#I WANT TO FEEL LOVED BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY I WANT A BRAIN FRIENDS SHIRT OR BRAIN HAT OR RED GUY PATCH OR ANYTHING I JUST

[shady-shrub]

I HAVENT SEEN ENOUGH PEOPLE POSTING ABOUT THIS ON HERE. IM OBLITERATING MYSELF AND OTHERS

GUYS WHAT IF I DONT ENJOY IT?!?!?!

[hourcat]

I've seen this prompt "You're pretty" "you're drunk" and I can imagine Charles only being brave enough to tell Pierre stuff like that when he's drunk, so Pierre doesn't believe him, and then Charles has to figure out a way to make Pierre understand he also thinks that way when being sober but usually is to shy to tell him

I mean, you could write about that 👀

aaaa i love this! but i think my brain went a slightly different direction...

“You are stupid,” Charles slurs, grabbing his best friend’s shoulder with force to keep from tumbling off the edge of the booth. “What do you mean you do not want to buy that pretty girl a drink?” He gestures vaguely at the woman now walking away from their table, body swaying in time with the music, and—sure, she’d asked after Pierre, but Charles imagines he would be trying to pay for her next drink with fervor if he was Pierre.

Pierre, who just chuckles and sips on his third cocktail lazily, tongues at the straw like he’s trying to chase it. Charles can’t help but giggle at the ridiculous sight. “I don’t,” is the answer the Frenchman comes up with after a few beats. He shrugs. “I am not for her, Charles, what can I say.”

The thought is baffling. For all their lives, Pierre has arguably been his most indulgent friend when it comes to just about everything: expensive meals, endless booze, but most importantly, women. There was a year where Pierre went home with a different girl every weekend after a race, to a point where Charles had once asked about her name and Pierre had gotten it confused with someone else’s. It’s unlike him to be so…tame about someone so stunning out here, especially after he’s now three drinks deep.

“What?” He doesn’t mean for the protest to come out so shocked, but… “Pierre, you are—what do you mean? You’re pretty,” the words just tumble off his tongue, “you’re so pretty, and she is too, how can you not be for her?” Anyone would be lucky to have Pierre buy them a drink, let alone stand close enough to them to even offer: even after all these years of their close friendship, he can’t quash the stutter of his breath whenever Pierre gets close to him. He’s accepted that nothing will ever happen between them—they are drivers, they are men, and most importantly, Pierre is very much straight. Charles has known him for more than half his life and has only seen women coming in and out of his bedroom door.

Pierre just laughs again, reaching out to grab Charles’ shoulder in return. “And you are drunk, Charlie. You are so drunk.” He winks, smile huge and handsome, and then leans in to hook his arm around Charles’ shoulders properly. “Come, mon petit calamar, let’s get a cab home. You look like you are going to fall out of your seat.”

Charles…can’t really argue with that fact, although he feels obligated to protest once more. “Pierre, I can get home fine, don’t let me end your night—” but as he tries to get up from their booth, he stumbles, barely catching himself on the table. Pierre rolls his eyes as he quickly follows, hooking one arm around Charles’ waist while the other keeps the arm flung over his shoulder steady. Charles feels warm all over—every place where Pierre is touching him.

“Let’s go home, Charlie,” he murmurs, lips right at the shell of Charles’ ear, and Charles can’t help it: he ducks into the touch a little, head leaning onto Pierre’s shoulder as they stumble their way out into the night. He’ll be embarrassed tomorrow.

-

Charles wakes up groggily in Pierre’s bed. His head is heavy, tongue thick in his mouth, a dull ache pounding away somewhere behind his eyes, but he at least knows where he is: he’d recognize the smell of his best friend’s too-sweet cologne anywhere. It’s thickest on the pillow he’d been sleeping on. His stomach flip-flops.

The second thing he realizes through the fog of his hangover is that he’s not in his club clothes anymore—the shirt he’d spilled drinks on last night is off, and he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants that must be Pierre’s, if the little printed 10 at the hip is to be believed. Charles doesn’t remember getting truly sloppy drunk (aka puking on himself, or stumbling into a puddle, or any of the other incidents he’s been prone to now and again) so he can’t imagine why he’d need to be wearing clothes that aren’t his own right now.

Not that he minds, really. Pierre’s sweats are always soft, which he loves enough to steal every so often. It’s a fair tradeoff—Charles doesn’t think he’s gotten his first-generation Ferrari windbreaker back yet, and it’s been a few years since Pierre nicked it from his closet to get out to the car. The memory makes Charles smile.

He gets up with some achy effort and pads around the room, shuffling through the doorway towards the sound of sizzling. It smells…well, not good, if the way his stomach flips again is any indication, but it doesn’t smell like it’s burning, which is a good sign when it comes to Pierre in the kitchen. As he turns the corner, he gets an eyeful of his best friend shaking a pan over an open flame like he’s trying to be some kind of Top Chef. He looks ridiculous. Charles snorts.

Pierre turns at the sound, and Charles can’t help the way his breath catches in his throat as his best friend’s face lights up. “You are alive!” He’s grinning like an ass, now. “The way you were groaning last night, Charlo, I thought you were going to end up a corpse in my bed.”

Charles winces. “Ew.” Then, after a beat: “I wasn’t sick last night, was I? I don’t remember a lot of us getting home, but my clothes…” he gestures vaguely downwards. Pierre, for a moment, falters. “I’m sorry, Pear, I should have had more to eat before we went out.”

“No, no, you—” he puts the pan down, and Charles can see now that he’s trying to scramble eggs. “You made it home fine, Charlie, you just…” Pierre shrugs, shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “You grabbed one of my sweatshirts and said it was soft when we got in, and I figured you were uncomfortable, so.” He shrugs, turning back to the eggs, and Charles sees the twinge of pink on his cheeks from the oven’s heat.

His stomach flips again. “Ah,” he answers. “Well, thank you for that. I…” he trails off, bits and pieces of the night before continuing to click together in his mind. “I am sorry I took you away from that pretty girl, Pierrot.”

Pierre laughs, shakes his head. “Charles,” he says, not turning away from the pan, “I do not know why you are so hung up on that girl from last night. If you wanted to hook up with her, you probably should have stopped at your third drink, too.” His grin is wide again, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Charles chokes on a noise.

“If I wanted to hook up wi—Pierre, really? She was so hot, I thought you were eyeing her all night. You kept looking…” he shakes his head slowly, the words trailing off on their own. Why would Charles want her? The only person he’d been interested in was the person he showed up with, and that clearly is not going to happen.

Pierre turns off the burner, still looking at the pan.  “Pretty,” he mumbles.

Charles raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Pretty. You said—you said she was pretty, Charlie.”

The idea makes him snort. “I did?” Pierre nods. “Just because I said she was pretty, Pierre, does not mean I like her.” Let alone want to sleep with her!

The Frenchman hums, scraping around the eggs in the pan before picking it up to deposit on the countertop. Charles just watches, transfixed: Pierre’s wearing a loose tank and boxers, the glint of his cross catching the kitchen light. He looks good—hell, he looks better now than when he did last night.

“You know,” he starts after a few moments. “You said I was pretty, too, calamar.” When he lifts his head to meet Charles’ gaze, he’s got that asshole grin again. “Do I have to worry that you don’t like me?”

Oh my god. Charles all but collapses into one of the seats at the counter, dropping his head into his now-folded arms with a groan. Pierre’s laughter is delighted and loud, bouncing off the walls with such force it’s like he’s trying to shake Charles’ head right off his shoulders.

They eat like that—hunched over their plates, Pierre’s bland eggs and too-strong coffee sharpening Charles’ mind around the edges as they chat softly about nothing at all. It's a nice rhythm to get into after a long, grueling night of drinking and dancing. He can be a real person later: right now, all he wants to do is lounge around his best friend's apartment with said best friend laid up on the couch beside him.

“You don’t have to worry, you know,” Charles says as he’s depositing his plate into the sink. Pierre raises an eyebrow, bumping their shoulders together as he follows suit. “About me not liking you.”

Pierre snorts. “Charles—”

“I will always like you, Pear.” The truth, in its most watered-down form. Maybe someday he’ll be able to say it and mean it without being drunk and ridiculous. “No matter how pretty you are.”

[clonerightsagenda]

Sick

We're most of the way through disability pride month and I'm not sure if I'll ever finish this WIP because I'm stuck over how literal to make some of the elements. So, I am posting it because I am curious if any of the weirdness resonates with other people. Enjoy my magical disability cure codependent haunting thing, and also I am going to post a rambling author's note about it.

The morning after the surgery, your Sick is sitting at the kitchen table. It looks good, for a corpse. It’s wearing the ‘I love dying and being dead’ t-shirt you joked about buying two diagnoses ago, pulled over a laced-shut hospital gown.

“What?” it asks. “You had more of a sense of humor when you were sick.”

The doctors warned you that your neurochemistry might be out of balance. You’re adjusting to the sudden lifting of brain fog after moving through the world in a protective cocoon of pharmaceuticals. They didn’t mention hallucinations.

“Think of me like a phantom limb.” Your Sick sips one of those awful plant-based protein drinks that still lurk in the back of your pantry. “Why did you do it?”

Talking to hallucinations probably makes them worse. You do it anyway. “You were killing me.”

“This world is killing you. But you finished yourself off first.”

You sit down across from it in one effortless motion. “That’s not what happened.”

“Right. I’m the enemy. So it doesn’t matter if I’m rotting at the bottom of a biohazard bin.” It considers you. “What’s it like not to hurt?”

What is it like? You’d woken up and lain there for a while, waiting. “Like holding my breath.”

“You’re in charge of all that now.” It nods, the motion referencing the length of your body. “Need to stay on top of it.”

“Like I need advice from you,” you say, but you blink, and the phantom’s gone.

60,000 pieces of microplastic. 7.2 micrograms per liter of per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances. 1:640 antinuclear antibody titer.

That's what they peel you out of. A second nervous system of petroleum products and misfiring T cells, the stuff that's been running your life via mob rule for a decade. They tell you that you weigh five grams less now.

They tell you, don't be surprised if at first it feels like something is missing.

I thought that was just for rich people, your friend says. She messaged you to remind you to take your meds, and you told her that you would never have to take your meds again. Celebrities and politicians.

Work decided it was cheaper to fix me than replace me, you message back. Score one for being essential.

Perks of your top-secret job.

I promise it's boring. Critical infrastructure usually is.

Did you look?

Some people share post-op pictures. They’re usually underwhelming if you don’t know what to look for - the subtle swelling over an aggravated nerve, hints of boniness in the knuckles. Shadows of bruises that never go away. No. I should’ve, though. I asked for hospital socks when they were prepping me but then obviously after I didn’t have them anymore. Who knows if I’ll get another chance.

You might be finished with surgeries forever and you’re disappointed because you can’t get any more grippy socks.

I'll miss the warm blankets too.

Your Sick crawled inside you when you were nineteen years old. It wouldn’t let you get out of bed.

“Help,” it croaked.

Your roommate (only your roommate then) came the second time it called. She was in her pajamas, her hair a dark tangle. You never asked for her help, even when your hands got so sore you couldn’t open jars without five minutes of struggle. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel right,” it said.

Her face softened. “I thought you looked rough yesterday. I don’t have class this morning; do you want me to make something? Call anybody?”

No, you tried to say. I can handle it.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” your Sick said instead.

You had been putting it off. The doctor meant admitting something was wrong, meant – most importantly – a $30 copay. But healthy people never understand when you try to tell them. At a certain point, your body stops being yours.

Your Sick turned up its nose at greasy slices of campus pizza. It politely but firmly refused invitations for a night out. It sanded the branching tree of your life into a wooden sphere it could cup in the palm of its hand.

“You’re ruining my life,” you told the mirror.

It tilted your head. You read your own confusion. “I’m protecting you.”

“Mask,” your Sick says from behind you. It looks worse today – skin gone gray and patchy, with a shimmer of microplastic shards risen to the surface like body glitter. The shine complements the sequined mask secured over its own face.

You scowl, bag swung over one shoulder. You haven’t gone out since the surgery – you can work from home, you haven’t canceled grocery delivery yet – and now that you’re venturing through your front door, the phantom is back. You had reached for one of the masks on the table by the door before dropping it back into the bowl. “I don’t need it now.”

“So respiratory diseases don’t exist anymore? Dumbass.”

The objection reminds you of your own aggrieved complaints: why don’t people plan events with us in mind, don’t they know how many people there are with immune systems one shove away from collapsing, the world’s not getting any safer.

That was your Sick talking. You don’t have to worry anymore.

“You weren’t doing a good job taking care of me before, and you’re not doing a good job of it now.”

Its eyebrows rise. Black liquid has seeped through the cloth of its mask. “And fuck everyone else like you?”

“Like you,” you say, and slam the door in its face.

Outside, the breeze brushes your cheeks. You don’t have to sit down because you miscalculated the balance of meds and breakfast. You start to scan your surroundings for bathrooms, just in case, and then dismiss the impulse because you’re fine.

You’re better than that.

Three hours in, you realize you’ve been curling your fingers into a fist and then opening them again. You only notice because the joints start to ache. It feels familiar.

Nothing else does.

A notification flashes in the corner of your screen. There’s new activity in one of the forum conversations you’ve been following.

It’s rich people doing what they always do. Wreck the planet? It’s fine, we can get a new one! Wreck your body? It’s fine, we can get a new one of that too. There’s no incentive to improve the situation if you can buy your way out of the problem.

I’d buy my way out too, but there’s no way I could afford it

Then you’d eat your first plastic salad and get sick again. See what I mean?

The new ones are supposed to be more resilient

But it’s not yours

Remember any theological debates go in the quarantine thread

I don’t mean it like that. I just think you’re interfering with your relationship with your body, and that’s a fundamental part of who you are, right? Whether or not a s*ul exists

There’s not a bot monitoring this thread. You don’t have to censor it.

Sorry, habit

Mod is human, asterisks don’t stop me. But they are a screenreader issue, so please edit your post.

You used to frequent disability forums. They had useful resources. Jokes, too, like the t-shirt your Sick wears over its hospital gown. But you can’t understand the people who embrace their disfunction. You took a time-honored approach to your medical misfortune. Cancer. Pregnancy. Demonic possession. Petrochemicals. There is something inside me, and I want it out.

These people helped you, but you don’t need them anymore. So instead of saying anything, you log off the forum for the last time.

You do tell your coworkers, who are excited for you. They pester you with questions over Slack: How long did it take? Did you look? Does it hurt?

Your boss messages you, When can you come back to the office?

You frown at the screen. The work you’ve been doing from home is good – better than what you’ve produced for years now that your head is clear. But your boss has always been old fashioned. Remote work was a concession that there’s no justification for now.

Monday, if you want, you type back.

That gets you an immediate thumbs up reaction, followed by, We’re all so glad you’re ok.

That chafes you in a spot rubbed raw. Everyone assumes once the problem they know about has been addressed, everything else must be resolved too. You must be ok.

Which you are, this time.

Your best friend comes to visit. She brings beers you couldn’t drink with your meds and a greasy pizza that settles in your stomach like a snake planning to strike later. It tastes amazing – you run your tongue over your teeth to capture the last traces of salty richness and tell yourself next time your body will recognize good food.

She’s spent the whole visit on your sofa. You have an air mattress from when she used to sleep on your floor while you were recovering from surgeries. She hasn’t asked you to bring it out, and you’re not sure how to ask if she’s staying. Instead you keep stealing glances at her, the curve of her cheek that’s the first thing you’d see when you looked over the side of your bed in the middle of the night, the hands that have held your hair back from the toilet bowl and now rest on her lap.

She keeps looking at you too. You wonder if she sees a difference.

After the silence and sidelong glances build into an itchy layer on your skin, you lean over, clutch the front of her shirt, and kiss her. She freezes and then kisses you back, gingerly, the way you'd investigate an unexpected bruise. There’s pizza grease on both your lips. Rich and unfamiliar.

You’re the one who pulls away. "I'm sorry," you say. "That's not what I want."

She’s stiff under her softness, like an examination table. "I didn’t think so. I didn't think you did that kind of thing."

You don’t. It’s the silence. Your empty floor. Her hands, resting on her lap. "I just thought…” you try. “That kind of closeness is enough for everyone else."

Your fingers are still clenched in her shirt. She looks at them until you untangle them, one by one. The knuckles don’t ache.

She shakes her head. "It's like you don't want to be better."

“That went well,” your Sick says after the door swings shut.

“It’s your fault.”

It tilts its head on a neck that’s looser than it should be. “I didn’t do anything.”

It’s right. When you were sick you could request a shoulder rub to loosen tight muscles or hike up your shirt, no seduction, no bullshit, to ask if that rash looked bad. You could open your mouth and let the truth of your predicament outweigh prudishness or shame.

You don’t know how to ask people to touch you anymore.

It leans in close. “You need me,” it says. Oil bubbles over its lips and slicks its chin. “I was always your excuse.”

That weekend you watch your phone sit silent on the table, no pings from forum posts or medication reminders. Your Sick drifts over. It’s no longer a rotting corpse leaking garbage. It looks dead in the way you used to whenever you looked in the mirror.

Wherever it is in the real world, it doesn’t look like that anymore. From what you remember from the booklets they gave you, it’s already gone.

“Not going to explain yourself, huh?” asks your hallucination. Your haunting.

You shrug. What would you say to her? I took away the foundation of my life and don’t know what’s underneath. You only started being my friend when I needed help, so what’s left for us? There was always another medication or appointment or symptom but now everything’s fine and I’m still holding my breath.

You’ve gotten used to letting someone else talk for you.

“I was killing you,” it says.

That’s what you said. You look at the lines around its eyes and imagine a billion tiny swords raised against invaders that poured in every time you took a breath to light your joints up with friendly fire. “You were protecting me.”

“I was the worst part of you.”

“You were.” You flex your perfect, painless fingers. “Do I miss it?”

It grins and leans against the back of your chair, wrapping chilly arms around your waist. “I just wanted to make you say it.”

The grip around your belly aches in a way you recognize. Dull pain that makes its home in you. Cozy as curling up in bed with a headache. You look back at your silent phone. “Which one of us did she come here for?”

