me."

"Are the interruptions done?" Donnie sniffed primly, holding down a smirk by sheer will as his blue and orange dumb-dumbs nodded in tandem.

"Right, as I was saying, I was able to ascertain that the thing is adapted to receive signals from ninpo, which is likely why it can be effectively suppressed for short periods of time by our collective network. We are likely overloading its command center."

"Okay, it takes commands from ninpo. Can that help with you guys going all hissy and bitey on us?"

"Theoretically? The issue is that while it might be responsive to ninpo, there seems to be an additional code needed in order to deliver and process commands. Some combination I have yet to determine. It also seems that the thing is very sensitive regarding the specifics of the delivery method."

"I'll say," Leo chimed in, "that thing is more sensitive than a diva on a bad day."

"Something you'd know nuthin about, right Lee?" Raph teased, sending the whole fort into riotous laughter as Leo gasped with playfully theatrical afront.

"Hey now, don't come crying to me for secrets when you start getting dry scales and crow’s feet while my skin is still dewy soft and gorgeous!" Leo jabbed back, batting his eyes as their big brother roared with laughter.

"Okay, okay, focus guys!" April giggled, leaning over Donnie to swat at Leo's knee. "Finish telling the story."

"Not a whole lot left to tell," Leo shrugged, covertly glancing at Donnie as the others reigned in their mirth. Something pulsed between them, a bundle of wordless intent and questions that Donnie could not parse but understood all the same. The nod he gave was minuscule, barely a dip of his chin, but Leo seemed to read it all the same.

"The thing got all riled when Donnie tried to feed it his nerd script. I think it tried to eat us again, but I kept a grip on things while DonDon here played scientist. It worked pretty good for a while, but I guess it kind of crept up on us without us realizing and won out when you guys startled us. Which, on that note, good call going with the main room for the ambush."

"That was Raph! I was the one who initiated operation BF-Prime" Mikey chimed in, beaming when Leo playfully rubbed his knuckles across the top of Mikey's head.

"Whoa, the big brain over here is coming for my job!" Leo praised.

"So, you were able to keep control, even as Donnie was messing with the thing?" Casey Jr asked, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he looked between Leo and Donnie.

"It appears so," Donnie nodded, the tips of his fangs needling the skin of his lower lip as he searched for the correct descriptive words. "It was like...like being in an ocean. As long as Leo stayed at the surface, I could dive under and still find my way back up."

"If that’s true then...maybe we could use that as the basis for some new protocols."

"Oh?" Donnie replied warily, barely resisting the urge to pull away as the attention zeroed in on Casey Jr. "What kind of protocols did you have in mind?"

"One's that let us help you guys’ figure this out, on your terms," Casey Jr assured, shifting away from Leo slightly to better face the group. "We were wrong to shut you guys out, but we also can't risk what might happen to you guys if we don't proceed with some caution. So, as a compromise, what if we set up a new system, using parts of your old home as a central testing ground. If we outfit it with security features, then you and Leo could have a stable place to both get space from us and to test out your control of the thing. The security could link to your computer here, and one of us could monitor it and be prepared to respond if something goes sideways."

"If we get the new tracking system working, we could even be collecting other lines of data that could be used for comparison later!" April chimed in, excitement growing in her voice.

"And if something did go wrong, we could be there in no time!" Mikey added, nodding enthusiastically.

"Hmmmm...doesn't sound like a terrible idea," Leo slowly nodded, another indescribable pulse pressing against the back on Donnie's mind as he too slowly nodded.

"Indeed... though I have some thoughts. Like, how you would get in to assist us should we need it. Baring the side entrance, most of the old lair is too unstable to provide an additional access point."

"Simple, we'll portal in," Casey Jr replied.

"Wait...you mean I get my katanas back?!" Leo perked up.

"You both said you were able to stay anchored while Donnie poked the krang hound," Casey Jr nodded, fingers drumming back and forth across his knee as he spoke. "Your portals, in combination with the proposed alert system, should mean we'll be able to reach you in time to prevent the situation from devolving to alpha levels. What do you both think?"

"I could definitely handle the security measures so long as we keep it to portions of the atrium, and perhaps my prior abode," Donnie hummed, his mind already whirling through possible schematics and upgrades. "It would necessitate a trip to the junkyard."

"Okay. How about the day after tomorrow? Raph can help you carry back whatever ya need."

"Now that I have portal privileges back, we can drop supplies directly to the old lair and still have time to go to Hueso's!" Leo boasted, the joy from the return of his weapons turning the atmosphere of the fort tangibly sweet as they all continued to throw out ideas and suggestions for what Donnie quickly dubbed the "Theta" protocols. The conversation rolled on, slowly morphing from serious planning to outrageous boasts mixed with increasingly hairbrained proposals and double dares. The soft walls of the fort cocooned them in the warmth of and joy of their laughter, blocking out the world and its many problems for at least one night. Nothing, not even biology altering aliens, could pull them apart. "Heeeello?! Is anyone hungry or will I have to eat these pizzas by myself?"

Well, maybe not nothing.

"Pizza!"

Their fathers voice led to a stampede as the aromatic scent of cheesy, grease goodness filled the air. They all scrambled to find and exit, dirty tactics and old tricks liberally employed as each member of the family raced to be first in the kitchen.

"I call first go!"

"Keep your mitts off my meat lovers!"

"Hawaiian all the way baby!"

"It doesn't matter how many times you say it Nardo, pineapple on pizza is still an affront to decency!"

"Oh yeah? How about you decent deez-"

"Boy, do not even finish that sentence!"

Their father was waiting for them, already tucking into a slice as they all scrambled to grab their plates and divy up the spoils.

"Mmmmmmm is there anything better than the boneman's pies?" Leo moaned as he sank his teeth into a perfectly gooey slice.

"It's no hot soup, but I suppose it will do," Their pops teasingly grumbled, ears swiveling to lay flat as his words garnered rather loud protests.

#angst fairy writes #rottmnt #trilo fang au #trilosartstrikesagain #trilodtiys #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt april #rottmnt casey jr #mentions of draxum but he is not really here.#Remember kids #communication is important #long post

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softrosekisses · 2 days ago

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~𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓃𝒾𝓰𝒽𝓉~

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 - Ellie sees you at a museum and becomes obsessed~

𝓃𝓸𝓉𝓮𝓈 ~ !!! my first story i've ever posted🙈 i'm so nervous for people to read it honestly😭 but if you enjoy it, let me know! feedback is appreciated🎀

(also i used a prompt to come up with this! so els is a creepy vampire stalker and not very canon~🫣 )

Ellie shivers as she adjusts to the change of coming into the warm museum from the chilly outdoors. Even though the temperature doesn't affect her, she still has to play the part.

She's at a museum event tonight; she's been in need of some art inspo, and due to her... condition, she's been stuck at home for a few weeks. You see, she's a vampire, a very stubborn one at that. She thought she'd be okay without feeding for some time, and that ended up being false. She'd probably still be there if it wasn't for her southern charm and good looks helping her convince the naive young city girls to follow her home. She'd made sure they got home safely, of course; she's no monster!

She walks leisurely through the halls and takes notes, studying some of her favorite pieces. The famous "Starry Night" by Van Gogh caught her eye, or more so the beautiful girl admiring it. Her thick coily hair sitting perfectly at her shoulders tied in a cute little bow, the museum lights illuminating her soft skin; oh how Ellie wanted to feel it..she's never seen anyone as divine as this mystery girl. She continues to watch the girl as her eyes wander the painting, looking so amazed, and when she smiled, Ellie swears she felt her heart stop…again.

She ends up following behind the girl as she walks through the gallery. She tells herself that it's just a coincidence that they keep ending up at the same place. Every second she gets more obsessed with needing to know this girl, she completely forgets about finding inspiration; if anything, she thinks she just found her muse.

Lost in thought, something-someone bumped into her

oof

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!

Are you okay?"

Ellie was ready to give sass to whoever bumped her but stopped when she saw who it was.

"oh shit" she mumbled

"Ah yeah, no I'm all good, don't worry about it."

If it were possible Ellie’s ears would’ve gained a red tint.

“You sure? Sorry, I can get so caught up in the art and get distracted..” The girl smiled a little, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Yeah, I’m totally fine. I should’ve been paying attention. Are you okay?” Her eyes travel the girl's body, checking for any injuries.

“Oh yeah i’m fine, i’m pretty clumsy so i’m used to it.” She says, shaking her head and chuckling to herself.

Ellie wanted to thank whatever god that made this interaction possible. She thought about properly introducing herself to fill in the awkward silence that began to set between them.

“I-“

“Well, sorry again!” The girl waves and walks away to whom Ellie assumes is a friend, with a little bounce in her step.

Ellie silently cursed herself for not being quick enough as she watched the girl’s skit sway away. She needed to have her. Slowly, she prowled behind her, making sure to keep a safe distance away but never too far. She watched her every move and wondered about the other girl she was talking to. Was she a sister, a friend, or something more? She thought about what the girl’s favorite piece of art might be and whether she created art herself. She wanted to know everything about her: all her quirks, what made her smile or cry, her deepest fears—everything.

And she intended to find out.

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x black!reader #ellie x girly!reader #e.w x reader #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #👑

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slamrink · 27 days ago

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Nothing to see here just steph stealing glances of klay like he’s afraid he’s going to get caught 😃😃 (via namxsj on twitter )

#nba #golden state warriors #dallas mavericks #steph curry #klay thompson #steph/klay #ok first of all oh my god #secondly i need asg week to be NEOW actually I don’t think im capable of waiting til feb #both teams have kinda been floundering (mavs to a lesser extent but still) and I am growing Impatient for the reunion !!#also the buddy hield cycle being proven right for the 4th(?) time. lmao. some of those dumbasses rlly thought they got prime klay back #the victory lapping after beating the blazers jazz pelicans and pelicans was like nothing I had ever seen #especially towards a fucking legend !! like klay fucking thompson !!!!#no one not even pr-trained to high hell steph curry himself could ever convince me that he’s hopeful or even okay with this bullshit #he needs klay. klay needs him. they need each other and always have but it’s looking more and more likely that steph is #gonna go out like kobe while klay is gonna gonna keep chasing the ghost of pre-injury self #that last part felt so wrong to type out because i personally think he’s been everything you could want and more from a guy #who went thru everything that he went thru and #his comeback is probably my favorite comeback story in any sport ever of all time bc it’s such a fairy tale. and it also actually HAPPENED #!!!!!!!!!!!!#ppl talk abt the injuries like they happened to him and then he just disappeared forever like no bitch !!!!#he came back and they won it all that same year !! led the league in 3pm the year after that !!!!!! led the league in ft% the year #after that n ppl still acting like he adds virtually no value to any team that wants to win a chip when in reality that couldn’t be further #from the truth #I wrote it like that because I get the sense that they both look a little lost/confused at times and I can’t help but think that #losing embarrassingly or not they might at least be in better spirits (if nothing else) if they still had each other’s company #oh well. lol #ok I think that’s everything I had and a million sorrys if this post exploded on ur dash i wish I could turn off my stupid sports rpf brain #but I can’t ❤️#wishing every happiness to the two of them tho they’re my babiest girls frfr #nik's rants

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devotedlystrangewizard · 10 months ago

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the school arc to me is so good because it drags ciel out of his position as a powerful figure and literally places him in the shoes of the person he could have been. the circus arc ALSO drags him out of his position as big bad queens watch dog/head of the phantomhive estate but the school arc feels like a mockery of a future that never was. this is what he could have been had his parents not died. and even then its NOT because he will never be that kid.

he never was.

