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orbitariums · 8 months ago

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warmth | art donaldson + patrick zweig + black fem reader (a snippet)

full length part 1 here!

i miss posting on here real bad and i keep teasing things (christopher moltisanti, richie jerimovich) and not actually writing/releasing them SO i'm putting this snippet of this oneshot i'm writing to encourage myself to actually put this out.

i think this will probably have multiple parts because the tension needs to builddd. and please, let me know y'alls thoughts!!! what do you think, what do you predict is gonna happen, r u thirsting adequately, etc. i love hearing your little comments <333

& let me know if you’d wanna be tagged when this comes out

essentially: reader, patrick and art were childhood best friends who conveniently were all in love with each other, or at least had enough sexual tension to make it feel that way. fast forward almost a decade later, and reader has made it onto the red carpet with her fantastic pen, and patrick and art have gone pro. when she invites them to her house for a star-studded friendsgiving, tensions rise and old doors open, springing forth new possibilities. this is only the beginning.

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warmth

“We should just turn around now, save ourselves the embarrassment.”

Patrick paid Art no mind, rolling down the window and leaning out of it, pressing the buzzer as you had dutifully instructed them in your email invite.

“Too late now. Already threw away about a gallon of gas just coming up the hill to this place,” he replied, the sense of ease in his voice only egging Art on even more.

“Exactly why we should leave. I mean, fuck. Does she have to live on a hill?”

“Residence of [last name], to whom am I speaking?” a male voice rings on the other end.

“Uh…” Patrick starts, Art reaching up over him,

“Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?”

A silence filled the air. Patrick swatted at Art, forcing him back in his seat.

“Why’d you say it like a question, dumbass?”

Art stammered, already starting to get red in the face,

“I was --”

The gate swung open and both the boys let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you!” Patrick chimed, smirking at Art, who seemed to be sinking in his seat.

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Meanwhile, you were inside the mansion that you call home, flowing around the kitchen like there weren’t about fifty people milling about and mingling amongst one another. It smelled like something out of Hansel and Gretel -- from the fragrant brown roasted turkey sitting in the oven, to the gourmand scent of perfectly caramelized candied yams, to the vanilla musk perfume you dotted on your wrists. A black mini Schnauzer nipped excitedly at your feet as you added half a cherry tomato to the giant bowl of salad you’ve been prepping for the last twenty minutes. You look like a pro, like a party of this magnitude is no big deal to you.

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“Do we ring the doorbell? Or maybe… should we knock?” Art questioned, hands tied behind his back as he glanced up at Patrick for answers.

“It’s open,” Patrick retorted, but he too stood stupefied at the door, like a weary traveler wavering in horrific awe before the mouth of some epic beast.

“On three?” Art suggested, and when he didn’t hear a response, he started to count, “one… two…”

Patrick stepped in before Art could get to three. Art scoffed, but followed behind him anyway.

The two of them stood there silently, taking the grandiosity of it all in — the sky-high dome ceiling, two grand wooden staircases directly opposite one another, the shiny verdant porcelain flooring, the Basquiat painting hanging above the wide bookcase directly in front of them. Mouths open, they looked like they were ready to catch flies.

“Fuuuck me,” Patrick breathed out heavily. Art’s head was stuck staring up at the ceiling, so high he thought it’d never end.

“You made it.”

Both Art and Patrick seemed to stand straight at the sound of your voice, like soldiers at attention. You almost laughed, but instead you stood there coolly, smiling at them both with your lips and your eyes— in them, a look that was almost knowing, wise beyond your years. It seemed like a lifetime before either of them would speak. They spent half that lifetime practically gawking at you, drinking you in. And how could they not, when you were draped in that cream-colored silk dress, the flowy bottom dancing above your ankles. You looked more beautiful than they remembered you, calmer, secure — of course, they hadn’t seen you since they were teenagers. Now there was this air of timelessness about you that was only just poking at the surface when you were in high school. Now it surrounded you. Something mystic encompassed your entire spirit, dripping from your head to your feet. They’d spent years seeing you from behind a screen, being interviewed on live TV, attending red carpets for award shows, blending in with the Hollywood mecca — another beautiful twenty-something industry talent. But the glow of the television that seemed to give everyone a perfectly filtered sheen was nothing compared to your beauty here.