“Only one way to find out.”

You could reach out, but you don’t move. You have never known how to ask for help.

Your Sick sighs. It loosens its grip and reaches over your shoulder to lace corpse-cool fingers between yours. Then it lifts your combined hands in a swoop like the first dose of anesthesia, when the orderlies wheel you away and everything is out of your control. “Come on,” she says. Her breath is a puff of disinfectant on your cheek. “Let’s do it like we used to.”

After you came out of the anesthesia, the surgeons asked if you wanted to see your old body. You said no. You’d spent long enough inside it – it was something you wanted to leave behind. Besides, even after all the pamphlets and counseling sessions, you worried seeing your vacant face would jar something loose. Convince you like those cranks on the disability forums that you’d severed a connection that was irrevocable.  

If you could do it again, you’d say yes. Step inside the morgue – no, they wouldn’t have moved it to the morgue yet, they’d want you to have a better venue to say goodbye – and catalogue the subtle changes only you could see. The swollen knuckles, flushed cheeks. All the other differences locked inside.

You imagine bending down and lifting the body the way it lifted you once, cradling its head in the crook of your arm. Imagine kissing your Sick and feeling poisonous tendrils creep down your throat to coat your insides with grime.

You imagine saying, welcome home.

(Author's note)

[lalanboy]

alan

you came back onboard after 3 long months and the first thing you said to me was, "what was your name again?" i don't blame you though, i'd forget me if i could but was it really had to remember a single syllable name? maybe i just really did not registered in your brain or maybe the neurons contained me died when you stepped out of the gangway that night i bet you don't remember our eyes met but you didn't even tell me your not coming back where was the man who told me he likes shingeki no kyojin? you smiled at me that day, probably the first and i realized that we have something in common i like the idea of us getting along talking side by side about the things we love recommending each other the music we listen to most importantly, the anime we watched i wanna know that

i wonder what your laugh sounds like could you even do that? why do you always look sad? yesterday, i saw you walking under the moonlight it seems like you are carrying some invisible weight on your shoulder i wonder what you're thinking 'cause what's on mine was a bit terrifying thinking…what if you jump overboard and nobody sees you? whatever it is, i hope you get over it

you know i am a good listener, says my friends i may not give my thoughts back but you can vent on me whenever you like that's what i am good at you can trust me i know everyone is judging you for being quiet and i get that they did that to me too our silence can be deafening for somebody just ignore those murmuring voices they don't know what it's like and they will never understand the worlds we build for ourselves kept us feel safe i wonder what it was like inside your head was it eden-like or just semi-chaos? you can take a peak on mine and you are very welcome to come in too maybe that way you will know the "me" i don't usually show

i was you today, giving me a smirk did i do something funny? please, do not stop yourself from smiling although, seeing you like that made me happy i wish you would do that more often

today marks the day when i saw you laugh i like how your face turns red, it overcast the paleness of your skin and yesterday, i saw you without your shirt on i did not expect of you to be lean and very white i could join you in the gym but i guess you wouldn't want a company just like i don't most of the time this is fine, admiring you from the distance if things will change…i hope it's for the best i want to stand beside you hold you feel you breathe will your hands be cold or warm don't ignore me

are you the one i wished for christmas? tonight, you showed up unexpectedly i could not contain my excitement when i turned around a saw you there in the doorway you smiled at me and tap my left shoulder maybe you think i'm crazy for smiling the whole time we were there you made this day extra special and i hope you don't mind when i stare at you was always being red a part of your daily life? i don't complain though, i love seeing you like that you don't know how much i want to join you when you entered the sauna i went to the toilet just to check you out only to find out that your short was in the chair outside meaning, you are only in your underwear but i'm a coward, i cannot do something like that i was having second thoughts whether i' gonna do it or not in the end, the fear took over me i want to be brave enough though to talk to you to hear your voice more often to see that remarkably unforgettable smile of yours i asked father god if he's the one i've been praying for let him come to the gym the next day at the same time that would be my signal to make a move to see what will happen next to know the answer to the question, if he will let me invite myself in his circle i will be fearless on queue

he showed up, but for a brief amount of time just to get his earphone case that he forgot i don't know how i should read that is he or is he not my christmas present? anyway, i feel fine though i just laugh it off until i forgot about it what i expect did not happen but i'm okay whit it just seeing him everyday is enough

was it a mole or a birthmark on your right arm? you said "merry christmas" to me today i told you the same i wish this night would be a very joyful holiday for both of us i just realize, you are the first person who said that to me i'm a simple person so that really made me happy although i waited for you in the sauna hoping you would come but i spent 30 minutes in there without you showing up is it really bad if i just want to see you on your underwear? or do i just need to make up an image of you naked in my head?

you said my name tonight, telling him how focus i am on what i'm doing i think that was the first time i heard my name out of your pretty mouth i'm losing energy but that sound reverberates in my brain then adrenaline surges throughout my body god, i really love seeing you turning red especially your cheeks, that was the best part wish i could bite those love handles and let my crooked teeth put its mark on 'em would i enjoy even the taste of your sweat?

i'm sorry but i hesitated to hug you on new year's day or should i say midnight i don't know but i really felt awkward all of a sudden when you approached me you're saying my name on repeat like it was a chant i was thinking, "i should just give hmi a handshake" and i did, but you put your right hand around me at the last second i did the same what a half-ass hug! i should just embrace you like i did with the others but you know what, i love how soft your hand, your shoulder and back are did you smell my cologne?

i saw you though, get a glimpse of me when i'm about to enter the elevator were you longing for me? 'cause i sure am but i accepted that nothing's going to happen the only thing written in our story was knowing each other and i think that is all we could be, an acquaintance not friends, just two people met on a ship it's weird 'cause i usually get sad about it i guess i just realize that i don't need to chase men anymore men who shows me kindness, who often smiles at me and sees me i don't want to mistake those for infatuations ever again in this new year, year 2024 i will change for the best this is for the best

my first dream of 2024 was you damn, even in there we can't be together you told me you have a girlfriend and that she's pregnant and you asked me something about work i would never want anything from you, except your smile but sometimes you just can't control even how your dreams will play out at least i can talk to you there even though it wasn't you i'm talking to it's just the way my brain making stories to cope on what i'm feeling sometimes, i just want to live inside my dreams everything is possible there we could be possible there

i love it when you bump your fist into my shoulder it's your way of saying, "hi" as an introvert, i think i get it i'm not saying you are one, it is just a guess on my part but from what i observe and what others are saying i really think you are like me we introverts don't do human touch unless we feel comfortable with the other person does that mean you feel at ease when you are around me? fuck, i really love your smile your eyes are red today, did you get enough of sleep though? our interaction earlier was nice and i hope it'll be like that everytime everyday every moment we were together

you are topless in the gym today man, your whiteness was mesmerizing i want to burry my face on your nipples and chest hair imagining what your armpit smells like but why did you have to put your shirt back on? is it because pedro came? or did you saw my stolen glances? "you can have everything" that's what you told to me everything was too much, i only want to have you beside me when i wake up in the morning hold my hand when we stroll through some cities sing me your favourite songs, i don't care if i cannot understand it you…only you i want at this moment i heard you singing, laughing and making weird noises it'll be the best if i record those sounds then you danced like you don't have any care whose watching and twerk while holding your stare at me you're in a good mood today aren't you? maybe i was wrong, maybe i'm not 'cause i am exactly like that when i am with my friends like me, i could be crazy if i want to you poured so much joy in my heart right now if i could just keep it like this forever

you played a "league" song i asked you about it but you did not understand what said instead you thought i was asking for help you helped me though with a grin on your face so i played one of my favourite music produced by the people who made the game you heard it, i want you to hear it then you open the door wearing only a towel covering your lower part oooh was the expression my face made you saw it but ignored it then asked me if i play the game yes was my answer, you asked what ELO honestly though, i don't know anything about that funny 'cause i don't know how to answer you i just told you things that only make sense in my head i bet you get confused and i'm so embarrassed about it jungler is your role huh? i hate playing jungle i'm not even mad when you told me i am "noob" once you got to know what my rank was i even lied about it emerald was your highest rank with kindred as your main sure volibear was my main…but it was may years ago i main seraphine now but i don't want you to know that so i lied again—it wasn't really a lie 'cause i can play top, as mordekaiser it's just i am comfortable playing support all the time we both hate yasuo, that's for sure i bet that is what you're going to talk about when we meet later

as you got out of the sauna still wearing the towel you joked around, taking my bottled water on purpose i said, "that's mine" and you just laugh as i took it away from your hand i laughed along, our eyes met you said something i did not understand i just told you, "goodnight" we could be like that all the time me and you navigating on the same road seeing you sad will make me sad so i smile, i will share my happiness with you and you don't have to ask for it to be with you was my main goal but i think friendship is more special than what i have i mind that'll be what i want and if it blooms into something more that, we will see i want to be close to you…for now

he said he likes cara delevigne fuck, why do you have to be straight? but that just proves why i like you so much 'cause i always fall for straight guys everytime i'm not going to stop liking you though that's just one of many reasons why i feel lucky to be alive to feel something other than what my daily life can offer something i can only dream whenever i listen to taylor swift falling in love heartache heartbreak all the things i never truly experience in my waking life

"i knew you were trouble" was playing on the speaker i heard you singing along when "eh eh eh eh" comes i told you taylor swift is my queen, you just smiled i bet you did not understand what i said just like i did not understand what you said i like how you dance when our eyes met, you feel very comfortable showing me your moves i even noticed the stretch marks on your love handles whenever you're on the bar i want to go home with you and i don't mean in your house i just want us to go together when we disembark this vessel i am going to miss you when that time comes i will take the memories you gave me in good care because that's all i have

you're singing in spanish confidence really runs through your veins but you didn't have to stop i know you're enjoying it, so much you can't help but smile and i smiled

you asked me what my age is i said, "28"

"the same"

"…as you?"

"yes" you just laughed 'cause of the dead air between us i just don't know how to respond to that it is something i already know since july of 2023 since i first saw you since i want to know more about this beautiful man that caught my eye but it is something i could not tell you it'll be one of my secrets

then you go and show me photo of a girl whom you'll be dating in florence, italy she's pretty, someone you probably want to fuck but then you told me you have a girlfriend too you asked me if i have one, i told you no so, you are that kind of a man the image of you in my mind just suddenly change i despise those people who are not faithful to their partners why do you have to be like that? why do you have to ruin it? i guess you're just being a typical guy who do things just because they can whether they hurt anyone, it doesn't matter well, good luck to the life path you're taking i don't have the right to tell you what to do karma wil bite you someday, that's for sure i won't be there to see it—i don't even want to see it i only have 2 days here onboard and the last thing i don't want to think about was you being miserable i hope you'll be happy i'm sure you will and i like that thought

you smiled at me on my last day i would really love to give you a hug but i guess that would be too much so a handshake was our last interaction we always end up on a simple handshake your cold hand to mine i don't know but i am happy with that that this time, i ended things on a beautiful note with positive and calm feelings not a hint of hatred, anger, sadness and confusion just pure joy "by the way, you left your earphones in the gym" that's the last thing i said to you you just smiled and gave me a thumbs up i hope my grin gave you provocative thoughts at least this time, i know you won't forget about me my face my name then i exited the bridge with all the memories i have of you they are for safe keeping

[kazuwhora]

cw: fem!reader, sex tape, creampie, belly bulge, nsfw minors dni

wc: 1.6k

an: on the eleventh day of christmas my true love gave to me, eleven pipers piping! today’s piper comes in the form of shinichiro, who’s one christmas wish might be a little more outlandish than expected!

the holidays were always a time of comfort for shinichiro, who took great pride in making sure his family was safe, happy, and loved. he was always the caretaker, the one who pieced things together and made every place a home for whoever happened to stroll through the door. but what shinichiro often lacked, was somebody to play the same role for him — to make him feel like he was at home — comforted and safe. and that was the role that you played in shin’s life. you were his balance, and his stability when he gave his shoulder to everyone else. you were his home, his comfort, and the only thing he could ever wish for.

as christmas was nearing the corner, so was christmas shopping. at this point in the year, so close to christmas, you had already racked your brain trying to decide on gift ideas for your friends, family, and most importantly, shin. it was already difficult enough trying to buy gifts for the men in your life, and shinichiro was no exception to this struggle. every day leading up to this week was spent brainstorming ideas with your friends, only to scrap them all and start fresh after asking shin what he wanted. but it was the same answer, every time.

“something that makes me think of you whenever I see it” his face would turn pink and he’d smile to himself, but you never thought much of it, too overcome by frustration with gifting to think anything beyond what he was saying. why did he have to be so difficult?

and despite your endless attempts to draw more information from him, the time came where you finally gave up. you crumbled on the sofa beside him, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips as you kicked your feet up on the table after yet another unsuccessful shopping trip.

“shin” you asked with a voice driven by defeat.

“yeah?”

“please just tell me what I can get you for christmas. I’ve given up. it’s too hard” he only chuckled, leaving you groaning and burying your face into his arm out of frustration. “I’m serious! I’ve tried so hard but nothing feels right! I don’t know what’s supposed to remind you of me whenever you see it so can you just tell me?”

his face felt hot, ears enflamed and red as he chewed his bottom lip. he knew he couldn’t hide it anymore — the frustration had gotten to you too easily and you weren’t catching on to his subtle hints that in reality, didn’t make much sense to anyone but him. so he pried your face away from his arm, tilting your chin up and forcing your gaze to meet his. he looked down on you with a face washed with kindness, and hints of guilt that hid behind his eyes.

“it’s not something… you can buy” he watched your expression intently, waiting for you to catch on.

“what is that supposed to mean. am I supposed to make you something? you know I suck at that!” shin shook his head with a laugh.

“no no. it’s um.. I mean.. I guess technically you make it.. but um..” he swallowed the butterflies in his throat that quickly took comfort in his chest. “it’s a team effort and um… it uh.. involves… recording something.. you know…” his face was so red it looked like a child that had gotten into his mom’s makeup, but you still didn’t get it. not until he shook his head of the thoughts that raced through his mind, and reached his hand to pull down the thin strap of your shirt exposing your shoulder completely. his hands traced down the sides of your torso, dragging back up and grazing over the fabric that covered you before propping your chin back up with his finger. when the realization hit, your breath hitched and your face quickly heated to match his.

“you mean…” you sputtered, looking down at his phone that he gripped in his free hand. he followed your gaze, nodding when you finally connected the dots.

“but only if you want to.. I… just never wanna forget y’kn—” you cut him off with a kiss, lips pressed together as your breaths intermixed and shortened. his hands found their way back to your chest, grabbing and massaging at your tits as you rid yourself of your clothes and shin followed suit. he couldn’t help his desperation, completely forgetting about his phone as he guided you onto your back, head resting against the pillows of the couch that he propped behind your head. he took a moment to admire your body, vulnerable and soft under the dim light of the room. his cock was hard, aching and twitching as he swirled his tongue around your nipple and rutting his hips against you involuntarily. you were almost lost in the moment if not for his phone falling to the ground with a thud.

“shin your phone” you spoke through broken breaths, pulling his head away from your chest. he was too easily flustered, as he nodded through pants of his breath and reached to grab his phone. he fumbled with the buttons, finally managing to open the camera and press record. he nodded to you, and panned the view of your body ridden with goosebumps and begging to be touched. part of him wanted to perform for himself, yet part of him couldn’t help but touch you the way he wanted as his hands dragged down your body again, this time stopping at your clit and tracing delicate circles around it. a gasp escaped your lips and your body jolted, nerves on fire as he continued the motions of his finger until your juices coated your folds. he shifted his weight to his heels as he pointed the camera to follow his fingers that teased your entrance, collecting your arousal until his fingers were glistening with slick that webbed the spaces between them. he drew up your stomach and chest, leaving a glossy trail that he made sure to capture until he got to your mouth, where he slipped his fingers past your lips and directed you to suck. you obeyed him, gazing up at the camera with love in your eyes.

if this was all shin wanted, you were happy to oblige— happy to give him the permanence of the pleasure he experienced when he fucked you, happy to give him the gift of your body whenever he wanted it. after all he had done for you, it was the least you could do in return.

“so pretty when you do that” he hummed, almost forgetting about the recording that nearly slipped from his hand. you mewled in response, bucking your hips up as an indication that you needed more. your eyes fixated on his cock, desperate and nearly dripping with anticipation as he hovered over you. he watched your eyes, moving the camera to focus on your line of vision as he repositioned himself between your thighs. your walls clenched around nothing as he stayed there, making sure the angle of the camera was just right as you whined. but shin had no more patience than you, and with his hand pressed on your stomach he pushed his cock deep inside you, feeling the way his cock pressed against his palm through your skin. with every thrust, shinichiro’s groans grew louder and he almost wondered if he’d be able to hear you over his own pleasure. but he didn’t care. his hand was already losing grip of the phone as his cock pistoned inside you at heightening speeds and your stomach bulged with every push. each time he watched intently, nearly drunk on the thought of how stuffed you were with his cock. the way your moans and cries echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls and filling his ears with pleasure made his hands weak, barely able to keep up with the sensations overwhelming him. but he still moved faster, refusing to let up pace and your head began to spin as the tension at your core tightened and tightened until you weren’t sure if you could keep yourself together any longer. the couch squeaked with every snap of his hips and harmonized with the moans that shin couldn’t hold back.

he was too close to the edge to keep his composure, and his phone fell to the cushions beside you as he placed his hands on either side of you for support. with the way his body now shifted came thrusts that were deeper than before, hitting all the right places as your clit tingled and your walls began to flutter. shininchiro couldn’t hold himself back anymore, quickening his pace for only a few more thrusts before he let himself go and his cum spilled from his cock in sporadic bursts. as if you weren’t already pushed to your limits, the sensation of his cum filling you up and oozing down his cock in a ring of milky white was enough to send you over the edge, tension finally snapping as you arched your back and gasped at his touch. his hips barely moved as he grabbed the phone again, this time focusing on the way your chest rose and fell with every stuttered breath, and the way his cum dripped from your folds making a mess of your thighs. your breaths were heavy, but paced as he smeared his cum around your clit with the camera up close. you could only sigh, relieved that you had finally given him what he wanted.