#ramblings #incoherent beyond belief its 4 am #and im trying to avoid manga spoilers #might add a reblog with more coherent thoughts when i wake up but im off my meds so i cant promise anything #actually correction im being vague w the manga spoilers #manga readers know whats up #idk if there are any anime only ppl who havent been spoiled on The Plottwist Ever yet #but i figured there will be new fans and though im not tagging this it might still get seen so #cant WAIT to see our boy absolutely miserable in animation form should they recreate that arc LMAOOO #which ofc is after the germany arc so thats still a long time away #but STILL. itd be fun i need to see this young teenager lose his mind in color with sound #him relying on sebastian to do all his fag duties (sorry. dredge) so he can work his way up the social ladder #trying to gain power while simultaneously proving that he cant do anything but rely on others #hes always needed help in basically every way and he hasnt CHANGED he just got a demon to do it for him #he learns to lie and charm and cheat and all the while hes a fucking CHILD WHO STILL STRUGGLES WITH NORMAL THINGS #ciel is my little baby and i love him deeply no matter how much of a little bitch he can be #his helplessness isnt just 'oh he was raised in british high society' its also that he never got the chance to learn anything #which to elaborate on that id also have to go into manga territory. iykyk #like absolutely at this point he just refuses to learn how to do things he has a pet demon to do it for him #but.#hi the phantomhives backstory is killing me again its so late #both atlantic and the school arc are just setup for the Big Arc but theyre very good in their own right i SWEAR #also when i rewatched the circus arc a while back and i realised how some scenes were shot #the heavy foreshadowing that i didnt realise. yk. 7 years ago or however long its been since i first watched it #CRAZY #if you are new. to kuroshitsuji. and you havent read the manga. dear god. read the manga #ALSO GRELLE IN THAT ARC IS SO BEAUTIFUL & OTHELLO IS TRANSMASCULINE. OKAY GOODBYE

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teleomancer · 1 year ago

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#so it's Infect Your Friends And Loved Ones with the bit about 'everyone around here knows about you'#even if it's positive- the world pays so much more fucking attention to my life for being trans and it makes me.. shiver?#coffee clerk fumbled every facet of taking my order and the apology landed super duper sideways #'oh sorry! it's just that it's my first time helping *you* is all- just seen you around a lot before. you know.' yeah? know what exactly?#how's that supposed to make me feel? every month they hire someone new and we get to do the same tiring song and dance #another young-20s clerk that will not stop trying to make small talk w/me beats ones that only glare yeah- this isn't pain just frustration #and like YES it's better than the cashier that beats the shit out of my beers on purpose or crumples receipts to hand them to me #or the audible 'see- told you he's a man' commentary when he can see stubble behind a mask on days that can't bother me to shave #like the pharmacists at this supermarket make me well aware that nobody else gets their E here. the store knows the local tranny. great.#genpop cannot reliably be fucking Normal Abt Transfems to the point that it makes me wanna thank the rare coworker that just like.#doesn't treat me like anyone different or special or a threat or a curiosity or an object or a shot to gain social capital for being nice?#getting told by young-20s cis girls that calling me dude didn't mean anything b/c they're 'y'know! *also* [limp wrist mime] *girlypop!*'#hits closer to home than getting called a slur to my face because the latter asshole doesn't pretend to be my friend and just.#skips straight to making me a paper doll in their head of what it means to be me and shaped like me and dressed like me and it's.. slimy.#'everyone around here knows about you.'

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pepprs · 2 years ago

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hi update things are fucking terrible and my eyes hurt from sobbing. lol

#purrs #delete later #not to liveblog and be tmi or whatever but i feel terribly alone and terribly miserable so this is in fact a cry for help lol. or really #comfort bc im fucking going insane. so for context last spring when i was still an intern another intern orchestrated this back channel #where everyone was supposed to talk shit about our supervisors (my dearest most belovedest mentors) and all of us hid it for months and it #all came to a head at asb 2022 because there was a lot of drama witb the asb student facilitators and our staff team. and it was sooooo ugl #and messy and horrible and probably played a direct role in one of my dearest beloved est mentors (who was the point person for asb) fuckin #getting a new job and abandoning us in july lol 😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 and so i became a full time staff member and me and my remaining dearest belovedest #colleague besties fucking carried the world on oh r shoulders and put on amazing programs as just 3 of us in the core staff and we thought #we were doing a really good job with the asb 2023 leaders and that there were no drama dynamics or whatever and guess fucking what. tonight #we found out that half of them hate us for reasons we still don’t know and all of them are at each others throats and also some of the #participants feel a type of way about us. and i know i am being a fragile sensitive crybaby over it but i have had terrible cramps all day #and have barely slept since ive been here and feel like ive been bending over backwards to support the leaders only to find out that half o #them think we’re evil and i just… i couldn’t take it. so i cried and now im beating myself up for crying. but it’s like come ON. i know we #did a pretty imperfect job of preparing them for this. and i should just take responsibility for that and not be defensive. but it’s like…#have NEVER seen this program in person before or been part of the planning of it. i was just a student last year like all of you. and also #HOW many fucking times did we create space for you to talk to us and invite us in. and still this shit happened. and i just feel like a #failure. and i couldn’t react to that information in any way except cry liek it’s all so over my head and out of my depth and im not as #emotionally mature as my colleagues bc im the youngest and this is my first time dealing with this and i feel so incompetent and like i #failed. failed the first time by not speaking up when i was implicated in the stupid fucking Google form back channel situation last year #and now failed the second time by not being able to prevent this stupid drama bullshit from happening again and for not catching it. and jf #like… im in excruciating physical pain and haven’t slept and haven’t eaten well and my life is falling apart and we were ABANDONED BY THE #PERSON WHO WAS RESPONDIBLE FOR THIS (i know we weren’t abandoned she literally just got a new job i just have psychological issues) and #we’ve been running at a million miles per hour with absolutely no break and now you’re mad at us and not even telling us and it’s impacting #everyone’s experiences but you want to pretend this is fucking high school and keep secrets. i am TIRED of drama. i am TIRED of this stupid #bullshit. and not to say this bc i don’t know if asb 2022 drama factored into her decision to leave but if it did i get why * left now. i #get it. bc this shit makes me want to jump out the hotel window. i do not want to face any of them tomorrow and deal with more bullshit. i #am emotionally unstable and incompetent and not equipped to deal with this in a mature healthy way. i want this to be over NOW. im done.#ok i think that’s it um. sorry about that i just needed other people to know i am suffering and i will suppress the shame i feel about that #just this once. esp bc i denied myself the opportunity for my colleague besties to comfort me while i was crying and i regret it now lol

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arolesbianism · 1 month ago

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Everyday I see another youtube video or whatever say smth along the lines of "this character is badly written because they're unlikable/annoying/insert negative description here" and everyday I end up massively disappointed because I came here for analysis on the actual writing of a character not just a description of the feelings they made you experience

#rat rambles #like when criticizing a character's writing its important to understand that a character being unlikable to you isnt always a failing on #the writing and when it is you have to actually explain Why it doesnt work in the context of the story and narrative for it to be #meaningful criticism in my opinion #for example a lot of ppl complain abt unlikable protagonists in very unproductive ways imo #because narratively speaking protagonists who kind of suck ass as people very much can have their place #so I always get disappointed when I see ppl talk abt the cases where I agree that theyre poorly written and not getting any elaboration #upon the initial 'they do bad things and are a bad person therefore I dont like them'#like there are plenty of ways for a character to be unlikable and a bad person or whatever #just please explain to me Why you think that the character themself was misandled or otherwise poorly written without listing their crimes #like for example. and lets all get our long sighs out first. sighhhhhhh. ok. shuichi.#hes a bit of a prick. anytime Ive seen criticism of his character it basically amounts to that statement.#and that doesn't at all adress any of the actual numerous problems with how hes written.#thats just a description of a character trait. which isnt a writing flaw on its own.#the reason him being an ass is a problem is that he is meant to be and written as a camera pov protag #so all of his judgy bullshit is meant to be how the audience feels too. which causes problems in a game where you're supposed to give a #shit abt the cast and want to hang out with them and get attached before they die horribly #and this is a problem that exists in all dr games ofc but shuichi just makes it most obvious because the v3 cast was built with a lot more #malice than the other two casts generally speaking #ok thats enough shuichi talk Im so sorry for making yall see that I promise it wont happen again its just the easiest example to draw #basically: poorly written characters are pretty much never that way because of any isolated traits they have as people #its about How they are written and positioned in the narrative #saying a character is bad because theyre annoying or unlikable is just saying theyre bad because you dont like them #and its plenty easy to not like well written characters so if you wanna make a real point then stop just writing a callout doc #like half the time your issue is with narrative framing not with the traits themselves talk about that instead thats much more interesting #and I Dont mean 'oh a character we're supposed to like shouldn't have this negative trait' because thats also unproductive #generally speaking saying that any certain character trait is inherently linked with bad writing beyond being a sentiment I disagree with #is also just not a very helpful statement for actually understanding what the actual problem is #and for me the why is what character and literature analysis is all about #and in terms of media criticism its especially important since you don't exactly learn anything by being told a character is unlikable

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luveline · 20 days ago

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Hi Jade! (I’ve sent this before so ignore if you aren’t into it) just thinking about a bau!reader (maybe shy!reader??) who’s dating post-prison Spencer but didn’t know him before prison and she sees some footage of season one Spencer (maybe they need to refer to a recording of a previous case?) and she’s just dying at how cute he is 🥹

You’ve barely woken up with your face in a solid shoulder when Spencer’s turning around.

“Don’t,” he says when you whine, slipping a familiar hand over your hip. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Too early to make fun of me.”

“Do you think I’m making fun of you?”

His talking warms your nose where his head is angled down. Your skin smarts with goosebumps as he trails his hand lightly up your back, down again, the slowest, tumbling touch. You shiver, and Spencer, ever so slightly devious in love, says, “Oh, you’re cold?” with great pity as he pulls you closer.

You rub your face against his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“I smell.”

He hums. “Sort of. Not like sweat, though. You smell like sleep.” His lips touch your cheek.

He lets you ‘warm up’ in his arms for a few minutes, then however long you doze for, lost and too comfortable to bother even trying to wake up properly. Your phone pings a couple of times after it comes out of sleep mode, a sure sign you’ve overslept, but Spencer doesn’t make you move until your stomach growls.

“Come on,” he says, kissing your nose and slipping you back onto your side of the bed. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“It’s nearly twelve.”

“You just woke up, and it’s the first thing you’re gonna eat. You are breaking your fast. Breakfast.” He looks pretty even through achy, tired eyes, all the sleep crusted in your lashes no match for Spencer Reid. How you went so long without knowing him is a mystery.

You get up only because he told you to and because he looked quite lovely when he did it, not because you want to. The bed is warm, that pit of his arms calling your name, but Spencer’s already rolling out of bed with an eager hand scratching through his hair. Sweat has made them tight and a little darker in the back. You’ll both have to shower at some point, preferably after he’s made you breakfast in bed.

He can see your expectations on your face, and he laughs as he pulls a t-shirt on over his head. “Get up! I’m not bringing it up here, do you know how badly your sleep cycle is affected when you start doing the wrong things in bed?”

“What counts as the wrong thing?”

Spencer laughs again, softer now, and for a moment he traces your face with his eyes without speaking. “Fine,” he says, waving a hand at you as he makes for the bedroom door, “stay there. But only ‘cos you look so pretty!”

“Thank you!” you call back.

This time with Spencer isn’t enough. You need ten more years of this, thirty, fifty, you need to wake up in his arms and have him touch you and tickle your cheek with his breath. He’s too far to have him come back, so you resign to hugging him when he returns.