“It’s so good to see you,” Patrick broke the silence first, practically lurching forward with open arms to embrace you. His beard scratched against your cheek. You could smell the cologne that was beginning to wear off, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. His arms nearly suffocated you.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he smiled at you so fervently.

“Good to see you too, Patrick…” you glanced over at the mousy boy who didn’t seem to have changed much since high school. “C’mere, Artie.”

Art chuckled: a nervous huff of relief, inching forward into your open arms and nuzzling his chin into your shoulder, closing his arms around your midwaist. You could smell the aftershave that still clung to his face, and the detergent still fresh from his clothes.

You pulled away, but took one of each of their hands, squeezing.

“My two boys. Man, how long has it been?”

“Oh, just a while—”

“Seven years,” Art interjected.

“Who’s counting, right?” Patrick grinned, making all of you laugh.

You looked at them almost expectantly, eyes wide like a doe, the slightest smile playing at your lips. They looked back with bated breaths. Always, you were in charge, always. It had been like this since the scabby-kneed days of childhood. If you wanted to play on the swings, they were there on either side of you. You were the queen of the sandbox. In middle school, they snuck extra cookies for you from the lunchroom and fought over who got to surprise you with the treat every day. Senior year of high school, in the hotel room in London, when you had them perched on either side of you like baby birds waiting for mother’s return— when you had both your hands on each of their thighs, had them panting like puppy dogs, inching your hands further and further only to leave the minute you heard “lights out.”

It had been seven years since then and still, it was the same. Only this time, you were stupidly rich, thanks to the soaring success of your two psychological thriller books turned TV series. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about them, or didn’t care about them now that you were rich and famous. You’d gotten accepted to study creative writing at Brown, Art went to play at Stanford, and Patrick went on his path to go pro. You were delighted to see that they were only a click away thanks to the internet, just one click away from being reintegrated into your life. Your childhood best friends.

“C’mon, lunch is almost ready.”

Friendsgiving. Who didn’t love the concept? It was a readily welcomed, wholesome idea — friends of all ages and backgrounds coming together to rehash their Thanksgiving with leftovers, stories from the year, and maybe a game of cards. Except your friendsgiving was attended by A-list actresses, Cannes festival attending screenwriters, and the odd Grammy-nominated artist. And your friendsgiving was not at all an intimate affair — it may as well have been a club party. Most people were outside, dancing, shrieking with laughter, drinking, and skipping their way to their seats. Your backyard was vast and verdant green, with a pool in the center, the perimeter lined with lemon and peach trees, and miles to explore.

“This is fucking insane, is that Dakota Johnson?” Patrick scoffed. He and Patrick had been left to their own devices yet again, while you flitted around being the hostess with the mostest, easing and gliding about. A laugh here, a clink of glasses there, and a coolness to you that stood in striking comparison with the warmth that stirred deep down inside you. A warmth that could be served with a ladle into goblets, like some elixir with magical properties only you possessed.

“No, you idiot, that’s— oh shit. That might be Dakota Johnson.”

Clink clink clink.

“Everybody, hi, hi! Thank you for coming, please, sit down,” you called out, clinking your glass to get the attention of your guests. Patrick and Art scrambled to find seats, ending up at a table with people who might have been minor celebrities or art critiques or designers -- at least one of those options.

“I wanna thank you all so much for coming, this really means a lot to me. I know these sorts of things can be really hectic, but you guys make this house feel like a home. I’m glad that some of you will be staying with me for the next few days, there’s always room for more,” you glanced over at Art and Patrick. “Some of you are new friends, some of you I’ve known for far too long. But I think it’s incredibly fucking cool that we’re all here together now in this moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. I do this every year, and every year I meet even more amazing, talented, fascinating people and you all are so dear to my heart. And now, what we’re all waiting for… lunch is served!”

A cacophony of cheers rang out as staff rushed about to place plates in front of everyone. You stood giggling, basking in all of it. Patrick and Art couldn't help but watch on with deeply impressed smiles — you were meant to bask: in glory, in pleasure, in everything. You looked just right standing where you were.