“will that do shin? did you get it?” you asked, lifting your head only for a moment. he smiled back at you with the same kindness his eyes always held, yet his lips curved into a devious smile.

“I forgot to press record”

tags: @wakaslut @blueparadis @misinfe @thesimpsclub @joanne @rqnslut @lovemegood @edensin @bontensbabygirl @solaceinarts @rrnrjn @chikaiomoi @funkaholic @satansassbutt @01-20-1992 @miytsuya @nanaminshousewife @ravioliplease @haitanihime @ravenina14 @wakasa-wifey @ssanzuu @dellatweetie @cumfuyu @ranilingus @s-shinichirosgf @misinfe @bokebelle @shujiful @sloth-fox @passionateuchiha @imbabii @r-indou @saaraunicorn @inoopie @somerandompipzsxh @canwenotdothis @tirzamisu ​​@uniquedinosaurbanana @sz4ksu @manjirosdoll @ara-mitsue @princessatoru

[muffindaddystyles]

Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

..

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

.

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

[granolaspaceship]

How to Dress for a Basement Rave

I’m sitting in a basement rave on a leather ottoman. I got my ticket last minute because I can’t plan anything, and because the friend who bought the ticket got COVID. The air is hot. The fog machine makes the hot air sticky. Everybody in the room is dressed according to their own needs and desires. Some more so in the direction of desire, and less in the direction of being dressed at all. 

Anybody who thinks about the clothes they wear is going to try things. I can tell you I have looked like an asshole sometimes. Like a peacock. Maybe even like a clown. Most often I probably look like someone trying to figure out how to buy their first shitty boat.

In this little window between taking acid dropped on an Altoid and when my phone screen starts wobbling around, I’m going to try and describe a rubric for figuring out what to wear. For a basement rave. For whatever. Having sat sweating at the party in the piece I wanted everyone to see, and rain soaked at the train station when I bypassed my beloved Pertex jacket for a more “classic” style, I can say I’ve finally come to a focused process for getting dressed that almost never fucks me over.

The trouble here is that it can’t come from Trunk Club or from a “hottest short sleeve button downs of SS22” list. It comes from knowing your body, and the things you like to do with it. My friend Forest Eckley of Glasswing knows this process well, and due credit to him for elucidating it for me too. Glasswing is the best store on Earth for people who care where their clothes and ceramics come from who also like to go to basement raves. Tonight Forest is wearing a black linen short sleeve shirt from Jan Jan Van Essche, and wide legged, high rise pants, probably also from Jan Jan. He chose these things because they move well and won’t make him too hot if he dances all night, which he will.

There are some things that don’t make sense, right? That big cowboy hat in this basement nine hours from another northwest sunrise for example. The sun doesn’t even rise here anymore anyway. I wanted to wear a lovingly repaired wool pullover from Arpenteur to this party, because I feel most like myself in that sweater. It would have been way too hot and besides I haven’t lovingly repaired it yet.

Before acid and molly and pulsing house music wrestle the idea from my brain, I’ll tell you what I put on tonight and why. Feet up in menswear tradition.

I’m wearing Merrell Jungle Mocs that I bought from Cabela’s in 2020. I was camping with my girlfriend and when I realized I’d only brought Crocs for riding my dirtbike I stopped on the way and bought these shoes after trying to shop for a sold out AR7 next to rows of empty shelves that were stocked with ammunition a month previous, before the pandemic. I have worn them walking ten miles a day in Tokyo, on the dirtbike, and on photo sets - but never in Mexico City because although I have been there twice, both were second dates. The only thing Jungle Mocs can’t do is impress a woman (or can they?).

Inside of these perfect shoes are Rototo’s Hiker Trash socks, because I love their simple color blocking and because I have bikepacked and partied and seen a dozen airports in them and never once noticed how my feet felt. They’re a merino blend which is the appropriate material for socks regardless of season or application.

The 1” hem of my tapered, single pleat, high waisted pant is sitting exactly at the ankle opening of my sock as I sit legs outstretched smoking on an electrical box outside. The pants are from Goldwin in a Cordura stretch denim with big swooping pockets that carry my phone and wallet somehow without showing their shape against my goddamn leg. They have a built in webbing belt and an easy snap at the closure as insurance against the confusion in my near future. There’s a hidden zipper pocket inside the right hand pocket and there’s nothing in there thanks for asking. Most importantly, these look like regular jeans to most people.

I bought Lady White’s pocket t one size too large. I just took five minutes off from writing to smoke a cigarette with a woman named Zoe who sat down next to me in a blue wig and lilac trench and little else, apart from six inch platform boots. To my absolute shock, she said she liked my Jungle Mocs and told me she has some in pink. I didn’t tell her about my friend Paul Ruffles who’s revitalizing the Merrell brand, but she didn’t stay long anyway. My t shirt is in Lady White’s own medium weight jersey, which has drape and structure while I also completely forget I’m wearing it. I chose the pocket t because if there’s one with a pocket and one without it would be insane to go without. It’s white because I only wear white t shirts. It’s tucked evenly into my waistband, where the extra size allows it to raise and move if I were to try dancing, which I won’t.

All apologies to my mother if she finds this but I chose my final layer because it has two chest pockets that are each exactly perfect for a half empty orange pack of American Spirits with a brown Bic lighter tucked inside. Either pocket would do, but the left pocket as far as I know has never been opened. The right pocket with the cigarettes is engineered somehow that it doesn’t bulge and so the flap closure drapes over the top of the pocket without sticking up awkwardly as it would on a lesser shirt. I could use the concealed button to fasten it if I wasn’t reaching inside, which I am.

Someone just congratulated Zoe on her white eyeliner debut. I bought this cotton herringbone field shirt from Evan Kinori’s online store without trying it on in 2016 and it was the most expensive garment I had ever bought at the time. I didn’t need to try it on because I’m a size large and Evan Kinori makes clothes correctly. I wore this shirt on both second dates in Mexico City and walking in Tokyo and on day hikes and I’d wear it anywhere a man would need to wear a shirt. It’s almost brown now, sun faded from its original charcoal, which is great because I don’t wear grey anymore. If I have ever sweat in this shirt it doesn’t seem to notice, and most importantly nobody else does either. I have never washed it and never will. 

In the basement somewhere near the leather ottoman is my navy tote bag from Tanner Goods in a fabric called Konbu that lasts like Kevlar and wears like cotton canvas. Inside is a travel tumblr still unblessed with strangers’ wine, a bunch of rainbow carrots rubber banded together next to another bunch of bananas with my beloved pertex jacket stuffed around all of it because in Seattle in June 2022 it is still January. The tote, while beautiful, has been unnoticed or uncared for all night by anyone but me, which is why I use it.

There’s a hiking cap from Cayl jammed somewhere near the carrots. A gift from my friend Sam at Meridian in Hudson, which is the best store on Earth for Anarchists who work in fashion and who also go to basement raves. It’s a lightweight beige nylon twill, with no structure apart from a shock cord fitment at the back and subtle wire for reshaping the bill if it were to be wrested from aside the bananas. I’m not wearing the hat because it took me thirty five years to figure out how to take care of my curly hair and I’m enjoying it. The hat doesn’t exist until I need it, which is all I need from it tonight. 

Right now I Iook like I might work in a shipyard, which I have done. I am communicating with what I’m wearing in a way that is accurate to who I am. Zoe in the lilac trench was doing the same. I have to believe that’s true for the cowboy hat person too. These clothes will not stick to me no matter what the fog machine says. I hope that when people look at me, they know what kind of person they’re dealing with. I think it’s working because Zoe walked off five minutes into an orange American Spirit which is a ten minute cigarette at an enthusiastic pace, which is my pace now that I have sat on this electrical box outside the rave in front of my friend Peter’s bookstore for a half hour.

The only acceptable way I have found for getting dressed is with things that I am in love with. Not with things that withstand how I live but with things that respond to it. This is true if I’m spending a whole tenth of this month’s income for a third date to the ballet in a suit (18east)((worth it ten times over)), or if I’m at home looking at shitty boats on Craigslist in a fleece and sweat shorts (both also 18east). Since I can’t plan anything, everything I own has to work for anything I might end up doing. All my decisions about what to wear are made by deciding what to buy. By knowing myself and knowing my clothes just as well.

I know I would wear and carry all of these things through the apocalypse because that’s what I’m doing. I don’t care at all how I look because these things that I adore save me from having to think about it. My two friends are on the sofa now at home. I’m sitting, legs outstretched on the floor. The Kinori shirt looks better draped on our bench than it does on me. My t shirt is still tucked in. My pants hems graze my socks. The Jungle Mocs will be fine wherever they are.

[fatbiatchforever]

Shirt (Bucky x Plus size Reader)

Y/n's POV Most of my friends love wearing their boyfriends clothes. Part of me always wanted to find someone I could do that with. After eight months being with Bucky, I thought it wouldn't hurt anyone if I tried on one of his shirts. But boy was I wrong!

I came back from work early. At no sight of Bucky in our shared apartment, I thought I might as well shower and try to relax a bit. It's weekend which meant I could literally catch up on all the TV I missed and most importantly I could spend more time with Bucky. After thirty mins, I got out of the bathroom to find something to wear. That's when I saw Bucky's black shirt that he wore today morning. I grabbed the shirt and a shorts, and bolted to the washroom so I wouldn't get caught. My excitement soon turned into self pity super fast from there. I hated the way it was hugging wrong parts of my body. I hated how it looked so good on Bucky but looked like it was two seconds from exploding on me. Moreover, I hated how I couldn't be one of those girls who could walk around in their boyfriend's clothes. Before I could dwell into it more I heard a knock.

"Doll, you in there?" Shit, it's Bucky. How do I get of here without him seeing me in this?

"Y/n?" Bucky asked again sounding nervous.

"Ya. I'm good. I was just taking a shower. I'll be out in few minutes." I said hoping it was convincing enough.

"Ok. I'll be out here if you need anything."

He's on the bed. I don't want him to see me holding his shirt. He will probably figure out what happened. How dumb am I? This shirt literally is form fitting for him, how could it possibly fit me? Think.

Ok! So I'll remove the shirt and get out there, put it the laundry basket as fast and quiet as I can. Then, I'll get a shirt of my own and pretend like everything's normal. NORMAL. I can do this. It's a good and easy plan.

I remove the shirt and hold it close to me for a second. It smells like Bucky so much that all I want to do is shimmy myself back into it. Before I could let myself think about my insecurities, I hurried out of the bathroom. I shoved the shirt into the basket and grabbed a shirt from the closet as fast as I could.

"Doll, you sure you're ok?" Bucky asked while laying on the bed.

So much for being NORMAL. "Uhm, ya. I'm just a bit tired."

"Why don't you come lay with me then? We could watch something too."

"Let's do that. But I need something to drink. Do you need anything from the kitchen?"

"No. I'll check for something to watch."

I head to the kitchen praying he didn't notice anything. I was so annoyed at myself for finding something to obsess about and ruin the weekend. As much I love the way I look, somethings get to me and this was it. I was dragged out of my thoughts when Bucky said he found a movie to watch. Ok! I will not do this to myself today.

I deserve to relax with my loving boyfriend after a long week. I shouldn't have to deal with my feelings of not feeling good enough for him right now. I can do this.

I walk back to the room and get on the bed. As expected, my speech was no help. The whole thing was playing in my head with no stop. I closed my eyes hoping it would help control my thoughts.

Bucky's POV Y/n is acting different than usual. Usually, she would be commenting on every scene in the movie, figuring out our plans for the weekend and begging me to give a suggestion on what to bake this weekend. Today, she tried to do nothing. She wasn't even paying attention to the movie. I know something's going on. I saw her throwing my shirt into the laundry basket when she got out. I know if I ask her she would deny it.

Into an hour of the movie, Y/n was already asleep. I really couldn't figure out the reason for her mood, so I had to resort to something I'm never proud of. Asking Sam.

Me Sam

Bird Brain What's up staring machine?

Me Y/n has been acting weird since she came back from work. When I came back, she was in the bathroom and when she got out I saw her throwing my shirt into the laundry basket. After that she's been weirdly quite.

Bird Brain Obviously you messed up as usual.

Me How? Sam, I need your help not your sarcasm.

Bird Brain Fine. I think there's something to do with your shirt. Look, girls MY age, like to wear they're significant other's clothes. It makes them feel like they are close to them.

Me So you think Y/n tried my shirt on.

Bird Brain I mean ya. Let's be honest here Bucko, you're own shirt hardly fits you properly. No offense, but Y/n doesn't seem like your size. That could have let her down.

Me I didn't think of that.

Bird Brain Well, that's why you need me.

Me Thanks. I'll think of something.

One of the things I love about Y/n is how she doesn't give shit about what others think of her. She's always the confident one in our relationship. It surprised me when Sam suggested this could be the reason. But he's right, what else could have happened. I know it has nothing to do with work because she loves weekends too much to let work mess that too. Or it has something to do with her friends or family? But I think it's probably the shirt.

Y/n's POV I woke up to an empty bed at 8 AM. I could here Bucky cooking in the kitchen. As much as I wanted to act normal yesterday, I know I didn't do a great job of it. Maybe it's best for me to go out alone to figure this out and get over it. I'll tell Bucky that I agreed to meet my friend at a cafe.

I walked into the kitchen to see Bucky drinking his coffee in peace. He looked deep in thought and whenever that happens his face looks so serious but at the same time he looked so hot. How does someone look this good in the morning?

"Good morning, doll."

Damn those assassin abilities.

"Good morning, Buck."

"I made you some hot chocolate and pancakes."

"Really?! Thank you! And also for not judging me for not liking coffee." I said while giving him a hug and a kiss.

"Whatever you need, doll. Are you feeling better?"

Shit, he noticed. "Uhm, ya. I was just not in the mood. Sorry."

"You don't have to be. You should have just told me. You know that you could tell me anything, right?"

"Yes, of course. So, how was the movie?"

"It was fine. I did miss us criticizing everyone."

"We'll make it up for the next movie. We can be twice as bitchy than usual. It’ll be fun."

"That's a great plan." Bucky said as he laughed.

"These pancakes are sooooooooo good. How do you keep doing this?"

"I put my love for my lady into them." He said while getting up to clean his dishes and gave me his million dollars smile.

"Wow! When did the great old James Buchanan Barnes get so cheesy?" I said while trying to keep a straight face.

He put his hand on his chest to act like he was offended, "Hey! First, you called my love for you cheesy. Second, you called me old. Third, you love it when I say things like that."

"Sure, Barney"

"Y/n, I told you not to call me that. Sam told me about it." Bucky sounded very serious this time.

"About what?" I asked innocently.

"Bird brain told me that it's a character in a kids show. And that the character is a PURPLE DINOSAUR."

At this point, I couldn't hold my laugh in longer. "What? I think it's a very fitting nickname for you. You both are living way beyond your extinction period and children look up to you both. Only difference is Barney doesn't have a metal arm. Other than that, you guys are literally soulmates."

Bucky's silence was more than enough for me to understand he was annoyed. So I went behind him to hug.

"Come on now, I'm joking."

"You're little joke gave Sam one more name to add to the list."

I raised both of my hands in the air, "ITS CATCHING ON!"

Bucky turned back to give me a very unamused look.

"Sorry, it was very rude of me to nickname you after a dinosaur. I should have realized how sensitive you are regarding you're age. But if it's any consolation, you don't look a day older than 27." I said controlling my laughter.

"Thank you for that heartfelt apology." Bucky said sounding sarcastic.

"Anytime, Buck. By the way, I have to meet a friend in an hour."

"Oh, okay. I guess I'll stay here."

"I'll be back in few hours. Do you want to go out for dinner?"

"Where?" Bucky said holding me.

"Uhm..... I was thinking somewhere low key."

"We could go out to that Chinese place we both like."

"I'm up for that. I was craving some dynamite shrimp."

We stayed there holding each other for few more minutes and then I went back to the bedroom to change.

I gave Bucky a kiss and got out of the house.

I went to the small cafe I usually go to read a book or clear my head.

I ordered a smoothie and sat by the window. As much as I hated lying to Bucky, I just had to get my head right. I have never talked to him about not feeling good enough for him. I know he would be there for me and tell me otherwise, but at times my insecurities gets the best of me. I have seen girls hitting on him left and right. Usually, it doesn't bother me but there are times I use it against me. I think about what he could have got and what he got. James looks like a Greek god while doing anything. 

How could he feel content with me? Does he feel the same way? Of course he doesn't. He always makes me feel good about myself. He never has said or did anything that makes me feel otherwise. I know what I'm worth, I can't let myself go that road. It was kind of stupid to hope that shirt would fit me. That shirt is tight on him, not that I'm complaining.

Bucky is the best thing that has happened to me. I can't let my demons ruin that. I just have to keep reminding myself my worth.

Part 2

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

A weekend in Quantico | Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: You surprise Stiles and visit him in Quantico

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word count: 1.3k

-

After graduation, Stiles got accepted at the FBI National Academy - as he should. You were very proud of him and both happily cried together when he received his acceptance letter. He was finally going to put his investigating talents and heightened intelligence to good use.

It also meant being apart.

The first week was alright. You missed each other, but made sure to call every night.

The second week, Stiles started his program and fell asleep on the phone. He was tired from his new schedule and you couldn't blame him.

The fourth week, you started your senior year. It was lonely without Stiles. Thankfully, you had friends to sit with at lunch, but they kept talking about how cool it must be to have a boyfriend who was in college. Sadly, dating a college boy was one of those things that's only cool outside of the picture. When you're the one in the long-distance relationship, things are much less cool.

The sixth week, Stiles was calling you two times a week and you started showing up to school wearing one of his flannel button ups. It was soft and smelled like him.

The eleventh week, he told you he wouldn't make it to Thanksgiving because the buses were expensive and he had a lot of work on his hands and studying to do too. You were really bummed out by the change of plan, but understood that college came first. That night, you cried.

The twelfth week, a traitor, who you assumed was Scott, told Stiles how you really were doing - which wasn't too well - and a package showed up at your door coming from Quantico. You opened the box with a curious eyebrow and found one of Stiles' hoodies and a short but cute hand-written letter.