Your phone pings again, drawing your attention finally. The first notification is a reminder to buy toothpaste today at the grocery store. The second is a text from a friend, the third an email. It’s one from last night that piques your interest, another friend, full capital letters: HELP.

Her use of a laughing emoji defers any urgency. You click on the text thread and scroll up, puzzled by her previous messages, a link, and a caption: oh my god he was so dorky???

You open the video and feel your breath catch in surprise.

Is that Spencer?

You're not stupid, you’ve seen photos of him and his friends together dotted around the apartment from over the years, and every time you come across that photo of him and Diana at a spelling bee with his huge black-framed glasses you have to laugh, but it’s different seeing him to hearing him.

He’s so nervous. You can’t understand what it is he’s saying, something about mathematical components to profiling criminals. Jason Gideon stands in the background watching him closely.

“There’s actually a good joke that–”

“Spencer,” Gideon reprimands.

You watch in awe as Spencer stammers an apology, his cheeks a little pink. You’ve seen Spencer blush, but this feels different. He looks so young. His hair is straight as a pin.

“Spencer, did you used to straighten your hair?” you call, hoping he can hear you over the sound of a frying pan popping in the kitchen. “Or do you have a perm now, or what?”

“What!”

“I’m confused on the logistics of your hair!” You feel something weird in your chest as on screen Spencer tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a mixture of wanting to eat him and wanting to reach through the screen to stroke his cheek with your thumb.

Spencer treks back into the bedroom with his pink and white pinstripe apron over his shirt and sweatpants. He smells like cinnamon sugar already. “What are you talking about?”

“My friend found a video of you and Jason at one of those lectures you did.”

Spencer presses his lips together. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. “I didn’t do any lectures.”

“Uh, yes you did, liar, and you looked so cute.” You turn your phone to him. “So sweet.”

He marches to the bed. Before you can stop him, he’s taking the phone from your hand, giving you the world's silliest, tiniest shove when you try to get it back.

“Cruel,” you quip.

Spencer stares at the phone screen, then you, “Sorry,” he says, turning pink, “I don’t know why I did that, just– I just–” He frowns deeply. “Can you stop smiling like that?”

You climb onto your knees, a morning disaster, but when you wrap your arms around Spencer’s waist he looks at you like you’re perfect. His eyes soften, brows relaxing, his irises like dark dimes that slowly dilate as he looks you over. Your phone presses into your back, his arm wrapping around you.

“You were adorable,” you say sincerely.

“Not anymore?”

You rub your cheek against his apron. “No, you still are. Let me watch the video again.”

“Not a chance.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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pencil-n-pen · 14 days ago

Text

TONGUES AND TEETH

₊˚ʚ 🌲₊˚✧ ﾟ. °🍂 ೃ࿔*

jackson! joel miller x fem! loner! reader

masterlist | ko-fi

summary: Joel refuses to acknowledge the part of him that aches to be a protector. That is, until you come crashing into his life.

cw: canon-typical violence, reader had a rough go of things before Joel, nightmares, medical inaccuracies (oh the horror!) uhhh reader has a broken nose and it gets set, unspecified age gap, daddy issues but we all saw that coming and it’s vague, as an ellie lover and defender until the day i die, it pains me to say no ellie-au IM SORRY I COULDN’T MAKE IT WORK bella ramsey as ellie they could never make me hate you

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort as always, age gap, nightmare comfort, honestly just two messed up people loving each other

a/n: proof that i will find a way to write an eldest daughter fic for any fandom/universe

not officially writing for him !! just had this idea

another long(ish) fic. if you're here from my masterlist, now would be a good time to go pee, get some water, and maybe a snack or two :) same things for those of you scrolling. i see u

title taken from tongues and teeth by the crane wives (GO LISTEN TO THE CRANE WIVES !!)

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚🦴⋆｡°✩

Jackson living isn’t all Joel thought it would be cracked up to be.

Don’t get him wrong- objectively, it’s great. Running water, electricity, a clinic- three hallmarks Joel was sure he’d never see again. Not since the outbreak.

So by all means, he should be content. He goes out for hunting parties and patrols. Has his own house. Has a permanent place to keep his boots and his knives and guns and a bookshelf to make his way through. He has a bed. He has his brother.

But he’s restless.

Joel spent a long time walking. Searching. Surviving. You don’t quite slip back into easy civilian life just like that, no matter how perfect the conditions are.

At first, he solves this problem but going on more hunting parties, more patrols. He stays up late doing guard rotations and helps out his brother with projects when he can.

It doesn’t solve the itch, though. That sharp little thrumming, just beneath his skin: the need to protect. To have a job. To have something or someone to look after.

He denies this part of himself as much as he can, because he’s not that man anymore. Not after Sarah. He’s not. You don’t stay somebody dying to help and protect when you kill people. Because they’re still people, under the fungus. Under the parasite. Their brain’s still work. They still feel pain and anguish and fear.

He’s heard them cry before. Hunched over a corpse, body acting with somebody else at the reins, faces covered in blood and gore crying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

So Joel isn’t a protective guy anymore. Had to take out those parts. Replace them with solitary and meanness and a distinct lack of sympathy.

It’s turned him into an angry thing. Like a gaurd dog; snarling, circling an empty pedestal it refuses to acknowledge is there.

He knows Tommy see’s it. Try’s to involve him in things whenever he can, invites him over to dinner. Hangs out at his house. Makes sure Joel isn’t alone-alone.

So Joel really, really should’ve seen it coming when he and the scouting party find you in the woods.

You’re just as surprised to see them as they are to see you. They thought they were tracking a deer— although some of the tracks and patterns of disturbance in the underbrush didn’t add up.

They’d entered a clearing, guns poised, just to see you, handgun leveled at them, perched in a tree. Way higher up than Joel would’ve dared.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” You’d hissed, voice carrying on the wind and rattling just like the leaves on the tree you’re in. How you managed to scale a tree that high in a busted pair of Doc Martens and lugging a backpack clearly full of supplies is beyond him.

But he doesn’t need medical credentials to know you’ve clearly had a rough go of things.

You’re young. Not young-young, but young. Dressed in clothes clearly pilfered, you’re wearing a thick brown jacket that probably would’ve belonged to a construction worker or something like that. It’s a few sizes too big, and the cuffs are frayed and there’s a hastily sewn patch on the elbow he can see. Your face and hair is littered with tree and other plant debris- though if this is a new addition from your tree climbing escapade, he’s not sure. Your nose has dried blood crusted under it, your lip is split, and there’s a cut above your eyebrow. Your knuckles and hands are equally torn and split, old and new scars and scrapes littering your skin.

In short: you look rough. And feral, in that way that cats that live outside a little too long and a little too far away from people end up looking.

“I said stay back!”

He remembers, abruptly, that you’re probably scared out of your mind and the rest of the scouting team is still pointing their weapons at you.

He makes the motion for them to lower their weapons, and he lowers his own, raising both hands in the universal “we come in peace” gesture.

You don’t lower yours, but your grip on it is looser.

“We’re from the Jackson settlement,” He shouts, hoping you don’t hear the gruff anger in his voice that Tommy always complains he needs to work on. “There’s running water and electricity.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Your hands have begun to shake on the gun, ever so slightly. “So what’s your guys prerogative, huh? Cannablism? Religion? You planning on burning me at the stake? Or did you have something else in mind? I am a woman.”

Joel takes a step forward but stops when a bullet hits the ground right where his foot was about to be.

“If you take one more step you’re gonna find out exactly why I’ve survived alone this long.”

“Look,” He says, dropping his hands to his hips. “You can shoot us, and one of us will shoot you, and it’ll all be fine and dandy—“

There’s a chorus of whispers behind him.

“Or you can stay in that tree and not shoot us, and we won’t shoot you, and that’ll also be fine and dandy.”

He turns, jamming a finger in the direction of the settlement. “Jackson’s that way. Go or don’t go. I don’t really give a shit, but you look like you could use a bandaid.”

He jerks his head, and the rest of the party follows his lead, leaving the clearing —and you— behind.

—

A few hours after he returns, somewhere in the late evening when twilight is starting to set in and the crickets are chirping, Tommy knocks on his door.

“There’s a girl here for you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Someone asked for me?”

“Well, not so much as for you. Her words exactly were “that gruff, mean looking asshole,” but I got the picture.”

He sighs, deep in his bones. A small part of him —the part that’s still connected to that dog, still circling— had hoped you would show up. However, it’s hopelessly overshadowed by the sheer exasperation of it all.

He’s silent save for non-committal grunts and hmm’s the way over to the front gates where the evening rotation’s guards have you standing between them.

You’re slightly worse for wear since the last time he saw you in that tree. Your jacket as a new rip in it, and your nose is sluggishly bleeding again. Up close, he notices it’s a bit crooked.

Gonna hurt like a bitch to set, He thinks absentmindedly.

He slows as he approaches you, hands in his pockets and shoulders back.

“See?” He huffs, gesturing with one hand behind him. “Not cannibals. Or whatever else you’re worried about.”

Your face is hard set as you look around. “That remains to be seen.”

“Hello!”

Joel looks back to see a pregnant Maria waddling over, a concerned Tommy at her side.

“I told you I’d handle it—“

“And I told you I’m fine. Now,” She props her hands on her hips. “Who’s this young lady now?”

You (hesitantly) stick out a hand to shake and introduce yourself.

She shakes your hand with a smile. Leave it to Maria to be able to read people with such ease. “I’m Maria Miller. I’m one of the settlement councilors. The golden retriever fussing next to me is my husband, Tommy, and the angry looking bear next to him is his brother, Joel. I understand a scouting party found you?”

You nod, eyes flicking this way and that, cataloguing the area.

“I’ve been on my own for… awhile. I don’t have any supplies to offer, but I’m smart and strong. I’m willing to work in exchange for a place to stay.”

Maria hums, assessing. “I’m sure we can work something out. You’ll need to come with me to speak to the rest of the council, for our safety and yours.”

You tighten your grip on your backpack but follow Maria and Tommy, only sparing one backward glance at Joel.

He spends the rest of the evening trying to forget the look in your eyes.

—

He fails spectacularly.

This doesn’t mean, however, that he’s anywhere near pleased when his nightly reading-as-a-poor-attempt-at-normalcy routine is interrupted by a knock on the door. One that sounds suspiciously like Tommy’s type of knock.

Only he hears two voices as he walks up to the door, and the other one isn’t Maria.

Joel opens the door with a glare already fixed on his face.

“There have to be other places.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “It’s only temporary. The council agreed to let her stay so long as she’s watched by a trusted Jackson member, and well. You vouched for her.”

“And when exactly did I do that?”

“In the woods, when you met. You told her where you were from and how to get there. Honestly, Joel, you’re getting off light here. Some of the council members were not happy you told a random loner —no offense— where to find us. Kind of defeats the whole point.”

You huff a quiet “None taken.”

He can’t help the way his body tenses. “So this is a punishment?”

“Yes and no.”

“I don’t—“

“Look,” you interject, clearly fed up with the conversation. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m not going to murder you in your sleep and I don’t leave dirty clothes lying around. It’s only for three weeks. Get over it.”

Another sigh threatens to release itself, but he stamps it down, figuring he’s hit his sigh quota for the day.

“Fine. But take her down to medical first. I don’t want her blood all over my house.”

Tommy shrugs. “No-can-do. Maria needs me back at the house. You know where medical is. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

And with that, Tommy leaves, abandoning Joel and you at the doorstep.

Joel scrubs a hand down his face. “Wait there. I’ll grab a jacket.”

The walk to the clinic is awkward and silent, and just when Joel thinks it can’t get any worse, one of the staff tells him that since he’s your assigned supervisor/watcher/whatever, he has to accompany you. To everything.