The rest of the afternoon Patrick and Art spent attempting to blend in as best they could. They were pro tennis players, but this was another level of stardom that they couldn’t quite fathom yet. They watched you ruthlessly the entire night, unable to squash those rising feelings of attraction and yearning for you that had never quite simmered to begin with. You’d always been cooler than them, but watching you now there was a certain air to you that belonged to a grown woman, someone comfortable and confident and in their element. You were positively swimming in the sunlight the entire afternoon. It was like you had this sort of magnetic pull to all things good, rich, and warm. People wanted to be around you. And god, did this prove that.

By night time, people were finally starting to leave. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, making the fairy lights glow stronger now. The few people that were staying with you for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend had disappeared to their rooms. Besides the waitstaff still milling about, clearing the tables, it was just you, Patrick, and Art. The two of them hadn’t meant to stay so long, really. It wasn’t like they were forcing themselves to stick around and be acknowledged by you in a way that felt meaningful. Sure, you’d had your small talk and cracked a few inside jokes, but as much as neither wanted to admit it, they needed more. If it was hard to get your attention before, it was nearly impossible now. They were surrounded by so many people who all wanted to network and talk and introduce themselves, they found themselves mingling with your friends, some of them people who they’d seen on screen in the past year, more than you. They’d been dragged onto the dance floor multiple times by multiple acquaintances, only to gawk at you swaying your hips rather than actually dance themselves. It became overwhelmingly clear, in their increasingly present desperation, that they should’ve accepted your offer to stay in this castle of a house for the weekend. Neither of them had packed a bag.

“This is awkward, we’re the only ones left,” Art sighed, still sitting at their table.

“Let’s just… wait, okay? She might come back out."

"And give us a little speech?"

"Yeah, asshole, maybe she will."

At that very moment, you appeared again, this time clad in a two piece linen pajama set. You didn’t miss the way both their eyes trailed up your legs as you stood in front of them, arms crossed, smiling expectantly.

“I was hoping you two would still be here,” you said. You glanced between the two of them, that awkward silence filling the air once again. “C’mon. Let’s talk.”

You turned and walked back inside, the two of them trailing behind you.

"Your house is fucking sick by the way. I mean holy shit," Art blurted once you got to the main entrance hall.

"Feel like I just walked into a page of Architectural Digest," Patrick added on.

You led them up the stairs. Both their eyes dropped to your ass, which poked out just a bit from under the pair of shorts you wore. Silently watching the way your body curved as you walked.

"Ha, thanks. I think I did pretty okay for myself," you replied.

You led them to the den on the second floor and sat criss cross apple sauce on the lush green couch. Art sat on your left, Patrick on your right. Patrick spread his legs and Art had one foot up on the couch, bouncing against his knee.

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I was so busy being the host of the year that I didn’t pay enough attention to you two. My favorites.”

Art chuckled,

“Favorites? You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious! D’you know how much I missed you guys?”

Patrick scoffed playfully,

“All those TV interviews I watched of you? I wouldn’t even be thinking about us.”

You couldn’t help but grin, that warmth coming through once again. It nearly made the two men melt.

“Well I was. I always think about you guys.”

Now came Patrick’s voice again, a heaviness to it that almost made you jump,

“Do you think about anything specific?”

Although it had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen each other, you didn’t miss a single thing about either of them. Patrick didn’t mince words, and he never shied away from not just hinting at, but blaring his salacious intentions every time he spoke. You tilted your head towards him, a cool smile tugging at your lips.

“Just what good times we had.”

A silence, accented with a flood of nostalgia and a pointed reference to those “good times” permeated the air. You took a moment to gaze at the two of them ever so softly — enough for them to feel it, but not enough to make them squirm (though, they were easy to make squirm) — before you decimated the silence by slapping your hands down on either of their thighs and squeezing endearingly.

“So tell me, where’ve you two been? I’m not the only one on TV these days.”

“Ahh, you don’t wanna hear about boring tennis,” Art waved a hand of dismissal.

You chortled, a trademark of yours that Art and Patrick had always poked fun at in school,

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“You still laugh the same,” Patrick said, grinning like he was trying not to but was unable.

You chuckled, this time low in your throat, and turned your head to face him again. You and Patrick were similar in the sense that you were always pushing the boundaries, tiptoeing closer and closer to the line — but the three of you had never quite established where that was. At some point, you were all just too close to even think about “the line” or “boundaries” — all of you appeared clueless to societal expectations of friendship, spurting a sort of cultlike relationship where everyone else was an outsider.