I'll be home for Christmas, the letter promised. Christmas was in six weeks. There was no way you would last six more weeks without seeing your boyfriend.

It was late afternoon when you arrived in Quantico. The crisp wind was filling through your jacket, causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. You should have worn something warmer. Perhaps a hat too? But it was too late for that.

Your bag was slung over your shoulder as you crossed the street and followed the indications on your phone that would lead you to the campus.

After getting lost three times, you finally made it to the building where Stiles had his last lesson of the day. You didn't dare go too close to the classrooms, scared someone would ask for your access card and kick you out.

Stiles saw you before you saw him. He was turning a corner, walking down the hallway to take the stairs and stopped in his tracks when he saw you, startled. ''What the hell.'' At first, he thought his vision was playing him tricks, but you looked back at him, confirming that he wasn't hallucinating.

You grinned, finally seeing him after weeks of being apart. ''Missed me?''

Instead of replying, Stiles closed the distance between you and him to pull you in an embrace, snaking his arms behind your shoulders as yours wrapped around him tightly. You felt him exhale in your hold, his face finding home in your neck and shoulder.

There was no better feeling than holding the one you love.

The hug was longer than it should have, being in the middle of a hallway, but neither of you cared that students were passing by.

''What are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy you're here, because I'm fucking ecstatic that you're here.'' Stiles smiled down at you, brushing your cheek with his thumb as if to check if you were really there. ''It's just that I suspected my dad would be visiting this weekend. Not you.''

Noah had called Stiles last night to check on him and casually ask about his weekend plans. Clearly, he had failed at not evoking suspicions from his son.

Stiles re-adjusted his book bag on his shoulder and you looked at him up and down, taking in his dress pants, white button up and tie. It was the mandatory dress code for the FBI Academy and, honestly, it wasn't unpleasant for the eyes. You weren't into men in uniforms, but he looked hot.

You glided your fingers along the hem of his tie. ''You are looking mighty fine, Agent Stilinski.''

''I'm not an agent yet. I'm just an intern,'' Stiles reminded you. ''But, I'll take the compliment.''

.

The two of you walked to his dorm, which he shared with someone named Vincent - who was currently at the library.

The bed on the left was made in a very Stiles fashion. The comforter was neatly pulled with his pillow on top, hiding the wrinkled sheets underneath. His desk was a complete mess. There were piles of textbooks and miscandelious papers and pens everywhere. You couldn't even see the wood of the desk.

Stiles dropped his bag on the floor, tired of carrying it all day. ''I'd love to give you a tour of the campus, but I have a lot of reading to do and I need to solve this new mock case for Monday. If you had given me a heads-up that you'd be visiting this weekend, I would've cleared my schedule a bit.'' His face was conflicted.

''If I told you, it wouldn't have been a surprise.''

''I know... But I don't want to confine you to my dorm all weekend because I have work to do.''

You had travelled all the way to Quantico and he felt bad for not making the weekend interesting, knowing how expensive plane tickets were.

''I don't care what we do. I just want to spend time with you.'' You snaked your arms behind Stiles' neck, your fingers brushing the bottom of his hair, and brought him down for a kiss. ''And, we can always kiss during study breaks.''

''Of course we will,'' Stiles said, refusing to break tradition.

Although you weren't in the same grade, you and Stiles would study together a lot. You'd go to his house after school and he would help you with maths - because maths is hard and he aced his exams last year. And, most importantly, you'd take study breaks - aka kissing breaks. They would sometimes last longer than intended, but neither of you complained.

''You know what? Let's go out for a pizza,'' Stiles suddenly decided, changing his mind about staying in. ''There's this Italian place just outside the campus that makes the most delicious pizza. Dad and I ate lunch there when he dropped me off.''

Getting pizza with Stiles was a classic activity. You went almost every Thursday since you started dating. Sometimes, Stiles' dad would even join in - if he didn't have too much work at the station.

''Are you sure?'' you asked.

Stiles nodded. ''Well, we gotta eat and I'm tired of the healthy food they have here. I want pizza.''

You sat on his bed, waiting as he changed out of his school uniform. As hot as he looked in his fancy clothes, you liked the familiarity of Stiles' flannels and hoodies.

He unclasped the tie from his shirt, shocking you. You gasped. ''It was fake?!''

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. ''Eh, yeah... I used to wear a real tie, but I'd feel stressed or anxious, the tight feeling around my neck was making the situation worse. But, don't tell anyone.''

Although there was nothing to be embarrassed about, you could tell by his voice that he was embarrassed. You were actually proud of him for finding a solution instead of being frustrated for the way his brain worked. Stiles had gone a long way with his anxiety. He no longer let it control him or stop him from living.

''Your secret is safe with me, babe,'' you promised.

[luvlyrv]

Uncover | Seulgi x F!Reader

Genre/warnings: fluff, angst, homophobia (religious)

Summary: You quickly learn that while it was easy to be dishonest with yourself, it was nearly impossible to lie to Seulgi.

Word Count: 4.7k A/N: This has been something wracking up in my brain since June. It's kind of embarrassing that it's taken this long but it's a lovechild of my emotions. Enjoy, and I hope you feel things.

Date: 9/21/21

You can't imagine a day without her, because she's always been there. Right from the day you could remember. You bet that she could be your last memory too.

Your first memory has you sitting in the living room playing with your toys as you anxiously eye the other child in the room. Some strangers had rung your doorbell and your mom and dad had welcomed them into the house. Now they were in the kitchen, their voices blending into each other in the background.

The small girl in front of you decided to take the liberty of picking up your toys and playing with them. She ran around playing in the imaginary world in her head. You think that she's having fun and that you want to have fun too, but you can't seem to move from your position. As you slowly try to build up the courage to talk to her she approaches you.

She had been glancing at you from the corner of her eyes too. She watched your shy self idly playing all alone. She found it hard to approach you, scared of you pushing her away or being mean, but she thought maybe it was worth it. You could be a friend.

"Hi!" The strange girl is right in front of you with one of your stuffed toys in hand. "Do you want to play with me? I'm Seulgi!"

"I'm Y/N…"

For the rest of the hour the two of you chased each other in a shared adventure. Enraptured in your own little wonderland until your parents had to pull you apart.

Soon it became a ritual for those strangers, who you later learned to be Mr. and Mrs. Kang, to visit your house. Along them was always their daughter Seulgi, who wouldn't hesitate to pull you into a large hug right before starting a new adventure with you.

You slightly trail behind your best friend. You smile at yourself from the sight of Seulgi happily skipping, somehow filled with even more vigor than she usually has. She's always been filled with much more energy than you, amazed by even the smallest of things. You suppose something truly spectacular must be happening today for her to feel so extra. She turns her head over to look at you, flashing you her perfect smile with her perfect cheeks. The ones you always want to squish when you remind her of how cute she is.

She continues to bounce but slows down to be by your side. One of the favorite parts of your day, and hopefully hers too, would be the peaceful walk the two of you would always share before and after school. It always reminded you of how close you are. How you can always rely on her to listen and to brighten up your day.

She bites her lip while still smiling. She must be thinking about something.

"What's got you so excited today?" You ask her with a giggle.

"Guess!" She pesters leaning into you. A familiar feeling emerges in your chest from the contact.

"You know I'm really bad at guessing…"

"Well why can't you try?"

"All I know is that it has to be something really special, right?" You decide to lean back and push her a little as a tease.

"It is! Mom and dad bought me my favorite ice cream that we can share later today!"

You laugh at her as she continues giving her dumb smile. Seulgi moves in front of you with her eyebrows raised, waiting to hear your opinion about the news.

"Is that it?" You ask still laughing. She pouts a little.

"What do you mean 'is that it'? It's my favorite! And I get to share it with you!" With that you pull Seulgi in for a side hug.

"I'm kidding, I'm excited too."

You enjoy listening to whatever nonsense Seulgi thinks about and decides to spill to you as you guys continue walking. You feel a bit disheartened at the sight of the school building, but looking at Seulgi again is enough to make the disappointment go away.

As much as you wish it did, your schedule wasn't entirely with your best friend. Instead you had to split up as you entered the school grounds to your different classes. Fortunately you shared at least some classes with her, and most importantly lunch. So when you sit down at your desk with nobody talking to you, you don't feel too lonely. The anticipation of being reunited with Seulgi was enough for you.

As usual Seulgi finds your figure sitting down at a lunch table and immediately rushes towards you. She taps your shoulder as she sits down, hurriedly opening up her lunch box, her beastly appetite striking again.

"Oooh." She oogles as the both of you breathe in the sudden aroma of homemade food. You peer over to look at the contents of her lunch box. You swore that you can see the steam coming off of her rice.

"Open up!" Seulgi playfully demands of you. You oblige as she not so carefully throws a grape your way. It would've been lost if you didn't move your head to make up for the completely inaccurate trajectory.

"How are you still bad at this?" You ask her after chewing.

"Maybe I just like to see you work for your food." You laugh at her response as you carefully pick up a spring roll from your box and place it in hers.

"Mom fried it this morning so you better enjoy."

You enjoy the long-time tradition of sharing food and eating in relative silence. That time was short lived though as a small group of girls joined your table. You didn't mind them much, you'd even consider them casual friends. At the same time though, they were bothering you.

You found it strange that despite finally being with Seulgi you felt so lonely. So lost.

Seulgi's popular, you know that. A lot of people try to befriend her and fight for her attention. Being the social butterfly she is she never hesitated to say hello back and return the friendliness. By proxy you met a lot of nice people, a lot of not so nice people, and more. They never really stuck by for you though. They stayed for Seulgi.

You wish you understood why you were so bothered by those that stayed. Why you were always feeling jealous recently. You wonder if it's natural to feel so intensely sick when you watch your best friend's attention be pulled away by several different girls at a time, or laugh at a guys joke. Well, maybe you do know why.

You quietly sigh and push the thought away, instead trying to join in the chatter and laugh with everyone at the table. Just as you were about to calm down and ease into the group a sudden large group of guys and girls approach. One boy in particular seems to be leading the pack. You purse your lips as you silently watch them come over. Seulgi absent-mindedly continues talking, completely unaware of what was about to occur.

You tighten your hands into a ball as a feeling bubbles inside you. You can't place what it is. Is it fear? Anger? Jealously? It's probably both.

The boy also tightens his hands as they grip onto his shirt. You watch him bite his lip and see how a red color crawls up his neck and reaches the tips of his ears. You hold in a breath as he finally arrives at the table and Seulgi looks up at him.

"S-Seulgi." He barely manages to say her name aloud.

"Huh?" She looks at him cluelessly but gives him her full attention anyways.

"I like you! A lot! So if you can, please go out with me!" The boy's words spill out, as if his mouth was a floodgate holding them back. He reaches behinds him and quickly bends over to give Seulgi a piece of red paper, shaped like a heart. He probably wrote about his feelings extensively on it.

Your eyes had been focused on the love-stricken boy. It's hard for you to move your eyes towards Seulgi. You realize now what you're feeling. You fear what you'll see when you look over at Seulgi to see her reaction.

You notice that she's red too, the color slowly blossoming across her cheeks.

Why does this hurt you?

"Erm, ah, thank you." She says out of politeness and bows back. She gives him a smile and that seems to excite him. "I'll think about your confession."

He eagerly nods his head and leaves the table, happy with the results of his actions. The crowd around him seem to think that was a good ending and started whispering and congratulating him. You look back at your table and the girls are murmuring too.

"He's cute, you should definitely go for him!"

"I heard he treated his last girlfriend nicely. They're still on good terms."

"I've never seen you date before. Isn't now your time to explore?"

Seulgi just takes it all in and nods along with what they say. Your head hangs low as you pick at your food. You don't dare look up. You're scared of seeing Seulgi's face again. You're scared that tears will start falling.

It was like the weight of the world had fallen on your chest.

When the bell dismisses you from lunch you quickly go to your next class. You don't say goodbye to Seulgi or any of the other girls. You feel the light graze of Seulgi's fingertips as she tries to stop you, but you're too fast.

The rest of the school day is you trying to focus on studying, and when your last class finishes you're not sure what you'll do. Everybody leaves the classroom before you as you take some time for yourself. Breathing in and out, you mentally prepare yourself to face Seulgi, as if she was some type of monster.

As you exit the building and get near the gates you see a swarm of people with Seulgi in the center. They're probably there to ask about how she feels about the confession that happened. You sigh and almost contemplate leaving without her, but her eyes quickly find yours. Seulgi politely but abruptly says her goodbyes and runs towards you.

As Seulgi's figure grows nearer there's a feeling of satisfaction. It was like you had won some petty fight, and that feeling was able to erase the fear and nerves you had earlier. A smile grows on your face she reaches your side, your bodies automatically matching your steps. You enjoy the warmth when she locks her arm with yours. Not knowing what to say, you let silence fill the space in between the two of you until Seulgi decided to break it.

"So, do you wanna stay at my place for a bit so we can eat that ice cream?"

Seulgi's keys jingle as she unlocks her front door. You follow in after her, putting your shoes away as she dashes towards her refrigerator to retrieve the ice cream from the freezer. You walk up towards her as she hands one to you. Naturally, both of you make your way outside into her backyard.

Her backyard is quaint, housing a nice garden that her mother often tends and one large tree. The two of you rest under it, appreciating the winding arms of the apple tree that has always given you and Seulgi refuge. You enjoy the taste of the ice cream, perhaps the shade was enhancing its flavor. Either way you understood why its Seulgi's favorite. The refreshing taste and Seulgi's presence puts a smile on your face. You feel yourself opening up again as you guys joke and talk about your day in between bites and licks. By the time you finish eating your ice cream she had managed to convince you that she needed your extra help in math. As always you agreed to tutor her.

She argues that you should stay underneath the tree as she gets up to throw away the trash. You watch as she goes back inside the house, coming out again with a shiny apple in hand that was picked only a couple days ago. You laugh a little as you ask,

"Still hungry?"

"Enough for a little snack."

She sits by you and takes a rest on your lap. You brush her hair away as you look into her eyes. You can tell she's thinking about something.

"What's wrong?" You ask her.

"Well, I was just wondering, why were you upset earlier?" She says in a serious tone.

"Huh?"

"You didn't even say goodbye at lunch, and don't pretend I didn't notice you almost leaving without me." There's a hint of hurt in her voice. You feel bad for not keeping your emotions in check better, that you threw a fit over something so small.

"Well," Your voice trails off as your mind struggles to think of a response, "what does that boy mean to you?" You decide to ask.

"Oh so now you want to know about that too?" There's only a slight annoyance in her voice as she gives you an eyeroll.

"I'm your best friend, of course I'm curious." Seulgi huffs at your response. She can't blame you for wondering so she takes a moment to think before answering honestly.

"I mean, I guess they weren't wrong. He's kinda cute, and I know it took a lot for him to say that to me. I admire him for it." She said it in a casual manner, as if it wasn't a big deal. Yet for you it meant everything. And it hurt.

You can't control the frown that found its way on your face.

"Hey…" Seulgi quickly gets up from your lap. She has a confused expression as her eyes scans yours. "Hey, what's wrong?" Her voice is soft as she puts a hand on your shoulder.

Your chest is about to explode.

"Do you like him or something?" She continues to grip onto your shoulder with a confused face. She thinks she was the one who did something wrong. That she's stealing someone away from you, but that was so different from the truth.

"No, Seulgi, I-" You pause to think about what you're going to say. Something was about to come out instinctively, and you don't know whether or not that was the best decision.

"You what?"

She presses you for an answer but you're still thinking. You're thinking about you know you can't handle her possibly being close to someone else. To share all of her laughs with that boy. To smile at him and spend time with him. To do all the things that exists between you and her. Living would feel wrong if you were no longer the one she ran to and spilled her secrets to.

Who are you if not Seulgi's biggest and only confidant? The only one who could soothe her in her darkest moments? The one who understands every feeling and thought just by the way she blinks?

You're intimately familiar with the feeling in your chest now. You think that you know what it is too, but that doesn't make you hate it any less. If you could, you'd sacrifice every fiber of your being to forget that feeling and throw it away. To pretend it doesn't exist. But your wishes don't make it go away.

You can be dishonest with yourself, but it's impossible to lie to Seulgi. Not when she looks at you like that.

"I like you."

The words are barely a whisper but she hears. Seulgi's hand falls off your shoulder and you want to cry again. You said the wrong thing. She was going to think you're disgusting. She would never go on a walk with you again. You'll never smell her perfume again. You'll never hear her laughter again. She'd never touch you again. Never speak to you again.

Her mouth is open slack. Your eyes water and you breathe in, readying yourself to apologize profusely. To rescind the blasphemous words that slipped out of your foul mouth.

"I'm so sorry. Just ignore it. I take it back. I think I'm sick or something, you know, delirious. Just ignore it please. Please." Tears begins to fall down your face as Seulgi seemingly snaps back to reality. She reaches towards you, taking your face in her hands as her thumbs swipe away the tears.

"Oh my god, no, don't cry." She begs you to stop, but you can't.

"I-I'm, I'm sorry." The tears continue to make their way down your face. A horrible sickness wells in your stomach and suddenly it feels below freezing as you shake uncontrollably.

"No, don't be." She hugs you tight and whispers in your ear. "I like you too. So stop crying. For me, please." She strokes your back as you cry, hoping that the touch could settle you down.

It takes a while for you to register what she says, but as soon as you do your body seizes up. You think that maybe your everything, your soul, has shattered into a million pieces from Seulgi's words. How in the world could it be true? It couldn't be, not in this universe, not in this timeline.

Yet it was.

When Seulgi hears your sniffling stop and your body letting go of its tension she separates her body from yours. Her eyes are all you can see, and all you can see in them is pain.

"I'm sorry for making you worried." You felt guilty that she had to see you cry. The outburst at school wasn't great either.

"Don't worry about it" She reassures you by taking a hand in hers, stroking it with her delicate fingers to show you her affection. For several moments you allow yourself to breathe. Seulgi also took the time to process everything, and the two of you stared at each other with the new understanding of your feelings. Time seems to pass so slowly when you observe each other with care.

"Seulgi…" You mumble when what felt like years passed. She understood what you meant when she saw the way you looked at her lips.