To your credit, you don’t look very happy about the arrangement either.

Still, you bear through all the exams, a grimace fixed firmly on your face. Apparently (and not surprisingly) you’re malnourished, dehydrated, running a small fever, deficient in several vitamins, have two cracked ribs (most likely, no x-ray machine) and some run of the mill scraps and bruises.

You’re cagey enough on the details of the cracked ribs and nose that the doctor eventually moves on to the fixing you stage of things.

It takes awhile. There are a lot of injuries to cover.

When it comes to resetting your nose, the second the woman pulls out a needle and syringe, you go rigid.

“No.”

The doctor blinks. “This is just lidocaine, it’ll numb the area so—“

“No.”

“You wanna feel all that?” Joel asks, the first time he’s spoken during your entire exam, “It ain’t gonna feel great. Crooked nose like that won’t set with one go.”

“No needles. No numbing.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What, you got a pain thing or something?”

Your hands go white-knuckled on the exam table. “Fuck. Off.”

You’re shaking, he notes.

Ah, He says to himself. Not a pain thing.

Fear.

The doctor shrugs. “Not like I won’t take the chance to save what we have. You’ll want something to bite down on. Or squeeze.”

You wrap your fingers around your own hand, a pathetic attempt at self-soothing.

He decides annoyance is the emotion he feels at your small movement. Nothing else.

He rolls his eyes as he grabs your hand, maneuvering it in place of your own.

“Good luck breaking it.”

You don’t respond. He wasn’t really expecting you to.

He knows without looking the exact moment the doctor starts resetting things because your grip on his hand quickly turns from barely there to crushing. You make no sound.

The doctor, to her credit, works fairly quickly, though by the time she’s finished a single tear has carved a path through the blood and grime on your face.

He thinks about how someone learns to cry without sound.

The doctor moves on quickly, cleaning and bandaging the wounds that need it and telling you detailed instructions for how to take care of your nose and cracked ribs and what things you should be eating to avoid staying vitamin deficient. It’s all a lot of words Joel is glad he doesn’t have to memorize.

They stick in his head anyway.

You don’t let go of his hand. You’re no longer squeezing the life out of it, but you’re not holding its gently either. When you do finally let go (after the doctor’s left and you can leave) you practically tear your hand away, as if burned. Like you’d left your hand on a stove as it was heating up only you just now noticed it was hot.

He doesn't say anything about it. He figures you're liable to literally bite his head off, or some other violent action close to that.

Besides. This is all awkward enough.

The walk back to the house is just as silent and strained as the walk to the clinic. Only now your breath is just a little more labored. Steps a little shakier. Your hand's twitch at your sides like they're reaching for something, and you don't quite manage to hide the way you look around every now and then, a restless, nervous action.

He knows what you're doing. He was you, back when he first got to Jackson. Granted, he wasn't as twitchy as you are. He kept his distance, stayed mean and scary (as possible.)

He holds the door open for you when you arrive back to the house, because his mom raised him to be a gentleman no matter the circumstances.

You toss him a look of confusion and annoyance but step into the house, looking around the modest living room with something almost like wonder.

He toes off his shoes, sets them by the door, and takes off his jacket, hanging it on the hook. "Shower before you touch anything. You're filthy. And don't think I'm giving up my bed."

"I wouldn't have taken it even if you had," You sneer. "Where's the--"

"Down the hall on the left. You got clean clothes?"

"...I have less dirty ones."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wait here."

He grumbles all the way upstairs, all the way through picking out clothes that'll fit you well enough until you either wash what you have or find something else.

He silently glowers as he comes down the stairs, thrusting the clothes out to you and turning on his heel when you take them.

"I'm going to bed. Don't wake me up."

When he lies in bed that night, he can't even pretend he's not thinking about you. In his defense, it's less about you and more about the new, strange, stand-offish person he's just supposed to live with for the foreseeable future. All because he had the bad luck of feeling bad for the battered, flighty, loner girl sitting in a tree.

He stares at his ceiling, internal clock (yes, he's old, he has an internal clock. Sue him) letting him know it is decidedly an hour he should be asleep. He refuses to go downstairs, on principle alone. He could get up and go find one of his books, but he knows that if you're anything like him, coming off of however long you spent alone, you're a light sleeper. You're probably awake now, listening to him toss and turn and being unnerved by the unusual silence of Jackson and the particular brand of night-noise it produces. That's what the first two weeks of Joel's life in Jackson consisted of, before he moved in here.

Maria had decided that Joel would stay with the two of them until he integrated in Jackson society. Perks of your brother marrying a council member, he guesses.

So he's not going downstairs. Not going to walk down there just to see a person, an entire person in his house looking like, looking like--

Fuck.

He throws his blankets off and angrily (but not loudly) marches downstairs to get himself a glass of water and the book he knows he left on the table by the couch when he was so rudely interrupted by you. This is his house, dammit, he refuses to be put out by a random girl.

Woman, his brain corrects.

The living room is completely dark when he makes his way down the stairs and he truly, honestly wishes he was surprised when there's a whoosh of air to his right and a knife embeds itself in the wall about a half inch away from the side of his face.

The living room is still and silent.

"I thought they took your weapons when you got here."

"I lied about what I had."

He scrubs a hand down his face, yanks the knife out of the wall, and tosses it back. If you can throw it, you can dodge it.

He doesn't hear any screams, yelps, or grunts of pain, so he assumes you caught it fine. Or at least dodged it.

He makes his way over to the kitchen, grabs the teapot, and takes down two mugs.

"You know they can kick you out for harboring weapons during your probationary stay."

He hears a rustle of blankets behind him. The sound of you stashing your knife, no doubt.

"Are you going to tell them?"

He snorts, filling up the teapot. "No. There's been a knife in my boot since the day I got here."

He hears more rustling, and decides against turning around. He's not quite sure what you've been doing down here all night since it's clear that you weren't sleeping.

He doesn't hear any footsteps, but when does turn around to set the mugs on the table, you're sitting at it, knees pulled up and head resting atop them, your cheek smushed. Now that his eye's have adjusted to the darkness of the living room, he can almost make out your features. They're easier to discern, now that you're not covered in blood and grime. You look... softer. Haloed in the glow of moonlight shining through the gaps in the curtains.

Your face isn't the only thing glowing. The tell-tale glint of a knife --a different, smaller knife than the one you'd thrown at him-- shines from it's spot, resting oh-so innocently on the table.

Joel just huffs.

"No weapons on the table."

He blinks, and it's gone.

He doesn't ask why you're still awake or what you've been doing instead of sleeping. You don't ask why he's down in the kitchen at all.

"What are you making?"

"Tea."

He gently places a teabag in each mug. He isn't really sure why he's doing this for you. You've done nothing but hiss and spit since he's met you.

But tonight, right now, blanketed in the not-quite calm of the night and the apparent unease you both drown in--

It's tolerable. You're tolerable.

So he takes the kettle off the stove and pours the water and places the steaming mug on the table in front of you.

To which you ignore, and snatch the mug out of his hands instead.

"Did you think I put that one," He points to the mug in front of you, "There for giggles?"

You cradle the mug in your hands, seemingly entranced with the warmth and steam. "You might've poisoned mine."

"Maybe I poisoned both."

You take a sip, then grimace when the too-hot liquid hits your tongue.

"You don't look like the kind of person to have built an immunity to poison."

"You also watched me make both beverages."

"So? It's dark. You could've slipped something in. Or maybe it was already in the teabags."

"What use would I even have for you dead?"

You shrug. "I don't know. You tell me."

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person.”

“And you’re not?”

Touché.

Joel remains in the kitchen, leaned against a cabinet sipping your tea, while you stay hunched at the table, sipping yours.

If he removes the irritability and the uncomfortable-ness of everything that involves you living with him, the moment is almost… companionable. Pleasant, even.

It… soothes that nervous part of him. Not the sad nervous. The angry nervous. That built up crack of anger.

There’s another person in his home that is neither attempting to perceive his problems nor actively attempting to kill him. Your belief that he might poison you aside, you still accepted the tea.

He firmly believes that Tommy isn’t right about the loneliness thing though. His brother being right is just a world Joel can’t live in.

Besides. It’s too early to tell anything anyway.

—

Unfortunately, the following few days do not go… terribly.

That isn’t to say they go well, though. Since he’s looking after you (read: making sure you’re not an axe-murderer or something) he’s not allowed to go out on scouting or hunting trips. Or solo guard rotations he’s come to covet.

It’s boring, and having you around is strange.

It’s interesting, when he gets bored enough, because if he focuses hard enough he can guess what events happened to you based on your reactions to certain things. He’s pretty sure you were drugged at some point based on your reaction to the doctor with the lidocaine. You’re general skittish and flighty nature can be easily attributed to the conditions in which everyone in the world is living in, but your particular brand of distrust and aggression says that humans, not the infected, have been the ones to hurt you the most. Your general unease in open areas or areas with not easily accessible exits leads him to believe that there have been several extremely close calls in several points of your survival.

He knows you’ve been shot before, but that one was an accident. He’d come downstairs, rubbing bleary sleep from his eyes and accidentally stumbled across you changing. Well, finishing changing. He’d quickly closed his eyes and turned around, and thankfully you hadn’t startled, but he had caught a glimpse of the stretch of skin not covered by the long sleeve undershirt you favored. On the left side, just above your hip and a few inches towards your bellybutton, there’s a jagged, raised, circular scar. Still pink.

He knows you have a very slight, very subtle limp. He’s not sure what causes it, but he knows you have one. It tends to act up when you do a lot of strenuous exercise for an extended period of time. Some days you wake up and it’s worse. On those days, you’re a little more mean, and a little more skittish.

He’s yet to see you actually, legitimately sleep.

He’s starting to think you haven’t, since arriving.

Which is insane, because it’s been four days.

The bags under your eyes are horrific, even to him. You’ve gotten clumsier and clumsier, your attention span and memory are terrible, and he thinks you might’ve started hallucinating, if the times he’s seen you staring off into space with concerned, fearful, or twisted expressions on your face and mumbled rambles he can’t make out are anything to go by.

On day five, when Joel comes downstairs in the morning and the knife you throw at him bounces harmlessly off the wall and clatters to the ground and you just stare at it, eyes foggy and unseeing, he decides to talk to Maria.

“I don’t really care,” He says, because he has a reputation to uphold dammit, “But I’m not sure how much longer she’s gonna last, and what she’s gonna do when she wakes up.”

“Mmm,” Maria hums, hands clasped on the table and staring at Joel with her best ‘I don’t believe you don’t care’ look. She’s really perfected it, “Well the truth is, she can’t go forever. It’s fear keeping her up now. Happens a lot with the loners that come in. Especially the women. She’s afraid that no one’s there to watch her back and terrified she won’t be strong enough to fend off any attackers.”

Maria looks at her hands. “The fear is exacerbated by the fact that the council took most of her weapons.”

“You knew—“

“She was lying? Of course I did. So did several of the other members, I’m sure. But she’s not a threat. She’s scared.”

He thumbs the thin scar on his cheek from the knife came just a little too close to hitting the mark when he sneezed in the kitchen. “She’s got a funny way of being scared.”

“Fight or flight, Joel. She knows flight isn’t an option.”

“Why are you lobbying so hard in her defense?”

“I’m not. I’m explaining her actions. Also,” She gives a knowing smile, “You’ve started to care. Otherwise you wouldn’t be coming to me about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He grouses. “So what am I supposed to do? Just wait for her to pass out?”

“You could. It’ll happen eventually. She very clearly doesn’t have that many hours left in her. That’s probably freaking her out more. Or, you could subtly show her that she can sleep around you. She needs to know that she’s safe from whatever it is she’s running from.”