“Do I?” smiling at him like you were warning him not to tease.

“Yeah, that little snort you do,” Patrick replied, unshaken.

“You do do a little snort,” Art chimed in, always chirping like he spoke from a less nefarious place.

“And if I get started on you guys’ little tennis grunts?” you grinned fully now, showing teeth, looking between the two of them and leaning back a bit.

They followed, leaning back against the couch and keeping their heads in line with yours so you were never too far away from them, each of them turning their heads to look at you.

“No way you actually watch us,” Art replied.

“I do!” you insisted. “Seriously, if you’d asked anybody here you would know.”

“Sure, let me just strike up conversation with George Clooney,” Art shot back.

“Ha-ha,” you bleated sarcastically. “I don’t even know him… but I have walked past him once on the carpet.”

“Look at you,” Patrick smirked. “Little Miss Superstar.”

He punctuated his sentence with a hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered over to him and you caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, felt the way he gazed up at you. You didn’t miss the desire twinkling in his eyes.

Then Art, always second but not necessarily last,

“She’s our little superstar, you know that, right?”

His hand just gently grazing your shoulder.

You let them revel in the moment for as long as you felt appropriate, then huffed.

“You know you guys can stay for the weekend, right? I mean, you should.”

“Oh… no, we wouldn’t wanna impose,” Patrick said, his hand slinking away from your knee.

Another chortle from you, this time the kind that said everything about how you lived in comparison to them,

“You wouldn’t be. This is a five bedroom house. It’s fine. Besides, don’t you guys wanna actually catch up? I’ll let you torture me with tennis talk.”

Art started to stammer,

“I-I mean… we didn’t bring anything.”

“Just our idiot selves,” Patrick added.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get Charles to get you guys all set up.”

“Charles?”

“Oh, he’s my assistant,” you said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. “You’re not fighting me on this. I want to spend some quality time with my boys. Don’t make me have to beg for it.”

“We could never make you beg for anything,” Art replied, just a little too quickly.

“I know, Art, that’s why I love you,” you grinned over at him. “So, are we all in agreement? Stay with me. Just this weekend.”

“Yes,” they both replied a little too quickly this time.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile.

“You know… I really, really missed you guys. And those good times we had.”

You let the memory of that night of almosts in London resurge, let their minds run amuck with whatever teenage fantasy was still left over from that night. A moment so brief it could almost be forgotten, could even be flagged as incidental, accidental, but the three of you knew, even as grown adults (especially as grown adults), that it would always stick and remain unresolved, unless someone ran to the rescue with some sort of solution. Once again they held their breaths. You stood up, glanced between the two of them like you were sizing them up, and then smiled as if nothing had happened at all — you let them breath.

“Your bedroom’s the second on the right when you leave here. Charles will help you get set up— I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.”

And just like that, you were gone. The air in the room seemed to clear. Your presence was like a thousand tons of pressure weighing on their bodies and their minds. Finally, they could breathe.

They glanced at each other with the same longing, almost nervous expression — high school all over again.

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eek let me know what y'all thought. i wanna finish it by this week <3

#challengers #challengers smut #challengers fic #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson imagine #patrick zweig imagine #x reader #x black reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x black reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x black! reader

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bitbybitwrites · 16 days ago

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I was tagged by : @porcelainmortal, @alasse9 @forabeatofadrum

Thanks for thinking of me! . . I should really do this before 2024 is up, right? 😂

BTW its still Dec 31 here where I am, so I'll say it counts.

I've done a lot more than I expected this year, as I look back. And I'm kind of proud of myself.

I started writing for another fandom - RWRB. Its been fun adding these characters to the mix.

I managed finishing 1 multi-chapter fic and a 11 shorter fics.

I'm still plugging away on 3 longer multi-chapter WIP, adding and posting chapters as I go.

I have compiled an additional WIP list of (*stops to count*) 16 other fics that are not posted yet, but are in various stages of readiness. I flitter around adding bits to each when inpiration hits.

I think that's about it for me for 2024 - still writing, slow and steady. 😊

I'm always so happy to see any of kudos and comments if you have left any . . . and I'm still really apologetic that I haven't gotten to responding to many. There's only so much time in the day. I will try to get to them!

WRITING GOALS FOR 2025: Basically write more, and write as often as I can. There are so many of my WIP I want to get into and finish . . hopefully some of you will find them interesting to read!