In that moment you couldn't care anymore. Neither could Seulgi, it seemed, as you pressed your lips on hers and she pressed back. Greedily, the two of you dived in for a taste. Your lips on hers, her tongue in your mouth, it was something you needed. It was a flavor you could relish forever, perhaps this is what sin tasted like. Yes, this is what they'd call it. A sin.

It feels like everything has changed, but at the same time it hasn't. You still spend every second possible with Seulgi. You spend your time doing the same things. Yet everything feels so different, it feels brand new. Magically, it feels better than before. Is this the power that Seulgi has over you?

Nobody knows, nobody needs to know. After all, you're still Seulgi's bestfriend. Is there really anything different? Maybe just the tighter hugs, the kisses, and the alluring smiles, but that's all. Life is easy this way.

After bidding Seulgi goodbye in front of her house you go home to eat dinner with your family. You come home and greet your parents with a smile as you rush to join them at the dinner table. They share that smile as they take note of your enthusiasm recently. As you eat quietly for a while your mom finally asks you what's been going on to make you shine so much.

"Well..." You debate on what to say. It's been over a month since you confessed to Seulgi but you were still feeling high. You've been holding it for so long you wished you could tell someone. Why not them? You want them to be happy with you too. "I've been dating Seulgi."

"Hm?" Your mom asks you somewhat aggressively for clarification. The sudden stillness in the air alarms you. You look up from your food to see your mom staring as your dad stops eating.

"I-I told her I liked her and she liked me back." You say hoping to clear whatever confusion was occuring. Yet the look on your parents didn't fade.

"What happened?" You father's question sounds more like a statement as he sternly places his utensils down.

"What do you mean what happened? I just told you."

"What happened to make you like this?" His cold voices breaks a little as you notice his eyes tearing up. Was he seriously upset about this?

"You're joking, right?" Your mom joins in with an angry tone.

"Of course I'm not. Mom, she makes me really happy." You struggle to keep yourself composed under the scrutiny of both of your parents.

"Y/N. You are not happy. You're messing with the devil right now and he's fucking up your mind."

"Have you not been doing your prayers?"

You can barely fight for yourself at the dinner table. Your parents argue with and over you, about the causes and the whys. About the signs and what happens next. You cry as you watch your decision unfold into your nightmare.

You knew deep down inside this would happen, but you hoped and prayed that it wasn't true. Perhaps Seulgi made you too happy, too brave. Everything else felt like it was going right so you convinced yourself this would too. You've flown too close to the sun and it backfired. You should've never said anything.

As you try to block out the fight unraveling in front of you you could only scream one thing while crying. "Wouldn't God want to love me? Wouldn't He want you to love me too?"

The scrape of the wooden chair echos as your mom shoots up straight. "I will not house some heathen under my roof. Get out until you realize what you've done to this family."

It's raining. The relentless torrent of water against your body traps in the coldness from the night, leaving you shivering as your feet move on their own. They move to the only other place that feels like home. The only other person that feels like home.

Soon enough you find yourself in front of a familiar door, incessantly knocking. Muffled footsteps come from the other side of the door as you hear locks being undone until the door finally opens. Instantly there's a look of worry on Mr. Kang's face as he takes in the scene in front of him. He quickly ushers you in and shuts the door.

"Who is it?" A voice rings from upstairs.

"It's Y/N!" Mr. Kang yells back, and soon enough you hear a flurry of footsteps coming downstairs. Seulgi, in her tired glory, appears. She rushes towards you as her father went off to find you some towels to dry off with.

"Oh my god, what happened? Why are you here? Are you okay?" Seulgi's honey eyes are glistening with worry. She doesn't seem to care too much about the fact that you're soaked as she embraces you in a hug. Her body soothes you, its warmth penetrating the cold, wet clothes that clung to your body. You let her ground you back to reality before speaking.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now." You barely manage to get the words out. Your throat feels tight, constricted. Throughout the entire time the tears haven't stopped running down your face as it mixed with the rain water. Seulgi rubs your back as her father comes back. Both of them begin patting you dry.

It feels a bit pathetic as you have two people fretting over you so much, but you're too tired to move. Maybe not even tired, but rather stuck in your own thoughts.

"Go get her something to change into. Are you gonna stay the night?" Her dad asks after making Seulgi go back upstairs to find clothes. You just nod in response and follow her.

When you enter Seulgi's room you find her hastily going through her drawers, finding something comfortable for you to wear. After digging through her clothes she hands you some sweatpants and an oversized shirt, much like her own outfit she was sporting. Your hands are in front of you and holding onto the clothing, yet you still can't seem to move much. Instead your lips tremble as you look at the floor. Seulgi sighs as she nears you, unfolding the clothes and looking at your trembling hands.

"Don't make me dress you." She half-teases. When she realizes you can't will yourself to move a grim line stretches across her face. She wonders what has gotten you so riled up to act this way.

Carefully, she removes your clothes and throws them into the laundry pile. Her fingers innocently skim your body as she puts on the clothes for you, with you doing the minimal movements required to help her. Over the years she's already been more than familiar with your body, and the same for you with her touch. Although you can't vocalize it you silently appreciate the care and intimacy she demonstrates.

Soon enough she finishes though and pulls you towards her bed. Sitting you down she places herself behind you after grabbing a dry towel. She begins to dry your hair while letting you stay silent. Another thing you appreciated about her. She let you take your time.

"Seulgi..." Your voice croaks out as if you've aged several decades.

"Yes?" She stops drying off your hair, instead placing the towel down as she wraps her arms behind you and leans forward.

"They know." She doesn't say anything but her body is still for a minute. Afterwards she finishes drying off your hair, at least one of you can stay calm in this situation. That's what you need. "They told me to come back when I come to my senses."

"It's okay. Everything will be okay. We'll figure something out." You let her guide you down on her bed. Your crying had stopped a while back, but the shock coursing through your body didn't. As Seulgi pulled up the sheets and began to hold you you turned around and looked at her. You looked into the eyes that told you everything. Right now they told you that all Seulgi had on her mind was you.

So you think that you should only think of Seulgi too, because you can always forget about the consequences when you're with her. With a kiss on your forehead she tells you to sleep. She gets impossibly closer to you, holding you tight. Holding you as if you are her treasure.

The familiar trees and houses enter your view as you drive down your childhood neighborhood. Your fingers tap on the steering wheel as you listen to the song Seulgi played in the car. Out of the corner of your eye you see her smile at the thought of visiting her parents. It's enough to make you happy as well.

As you near her parent's house you pass by your own. It's been years since you've been inside, years since you even saw it. You're okay with it though, but your mind still wonders how your parents are doing. You wonder if the house is lonelier now, if they ever think about the sparse letters and phone calls you have exchanged and how they always were fights. Do they know you and Seulgi are coming to visit? Will they want to see you?

Whatever the answer is it doesn't matter. The only family you have to worry about is the girl right next to you and her parents. You feel thankful that she's your first love and hopeful that she's your last. Despite how many times your lives have separated you two, how you both dated other people and had your own quarrels, you guys came back to each other in the end. She changed you during your formative years and supported you as the two of you have grown up.

No one else can make you uncover these sides and feelings like she does.

[wh0lemilk0vich]

Heyyy, it’s me again ArgyleTShirtSupply!Anon and oooh boy okay it’s a long horny one

Feeling a bit bad at making Steve so seethingly jealous, and Eddie so out of the loop, fun as it is

But gotta say I’m loving your addition of a spiteful stuff n fuck like *chefs kiss* Steve falling asleep, feeling victorious against his (complete non-)rival Argyle, just smiling and spooning Eddie, hands cradling a warm full n fat belly, smiling all smug to himself like “Take that Argyle!”

But anyways - Wanted to throw the guy a bone (heh. pun) so:

Argyles once again in Hawkins and there’s a big cook out at the Byers-Hoppers place and everybody’s there, catching up

AND Argyle has come back to Hawkins bearing gifts!

There’s money & goods exchanged and then the expected reunion of the two-lost-halves-of-one-soul type thing Eddie and Argyle seem to do each time (with a chuckling happy Jonathan on the sidelines) after each long stretch apart

BUT Steve is cool! There are no eyes rolled here! Steve, after a (week long) pep talk from Robin, in anticipation of an incoming Argyle, is trying his best not to sour Eddie’s time with his friend or make said friends hair stand up on the back of his neck whenever they’re all sharing the same space

So Good & Nice Boyfriend Steve Harrington is out in full force. He can hear Robins voice in his head: “Civility Steve! I KNOW you can turn that charm on like a light switch when you put your mind to it”

So the gang has a good time hanging out and Steve’s sheepishly admitting to himself that he maaay have been a little over the top hostile towards Argyle previously. Guy seems fine. He’s on thin ice, but he’s fine

But..what PARTICULARLY helps this time though, is the unforeseen perk of Eddie getting a whole new set of t-shirts, sight unseen - meaning Steve now gets a front row seat to his own private fashion show, backstage and access all areas

After parting from the gang Eddie asks if they can go back to Steve’s tonight. Steve’s parents are out of town but more importantly is the lack of (what Eddie deems) adequate mirrors at the trailer, and if Eddies gonna examine his new merch, perfect his *LOOK* Steve, he wants a good full body view, and Steve’s parents’ guest bedroom has those huge-ass almost floor to ceiling mirrored closet doors, just made for this sorta thing

So that’s how Steve finds himself in the designated role of dutiful boyfriend, lazing on the guest bed, going through the motions of flicking thru one of his moms magazines, really not ever putting eyes to page coz…

Now. Eddie’s not even trying to be sexy right now coz Eddie’s a focused perfectionist about these sorts of things, can be a bit vain about his style, he’s always particular about the minutiae of his obsessions like D&D and metal, and he’s been deprived of merch that actual fits for so long, so he’s actually absorbed in his own world, keenly assessing his new haul, accessorising and examining himself head to toe in the mirrors

Eddie’s asking Steve his opinion and throwing out some questions intermittently but usually Eddie’s drawn his own conclusions already and they’re mostly rhetorical and not requiring intellectual input from Steve and thank fuck coz Steve does not have the blood flow to his brain right now to say anything intelligent

Because the show Eddie doesn’t even realise he’s putting on for Steve…it’s obscene

Eddie had shown uncharacteristic restraint at the get together tonight (read- only ate enough to serve like 3 people) anticipating trying on his new goods he’s been looking forward to, which just means instead of the stuffed taut belly Steve had expected tonight, Eddie is deliciously squishy, soft and wobbly and set compleeetely a jiggling by every bit of movement trying on clothes entails. Steve is hypnotised

And god Steve is getting an absolute eyeful. Floor length mirrors, with Steve sat lounging behind his double wide boyfriend, he’s getting a complete show of all this movement in 360 degrees

Just….Eddie’s big lower belly shifting and wobbling, dipping low enough to meet the top of his chunky thighs everytime he leans over to grab out a new shirt from the bag. And then- pulling the shirts down over his belly likewise sets his whole body a quivering. The shimmy he has to do to get them over his wide beefy shoulders

The way Eddie has to work a t shirt down over his belly, it’s like a 3 move process to totally pull down shirts to cover the expanse of his gut and then the way he rubs his hands down his belly to totally flatten them into place, palming his sides and creating the subtlest of belly jiggles (the shirts’ll still cling and work their way into the dip in his side rolls & love handles at the end of it anyway and Steve is so weak for all it)

Every motion of pulling off a shirt sets his every inch of his creamy skin a jiggling side to side, up n down, and godddd Eddie’s just so creamy soft all over

And then again with the bending down to pull out a new shirt and with the bending over, forcing Eddie’s belly to contort into extra new rolls, his gorgeous tits sitting big and pretty up top, dipping with him when he goes back into the bag

And then there’s that Eddie is also changing in and out of different pairs of pants and jeans he brought with him anticipating trying on his long awaited new shirts, seeing which ‘fits go best together and ALLLL of Eddie’s pants are tight, no exception, so there’s So. Much. Jumping! involved in getting them on and that ass is shaking so violently. Then there’s the wiggling side to side shimmy to slide the tight pants off his chunky ass n thighs and fuuuck his plump boys whole body has not had a moment to stop it’s movement thru all this, there’s always something Steve zones in on

And Eddie does this thing where he physically lifts up his bellyhang and sort of collects it up and rests it on his forearms to really leave his hands free to force his pants buttons closed and once zipped up there’s that cascading release where his gut surges and bounces back out to its true size over the top of his pants. A true top tier favourite motion of Steves

Like god he knew Eddie was big but sometimes it hits him just how big and just how fat he is, he’s just so wide and plush, he’s twisting this way and that and the shirts are new but when Eddies buttoned his jeans under his over hang there’s still so often a delicious sliver of doughy belly that slips into view under the hems as he twists this way and that

Then there’s when Eddie’s shirtless and unfolding and refolding his shirts - the way his bulging pudgy upper arms are pushing his tits together, creating this fleeting excess cleavage, pushing into his neck, only for them to then be drawn apart by gravity when his arms shift out again, rinse repeat…fucking crazy

Steve knows all these little subtle domestic moves off by heart from watching Eddie get dressed countless times, feels kinda lame for how he’s a total slut for all of these movements even though they’re just these totally nothing, thoughtless mundane details to Eddie, he’s just putting on clothes for christ sake! but it’s just..Eddie!! And he’s never seen these motions all repeated over n over for a such prolonged period of time like this, Eddie constantly pulling these movements, so many times over and over and over and over and over….

Steve is going to die. RIP Steve Harrington, cause of death terminal horniness

—

I didn’t really know how to finish this but I guess Steve just snaps and goes a bit feral and eventually pounces coz geez Eddie your boy has kept himself so so well behaved and he’s needed you to absolutely bodily smother him through to the other side of the mattress since like 10 outfit changes ago

ArgyleTeeShirtSupply! Honestly, what can I do but post these without comment. They're all so good. Maybe I'll put a few additional cute comments on the last one 😁

Everybody, please enjoy three amazing additions to the T-Shirt idea from 👕anon

[ragingbookdragon]

Time Stops When I Look At You

Barry Allen x Wondersis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Based on the ask I received! Love this pairing now! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

When he opened the door at seven AM after getting in at three that morning, he wasn’t happy. And Hal Jordan certainly wasn’t happy to see her with a bright smile on her face as she greeted, “My dearest friend! What a blessed morning we are having, yes!”

He blinked blearily at her. “It was a blessed morning…when I was still sleeping.”

“Are you telling me you do not rise with the sun and train?” she asked. “I thought that was standard for the warriors of the United of American States.”

“United States of America, (Y/N),” he corrected, opening the door. “And to answer your question, I haven’t been in the military for a few years now. I get to sleep in before I go to work.”

(Y/N) hummed as she stepped inside. “That seems like a waste of valuable time.” She glanced back at him. “I have something important to discuss with you.”

Hal merely made a noise low in his throat and lumbered down the hall, her on his heels, into his bedroom; he collapsed back onto the bed and pulled the covers up to his ears. “What’s on your mind, Princess?”

She quickly unhooked her greaves before climbing onto the bed, laying across his body. “I am unsure of how to show affections for someone.”

He adjusted his body so that her head was on his stomach. “Really? The Princess gifted by Aphrodite doesn’t know how to show you’ve got a crush on somebody? Who woulda thought?”

(Y/N) dug her chin into his gut. “You mock me, my dearest friend.” She let out a sigh. “I was going to offer him a blade forged by my mother and sisters and recite Sappho’s Ode to Aphrodite to win his favor.” Her eyes drifted to his. “But I do not know if he likes poetry.”

“Who is ‘he’?” Hal asked.

“Bartholomew.”

He blinked. “Wait…you mean Barry? Like…our Barry?”

She nodded. “Yes.” (Y/N) stared at him. “Does Bartholomew enjoy poetry, Harold? I have more pieces prepared. The Iliad for example.”

“Please, God, don’t call me Harold.” He shuddered. “Makes me think my mom is scolding me.” He sighed, laying his head back. “Barry’s…not exactly a poetry guy. He’s more the ‘take me to a science museum’ type of guy.”

(Y/N) hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting! What is a science museum?”

“Big building with a bunch of things that make lovers of science all tingly inside.”

“And you think Barry would like that better than a sword and poetry?”

Hal snorted. “(Y/N), let’s get one thing clear. You could give Barry a dowry of a million dollars, and he’d still not get the hint.” He glanced down at her. “You’ve literally gotta tell him you like him or he’s not going to get it. Hell, probably though a science line. That’s one way to get through to him. Actually, that’s probably the only way to get through to him.”

“Hmm…and to think I had a dowry prepared back home.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Of course. Many animals and a great deal of gold.” She turned over onto her back, resting the back of her head on his stomach. “Where is a science museum I can take him to? I do not know if there is one in the city I live in.”

“There’s a really cool one in Chicago,” he offered. “I know Barry’d get a hard-on for that place.”

“A hard-on?” (Y/N)’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“Uh…”

“Is that another euphemism for arousal?”

“…Yeah.”

“You are such a man.”

“Thank you for noticing,” he chirped, glancing out the window. “Well…you woke me up and since I’m awake…wanna get pancakes?”

(Y/N) jumped up, excitement crossing her face. “YES! I LOVE THE CAKES OF PAN! THEY ARE DELICIOUS!”

Hal chuckled, tossing the covers from his body. “Lemme shower really quickly. Hey, and make sure you text Barry about going so he can put it in his schedule.”

She pointed at him. “That is a wonderful idea.”

***

(Y/N) glanced at the watch on her wrist for what seemed like the millionth time, holding the umbrella with her other. The rain poured around her, thunder rumbling above, but she stood hopeful that the Scarlet Speedster would eventually show. They had talked about the museum for days and she’d been anticipating it ever since they agreed to meet up.

Barry had texted that he would be there in the morning, but that had been hours ago, and he hadn’t answered his phone after she’d last called. (Y/N) pursed her lips as the sky darkened, and not from the storm, wondering if he had forgotten.

Perhaps I should have given him the sword and recited the poem? She frowned and looked around, seeing couples walking around, sharing umbrellas and laughing, joy etched onto their faces. No, I must wait. He said he would be here.

But as the hours dwindled and the day turned into evening, she realized he wasn’t going to make it in time. With a sigh, she turned to the doors of the museum; most of the lights were being shut off and the workers were leaving to go home for the evening.