Joel keeps his eyes locked on the kitchen table, tracing the grain in the wood with an absent-minded finger.

“I know you pushed for her to stay with me.”

“The council wanted a punishment that fit the crime.”

“Look, I appreciate the thought—“

Maria’s expression flattens. “Joel. Do not sit at my table and lie about how you don’t need anyone and you’re fine on your own. You need this.“

“I don’t need this,” He scoffs, “She’s practically half-feral. No one needs that.”

Maria stands, shrugging. “Then I guess you’ll have to file for a name change, No-One Miller. Until then, make sure she’s not alone when she wakes up.”

—

He did leave you alone for the duration of his conversation with Maria, because fuck if he was bringing you to that, and he figured you both could use some time away from each other. He knows he can.

He’s not very surprised to hear the familar whoosh of a small, sharp object sailing through the air that tends to accompany his arrival into rooms you’re occupying (he’s pretty sure it stopped being a fear response after the first two times and now you’re just messing with him) but he is suprised to see that this time, the knife doesn’t even make it head height. Or to the wall.

It clatters uselessly to the ground near his feet. He stares at the metal between his boots and then up at you—

“Why are you sitting on the kitchen counter?”

“I don’t remember.”

He leaves the knife on the ground and makes his way over to you, watching with mock disinterest at the several-seconds-delayed flinch you make when he stands in front of you.

You look up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused and you just look so, so tired.

There’s a curl of protectiveness in his chest that keeps trying to spread, keeps trying to grow. Here, in the kitchen, your legs dangling over the edge of the counter, bathed in the glow of the mid-day sun, it takes root. Right in the center.

He looks down at your feet. “What happened to your other shoe?”

You scrunch up your face. “I don’t… I was getting in bed, I think. But it wasn’t my bed. I forgot that things aren’t—“

That things aren’t the same anymore.

He crouches down, untying the laces of your boot and shucking it aside somewhere.

“Alright, come on.”

You slide off the counter, clumsy and uncoordinated. He takes your hand in his, leads you up to the bedroom.

The stairs are difficult for your tired, barely working brain. He has to stop multiple times to physically lift your legs or stop you from falling over and cracking your head open.

You finally make it up there, though, and he realizes that you probably won’t want to sleep in your everyday clothes.

“One last step.”

He can’t help but notice how intimate the moment is. Not intimate-intimate, but. He instructs you softly to lift your arms so he can tug your shirt over your head and replaces it with a soft shirt of his own.

Staring into your eyes is too charged and allowing his eyes to wander is bad for obvious reasons, so he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the junction of where your neck meets your shoulder.

He keeps his eyes there as he helps you out of your pants and into a pair of flannel pajama pants. The same ones he’d given you the first night you came. You’ve never slept and he’s never seen you go to any of the places he knows have extra clothes, so he’s almost positive you don’t have any pajamas at all.

His fingers work quickly to tie the drawstring on the pants, and even then, they hang low on your hips.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger.

“Come on,” He says taking your arm and tugging you toward the bed. “Time for sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” You mumble, standing in place. “And I can’t, what if they—“

“I’ll be here the whole time. I’ll keep watch.”

You mull his words over in your head for a few moments before stumbling the final few steps into the bed. You practically collapse into it, shuffling for a just few seconds before your breath evens out.

You’re asleep.

He reaches over, adjusting the blankets a bit, before grabbing the book he’d left on the bedside table and settling down in the chair by the bed.

The hours tick by quietly, accompanied only by the quiet rustling of pages turning and your soft snores.

For the first time in awhile, he doesn’t feel restless.

—

You sleep for a full eighteen hours straight before you stir.

He’s a good portion of the way through his book before he see’s your body tense in the corner of his eye. Your breathes are still even and deep, so if he couldn’t see you, he probably wouldn’t notice you’re awake.

“You’ve been asleep for eighteen hours,” He says, voice rough and scratchy with disuse, “You got in bed voluntarily.”

“You changed my clothes.”

“You didn’t seem all that capable of doing so yourself and I didn’t think you wanted to sleep in jeans. You mind?”

“…No.”

“Good. Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t just—“

“You didn’t sleep for five days. If we’re going by the eight hours a night average needed or whatever, that’s forty hours. You’ve still got twenty-two left to catch up on.”

You roll over to face him with a grumble. “I don’t like how good you are at mental math.”

“Get better, then.”

You shimmy out from under the blankets, tossing him an “I have to pee,” as you make your way out of the room.

It’s early morning now, weak sunlight behind to strain its way through the curtains. He figures it’s a good enough time to make some food (and coffee) if you’re going to be going to back sleep, so he meanders down to the kitchen and throws together a small breakfast.

“Did you make us breakfast?”

He never really gets used to how quietly you move through rooms.

“Jesus— yes. Here.”

He hands you a bowl with oatmeal and a small plate with a slice of toast— toasted in a pan, because electricity aside, he doesn’t own a toaster. Why waste time scavenging for an appliance when something else works just as fine?

He sets a jar of jam on the counter that he’d picked up awhile ago in exchange for fixing the hinge on somebody’s door.

“You got any allergies?”

“None that matter.”

He nods to the table. “Go eat. Then get back in bed.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“And you’re annoying. Eat.”

You eat quickly and quietly, then wordlessly follow him back upstairs, climbing back into bed.

“Joel?” You whisper.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He tucks the blanket up over your shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

You obey easily.

—

Things between the two of you… soften after that. He slowly sees more pieces of your personality than the wild thing he met that day in the woods.

He learns that you love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but miss peanut butter and nutella sandwiches more than anything. He learns that on good days, you like drinking coffee straight black, but on bad days, you like it with milk and sugar.

He learns that your limp is the result of one careless mistake you’d made when you first surviving on your own.

“I thought the house was abandoned. It wasn’t,” You’d rolled up your pant leg to show horrific, deep, jagged scars circling your ankle, “Guy had set out a bear trap to slow down some of the clickers in the area. It was dark. Didn’t notice it until too late.”

He learns that you, despite your snide remarks and sarcastic comments, like having him around. He feels a bit like earning the trust of a stray cat.

You begin to grow more comfortable with life in Jackson, though not by much. He’s sure you weren’t a people person before the outbreak, much less so now that he knows some of the horrors you’ve been through before you got here.

He’s even started getting used to how quietly you move.

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, from there.

He wakes up, goes downstairs. Sometime’s there’s a knife thrown at him, sometimes there isn’t. You’re usually sprawled on the couch, drool coming out of your mouth and grumbling incoherently about “old men and their stupid early mornings.”

It’s almost endearing.

Since Joel spends a lot of time helping Maria and Tommy get ready for their baby, you, in turn, get to know the both of them by being stuck with Joel. Maria set you on edge at first, Tommy slightly less so, but through continuous interactions your prickly nature smoothed.

One night, you were all seated on their couch after enjoying a dinner together —not the first and definitely not the last— having quiet conversation. You’re totally passed out on Joel’s shoulder, dead-asleep and quite content to use him as a human teddy bear.

Maria smiles over her mug of tea. “She’s grown on you.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. She’s not all bad.”

“High praise coming from Joel Miller.”

You have grown on him. And in turn, your relationship has started to grow into… something else. Sometimes his eyes linger just a little too long, and the looks you share feel just a little too charged.

Tommy sends him a look full of words only true siblings can understand.

“No, Tommy.”

“Oh come on Joel! You both clearly—“

“We are not having this conversation right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because—“

You fling an arm out wildly, smacking him in the side of his face and grasping around until your pointer finger finally finds his lips.

“Shhhh. M’ sleeping.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist, prying your fingers off his face. “You know that’s what bed’s are for. Or couches. Or any number of surfaces I’ve found you sleeping on.”

“You’re a surface I’m sleeping on.”

“I shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a bed. Come on, up and at em’.”

You whine at the loss of warmth when he stands, scowling as you haul yourself to your feet. As he’s putting on his boots by the door, he hears you thanking Maria and Tommy for their hospitality, and he can’t help the little smile that twitches on his face. Seems like his parents weren’t the only ones who made sure he had manners.

You meet him at the door, hopping in place to put your boots on and getting frustrated when they don’t slide on immediately.

“You know, it would help if you untied the laces—“

“Fuck off.”

He blinks. That seems a little more mean than you usually say nowadays.

So Joel takes a step back. Watch’s your legs and your shoes and your hands—

There.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the laces, unable to get a good grip on the thin cords to untie and re-tie your shoes.

He shoos your hands away from the singular boot you haven’t managed to get on.

“Sit.”

He’s thankful that he built the shoe bench for Maria a few weeks after he got to Jackson. It serves Maria well for not having to stand while she attempts to put her shoes on while heavily pregnant, a feat she bemoaned a few times, and now it’s serving you.

You plop down on the bench with a huff, crossing your arms as Joel crouches, undoing the laces of your boot and sliding it on.

“I can do it.”

“I know you can.”

“Why’re you doing it?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He secures the tie on one boot and moves on to the next. “It is tonight.”

Once both shoes are on, you both bid Tommy and Maria good night, and make your way home.

If your hand find’s Joel’s, then that’s not anyone’s business.

—

He notices things after that.

You’ve started snapping at him more often. You’re not sleeping as much. You’ve started flat out refusing to go with him on daily chores as tasks, which either leads to an argument or the both of you staying at home all day.

It all comes to a head when you wake up screaming.

He thunders down the stairs, ducking on instinct for a knife that doesn’t come. You’re not on the couch. He whips his head around, the screaming stopped he can’t find you—

A thud. A panicked gasp.

He moves on slow, apprehensive feet towards the kitchen, crouching down to see you huddled under the table, knife clenched in your hand and pointed toward him.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

Your eyes are wide and shining with tears.

“You died.”

“I didn’t. I’m right here.”

You shake your head, breaths coming short and shallow.

He settles on the floor, crossing his legs. “Here, take my hand. Come on.”

He extends his hand into the space between you two. Achingly slowly, you put down the knife, and take his hand in yours.

“See? I’m still here.”

Eventually, your breathing slows, and the fear begins to leave your eyes. You drop his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, no it’s just—“ You break off with a strangled noise.

He waits. Lets a few minutes tick by.

“Does this have anything to do with the fact you’ve been avoidin’ me?”

You look down. “You noticed?”

“I do have eyes, sweetheart.”

You grab the knife again, twisting it this way and that in your hands.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

He tilts his head. “How come?”

You’re silent for a little while again.

“I feel… okay with you.”

“And that’s scary?”

“Yes,” You breathe, “You could leave, or die, and it scares me that I’m already attached to you. That having nightmare’s of you dying affects me so much. That they happen at all.”

He hums. “Seem’s were at an impasse.”

He taps a finger on his knee.

“It’s not all bad. To care.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Joel Miller?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “You know, against my better judgment, I’ve come to tolerate having you around.”

“Tolerate?”

“Mhm.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“So you’ve never thought about kissing me?”

Heat rushes to his face. “Is that really a question you want to be asking right now?”

“Yes.”

“Mm,” He stands, “Well I don’t answer that kind of question at this hour. Come on.”

He reaches under the table and pulls you out.

You clamber to your feet, still a little shaky after your nightmare.

You turn to go back to the couch, but stops when he tugs on your arm.

“Mm-mm. No couch tonight.”

You look up at him, a question in your eyes he doesn’t know how to answer with words.

He steps forward, rough hands coming up to your face, thumb swiping the crest of your cheek.

“Tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss, soft and slow.

He pulls away after a few moments, searching your face for any sign of negativity or displeasure or disgust or, or—

You surge up, kissing him again, all the same fiery passion he saw the day you met.

“I suppose that answers my question.”

He chuckles. “You think?”

“I hope so.”