Wishing you all a Happy New Year and a productive and creative 2025! I look forward to seeing/reading all you create!

See links and descriptions to everything under the cut!

1.) COMPLETED FICS

April 2024

Falling For You (Klaine fic) - 26,089 words

Summary:

Kurt Hummel thought by donating his services as a florist to Memorial Sloan Kettering, that he would simply be giving back to the medical community. A good deed for the month of December. Little did he know that a few chance run-ins with an adorable doctor and a sweet little girl in the hospital lobby would change all that. Written for the Klaine Secret Santa 2023 Gift Exchange.

May 2024

Pretty Shiny things (Klaine fic) - 1,943 words

Summary:

The clangs and shrieks of the alarm system at Christie's Auction House filled the corridors, echoing through the mostly empty building. They were just as loud as the beating of Kurt and Blaine's hearts as they raced down corridor after corridor while they attempted to escape. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Kurt growled through his teeth as he ran, slipping slightly on the polished marble floor as he turned another corner. “I leave you alone for five minutes . . . FIVE MINUTES, Blaine. What on earth did you do?” **** Discovered a fun new thing on Tumblr called Ficlet Friday. This ficlet was inspired by a dialogue prompt by annepi: Prompt: Klaine - “I leave you alone for five minutes...”

June 2024

hold me close (FirstPrince fic) - 836 words

Summary:

Alex has had a rough day. It's a good thing that Henry's home to take care of him. For a Ficlet Friday prompt : "Tell me anything. Everything.”

blythe spirit (FirstPrince fic) - 1,756 words

Summary:

“I . . . I don't know why you're even interested." “Baby, I love you. I'm interested in everything about you." Alex gave Henry a very pointed and heated look that definitely hit the mark. The flush on Henry’s face now deepened. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a few moments as he considered his options. “Come on,” Alex softly cajoled. “You can’t just say things like: ‘I played Elvira in a school production of Blythe Spirit’ and not expect me to ask for pictures . . or at least the lowdown on it all.” Alex pouted again to prove his point. “I’m a weak man, H. These are the types of things I need to know more about.” ***** From a Friday Ficlet prompt: "Tell Me anything. Everything."

nightfall (Klaine fic) - 219 words

Summary:

Blaine sighed as he collapsed onto the sand. With his chin upon his knees and arms wrapped around his legs, Blaine gazed out toward the ocean, deciding that the purple-ish pink sky that stretched out before him was absolutely breathtaking. If only he had his camera with him. It would be a perfect addition to his next gallery exhibit. ***** Based off a Tumblr Prompt/Ask Game - "Create a microstory from the prompt selected" Thanks to Falles for giving me: "49 - nightfall"

i'll always come back to you (FirstPrince fic) - 504 words

Summary:

Alex will always come back to Henry . . .always Based on a microstory prompt: #32 - dust motes

July 2024

fire island follies (Klaine fic) - 3,027 words

Summary:

Blaine Anderson is off to a weekend on Fire Island - well, his good friend Santana is draggng him on one. He's not so sure it's the best thing to do - but a run-in with a beautiful performer from the Fire Island Follies quickly changes his mind. ****** From a Tumblr Friday Ficlet prompt from bowtiesandboatshoes : "We're going to Fire Island. It's like gay Disney World." Title is from an actual burlesque/cabaret show: The Fire Island Follies

i hate waiting (FirstPrince fic) - 555 Words

Summary:

Alex needs to keep his daughter from being bored. inspired by this adorable picture on Tumblr by wordsofhoneydew

study date (Klaine fic) - 945 words

Summary:

"Get your hands off me!" The sound of a scuffle had Kurt look up from his reading. To be honest, Divination was such a bore of a class. It's not like he needed to learn anything new about it. Kurt had all of his mother's crystals, divination tools, and journals tucked away in her old trunk up in the attic of their home. He could read tea leaves and scry with the best of them. He had long ago lost focus on the chapter Professor Holiday had assigned them for the evening, so at this point, any other distraction would be welcome. Even if it was prefect duties.

Originally this was a bit of a false start for my fic, Advanced Potions

The original prompt was "hogwarts!au + 4. meet messy + 6. "what is that?"