(Y/N) smiled sadly and gripped her umbrella, turning to walk down the street. There was always tomorrow.

***

Barry rushed back to his house, speeding into his bedroom to yank out a dress shirt, a pullover sweater, and a pair of khakis that he hadn’t yet ruined. He’d completely forgotten all about the museum trip (Y/N)’d invited him on, getting so caught up in cases and running around Central, that by the time he remembered, it was already a quarter to six.

He changed and sped through his door, the streets of Central City turning into a blur as he headed for the museum in the next state. He skidded to a stop outside the museum, eyes widening when he saw the doors shut and the lights off.

“Oh no,” he whispered, looking around for (Y/N); she was nowhere to be seen. “Oh no.”

He sprinted down the street, trying to remember if she’d said she was wearing a blue dress or a red one. He should’ve remembered earlier. He should’ve sent a text. He should’ve called. He should’ve—

WHAM!

Barry went barreling to the ground, landing atop something warm and soft. The scent of flowers and metal oil flooded his senses, and after he caught his bearings, he looked up, cheeks flushing when he realized he’d landed on a woman and more importantly, face first into her chest.

“Good evening, Bartholomew.” His eyes darted to the woman’s face, and he saw (Y/N) smiling at him. “You are late.”

He floundered. His mouth opened and closed but nothing came out except a pitiful burst of air as he scrambled off her, face as red as his suit. He bent down, hauling her up. “I’msosorryIdidn’tseewhereIwasgoingandIlandedonyouandIputmyfaceinyourchestandI’msosrry!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “I…I did not catch that, Bartholomew. Can you repeat that? Slower, perhaps?”

He raised his hands to his face, covering them as he apologized profusely, “I am so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t mean to be late or land on you or—or stick my face in your—I’m really sorry!”

She giggled. “I am not offended.” She reached out and took his hand, pressing it to her chest. “Many friends have rested their heads on my bosom. They are comfortable, are they not? Like the finest cushions.”

Barry’s jaw dropped and this time all that came out of him was strangled noise. “I can’t feel my face,” he whispered, and she pressed her free hand to his cheeks.

“Hmm, your face is very hot. Shall we go find somewhere cool to rest?” she asked, taking the hand still pressed against her chest; she laced their fingers. “I saw an ice cream store down the street here.”

He let himself be tugged along. Every circuit in his brain had been burned out and his heart was fluttering way too fast for him to think about anything other than calming it down. But it was impossible. Barry could feel the warmth from (Y/N)’s body, could smell the delicate fragrance of roses, could see the beauty that threatened to blind him.

(Y/N) led him around for a few moments, then stopped in front of an ice cream parlor that had a big blue sign. “Here we are.” She led them inside and glanced at the menu. “Do you want anything?”

Barry blinked, looking up, though it was all a blur, still shell-shocked. “I, uh, a milkshake? Chocolate?”

She smiled. “I will order for us. Please, go sit.”

He did as she said, collapsing into one of the seats in the corner, immediately rubbing vigorously at his face to will the blush away.

After a few moments, (Y/N) sat down across from him and placed a frozen drink down. “Here you are, Bartholomew.”

Barry glanced up to see her with her own straw in her mouth, eyes shut, face drawn in joy as she sipped her milkshake. “Thank you,” he replied. “How much was this?”

“Please do not worry about repayment. I do not need one.” She looked at him with a smile. “You came.”

Suddenly he remembered how late he was. The entire day had gone by; Barry lowered his head. “(Y/N)…I’m so sorry about not making it here earlier. I never meant to leave you here all alone.”

“You are a busy man and I understand, Bartholomew. You need not apologize to me.”

He looked up and gazed at her. “You weren’t there. I thought you’d left and gone home.”

“Of course not,” she said, eyes wide. “We said we were going to meet. I was waiting for you.” She coughed slightly. “But I had to use the restroom, so that is the reason you did not see me immediately.”

“Wait,” Barry said. “Were you…were you waiting here all day?”

(Y/N) blinked. “Yes?”

Now Barry felt like a bigger jerk, and he let his head drop again. “I feel terrible, (Y/N). I’m so sorry.”

She merely stared at him, heart beating against her rib cage and the words of her people’s poetry came back to her, but so did Hal’s words. You have to tell him.

Reaching out, she rested her hand on his, urging, “Bartholomew, will you look at me, please?”

He did as she asked, meeting her eyes. “Yeah?”

(Y/N) smiled. “You must be the speed of light, because time stops when I look at you.”

For what felt like the millionth time, Barry’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t know if that was a good or a bad sign. “I…figured you would like, a line as Harold calls it, that was scientific.” (Y/N) smiled awkwardly. “I care for you, Barry. More than the bonds of battle have forged between us and…I would like to spend more time with you. Intimate…close time with you. Just us.”

Barry nodded dumbly, turning his hand over so his palm touched hers; he brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “I would love to, (Y/N).”

“Oh, you would?” she inquired, face full of joy and he nodded, a smile crossing his own lips.

“Absolutely. But I have one request.”

“Yes?”

Barry smiled at her. “Call me Barry.”

[joyfulhopelox]

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"-"And you better not start now"

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Genre: smut with a saltbae of fluff

Warnings: alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, swearing, bit of dom! JK, biting

Summary: Upon entering the club you come across a familiar face. Turns out your laundry adventures were not over. Who knew that clean laundry could lead to dirty talk?

Word count: 6.5k

rating : 18+

A/N: Massive thank you to @bangtanhome for not only being my beta but also my support and making this whole thing a polished princess. Thank you Moon so much for taking the time to edit and thank you for listening to me whilst I complained about this. And most importantly massive thank you for giving me pointers. This is my first piece of nsfw writing and I was extremely unsure about putting it out there but you’ve literally been an angel and were patient with my unsure self whilst also making sure you made this readable <3 -I also would like to thank my soulmate and best friend for putting up with me and dying in the process of reading a fic about her bias. I will warn that i massively sleep deprived at this point but i wanted to get this out with the occasion of the Muster 2021 so here she is!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Fuck. You’d overslept. You weren’t panicking because you were going to be late; you were normally late anyway. But as soon as your eyes opened, you felt the grogginess that comes with sleeping a bit too much. Your body felt sluggish, joints throbbing and your mouth feeling like you've stuffed cotton balls in it. Feeling like you've been through a survival show, you know it'll take at least an hour for your body to wake up properly. However, you didn’t have time to let yourself slowly come to. You were already late. Any later than this and you may just as well stay home for the night- and go back to sleep. You reveled in the thought for a second, but no. Your friends were impatiently waiting for you to go out clubbing with them. And most importantly to lend them your car. You knew that only because they have called and messaged you incessantly for the past hour reminding you of it. You were thankful at least that you were not the designated driver for the night. Normally you’d draw straws and this time you had got lucky, you could drink as much as you wanted.

‘Good lord Y/N get your ass out of bed,’ you hyped yourself up and just like a bandaid, you ripped yourself from your covers and rolled out of bed. Landing with a thud you groaned upon impact. That was going to leave a bruise.

After a quick shower to get the cobwebs cleared off your mind, you put on a dress. You didn’t wear dresses normally, your wardrobe consisted mostly of pants and various tops. To be tightly encased in a dress that was a bit too short for comfort made you feel uncomfortable, but you knew that as soon as you had some alcohol into you, things would change. A loud knock at your door told you that your friends had finally arrived so you hurriedly grabbed your purse and keys and were out the door. You hesitated for a moment, the feeling of having forgotten something weighing on your mind. When you couldn’t figure out what it was, you decided that it must not be important. Plus, your friends were waiting; time to get the show on the road.

As soon as you entered the club, the heavy smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol hit your sensitive nose. The atmosphere was too loud and obnoxious for your sober brain. To remedy that, your friends decided to stop by the bar first and buy a round of shots to get the night started. With the burn of the alcohol running down your throat, your confidence levels increased. The dress didn’t make you feel uncomfortable anymore, instead you prowled around, your hips moving to the beat. You were aware of the lustful stares that you were receiving and you thrived off of it. Tonight you were on the hunt, ready to let loose after the stressful week full of exams.

“Hey, Y/N. Muscle at 12 o’clock has been giving you the look more than a couple of times,” your friend leaned in to make themselves heard over the loud music. “Try not to be obvious, but I'd say he’s a 10.” You nodded in acknowledgment running a finger over the rim of your glass.

“He’s looking away now, look look,” they nudged you, forcing you to turn around. In all honesty, you weren’t interested in going home with anyone. You were simply enjoying the admirative stares and the smouldering gazes that were thrown your way, but you had no intention to take any of them home with you. However, when you turned around, you were faced with the impossible task of reconsidering. The back of the man your friends' pointed out was indeed muscular, broad and strong, you could see the muscles popping underneath the black shirt he wore. The sleeves of the shirt were pushed up to his elbows, allowing a full display of tattoos on his right arm.

Normally you would have second thoughts about a person like that, but there was something about his demeanour that drew you in even without seeing his face.

The handsome man motioned to one of his friends and his whole body shook with laughter. Observing the way the shirt strained against his muscles you licked your lips involuntarily. For a second you thought he looked strangely familiar, and before you could convince yourself you were being paranoid, he turned his head to the side to entertain the person to his right.

The messy mop of hair, defined jawline and that bridge of the nose they all belonged to the laundry boy - Jungkook. You smirked, “I’d give it a 15 actually”. As soon as you said that, he threw you a glance, his smile wavered as he made eye contact. You felt satisfied at the recognition in his eyes.

You slowly turned back to your friends, certain he would come to you. It took him the entirety of the time you took to finish your drink to make his way towards you.

“Don’t look, he’s coming.”

“Oh, he will be,” you smirked, eyes twinkled with excitement as your friends laughed at your slurring words.

Jungkook had noticed your enticing figure entering the club from the very beginning. It was as if a magnet pulled him towards you. He recognised you as soon as he laid eyes on you. How could he not? The cute girl from the laundry room in the daylight turned into an alluring vixen during nighttime. His eyes were drawn to your hips, the curve of your back and the tempting strip of skin he could spy; they were enticing to him. He tried his best to focus on the way your eyes sparkled in delight when one of your friends would make a joke, but when you ran a finger over the rim of your glass tracing delicate patterns, he felt your siren pull.

You smelt him before you felt him, the subtle vanilla enveloping your senses overpowering the scent of sweat from around you. He stopped right behind you, with one hand on the stool next to you; not completely encasing your form, but close enough that you could see his jawline in your periphery. Leaning in under the guise of ordering a drink from the bartender he pulled the stool and sat down. He didn’t address you at first, patiently waiting for his drink, his long fingers tapping the counter in rhythm with the beat. You tried your hardest not to stare at his hands, the art on them fascinating to you: the doodle style art accentuating his knuckles and the veins running tracing all the way up to where his skin hid beneath his shirt. You tried to keep a poised front, talking to your friends as if he was not there, but you could feel the heat of his stares from time to time, goosebumps forming on your skin.

You knew your friends were getting drunker and drunker as time passed, but you’d underestimated them. Soon enough they each scattered around the surface of the club looking for a dance partner. Your friend left you in charge of the drinks they ordered, winking at you suggestively as they left. That meant you were alone. And judging by the way your skin prickled, Jungkook was still seated next to you.

“A gin and tonic, please,” he ordered another drink. You realised now would be the perfect time to not only talk to him, but also repay him for earlier. As the bartender presented him with the bill you turned around and smoothly presented your card to him. “Make it two on the same tab.” you smirk, winking at Jungkook when your eyes met his.

You heard Jungkook laugh at your brazen attitude and you had to admit to yourself, if not for the alcohol you’d had earlier, you would’ve probably walked away. You made direct eye contact with him and smiled.

“Nice to see you again, laundry boy,” you smirked. Jungkook looked taken aback for a second. The image of you in the laundry room is completely erased. What he saw in front of him now was an alluring woman, sure of herself and what she wanted. And she made it clear that she wanted him. Hiding a smirk behind his hand he leans closer to you, his breath fanning the hair stuck at the nape of your neck.

“It’s Jungkook, not 'laundry boy',” he yells over the music. Your shoulders shake with laughter.

“I know, but it is fun to tease you - Jungkook.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in delight. He's caught onto what you were doing and he was ready for it, two could play at this game.

“What’s your name?” You were half expecting him to pull a bad pick up line, the earlier impression that you had of him still engraved into your mind. When he didn't, you smiled, hiding your satisfaction. Maybe he really was worth a 15 and not a 10.

“What, no ‘I didn’t catch it’? No ‘I bet it hurt’? I’m offended, do I not deserve a bad pick up line?” you grinned at him and he burst out laughing, the sound reverberating through you making a shiver run down your spine.

“You got the drinks, pretty girl, there’s no way I can use a pick up line now,” you started laughing earnestly. He was definitely not what you had expected. The muscly tattooed facade was clearly done just for the purpose of aesthetics, and not because he slotted right in with the rest of the douches.

“Fair play, but I did say I was going to pay you back earlier,” you gesture with your head as if to point out which earlier moment you meant.

“I see. This is how you intended to keep your word then” Jungkook said just as the bartender places the drinks in front of you both handing him something. “But as it happens, I am a step ahead of you” he waved a card in front of you. His satisfied smirk made you pause flustered. Realising he’s already given his card to the bartender earlier you blushed.

“That’s not fair, laundry boy” you pout. “Now I have to find another way to repay you” you fumbled with the card the bartender handed over to you struggling to place it back in your clutch.

“I am sure we can find other ways” you paused looking at him. Under normal circumstances you would have found that to be incredibly off putting, but noticing the way he scrutinised you so intensely, no hidden message behind his smoldering gaze you squeezed your thighs together a wave of heat enveloping you.

You took a sip of your drink to mask the deepening blush and cleared your throat. You knew that if you gave him your name you were in for the ride. “It’s Y/N” you took another sip, savouring the taste of the alcohol.

“What?” Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to hand him your name so freely.

“It’s Y/N” you yelled louder and leaned into him thinking he hadn’t heard you because of the music. The waft of your perfume clouds his senses, the smell of cotton and lilac enveloping him. Needing to be closer to you he chanced it and asked you for a dance.

You finished your drink with a gulp and nodded your head. You grabbed his wrist and started making your way through the mob of people. Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at the way your hips swayed to the beat and when you threw him an alluring look over your shoulder he couldn’t help but be lost. He felt like a puppy following your sultry form through the crowd.

You finally stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, your moves more accentuated following the beat of the music. Jungkook stopped a few inches away from you, unsure whether or not he should place his arms around you yet.

You stepped closer to his body, your movement predatory. “Come on laundry boy, you can do better than that. Think of this as part of the payment” you winked at him. You could see the shift in his eyes, a flash of something heavy across his face, his demeanour changing in an instant from uncertain to commanding in a second. He gripped your waist tightly and pulled you flush against him moving along with the beat.

For a second all you could feel and smell was him. His domineering attitude instantly turned you on with the silent promise behind it. “Oh, this is just the beginning” he moved his hands so that his arms encased your waist intending to savour the feeling of you against him. Fully intending to see where this night ended you hooked your fingers into his belt, your bodies so close together they melded into one.

“Bring it on lover boy.”

The oppressive atmosphere of the club was enough to cloud all your senses. The alcohol running through your veins made you braver than you would have ever been. The smirk Jungkook threw at you was almost tantalising. Inviting you to commit sin. And the thought of tasting his lips and running your hands through his hair whilst his breath fanned over your throat was mouth watering. You’d been skirting around each other for the whole night, laughing, drinking, talking, but most importantly eyeing each other up. The last straw for you was when a rogue drink came flying out of nowhere and drenched the two of you. The liquid mixed with his sweat and snaked its way from his temple down to his jaw. You watched as the drops ran lower and lower as if directing your gaze towards his chest. Swallowing thickly you knew that you were a goner. If he’s ask to fuck you right there on the dance floor, you would surrender instantly.

Smirking at your lust filled expression, Jungkook knew he had you where he wanted. He had been staring at your lips for the whole night, entranced at the way the plumpness was enhanced by the sheen from when you’d run the tip of your tongue over them. He was mesmerised. He could also imagine that tongue running over his- he tried to stop himself there, aware that he’d get hard if he kept going in that direction. He could already feel the strain against his pants.

“Another drink?” he offered, and you shook your head at him. Another drink was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was him, to kiss you until your lips were raw and to pound into you senselessly until you could hardly remember your name. Were you drunk enough for this? Probably not, but you did not care for once. You wanted to remember this.

Leaning closer to you with the excuse of the loud music, his breath fanned the nape of your neck and the sensitive shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Then what would you like, love?”

There it was, the thousand dollar question. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath in you looked him straight in the eyes with determination. It made Jungkook shiver. You looked fierce and incredibly alluring. It took all the strength he had in him to not shove you on top of the bar and kiss your brains out. “Tell me?” he coaxed you.

He knew what you wanted. You had been obvious for the whole night. But so had he. Throughout your conversation you were undressing each other with your eyes. You noticed the way he couldn’t keep his eyes away from your ass when you would lean over the bar to ask for one more round of drinks.

Under normal circumstances, that thought would have made you nervous. This time it gave you the courage you needed to let yourself go. To switch from being the player to the one played. And if he was the one doing that, you didn’t mind one bit. “I want you” you bit your lip and looked at him from under your eyelashes. His eyes darkened with lust. Mind clouded with desire, he grabbed your wrist tightly and without a word started making his way through the crowd. The roar of the drunken crowd, the smell of sweat and alcohol, and the feel of sticky bodies bumping into you didn’t matter anymore. All your focus was on the way his back muscles moved with every turn of his body. Suddenly a flash of the same back muscles, naked, moving as he towered over you and thrust his hips into yours made your stomach clench and you could feel your panties getting damp. God you wanted him so badly.

Jungkook could see your wistful lust-filled eyes becoming hazier and he sped up the pace. He finally stopped when he reached an empty corridor near the back exit. He would have liked to have more privacy than that, but something about making you beg for him in a public place made his cock twitch in anticipation. He really needed to get a hold of himself otherwise he’d be done before you’d even started.