His hands slide down to your waist. and he can’t resist the little squeeze he gives the skin there.

“Alright. Back to bed, let’s go.”

“I forgot how tired old men get.”

“Please don’t call me an old man right after we kiss.”

He can hear your quiet snorting laughter as you climb the stairs, socked feet silent as always.

You climb into bed first, shoving yourself into the side by the wall and then making grabby motions for Joel.

“Am I just a pillow to you?”

“Yes. Come be a pillow.”

He rolls his eyes but slips into bed next to you and quietly relishes in the pleased hum you let out as you wrap your arms around his waist, practically smashing your face into his chest.

“You comfortable there?”

“Mhm.”

He curls one arm around you, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. This close, he feels the shudder run through your body at the motion, and curious, he gives your nape a little squeeze.

Your reaction is instantaneous. You go limp- completely boneless.

“I got you, I got you. Go to sleep, now.”

It doesn’t take you long. And with you asleep so soundly in his arms, he follows right behind you.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

2K notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 5 months ago

Text

HOT TO GO!

18+ / mdi

summary: moving into a quiet apartment complex you expected to find nothing but solace, not your most entertaining situationship to date OR the three times you kept it casual with your new neighbor vs the one time he made things serious.

content: neighbor!jungkook, strangers2lovers, situationship (kind of), fwb, jk's a lil bit of a himbo in this fic, afab reader, smut, three smut scenes lol, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, etc.

wc: 7.1k

a/n: this is honestly just a silly and unserious fic that's mostly smut lol i hope u guys enjoy it<3

masterlist | patreon

"Oh, wow, uh, hey."

"Hi?", you looked at the stranger in curiosity, though still very shocked by the adonis of a man who had suddenly knocked on your door.

He cleared his throat and shook his head as if rebuffing himself to speak again, "Fuck, okay, that was such an uncool first impression. What I meant to say was 'Welcome to the neighborhood,' but you just caught me off guard. Sorry."

"I caught you off guard? You're the one who knocked on my door."

"Yeah, not gonna elaborate on that," he chuckled sheepishly, extending his hand, "Hi, I'm Jungkook, your neighbor," he introduced himself.

You chuckled in return, letting his ambiguity slide as you briefly shook his hand, providing him with your name, "Hi, Jungkook. I'm new here, if that wasn't obvious."

"No, yeah, you can really tell the difference between you and the old lady who used to live here. She was- wait, fuck. Did she-"

"No, Jungkook, she's not dead. The landlord told me she just moved into some retirement home," you clarified.

"Thank god," the boy sighed in relief, "Me and Mrs. Louis go way back. She used to bake me cookies on Sundays."

"Oh really? Well, you won't be getting any cookies from me. Sorry," you joked.

Cocking his head to the side, he lifted his eyebrows, "We'll see about that."

"What does that even mean?"

"I can be very convincing."

Was he flirting? Through a cookie euphemism?

"Are you-"

"Anyways, if you need any help with moving in, let me know. Maybe coming over to help build some furniture?", he suggested, "I like to be on a friendly standing with all my neighbors," he smiled as he disregarded his prior flirting, almost as if it had never happened.

"I'm your only neighbor. There's only two apartments per floor," you recalled, still amused by his oddity.

"Exactly," he winked, and with that, he turned to leave, heading back to his own apartment, "See you around."

It was through that very short interaction that you first met your neighbor, Jungkook. Despite how odd he had seemed, he carried a charm that intrigued you (though his pretty appearance also drew you in).

Closing your door, you went back to what you had been doing previously, a smile of disbelief on your face as you tried to come up with some believable reason to scout him for help – as he had offered – just to see him again.

Unfortunately, most of your stuff had not arrived yet, so you truly had nothing you could possibly use as an excuse to get him to come into your apartment so soon. It was nice, though, to know that your new neighbor was as friendly as he was (and as attractive, might you add).

"Hey, neighbor."

"Oh, hi, Jungkook. Did I forget to tell you my name last time?", you wondered why he'd omit your name, unless you had been too distracted last time staring at him to remember.

The next time you saw Jungkook was a day later at the apartment complex's laundry room located at the basement of the building. From what you'd seen the few times you'd walked by it on your way to the elevator, no one really seemed to use it. No one except Jungkook, apparently. You'd also come to find out that this apartment complex seemed to be occupied by mostly elderly people, with you and Jungkook being some of the few exceptions.

Eyeing you up and down in a not very discreet way, his eyes landed back on your face before responding, "No, just got distracted, sorry," he chuckled similarly to how he'd done last time.

This was the second time you'd seemingly caught him off guard, but you weren't complaining. The thought of your presence taking him out of focus gave you a slight boost in confidence, especially considering how attractive he was.

You eyed him curiously, noticing he had no laundry with him nor was he using either of the four washing machines located in the room. As soon as he came in, he took a seat on top of the washing machine next to the one you were currently putting your clothes into. When you smiled at him questioningly, he had no reaction, simply smiling back.

"What are you doing?", you asked whilst continuing your prior task, almost paying no mind to him.

"Just hanging out," he responded simply, swinging his feet back and forth as they hovered due to the stature of the washing machine he was currently sitting on.

"What, with me?"

"Yup. Just trying to be neighborly, is all. Shouldn't be down here all alone," he reasoned, "Can I help you? I love doing laundry."

You scoffed at that, "Really? You love doing laundry? Also, I don't need a bodyguard," you hadn't taken offense to his comment, but you'd found it somewhat amusing. He clearly just wanted to spend time with you, which admittedly made you feel slightly bashful. However, there was no harm in making him work for it a little more.

With a huff, he got off the washing machine and leaned down to help you organize your laundry, dividing it between colors, "I'm known as somewhat of a laundry fairy", he nodded seriously.

"Oh, so you do other people's laundry, then?"

"Yep," he nodded, "It's a whole profession. I part-time as bodyguard too," he joked, continuing to shuffle through your clothes.

"The perfect man," you retorted back, sarcasm in your tone.

"Exactly. You could make really good use of me," he winked, finishing up his pile of clothes and moving onto yours, beginning to place them inside the washing machine.

"Are you asking me to use you?", you braved it and flirted back, turning to look up at him.

The air in the room was comfortable, yet it now had a hint of something more. What it was, you weren't sure. Although Jungkook had hinted at being attracted to you when you first met a day prior, you'd never had a flirtation move so quickly. It usually took a bit more conversation before getting to the more suggestive comments, but the pleased look on his face as he looked down at you made you too excited to backtrack.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to get that. Was my self-invite to your apartment yesterday not hint enough?", he followed along, putting down the article of clothing he had in his hands to take a small step towards you, now leaving a very small distance between you.

"Oh? Was that what that was? I think I'm gonna need you to be a bit more specific. Spell it out for me, maybe?", you tilted your head to the side teasingly, almost as if daring him.

"Aw," he placed his hand on his chest, as if hurt, "That's my bad, pretty. I'll be a little more forward from now on, okay?", he coo'd, leaning down and letting his nose nudge against your own lightly.

"So, are you? Or are you all talk?", you dared him, tilting your face upwards, almost meeting his lips.

With a muted grumble, he closed the gap, pulling you towards him with a pull from your waist. Humming against your lips, he pressed you up against him, practically molding you to him as he allowed the kiss to become heated. The air in the room became even heavier somehow, causing you to mute any outside forces that could possibly take you away from a constant chorus of Jungkook playing in your head.

The kiss had no time for hesitance or shy meetings of lips as it instantly occupied the otherwise silent room with wet sounds of tongues intertwining and almost inaudible moans shared between lips. The harsh surface of the washing machine behind you almost felt like nothing as Jungkook's lips continued to distract you while his arms lifted you to sit on it. Legs opening, you welcomed him to stand between them, pulling him in my his shirt to ensure not even one second of distance between you was allowed.

Your head tilted back almost on its own accord as his lips trailed down your neck, humming into your skin after every kiss and occasional nibble of skin.

"J-Jungkook ... What if someone sees?", your common sense finally made an appearance, though you made no move to stop him.

"No one uses the laundry room here, it's fine. We have the place to ourselves," he breathed out between kisses, making his way back up to your lips.

With a scarily practiced finesse, his tongue snuck its way into your mouth, easing yours into copying his movements. Your resolve wore down quickly after that, following along with every touch of his on your skin. Despite not being one for casual hookups, it was impossible for you to deny the immediate chemistry you'd had with your neighbor. Who would casual sex with your neighbor going to hurt anyway?

His lips soon took your mind away from any further thought on the manner, trailing down your neck while his hands came up to wander under your tank top, tracing your skin with his calloused fingertips as goosebumps began to form. With soft hands and a rough tongue, Jungkook had your brain emptying at a worrying speed, now becoming a shell of yourself with nothing but Jungkook in mind. Just some kisses and some hand action already had you as putty under him, what a shame.

"Can I take this off?", he murmured against your lips, hands itching under your shirt as it rode up due to his movements.

"Mhm," you conceded, your own hands going under his shirt and feeling up the muscular skin of his back.

With your consent, his hands trailed their way back out from under your shirt, reaching down to help you out of it. Underneath was a tiny piece of fabric you could barely call a bralette, doing a terrible job of hiding the goosebumps on your skin or the hardness of your nipples. His tatted hand went up to toy with a clothed breast, murmuring praise against your cheek as he angled his head to look down at your chest. His eyes trailed to yours, finding them empty of any thought and far too wanting of more of his touch.

"How about this?" he practically whispered, one hand on your breast while the other went to toy at the strap of your bralette that had fallen from your shoulder to the meatier part of your arm, fingering at it softly, almost as if teasing whether or not he'd pull it all the way down or not.

"Yes," you almost whimpered, needing the skin-to-skin touch on your chest. Your back was already arched towards his chest, your body pleading him for more without any further words necessary.

He sighed once the job was done, your chest now fully naked for him and the rest of you almost equally as nude. It was only a tiny pair of shorts with some teeny tiny panties underneath that prevented him from your full nudity. In the meantime, he was still fully clothed. But somehow you didn't mind. His touch on your body was enough to keep you satiated. Surely you'd have your turn to enjoy his own nudity later on.

A groan left him upon hastily removing your shorts, now able to feel the heat coming from between your legs through the offensively thin panties you had on. Dragging you from your thighs, he placed you on the edge of the washing machine as he himself pulled down his pants just enough to leave him with boxers and some beaten up tank top. With a huff, he began intermittently connecting your crotches, bumping his hardness against your heat with a grumble. The art of dry humping might've been lost among many, but you were thanking any higher power that Jungkook was not one of the many to disengage with it.

"You're so warm already," he sighed, face pushing its way to your neck, nosing at your scent, "'n smell so fucking good ..."

Your nails dug to the skin of his shoulders, obsessed with the drag of his cock against you. He was hitting that sensitive, swollen spot that bad you wanting to give him a key to your apartment just so he could come over and do it over and over again.

"So fucking soft n pretty," he mumbled, "God, can't believe I got such a pretty little neighbor all to myself," he rambled on and on, "Gonna make you cum like this, okay, gorgeous? Promise I'll give you more next time, just- fuck ... just caught me off guard again's all ..." all his words were slurred, clearly marking the approximation of an early orgasm. What might've been a turn off for many others had your own high approaching just as fast. A hunk of a man such as Jungkook losing himself to mere dry humping? Sign you up!

"Me too," you almost whined, mouth open as you practically drooled at the feeling of that size and girth, excitement growing within you.

"Yeah? God, so fucking good n perfect," the praise was never ending, greatly aiding your impending orgasm.

With one last groan of your name, Jungkook's hips sped up, now dragging you more harshly into him in desperation for his orgasm. It was only a few moments into his own orgasm that you came too, too stimulated from his extensive play with your chest earlier on and simply too wound up to not find release with someone as attractive as he was.