August 2024

what can compare with your beautiful sound (Klaine fic) - 1,183 words

Summary:

Kurt’s brow furrowed as he concentrated on the task at hand. He had to get it just right. His hand hovered just a few inches higher, and with a deft flick of his wrist, a drop of wax fell from the lit candle in his hand to his canvas below. The canvas moaned in ecstasy. “Now, darling, we don’t want to shift, now do we?" Kurt softly murmured as he leaned in close. "You've been such a good boy for me so far." ***** Based off of a microstory prompt from Tumblr : "candles"

November 2024

smutsgiving/wanksgiving 2024: rwrb/firstprince - 662 words

Summary:

Prince Henry has been given a new gift for his bedchamber. Entry for Smutsgiving/Wanksgiving 2024.

smutsgiving/wanksgiving 2024: klaine - 580 Words

Summary:

Dinner was lovely, but Blaine is really ready to go home. Entry for Smutsgiving/Wanksgiving 2024.

2.) PARTIALLY PUBLISHED WIP:

(Klaine) If I Can Make Your Heart My Home - (Klaine Reverse Bang 2023) Life in New York City and working in the restaurant industry wasn’t exactly what Kurt Hummel had expected it would be. He’s lonely, stressed out and miserable. He’s almost ready to throw in the towel and return home to Ohio when a chance meeting with a musician in Central Park changes everything. (Warning: an angsty rollercoaster of a ride. Soooo many cameos from Glee characters! 😉)

(RWRB) Puppy Love - (RWRB NYE gift exchange 2023) The cold snowy day that Henry Fox discovers an abandoned beagle puppy in an alley brings handsome, flirty veterinarian, Alex Claremont-Diaz into his life. Alex is a single dad, recently moved to NY with his young son who Henry hasn't met yet - or so Alex thought. (Fluffy kid!fic)

(Klaine) Sanctuary - (Klaine Word Scramble 2023) Crown Prince Blaine has stumbled into a secluded glade, trying to escape the horrors of the bloody war his father had brought upon their kingdom. Mourning his beloved older brother and faced with the burden of taking his place in the kingdom, Blaine yearns for a place to hid from the world to deal with the issues weighing on his heavy heart. He encounters a mysterious elf, the guardian of the magical spring that Blaine has mistakenly defiled, whose growing connection to his life the young prince can't ignore. (Inspired by an idea/ artwork by @datshitrandom and @justgleekout)

3.) WIP FICS TO FINISH AND POST

My WIP list can be found here! I keep it updated. Feel free to ask me about any of them if you're curious . . 🥰. Hoping to finish some of these in the coming year.

******

OK so ( as usual) I'm late to post - so if anyone hasn't done this yet and wants to - take my big open tag for it and maybe some of these folks might want to do one of these wrap ups as well?

Tagging ( participate only if you want to): @wowbright, @gleefulpoppet, @daisyishedwig, @spaceorphan18 @special-bc-ur-part-of-it

@myheartalivewrites, @14carrotghoul, @thighzp @tailsbeth-writes @onthewaytosomewhere

@sophie1973 @getmehighonmagic @tinyarmedtrex @henrysfox @blueeyedgrlwrites

@kirakiwiwrites @madas-ahatters-world @sarkyblueeyes @heartsmadeofbooks @iboatedhere

@little-escapist @littlemisskittentoes @kurtsascot @hkvoyage @lilinas

Psst. . . and if any fanartists see this and want to share what they've drawn this year, tag me! I'd love to see your work if I've missed some!

#bitbybitwrites #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #rwrb fanfiction #rwrb fanfic #rwrb fic #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #fanfiction

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milkywayes · 1 year ago

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dreamt a cipher

a shepard/garrus post-destroy ending longfic.

[AO3 link]

I’ve debated a while about when to start posting this. Now it’s the new year, and I’ve been working on Cipher for over a year and a half, and I’ve waited long enough to start sharing it with you all. I’ve decided it’s finally time to start uploading while I work on the final chapters.

I started writing this before I ever drew a single piece of fanart for Mass Effect. It’s all the things that were bouncing around in my head after choosing the destroy ending with a mostly-paragon Shepard—consequence and responsibility and self-recrimination; her relationship with Garrus and with herself; their ties to each other and how much weight they can bear; their differing perspectives and how they slot together—all that fun stuff—compressed into a story, a place, a narrative.