He tugged at your wrist and lightly pushed you into the wall, he would have taken things a lot slower but your gaze told him to hurry up and take you then and there. And who was he to deny you?

His eyes raked over your body, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Beautiful”. Even though he craved to taste you, he took a moment to appreciate the way your eyes glistened with passion, your chest heaving along with your breaths and your perfume clouding his senses. He wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

A fistful of your hair in his hands, he pulled you flush against him, until all you could feel were the hard planes of his chest and his hardened member poking at your abdomen causing you to moan, your panties getting wetter.

You whimpered at the sensation as his fingers gripped the sensitive hairs at the back of your skull, goosebumps forming on your skin in anticipation. Expecting him to attack your mouth with the same hunger that was displayed in his eyes you leaned more into him.

You silently begged him to release the coil that had formed in your stomach but he wanted you to beg. His breath fanned the pieces of hair that fell onto your face. The last rebellious piece of you that refused to fall into his clutches. In a desperate attempt to get him to kiss you, touch you - do something, you grabbed tightly onto his biceps relishing in the feel of the muscle tensing underneath your fingers.

“You’re not playing fair laundry boy,” you huff, feeling frustrated over the lack of contact. His laugh, dark, deep and lascivious sent a shiver down your spine.

“Baby girl, that’s not my name” his free hand clasped onto your waist squeezing hard enough to send a jolt through the pit of your stomach all the way down to your heated core. “Jungkook” you whimper and in a last attempt you hook your leg around his thin waist.

“That’s it baby” he lowered the hand on your waist towards your thigh, his fingers leaving an indentation in the skin. Seizing the opening you started grinding your core onto his thigh trying to relieve the ache. His lips ghost over your neck in a tantalizing way, his tongue sweeping over the nape briefly tasting your saltiness. The sensation of his warm tongue on the exposed area of your neck followed by the coldness from the air makes you moan. You could smell his perfume, combined with the musky scent of his sweat and alcohol made your head swim in delight.

“Jungkook, please” , you exposed your neck to him needing more. Rolling your hips into his thigh you could feel the blood pumping underneath your skin, the pleasure overshadowing any rational thought. The friction between your clit and his pants left you breathless, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter ready to unfurl. All of a sudden Jungkook stepped a few inches away, and you lost contact with his leg. Robbed of your release, you instantly whine.

“Mmmm, I can't have you cum on my leg, as much as I would like to see you ride it out on your own. I need to taste you.” he demanded. The hand still supporting your leg inched closer and closer to your dripping cunt. Slipping a cold hand under the hem of your dress his fingers made contact with your heated core causing you to jerk. You yelped, your hips bucking into his hand. Your hands latched tightly onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into them in an attempt to steady yourself. He cupped you through your panties, the heel of his palm pressing into you. Muffling a moan into his shoulder you begged him to touch you more, but he retracted it away from your tender flesh.

“Nuh-uh not yet.” The hand pinched your thigh and you tried not to cry at the feelings bubbling up inside you. You were frustrated and horny, and his taunts were enough to make you crave for more.

“Laundry boy” you warn, staring him dead in the eye.

“Y/N, what did I say about my name” he pulled at the hair he still gripped tightly in his hand. Cradling you close to him he bucks his knee into your core, this time freely offering the friction that you had been yearning for. You whined, the lewd sound echoing in his ear. Your clit on fire, you pressed yourself more into his knee.

“That’s it, moan for me with those pretty lips” gaining a bit of self control you decided it was time for you to step up your game.

“Do you not want to see what else these pretty lips can do?” you licked your lips, your heart racing. Your hooded eyes suggested more than Jungkook would have expected from you.

“Dirty girl” biting his lip before he crashed them onto yours, the contact making your lips smack and your teeth clash. Neither of you care as your tongues intertwine, carrying the battle that your hips are craving. The friction between you caused your whole body to heat up, your senses heightened. You could feel every bit of him against you. The way one hand gripped your thigh and the other pulled at the sensitive hairs at the nape of your neck, the way his tongue roughly caressed yours. He was intoxicating. In the heat of the moment he roughly pushed you into the wall behind you, the force causing you to moan into his mouth.

Jungkook was at the end of his wits, he had to have you now. He needed to taste you, see you unfurl in front of him as he eats you out. Breaking the kiss, your mouth sore, he observed the way your pants made your chest rise up and down, pushing your breasts into him.

Without a word, he attacked your mouth once again for a brief second before he trailed down your jaw to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin in the process. The hand on your thigh reached once more underneath the hem of your dress, this time making its way fully and cupping your dripping core. At the touch of his hand on your sensitive clit your knees buckled and you let your weight onto him, your forehead dropping onto his shoulder for support. You tried to suppress a moan.

“Let it all out baby” his mouth at the shell of your ear, the tip of his tongue trailing the delicate flesh there. “You’re so wet” he moans, “I can't wait to taste you.” His finger dipped under the band of your panties trailing over your center. “So soft” - he sucked your earlobe into his mouth and gave it a small bite - "so wet for me”

This time you couldn’t hold back your moan. The feel of his finger pressed into your folds, parting them and exposing your clit to his ministrations had you squirming. The tip of his finger started drumming in a rhythmic steady fashion on your engorged button. The feel of his lips caressing the sore earlobe relieving the sting from the bite is too much for you. “Jungkook please, I need..” your moans getting louder and louder as the pad of his finger presses harder in an unrelenting tempo.

The hand holding your neck slowly inched towards the swell of your breasts, picking the flesh there until it turned sore. His fingers still attached to your sensitive bud he suddenly drops on his knees in front of you. With his support now gone you try to grip uselessly at the wall behind you. He slots himself between your legs, forcing them to spread open. As he raised the hem of your dress and pushed your panties to the side you couldn’t help but look down. The sight of him between your legs glancing up at you made your knees buckle. With one hand tracing your folds and the other gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place he gives you an uncertain look. “Is this ok Y/N?” his concern for your approval makes your heart melt, but you were too high strung to think about that. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“Please” you moan in approval.

With your approval he dived right in, too hungry for your taste. Parting your folds with his fingers he starts by giving you a tentative lick. Being sensitive from his fingers you writhe, your hands desperately clutching at the wall behind you. Savouring the first taste of you he thrums with his finger at your clit. You arched your back, your hands giving up on trying to hold onto the wall. Instead they found their way into his hair, fingers gripping tightly.

Diving back in Jungkook starts lapping earnestly at your folds, his finger still applying pressure onto your sensitive nub. Bucking into his face you suppress a moan. The sensation of his wet tongue prodding at your entrance is too much to take and your knees buckle. Jungkook sensed the shift in your weight and quickly grabbed a hold of your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. The hand attached to your clit now tightly gripped your calf. The change in position offered the extra support you needed to not fall over.

With your entrance now completely opened to him his tongue started rapidly tracing your folds, only stopping to suck on your clit.

“Jungkook” the overstimulation from his tongue lapping up your wetness and his teeth nipping at the sensitive cluster of nerves is too much to handle, you can feel yourself take over, and Jungkook is more than happy to let you go at your own pace. Grinding over his face, your hands still gripping at his hair, you ride his tongue at your own pace desperate to reach your climax.

You can feel it, you are so close to release you could almost taste it.

Suddenly he entered a finger, knuckle deep into you pumping in and out quickly. Letting your calf go but making sure he is still supporting your weight with his body he leaves you sensitive nub alone and traces kisses along your inner thigh, up to your navel. The dress now obscuring other parts of you he gets up, his finger still deep in you, drawing pleasurable mewls out of your mouth.

“That’s it baby girl, tell me what you need” he is panting in your ear now. With the taste of you still lingering on his tongue and the sight of you coming undone from his ministrations makes him harder than he’s ever been. He felt uncomfortable under the constraints of his pants, the zip digging painfully.

“I need you to fuck me” you finally moan, your hips grinding against him chasing for that sweet release.

“I need you to come for me first baby, I need to see your pretty face when you cum all over my fingers” swiftly he changes fingers, his thumb now drumming at your sensitive clit. You gasp as a finger teases your entrance for a brief second before it penetrates your pussy.

The loud sounds coming from the club were not enough to drown out the lewd sounds that your wet pussy was making whilst Jungkook’s finger pistoned into you. The shot fire along with the shameless sounds you were making were enough to make the tight coil in your belly unfurl. With a deep loud moan you bit Jungkook’s shoulder in an attempt to muffle the yell that was threatening to spill out of your lips. Your muscles clenching in tandem with your core. Jungkook felt your cunt clamping his fingers tightly and a low grunt escaped past his lips. He could almost imagine how wet and tight you would be around him.

“That’s it beautiful, let go”

Your hips carried on buckling, chasing the high and wishing it would not stop. Jungkook took his time observing how your head fell down and your mouth opened slightly in a silent satisfied scream, how your eyes scrunched up as if you were trying to cut off all your senses apart from the feeling of his fingers in you. You were beautiful. When at last your muscles relaxed and your high subsided a low sigh fell out of your lips. It has been a long time since someone has made you cum like that with just their fingers. Jungkook’s finger still lazily traced your clit, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.

“Jungkook '' you whined trying to back away from him but the tight grip on your waist wasn’t allowing you to move more than a few inches away. Without a word Jungkook pulled his hand out of your panties and let go of you. Your knees still weak from your climax you struggle to stand up right and you end up having to lean into him slightly for support. The sight of him licking his fingers coated in your juices sets you on fire once more.

“You’re beautiful when you cum Y/N.” Somehow, his words made you blush. The lewd act that you both partook in had failed to make you blush, instead what made you self conscious was the way he gazed at you. It was softer and more intense and it made your stomach clench once more. If not for the obscene act in the deserted corridor of a club, you might’ve actually entertained the idea that he cared.

You smiled shyly at him and in that moment he was swept away by the warmth expanding from his chest. You were indeed beautiful. And witty, and smart, and you liked to do your laundry. What more could he want? Cupping your face, he kissed you once more, slowly and with purpose. You gasped, you were not used to this gentle Jungkook. Taking the opportunity to pull you closer once more, his tongue mapped every inch of your mouth.

“Fuck me now please” you whisper against his lips. Your hand on his belt moved slowly over the bulge in his pants. He bucked into your touch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around him as much as you could with his pants still on.

“Y/N” he warns. If you carried on that way he would definitely come in his pants. Rubbing him slowly, you could feel his member harden even more under your touch.

“Is it uncomfortable babe?” you whisper in his ear. “How about I return the favour?” you unzip his pants prepared to lower yourself to the floor but he grabs your shoulders keeping you in place.

As much as he would have liked to feel those soft lips around him, he knew that if anyone were to bump into you two, it would not be good. The club was full of students going to the same university as you. If they were to find you on your knees blowing him it would instantly kill your reputation. He did not want that to happen.

“Not here” he zips his pants back up and grabs your hand gently. After all that had transpired between you this soft almost domestic treatment is not what you were expecting. Once again the warm feeling in your heart returned, and this time you were a bit more sober. He was cute, and somehow you found his duality endearing. He returned to being laundry boy Jungkook instead of the dominant Jungkook you’ve just witnessed.

You walked through the club, his hand still gripping you tightly as if he was afraid he’ll lose you in the crowd. Once you reached the outside you took a deep breath in relishing in the way the fresh air soothed your heated skin. Glancing up at Jungkook you noticed he was on his phone texting someone.

“I am texting my friends to let them know I have left,” he explained, putting his phone back in his pocket, smiling at you. The contrast of his lust-filled gaze from before and his gleeful smile almost gave you a whiplash. He was such a contradiction that you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him.

“And I ordered an Uber” as soon as he’d said that a car pulled over right in front of you. The ride back to the campus was a quiet one. It wasn’t an uncomfortable quietness though, having chatted about anything and everything in the club you were content to just put your thoughts in order. You noticed that he had not let go of your hand once during that time but with his gaze out the window, his face thoughtful you could not bear to say anything. Plus, you were enjoying the feel of his smooth hands holding yours.

As the car pulled up in front of the dorm you both shared a glance, an understanding passing in between the two of you.

Once inside the fire inside you sparked up again. Grabbing at each other, your mouths hungrily clashing, you stumbled all the way to the elevator. It was late enough that no one would see you two messily making your way to your room. As soon as you entered the lift and separated to press the correct button you finally remembered what you’d forgotten. If you were a bit more sober you would have laughed at the hilarity of the situation.

Your face fell. “The laundry” you whined in distress. Jungkook’s mouth fell. He threw you a panicked look thinking that you’d changed your mind. One glance at you was enough to tell him that you were panicking in earnest.

“What happened to the laundry?” his hand hovering over the lift buttons unsure of what to do.

“I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer!” you looked at him with such drunken despair he had to hold his laughter in. He did not want to offend you by laughing in your face. You were sober enough to not slur your words, but clearly not sober enough to process your own feelings.

“Let's get that done then.” He decided that as much as he liked your witty self, as well as you in the throes of passion, he adored this side of you too; your guard down, emotions on display. It made his heart swell thinking that you were entrusting him with your vulnerabilities.

You rushed ahead of him entering the laundry room, not paying attention to anything but the lone machine still loaded with your clothes. You quickly opened it, the smell of clean cotton wafting around you.

“Let me help.” Jungkook grabbed the pile of clothes you were holding and moved them into the dryer next to him. As soon as everything was loaded in you turned to smile at him. The panic in your eyes now replaced by the same hunger that governed your mind earlier, you grab him forcefully, clashing your mouth against his. Your hips slammed together in an attempt to ride the pleasure from before. Jungkook, not having expected you to be so forceful, moaned into your mouth and instantly hardened against your hip bone. The quiet of the laundry room was filled with the sounds of your pants as you continued to kiss. In the heat of the moment, Jungkook places his hands on your ass, hoisting you up on the laundry machine behind you. The position allowed your hips to align perfectly, the pressure of his dick now directly onto your clit. Before you could go further Jungkook stopped and looked at you.

“You need to start the dryer,” with the last of his restraints he motioned to the still machine. You glare at him, this being the second time he cockblocks you and himself. But his gaze was unwavering. You sighed and leaned away from him, reaching for the top of the dryer as well as you could still atop of the laundry machine. “Whatever you say laundry boy.”

After pressing down on the start button, you’re quick to return to kissing him. But the quietness of the room seemed odd to you. The dryer had not started. Confused, you look at it again, certain that you pressed the right button. Pressing it once more you wait this time. The dryer stayed still.

The chaotic emotions from before enveloped you again and this time you could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jungkook is throwing you a worried look, not having expected the sight of your tears.

“It’s not started! It’s broken!” you exclaim tears pooling barely hanging onto your bottom lashes. You pushed him gently aside and hopped off the laundry machine. “Why has it not started?”

The desperate look you gave him paired with the knowledge that the machine was not doing what you wanted because you had not paid makes him crack and start laughing. You gape at his bunny smile and crinkly eyes offended until the silliness of the situation catches up to you and you can’t help but join.

“I have never cried over a broken dryer before. Or been cockblocked by one” you glance at him, mirth in both your eyes.

“And you better not start now” he warns you jokingly. You stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing again.

He can’t help but be enamoured by you and your silliness. Even though the night had not gone as you’d both planned. You both crying in laughter over a dryer makes him think that maybe there was something more there than a one night stand. And he was more than ready to give it a try.

Main Masterlist

[tiedyemillenialbullshit]

Nightmare

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Avenger Reader Word Count: 3,431 Summary: Your best friend finally comes to visit the compound after you join the Avengers. What starts out as a fun night out, quickly turns dire for you and Bucky. Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Feelings, Mentions of Alcohol and Drugs, PTSD/Nightmares, swearing

“AHHHH Y/N!!” You hear her before you see your best friend running towards you, not a care in the world that your entire team has also turned around to watch you two galavant towards each other like long lost sisters.

You catch Sarah in your arms and spin her around.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re FINALLY HERE! And you’re early! Holy shit like I can’t believe you’re finally here in New York!! Let me introduce you to the team!” You grab her arm after she starts to show hesitance in meeting the Avengers all at once.

“Are you sure they have time? I don’t want to be a bother,” she says sheepishly.

“Oh my god Sarah, I talk about you all the time! They’re just as excited to meet you, come on.” You both walk towards the team still staring at you both near the entrance to the compound doing a quick debrief of a not-so-successful mission the day before.

“Guys, this is Sarah. Sarah this is-“ she cuts you off. “I know who you guys all are. It’s so nice to meet you! I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.” Everyone grins and introduces themselves to your best friend.

Nat smiles at you both, “On the contrary, you’re coming out with us tonight! No if’s, and’s or but’s”

Sarah seems to suddenly catch a second wind from her long flight and lets out a squeal of excitement.

You’re the newest to the “official” team, even though Steve and Fury had been trying to recruit you for years. You didn’t like the idea of the world knowing about your skill set and preferred to live a quiet life back in California. Ever since moving here, you’ve felt like maybe you weren’t home yet. Everyone was so nice and welcoming, but you missed your little house hidden in the outskirts of the National Parks in California. You missed the sun, the familiar smell of your patch of paradise and the general sense of room back home. Most importantly, you missed Sarah.

You were reluctant to invite her out to New York at first, but now that things seemed to be going smoothly, you sent for her via a car and private jet thanks to one Mr. Tony Stark. He was more than happy to help you out given your fresh and maybe sometimes bumpy arrival to the Avengers.

As everyone filed inside to break away before the evening festivities, Bucky caught your arm.

After holding you back for a second he said, “Hey, I can totally hang back tonight if you’d rather just be with Sarah and the team.”

You realize what he’s getting at. He also has some lack of feeling settled at the compound. It was something you bonded over when you first arrived. You both had similar pasts, even though they were at the same time lightyears apart.

“Buck, no. I think we’re all going out to Bleaker’s tonight! What’s a better way to get to know the team than bowling, beer, smoking inside, beer, old arcade games, more beer and maybe dancing?!”

Bucky gives you a quick glare out the corner of his eye before wrapping his metal arm around your shoulders to lead you inside after everyone.

“Fiiiiiiine, but I can’t promise I’ll behave.” You giggle, but suddenly feel a couple sets of eyes on you.

“And what do we have here?,” Tony asks with a smirk across his mouth. Sarah seems to be in the middle of an engaging conversation with Steve, so you don’t seem to have an easy out of this encounter. Bucky quickly drops his arm and steps a foot away from you.