In other circumstances you would've been embarrassed at how easily your body reacted to his own, but Jungkook seemed just as affected, still panting at the exertion his high had taken from him.

"Sorry," he chuckled breathlessly a few moments later, wide boba eyes staring at you with a shy smile, "I don't usually welcome people to the neighborhood by jumping them like that, hah, I hope I didn't overstep," he needlessly apologized as he helped you clean up with nearby towels and aided you in redressing you and himself.

Giggling at him couldn't be helped — he was far too cute. He was the perfect mixture of cuteness and hotness that it made you frustrated if you thought about it for too long.

"Jungkook, I promise you that was a very appreciated welcome," you laughed as you patted his shoulder reassuringly, stepping down from the washing machine.

"Great," he nodded with a smile, though still a but shy, "Let me help you with your laundry now, then? I won't jump you again, I promise."

"Maybe for next time, then?", you attempted to flirt, high fiving yourself internally when you pulled a shy chuckle out of him.

Next time you saw Jungkook was back in your apartment.

Maybe you should've expected him to be on the other side of that door, specially considering you hadn't met anyone else since moving here, but you also hadn't expected him to be so continuously forward.

Within less than a week of being here, you'd met Jungkook, flirted with him, hooked up in the laundry room and proceeded to wash your clothes with his aid — as it turned out, he really was better than the average person at doing laundry. And now, you were curious as to what the next thing to come would be.

After a few knocks on your door, you resumed drying off your hair and walked over to the door, skin still damp and thin robe wrapped around you. Being almost nude, you decided to be smart and look through the peephole before admitting a stranger into your home. Looking through it, you found the one person you'd hoped to see every time you left the apartment; Jungkook.

Had it been anyone else, maybe you would've bothered to ask him for a few minutes in order to get dressed before attending to the door. However, seeing as Jungkook had already seen you almost fully nude, it seemed dumb to do so. That, plus the fact that you were pretty sure how today's visit would go.

"Hey," he said casually when the door was opened.

Donning yet another tank top, the contour of his muscles could be easily seen as he leaned against the frame of the door. A confident and suave smile was on his lips the moment his eyes did a once-over of your body, clearly taking notice of the singular layer of clothing you had on.

"Huh," he hummed, "You're making this too easy for me," he chuckled, letting himself in when you stepped aside to silently welcome him.

"Hello, Jungkook," you ignored him, closing the door behind him, "Are you here to help me unpack?", you questioned upon seeing him approach the few boxes located in your living room and eyeing their contents curiously.

"Yeah. Figured you were taking too long to invite me over, might as well invite myself," he said distractedly, focus all spent on a bunny figurine he found in your boxes, mumbling a quiet 'cute' to himself.

"Let me get dressed and then we can start," you said, beginning to walk to your room while he sat on the floor, beginning to open some boxed furniture you hadn't even bothered to eye since its arrival.

Already in the other room, you heard Jungkook call over before you could close your door, mentioning something about 'You'll end up undressed anyways, but okay,' causing you to chuckle to yourself.

It only took you a few minutes to moisturize and dress yourself in some comfortable loungewear, able to hear Jungkook's ruckus all the way from your room. Despite his slight awkwardness shining through sometimes, he seemed to be a very confident guy, so it made sense to you that he'd made himself at home almost immediately upon his arrival.

Heading back to your living room, you found him sat comfortably on the floor, boxed materials to build what appeared to be a bookshelf laid in front of him while he eyed a manual. Originally, he had implied that his intention to go visit you had been for another hookup, so it amused you that he had actually taken his own words literally and decided to help you out with your furniture.

As you took a seat next to him, you decided to voice out this thought to him, "Wow, you're actually going to help me unpack?" you asked amusedly, hands reaching out to copy the way in which he assembled some pieces together.

He shrugged, "It's the neighborly thing to do," he reasoned, "Plus, the sooner you're unpacked, the sooner we can do more fun stuff."

Despite it being said so casually, it was more than enough encouragement for you to put your mind to the task, knowing that the unexpected help of your hot neighbor was way better than the alternative of getting all your moving in duties done by yourself.

It took about two hours to get done with most of your unpacking, combined with putting together the few pieces of furniture you had bought and neglected to build. The last of it was found in your bedroom in the form of a few boxes of skincare and clothing you'd been too lazy to unbox, opting to instead use whatever you needed at the time and leaving the rest unpacked. Jungkook tutted at you disappointingly at this, lightheartedly scolding you for not simply organizing your stuff as soon as you moved in and revealing to you how organized he was himself.

"Is there any box you want me to stay away from?", he wondered as he rummaged through one of the various boxes you'd moved onto your bed to organize.

"Nope, what do you mean?", you wondered, pulling out a hair dryer and placing it in its rightful spot before walking back over to the bed.

"Well, for instance ..." he trailed off, pulling out a tiny piece of lace you'd forgotten was in the box labeled as 'clothes' Jungkook was currently going through. He gave you an awkward smirk, his mind seemingly battling between being smug at the thong in his hands and affected by the thought of you wearing such a garment.

Immediately, your eyes widened, a gasp trapped in your throat before you jumped at him to grab at the lace, only for him to pull it back with a laugh, now holding it above your reach. You continued to pull at him, letting out an annoyed 'Jungkook!' to express your annoyance, but still laughing at how childish he was behaving.

He let you take hold of the thong after a few more slaps to his hard chest, laughing at your frustration. To prevent your further attacks, he grabbed onto your wrists, deciding to hold you against him as you let go of the panties and paid mind to him instead. Far too casually, he leaned down and trapped you in a soft kiss, humming against your lips as his hands wrapped around your waist and your own went to his shoulders. You damned him in your mind, chastising yourself for how easily it was for you to become entranced by his touch.

"You knew what was in there, didn't you? Hmm? Seductress," he joked against your lips, though the tone of his voice didn't make you laugh, especially not when it was said in an airy whisper between open mouthed kisses.

"Shut up," you grumbled, pulling him closer, unwilling to let the kiss end.

With masterful expertise, Jungkook managed to lay you down on the space of the bed empty of boxes, hands going under your shirt to trace the soft skin of your back. His lips trailed down to your neck and reaching down to the space of your chest not covered by your tank top, grumbling against your skin.

"You smell so nice," he sighed, "So fucking soft too," he continued, not shy in feeling your skin and even breathing you in.

Tuned with you, he disconnected from you to eye you for permission to remove your shirt, dragging it away from your body after a nod of confirmation from you and proceeding to remove his own. Your hands imitated his own, also feeling up his toned body as you continued to kiss. Now leaning atop you, he ground his crotch against your own, groaning into your lips at the basic pleasure he received from it.

"How far do you wanna go?", he murmured as he ground into you, "I'll do whatever you want. I owe you, remember?", he continued, referring to your encounter at the laundry room where he promised to fuck you properly next time.

"Do whatever you want," you replied, looping your lips again, "Just- fuck, do anything," you practically pleaded.

Chuckling, he nodded, opting to lay you down properly, moving aside any boxes that were in the way so you could lay all the way back while he trailed his way down your body, tugging down the tiny shorts you'd opted for a few hours earlier. You sighed at the realization of what was to come, ashamed to admit you'd been wondering how that piercing would feel between your legs.

"So soft here too," he mumbled, kissing up your thighs distractedly, making his way up to that area between your legs that was calling his name, "Fuck, 'n smell so good," his nose practically pressed up against the very thin layer of cloth separating him from your cunt, shamelessly breathing you in as he dragged his nose to press into your clit before pulling away.

A mute whine was pulled out of you, making your thighs attempt to close without much thought, only to make his arms wrap around your legs and pull them in opposite directions in order to separate them. He took a quick moment to pull your underwear down your legs, immediately going back to wrap around your legs to keep a wide enough space for him to enjoy you.

He began tentatively, almost as if testing out how he would go about having you. It only took some encouraging mewls from you for him to really put his heart into it, diving in as his tongue delved into your cunt, moaning against you. He hummed and groaned into your cunt, especially so whenever your hands would pull at his overgrown mullet, pulling him even closer to you. Taking advantage of his large nose, he nosed at your clit while his tongue played with your cunt. Your mewls and the scratching against his scalp should've been more than enough indicator that he had you at the palm of his hand.

"Baby," he moaned against you, refusing to create any distance between you, "you taste so good, fuck," he cried out, as if he were the receiver of the pleasure. But then again, maybe he was — or at least that's the gist you got from the commotion happening under you as the bed bumped with every movement of Jungkook's hips humping against it.

"K-kook, fuck, right the- oh, fuck ... right there!", you cried when his fingers joined in on the equation, tongue focused on your clit while his fingers curled inside you to perfection.

It was embarrassing how soon you felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn't blame yourself, not when a 10 was on his knees, whimpering against your cunt and letting endless muffled praise leave his lips while his tongue refused to let out. You lost control of yourself at some point, unashamed in the way you pushed his face against you, closing your thighs around his head and ground into his face. This only caused a high pitched whine to leave Jungkook, following your silent instruction for more and giving in to you twice as hard.

"Cum, baby. Wanna taste, fuck, please," he pleaded, looking up at you for a quick moment, making your brain leave you entirely at the pretty eyes he was making up at you, practically begging for your orgasm to come.

If you were boneless and defeated before, you were more so now, losing yourself to your orgasm as the pretty boy continued to lick and suck at your release, humming as if he had just been provided the most satiating meal. The humping of his hips never stopped either, only accelerating upon your high and only halting when you'd gone down from it, insisting on pulling him up the bed to claim his lips, wanting to enjoy them while the arousal was still fresh on him.

"God, fuck, you're nasty," he chuckled breathlessly when your tongue quite literally attacked his mouth, insistent on tasting yourself on his lips. This was clearly not a complaint, but more like a happy realization, as Jungkook practically reached down your throat as he tongued at your mouth, providing you with your own taste and moaning endlessly as he did so.

"Did you cum?", you asked between kisses, eyebrows pinched with worry that you wouldn't get to play with him this time around either.

He chuckled, a bit embarrassed, "No, pretty. Almost, though. I can just finish myself off if you're tired or-"

"No!" you interrupted, not shy in reaching down to his still clothed cock, feeling the length through his clothed ad he shuddered, "Let me suck you off? Fair trade, right?", you suggested, wanting nothing more than that size inside you one way or another.

"Oh, you sure? I don't want to force you or anything-"

You interrupted again, gesturing at him to flip you over so he could be under you this time around, "No, Kook. Please? I really want it. Can I have it?", you decided to be a bit mean, playing up the begging under the assumption that a guy like Jungkook would probably enjoy it.

You were right.

"O-oh, okay, beautiful," he rasped, hands in a frenzy to undo his sweats so he could give you access to his dick, "Just, fuck, give me a second. I don't wanna cum right away," he blushed, giving you a sweet peck before leading you to your knees while he sat at the edge of the bed.

With an excited giggle, your hands joined his own to help him lower his pants and boxers just enough to give you access to his length — the same one that had dragged against you until completion just a few days prior. His groan at your touch was immediate, body physically shuddering when you wrapped your hand around it and eyed it with hunger. His hands laid on his thighs, fingers itching as he attempted to hold his reactions back.

"Can I?", you asked, leaning closer to it as your hand remained wrapped around it.

"Yes, just, fuck, don't laugh when I cum too soon," he warned with a whine.

Another giggle left you before finally lowering your head down to his own head, lips wrapping around it and suctioning meanly. With a hum, your tongue lightly licked at the tip, earning a mixture of a groan and a sigh from the man north of you. Your hand remained wrapped around his length, twisting while you tortured the tip with your mouth. To ensure you could really drive him crazy, your other hand joined in, playing at his balls and earning yet another sound of supplication from him.