“Uh, nothing. Y/N just seemed like maybe she wasn’t feeling well.”

“But I’m fine so here we are - have you seen Sam? Nat? Wanda? I told them we should be ready in a few hours and I jus-“

“Oh for Christ’s sake guys, your secret is safe with me,” Tony winks at you knowingly. You decide to take that as the end of the conversation and rush over to join Sarah.

“So! You have muscles.” Sarah says clearly at a loss of words looking at Steve in a tight shirt.

You and Bucky share a giggle, but pull Sarah away and save her from further embarrassment.

“What the fuck did I just say?” Sarah is about as red as a tomato as you drag her upstairs away from the awkward encounter. Steve looked a little flustered as well, which you file away in the back of your brain.

“Who cares! Let’s catch up and get ready for tonight.” Sarah is your best friend for a reason. Even though it had been 6 months since you last saw each other, it was like it was yesterday. You two spend the next few hours catching up, gossiping about each other’s families, friends, ex-boyfriends, etc.

“So! How are we doing in the boi department?” You turn around and face Sarah at the inquisitive tone in her question.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m good, I’m… I’m doing great, I mean yeah I’m good. WHY?” You’re stuttering and you don’t even care it’s obvious you’re blushing.

“Oh, you know. I mean, I’ve only recently met a few super soldiers, but I do think I can tell the there’s a spark between one and someone else.” Sarah so wants you to spill the tea but you promised Bucky you’d keep it quiet.

“Let’s just say things are developing and whatever you’d like to take from that you may.” You both launch into a giggle fit of her guessing and you denying certain aspects of Bucky Barnes.

When Wanda wanders into your room a few hours later, she starts laughing at what she sees. “You know you two are wearing like the same thing, right?” Exchanging confused looks at each other, you reply with a “AND?!”

Sam follows in with a smirk of his own. You’re bracing for his jokes but instead says “damn, OKAY! Everyone’s looking sharp tonight. Y/N, have you seen our bionic man around? Is he coming? He better come out tonight or I swear to…”

After Sam leaves to go find Bucky, the three of you wander down to find Nat and start the evening off with a shot or two. You aren’t much of a drinker, so one is enough for you. You much rather enjoy the company of your friend Mary Jane.

The team is getting silly with each other in the kitchen and quickly the room is filled with people yelling at each other to pregame harder, laughing when Nat’s little sister challenges Sam to a chugging contest and wins.

You feel a large hand at the small of your back. You can smell his cologne and know who it is immediately.

“Well don’t you look dashing tonight Sargent Barnes.” You lean in on impulse but stop yourself just as the girls turn around to see who you’re talking to.

“I was just going to say the same thing to you, sweets.” He mumbles in your ear before removing his hand and walking over to Sam.

The alcohol decides to hit you then, leaving you feeling empty that he’s not standing next to you anymore. Neither of you had wanted to have the “conversation” but you knew you were head over heels for him.

“CABS ARE HERE” screams Sam.

“Sam. For the love of God, stop watching Jersey Shore.” Natasha jokes to him.

At the same time Steve screams, “I understood that reference!” Eye rolls are exchanged as you all make your way outside.

The atmosphere is buzzing and you’re so excited to not just be out with your team, but to also have the only bit of family you had with you as well. You finally felt at home, at peace, and were ready for a fun night out.

Bleaker’s is one of those hole-in-the-wall dive bars that from the outside seems like a hard pass, but once you’re in, there’s no other place you’d rather spend a Saturday night. It’s true it started as a bowling alley in the 60’s. That still remains. What’s newer is the arcade in the back, where the old salon used to be. Jimmy bought the space next door, blew out the wall and filled it with arcade games that sometimes work and sometimes eat your money.

After years of being regular patrons, he knows your team well. The minute you walk in, he starts up all your favorite drinks.

“Ah! My best customers! I had a feeling I’d be seeing Earth’s mightiest heroes tonight.” You line up at the bar for whatever Jimmy decides you’re drinking tonight.

“Ah yes, two vodka on the rocks for my little Russian assassins. Sam here’s your vodka red bull which I don’t think you need, but here we are. Steve! Your drink of choice: an Old Style. Wanda, a cosmo for my favorite witch. And who do we have here, Y/N?”

You’re already both in hysterics at the old man behind the bar giving everybody a hard time. “Jimmy, this is my best friend Sarah. She’s visiting from California for a few days.”

“And whatever the lady wants can be put on my tab…” Steve butts in. Sarah immediately turns red but says “well in that case I’ll have vodka soda with lime please!”

Bucky has come up behind you and now you’re both laughing and watching the two of them stare at each other like no one else is in the room.

“Oh no, what did you do Y/N?”

“Let it play out, he’s not completely tripping over his words yet, maybe he’ll finally land a good girl.” You hush to Bucky.

Jimmy stares as well in amusement. “And you two? Your usual?”

“Yes’sir!” You shout over the growing music. Jimmy hands you each a jack and Diet Coke. You tell yourself it’s okay because it’s diet, but you know that’s a bunch of bullshit.

The other great thing about Bleaker’s? The dance floor downstairs. You always joke around that it seems like a nightclub that never closes in Amsterdam or something, but you’re serious. It could be 3 pm and sunny and you’d never know. It’s in the basement, it's always dark and the music is almost always too loud.

Usually that would gross you all out, but the energy tonight is pushing you all downstairs.

You reach back and grab Bucky’s hand not really caring who sees. It’s been months of sneaking around and either everyone knows and is playing it off like they don't or you’re really good at hiding it. Regardless, you’re over hiding. Maybe showing a little PDA tonight will get him out of his shell.

Sarah and Steve are no where in sight, assuming they’re ahead of you, you follow the team downstairs.

Minutes turn into hours. Everyone is dancing, laughing, sweating, screaming the lyrics to every song, and for a little while you can forget you’re a group of superheroes, and can just be normal 30-something year-olds.

You mostly dance with Bucky and quickly realize he’s a better dancer than you thought he would be. Those moves from the 1940’s must still be relevant in some way today, because the way he's grinding up on you and not caring if anyone sees just does something to you.

You work the room, finding Sarah, Wanda, Nat, even Steve for a song before you realize you don't see Bucky. You give it a few minutes thinking maybe he is in the bathroom. After 15 minutes though, you grab Steve’s attention and motion for him to check the bathroom while you check outside.

You race to the alley where you find Jimmy on a smoke break. “Hey Jimmy, have you seen Bucky? I can’t find him.”

“Oh yeah, doll, he took off in a cab about a half hour ago. Looked real flustered, but I didn’t want to press.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You thought you felt his mood shift about an hour ago, he was becoming stiff and quiet. You thought maybe he was just drinking a lot but now you’re realizing the loud music, strobe lights and base must have been triggering him.

“Ugh I’m such a bitch,” you huff as you send Steve a S.O.S text.

You: Hey, Jimmy said he just left. I'm sure he's heading home. I'm going to go find him.

Sire Captain Rogers: Go ahead. I think Sarah and I can find something to do while you find Buck. ;)

You: Yeah I’m sure you can.

You: BEHAVE. She’s my best friend.

Sire Captain Rogers: I know Y/N, don’t worry about us. Let me know when you find him.

You lock your phone and hop in a cab back to the compound.

No one is up or around when you enter through the front. The kitchen has been cleaned up, the dishes done. Probably thanks to THURSDAY, Tony’s beta bot for “cleaning up after you assholes trash the place.”

You smirk and head for the elevators. Heading straight to Bucky’s room, you can tell his light is on but something seems off. You don’t like to use your powers on friends or in the compound, but you close your eyes and reach out with your mind to find his aura. Your eyes snap open. You don’t sense him, you just see red.

Taking this as a good excuse to break into a friend’s room, you burst into the room to find it in disarray. Everything is toppled over, broken glass is on the floor, the bathroom light is on, but all you can see is his blood on the door and the floor. You’re panicked, trying to piece together what happened.

Again, you close your eyes and reach out for the familiar energy of Bucky. You find him in your room on the floor.

“What the fuck?,” you mumble and sprint up the stairs to your apartment. You shoot Steve a text on your way up.

You: Found him, looks like a bad one. I’ll let you know if I need you.

Sir Captain Rogers: Thanks Y/N. I’m just a call away, let me know if you need anything. Night.

Upon entering, you sense he’s in distress. His heart rate is elevated, he’s incredibly sweaty and is panting like a dog.

“Bucky? Buck, it’s me, it’s Y/N.”

Bucky stirs and jumps into a defensive standing position quicker than you can blink. You flip the lights on with a “BABE. Baaabe, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re in the compound. You had a nightmare.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide and alarmed, but you can tell the moment he recognizes you.

Rushing over to you, he takes you into a big hug. “Oh my god. What happened? Are you okay, did I hurt you?”

“No Bucky, no I just found you a minute ago. You had another bad one, what do you need me to do right now for you?”

Bucky stands back and rubs his swollen eyes. “I need to shower, can you help me?”

Typically, this is where it gets exciting, but you knew what he means. Water grounds him. He doesn’t feel like he’s falling in water. It helps him visualize the stress washing off of him.

You help him strip and get in the shower, but before you can even take his jeans off, he jumps in and pulls you in with him. You realize how desperate he is for whatever he’s feeling to pass and your heart sinks.

You’re both standing there, almost fully clothed holding each other. This is the worst you’ve seen him in a long time.

“I’m so sorry if I ruined your night, Y/N. The base sounded like the train, the lights looked like the machine they used on me, what the fuck.”

You aren’t sure what to do so you decide to sit on the ground and pull him down with you. You position yourself behind him so his back is in your chest. Even though he’s so much larger than you, he sinks down enough for you to reach over his shoulders and hold him.

“It’s okay Barnes, just breathe with me. You’re safe. You’re with me, and we’re home. Nobody is going to touch you. I’ve got you, you won’t fall.”

You take in deep breaths so he can match your breathing.

After about 45 minutes, the hot water is out in the tank. Bucky sits forward and turns towards you. You want him to lead right now, so you don’t say anything. Neither does he, but the look in his eyes are telling you something about tonight is different.

With a soft smile on your lips, you cup his cheek until he is really looking at you. “Hun, let’s go lay down, ya? Let me help get you dried off.” Bucky hates when you fuss over him, so when he doesn’t argue, you know to be extra gentle with him.

After getting him up and out of the shower, you think skin-to-skin contact doesn’t seem sexual right now, it feels intimate in a grounding sense, and you know that’s exactly what he needs right now. Bucky seems dazed, almost like he got hit too hard in the head. You yourself are of course a tad over-served, and are quickly realizing the adrenaline of this entire situation is rubbing off.

You get Bucky into bed and turn to make sure his phone is plugged in and that he has a glass of water, but he grabs your wrist before you can move away. “Just leave it, it’s fine.”

“Buck, just let me-“ he grabs your wrist harder.

“Y/N. Please just stay here. Please.”

The entire time you’ve been together, he’s done a lot of things but begging you for anything is not one of them. Suddenly the phone and whatever hell else you were doing doesn’t seem important anymore.

You climb into your usual spot next to him and decide maybe you’ll try to get him to open up. The moment the back of your head hits the pillow, Bucky is facing you. His pleading eyes seem like they want to tell you everything that’s going on in his head, but you know pushing him to talk will just make the nightmares come flooding back too soon.

Instead, you decide to lay on your back and pull him to lay on your chest.

“Just listen to my heart beat, Bucky.” You hear him take a deep breath and settle into your chest.

You start and stop yourself from trying to say something comforting. You’re terrified to say the wrong thing at such a crucial moment. Typically these bad episodes are reserved for a Steve house call. You realize as he’s settling into a comfortable position that he hasn’t asked you to call Steve yet. Bucky trusts you in a way you didn’t realize until now.

You don’t know when, but you start humming the first calming song that comes in your head.

I’ll be seeing you In all the old familiar places That this heart of mine embraces All day through

Bucky picks his head up to look at you. Oh fuck.

“Where did you hear that song?,” he says to you with shiny eyes.

“You sing it all the time when you’re concentrating. I looked it up and added it to my ‘bath time/relax’ playlist. I didn't know Billie Holliday was a favorite of yours."

Bucky was looking at you like maybe this was the first time he saw you, like really saw you. “My mom used to sing that around the house when she was missing my dad.”

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I can hum a diff-“ you’re cut off with the most searing kiss Bucky has ever given you. He’s crying when he pulls back to look at you again. “Will you keep singing it?”

In that small cafe The park across the way The children's carousel That chestnut tree, the wishing well

By the time you finish the second verse, he has physically relaxed in your arms. You continue rubbing your hand up and down his back and shoulder, stopping to play with his long hair every once in a while.

I'll be seeing you In every lovely summer's day In every thing that's light and gay I'll always think of you that way

“I forgot how much I love hearing this song sung around me.” Bucky whispers so quietly you almost miss it.

I'll find you in the morning sun And when the night is new I'll be looking at the moon But I'll be seeing you…

You stop your caressing when you feel him sit up on one arm.

He leans down to kiss you but stops short to whisper “I love you Y/N.” You kiss him back and wrap your arms around his shoulders, and when you say “I love you too, Bucky,” you’ve never been more sure of something in your life.

[black-coffee-and-sugar]

Magical thinking indeed:

- im just over here feeling warm cuz lena really referred to kara's apartment as 'home'. lena truly looked like one partner stuck entertaining the friends alone because the other partner is running late and didn't give an excuse for why

- also kara flying in through the window sans the suit cuz everyone knows now. im living for this

- nia just jumping over the backrest of the couch. it's about time these people actually started acting like friends and i would like to point out that we didn't get to this until lena was back and finally a full member of the super friends. i know im beating a dead horse but we could've had this seasons ago

- i actually forgot about the voldemort/harry thing going on with nxyly and kara but that's honestly on me for always watching these episodes after 2 glasses of wine

- brainy wasn't in this episode because??? like what does he have going on outside of the tower? are him and nia even dating? did we really give his screentime to william and fucking mitch? this is the 3rd game night scene he hasn't been in and im not a fan

- andrea is so mean but like...it's william

- also this embedding william with the super friends thing is utter BULLSHIT. have you ever watched a show that literally has to force a character into scenes? nothing about william's involvement is ever organic and the problem is persisting all because of a contrived connection the writers want to forge between him, kara and the super friends

- alex n j'onn, the gatekeepers of kara's secret, the former blacksite clandestine agents actually agreed to this and WHY

- alex not protecting her identity WHY

- lena's identity and magic needs to be a secret and yet there lena is, eye fucking with kara in the middle of tower in front of william, god and my fucking salad

- honestly if william doesn't figure out who they all are, since they're doing a shit job hiding it, he's just plain stupid

- i get the impression that kara is still too terrified of lena getting directly involved. she doesn't want her on nxyly's radar at all

- esme!

- rainbow bracelet. kelly as guardian still wearing that shit like a proud mom hanging their kids art on the fridge. im soft

- the foster parents were suspect from minute one but the way that woman just pushed that small child outside to defend them. like...what kind of psycho does that? and more importantly why were they NOT ARRESTED?!?!

- 'lena broke my brain'. you know that line was 100% nicole and i thank her for her service. that was hilarious

- nxyly is the first supergirl villain ive enjoyed since S2 lillian

- lena is not amused by william. same girl same

- but credit where credit is due, his baking story for once actually had some relevance and gave lena her epiphany about her mom's spell

- kara offering to go get the flower or whatever for lena because it's dangerous and lena's little and she doesn't want her to get hurt. protective kara we love to see it

- william: you protect lena, supergirl

my dude, unneeded instruction.

- kara being all cocky is peak content. lena's little smile at kara's casual display of strength. SAME LENA SAME

- for a minute i thought kara totally killed that guy with the flicked bullet

- nia's spidey senses tingling at the lover's quarrel kara and lena are about to have.

- im surprised they didn't bring up the brain washing because that was definitely the moment where lena believed it was for the greater good and she was being manipulative and ruthless with her vampire shirt

- can we say GROWTH tho. i love that kara and lena can disagree without all this bullshit drama like before. secrets are OUT honesty is IN. they're communicating and expressing their fears and leaning on each other. this. this is what i want

- also have to point out that lena is kara's humanity. WE BEEN KNEW but that shit is canon now. so is kara being hopeful and happy around lena. and kara no longer feeling alone because lena is back. i can't believe im winning

- so so so last week lena says 'i believe in you' and now kara says it. before it was 'good luck' 'you too'. the way the writers avoid the explicit use of 'i love you' just makes it louder

- currently thinking about the 'i believe in a thing called love' episode and im already losing my mind

- lena and nia god i love them together. their scenes totally feel like genuine katie and nicole vibes.

- yo the stunt work was actually decent? dreamer's black widow style flip. the dansen banter while kicking ass. is...is this still supergirl? im not used to being fed like this

- dansen telepathy. they just agreed 'yep esme is the one'

- did veeta not say that there's a 'prescribed order to the totems'? so why are they now picking whichever totem they feel like?

- ngl the super friends have been the cause of literally all the city's major issues this entire season

- lena does the spell she didn't want to do because??? like that's not even me being a little shit i think i might have missed that cuz i don't understand the chain of events that led to her changing her mind when she was so adamantly against it

- these incompetent heroes continue their idoicy by letting william write this article WHY. they are not running on taxpayer dollars. they don't owe the public shit. they're actually breaking many laws as vigilantes and 'borrowing' satellites and god knows what else

- andrea has no journalistic integrity. or common decency. she's still hot tho

- william growing a pair. good for him but did he and apparently Andrea forget about the 'no competing' clause in the contracts?

- ending with supercorp domestic fluff 2 episodes in a row. bruh don't touch me

- lena: I'm not using my fingers

kara: I'm going to

this is the new 'i don't think about you while im doing it'

it's all so deliberate. they're SO LOUD

[cinnaminsvga]

🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady. 

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool. 

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine. 

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning. 

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!” 

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him. 

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not. 

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets. 

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly. 

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched. 

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured. 

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples. 

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant. 

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great. 

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet. 

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first. 

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak! 

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke. 

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly. 

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease. 

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time. 

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. 

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before. 

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.