"G-god, fuck, wait- Don't- Fuck, more, baby, please," he begged, hand shyly going to the back of your head to lightly encourage you to engulf him in your mouth.

"Want my mouth?", you asked as you let go of him, though still lightly licking at the sides of his dick, unwilling to stop teasing for as long as you could help it.

"C'mon, baby. I gave you my mouth, just- Oh, fuck, yes," he sighed when you decided to practically down the majority of his dick, enveloping as much as you could while using your hand to jerk off the small percentage of it that couldn't fit into your mouth.

You decided to show off as much as you could, taking him far enough to gag and pushing through it for as long as possible. The whines and whimpers coming from the man above you were more than enough reward for your efforts.

"F-fuck, you don't have to g-gag, baby, shit, don't force yourself," he panted out, barely able to get those words out without effort. This only encouraged you further, puffing out air from your nose in order to obtain as much oxygen as possible. You knew he wad almost at his end, so you used every asset available to you to break him. You took breaks to breathe every so often, but other than that, you were practically a machine attached to his cock.

"Okay, shit, fuck," he stammered out curses, "Gonna cum, pretty, w-where? In your mouth? Please? Fuck, let me cum in your mouth," he rambled while his hands made a mess of your hair as he attempted to keep it away from your face. His hips also began a slow and shy grind against your face — a barely visible movement but still completely present. It represented his lack of control as you blew his mind away, something which went straight to your core.

You nodded, humming against his dick knowing it'd cause a vibration that'd have him keening for his orgasm. And right you were, as his hands shamelessly pushed your head into his cock without a second thought, clearly too overcome with the pleasure of his orgasm to worry about gagging you with his cum. You, however, took it like a champ, reasoning that within some seconds you'd get to breathe properly again.

"G-god, baby, just like that ... C-cumming, shit" he cried, hips still pushing into your mouth. You wished you could see how his whiny demeanor manifested onto his face — those gorgeous features must've looked breathtaking when pleasure was all he felt.

Finally, you gasped out for air after having swallowed as much as you could manage, with some of it dripping past your lips. Jungkook let himself lay back on the bed to catch his breath while you remained on your knees catching yours.

This lasted very little when Jungkook suddenly decided to use his brute strength to drag you up on the bed, sitting your still wet middle on his flaccid self, pulling you in for yet another tongue-filled kiss. He hummed and moaned and whined as he licked every remnant of his essence from your mouth, causing a similar reaction from you.

After the fact, you shuffled yourself off him and made space on the bed to huddle up to his side, which he welcomed by cocooning you under his arm and pulling you flush against him. It was comfortable and silent for a few moments as you continued catching your breaths and letting the sweat on your bodies transpire — you also made a mental note to invite him to take a shower (with you, maybe).

"You moving in next door was not on my bingo card, but thank fucking god for that," he chuckled after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah? You didn't stalk your previous neighbors for a hookup?", you joked, receiving a devious squeeze of his strong arm in retaliation.

"Shut up," he tutted, "You like that I'm like a dog following you around."

Fair enough.

Silence then took over again, up until the two of you were rested enough and decided to get back to the task at hand — putting furniture together and unpacking anything that was left boxed (though you decided to leave any boxes that may contain panties away from his reach).

It was easy for you to fall into fun conversation with Jungkook, which only led to him staying over for far longer than anticipated, taking up your day and even ordering takeout for you to eat after getting all the grunt work out of the way. A shower was had, though you mutually agreed for no funny business (other than a good ten minutes of making out under the water, but that didn't count in your eyes). Since he lived right next door, he managed to extend his visit up until the last minute, entertaining you more than anything had in the past week of moving in.

One month into your new place and you decided the move was probably one of the best decisions you'd ever made. You'd come to find that Jungkook's old neighbor was not the only old lady living in the building, but that the neighborhood was mostly made up of old people (which, granted, Jungkook had warned you of in passing). That gave to a slightly boring home life, but you liked it better this way. Jungkook being your sole young neighbor was more than enough, specially with how often he went out of his way to seek you out.

After those first two hookups, no time for anything else was really had. This made you embarrassingly needy. The anticipation for finally having actual sex with Jungkook was too much too handle, specially when he'd still occasionally bump into you and catch you off guard with a kiss (which usually led to a make-out far too filthy for the public setting). You'd started your new job a week after moving and Jungkook was occupied by some reason or another, meaning that you'd only really see each other in passing. Although you'd text and keep up with each other, the frustration continued to build up.

The third time you were really able to get Jungkook alone was a little over a month after moving in.

You weren't particularly proud of how it is that you got him back in your apartment, but in your defense, you were ovulating that night and feeling particularly needy. Knowing that Jungkook was a bit of an unserious man, you knew that some pull from you and he'd put everything aside to come crawling. The thought itself made you feel powerful.

With a single 'accidental' text (maybe it was a lewd image, you'll never tell), you began to hear obnoxious knocking on your front door — within seconds of delivery, might you add. Excitedly, you walked over to the door, opening it to find a breathless Jungkook holding up his phone with your conversation pulled up, the incriminating picture taking up his screen.

"You're so mean to me," he managed to say before you pulled him in with a kiss, kicking the door behind you and turning around so he could press you up against the now closed door.

"Mean? I didn't do anything," you feigned between kisses, already lightheaded.

"I've been wanting to come over," he sighed into your lips, trailing down to your neck to catch his breath, "Just been so busy, fuck. If you wanted me so bad, you could've just come visit. I'd drop anything to have you," he continued, unable to unglue his lips from your skin. His hands mirrored his sentiment, grabbing at every curve with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before.

"I thought you were the one that was supposed to be chasing after me?", you joked with a breathless chuckle.

"Sometimes I need a little encouragement, baby. Need to know I'm not just bugging you," he replied as he undressed you almost as if it were second nature to him.

Walking you back into what he knew to be your room, he laid you down, now donning nothing but your panties. He soon after matched your nudity, stripping of his muscle tee and sweats, making his way on top of you as he'd done last time.

"Will you be mad if I fuck you?", he rasped, one hand at your boobs and another rubbing at your cunt through the thin layer covering it.

"You're an idiot," you deadpanned, "I'll be mad if you don't."

Needing no further confirmation, his hand slipped past your panties, rubbing circles on the puffiness of your clit while continuing to kiss you. This didn't last for long, simply being used as an aid to lubricate you with your own wetness as his fingers reached a little souther to smear your slick around while his thumb continued to play with the swollen bud.

Already unclothed, Jungkook took his hand away from you, resulting in a whine from your lips to his and moving his hand onto his own arousal. Jerking himself a few times, he stopped kissing you in favor of leaning back to look down at you while twisting his fist on his dick. After quickly fishing for a condom from his discarded pants, he went back to his previous position, rolling it in while you nagged at him to hurry.

Before actually entering you, of course he had to piss you off one last time by teasing your clit with the tip of his cock, groaning when he felt you flutter beneath him. One kick from you was enough for him to chuckle and finally enter you, groaning in unison with you at the feeling.

"Jesus Christ," you groaned when you felt him begin bottoming out, inch by inch filling you up enough to cause an unknown level of pleasurable pain. You hadn't stopped to think what that size would feel like inside you — or at least as much as he was able to get in.

Above you, Jungkook looked tortured, still and with a wincing look on his face as he waited for the green light to begin moving in and out of you. It took you a few moments longer, nimble fingers digging into the muscles of his arms before you finally nodded at him to move.

"Fuck," he groaned upon finally beginning to pick up a pace, biting his lip and his eyes almost rolled back.

"More," you urged, falling in love with the feeling of him immediately.

Your eyes were crossed, your fingers digging far too painfully into his skin, your legs wrapped around him like a vice, everything was far too intense far too quickly. He obeyed your plea immediately, making matters worse for you, having already been blowing your mind prior but now simply melting it.

"How do you feel this good?", he grunted. His arms reached your thighs, pulling you up a bit to hammer into you at a better angle, "Should've fucked you since that first day, shit. How'd I get such a pretty- fuck, such a pretty girl delivered right to my door?", he went on, sweat building on his skin.

The slapping of skin sped up with the proximity of Jungkook's orgasm, just as yours followed along. His hands were restless, attempting to hold you up while also thirsty to feel every possible inch of your body.

"Please tell me you're close, or else this is going to be really embarrassing for me," he muttered onto your skin.

With a chuckle, you confirmed your incoming high, whining when he finally let himself go and sped up in order to reach his own orgasm, now more relaxed knowing you were right with him.

He let out some uncharacteristically high moans as he filled up the condom, groaning and stilling once he was finally done. You joined him mere seconds later, arching your back and pressing your chest against his own as bliss encompassed you. Despite the sticky sweat covering you both, Jungkook let himself fall against you, pulling out and placing the condom aside momentarily so he could lay beside you while you caught your breath.

In the almost silent room, Jungkook nuzzled against you and kissed the sweaty skin he could reach, hands playing with your hair as he pressed you up against him.

"Would it be bad if I asked you out? Or should I have done that before seducing you in the laundry room?", he wondered out loud, leaving love bites on your neck.

You laughed at how random he could be, appreciating how he spoke his thoughts aloud most of the time, "You can ask me out, I won't bite. Unlike some people," you muttered the last part, giggling when he gave you a slightly harsher bite.

"You like it, don't lie," he muttered, suddenly getting up and dragging you with him despite your whine in negation, "C'mon, we're going to take a shower, have a quickie, and then I'm taking you out for some boba," he decided, using his inhuman strength to pull you up and drag you to your restroom.

"But-"

"C'mon, I've been wanting to ask you out since you moved in, I'm already late," he hushed you, carrying your basically limp body to the restroom with the promise of a fun night, something you did not have it in you (nor did you want to) deny.

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content: smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 433 (teaser); 1619 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Are you ever going back to your apartment?", you murmured, though it was likely muffled by the large body wrapped around you.

"What, already tired of me?", asked Jungkook as he continued to nose at your skin, a habit you realized he had soon after making things official. He had a sensitive nose, he'd said once, always enjoying the cosmetic products that gave you that floral scent he adored.

After a month of officially dating, Jungkook had become the human manifestation of a leech. It was rare for him to leave tour side whenever you so happened to have free time and would take advantage of the proximity between your apartments.

Being frank, this was something you loved about him. Still in the honeymoon phase, there was nothing better than getting to see your boyfriend at any given time, especially when he was the one seeking you out. He made you feel wanted and like you were a necessity for him, almost as if he had an addiction to you.

That being said, the man just would not leave your apartment.

Now, this wasn't too much of a bother thus far. You liked it, in fact (at least for the most part). He was quite clean while also being laid back, which was a great combination to have in a person who was practically taking on the role of your roommate.

He did, however, prove to become a distraction when it came to your day to day life. You allowed yourself to indulge in his company too much, leading to a huge drop in your productivity.

But what could you do? He was addictive.

"You love having me around, don't lie to yourself," he continued, "What, tired of waking up to head?", he joked, hands making their way under your shirt to cheekily trace your skin.

"Waking up to head?," you asked incredulously, "You woke me up by tickling me, you menace."

He chuckled, adjusting himself on the bed so he could climb on top of you, knees settled on each side of you and hands slowly bringing your top up.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I've been a bad guest. Let me make it up to you?", he grinned, snaking his way down your body until his head was leveled with your stomach, kissing the skin he'd freed just moments prior.

"Better make it worth my while or else I'll start charging you rent for every hour you spend in here."

"I'll move in. Don't threaten me with a good time," he joked, knowing most of his time was spent here with you regardless.

...

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