I believe in the power of love, and I promise a happy ending. They’ve just been taking the long way to get there. Feel free to yell at me in the meantime.

A huge thank you to @callista-curations for her meticulous and invaluable beta work, and to @that-wildwolf and @gammaraydeath for being the best hypemen I could ask for!

A more detailed list of warnings can be found on AO3.

I've posted the full cover art here.

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Summary:

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Rating: M (subject to change) Important Tags: post-destroy ending - angst with a happy ending - slow burn (of sorts) - arguing - reconciliation - survivor guilt - minor original characters Her own personal Noverian peak. That’s what it was supposed to be. Nothing but the discovery: no distractions, no comfort, no windows looking out—no familiar faces. But it's starting to look like her winning streak might have ended in that pile of Citadel rubble, if it ever extended that far to begin with. ──── “How does the Earth idiom go? No use beating a dead—” A long-suffering sigh. “What was it again?” “A dead horse. And yet, you’re here. Beating it.” Pot, kettle. She wishes he’d just fucking say it.

-> AO3.

Read the start of Chapter 1: Constant Velocity under the cut!

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The overhead lights flicker as they always do when the data screens are up and running. It’s not something one gets used to, even so. It stings at her ocular nerves—or something like that, anyway, somewhere along the delicate wires that extend from her eyeballs into her brain—but her focus on the data doesn’t waver.

“In that case,” says Shepard, squinting against the ache, “what we need is salvage from a relay outside the immediate burst zone. Four jumps away. Five, if possible. There’s no point to any of this if we can’t scrape together a control group.”

She glances back at Elsawy, who so far hasn’t made it more than a meter into the room. She nods without looking up from her omni-tool; orange shimmers off her shiny, black hair, giving her the uncomfortable air of a Cerberus operative. Not the worst comparison, except that Miranda would waste no time letting her know if her logic took a faulty turn somewhere. Elsawy’s just as likely to agree now and write a message detailing all her crap conclusions later.

Leaning her hip against the conference table, Shepard shifts her weight off her left leg, bites down on the sigh that almost manages to slip out. Once in the clear, she grouses, “Where the hell is Meyer? He’s the one that called this meeting.”

As it is, it’s three people in attendance and she’s the only one talking. She could’ve achieved the same results with a voice call from her quarters, where she could elevate her leg in peace and without witnesses. In the dark.

“Lab Two,” answers Elsawy, finally ripping her attention off the omni-screen and gracing Shepard with a second of eye contact. Maybe in another life she could appreciate the effort—Jesus, as if she hasn’t had her fill of lives already. “We’re close to a breakthrough on the initial output patterns. Sorry. He’s been feeding his data to me.”

“Right.” She blinks once, twice, in time with the flickering. It doesn’t help; it never does. “I’ll swing by later, then. Anything else he asked you to relay?”

“Just that, Commander.” Elsawy is mumbling just enough that her voice has to compete with the drone of the air vents. The translator takes a second to filter out and amplify it. The result is less than perfect: “More salvage—” bzzrt—“bigger picture, you got it.” She narrows her eyes, and Shepard raises a brow. “Left leg or—” bzz!—“left hip?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Commander.”

“It’s nothing relevant,” she says pleasantly, forcing herself to stand up straight again. There’s a brief tremor shaking up her hamstrings; she waves a hand to distract from it. In the frenzy of the lights, the movement looks jerky, nervous. She soldiers on. “Old field injury. Unrelated. Anything can set it off.”

Funny, kind of, since it’s that very leg that ends in the most perfect, cooperative example of a foot she’s ever had the pleasure of treading on. It’s cloned; a replacement. Not the only one either. They should’ve just done away with the whole limb, but she hadn’t been consulted. Same with her trick shoulder. Not even Cerberus had managed to get that one back on the straight and narrow.

“I’d rather you bring it up with the doctor,” replies Elsawy. This is, apparently, what it takes for her to finally speak at a reasonable volume. “If we manage to fill even one of the data gaps…”

“I know,” she says. “I know, and I’m telling you, it’s unrelated.”

-> continue reading on AO3

#mass effect fanfiction #shakarian #fanfic #shakarian fic #oh GOD. here it is. I'm BIRTHING this baby like Shepard birthed grunt #I'm so nervous but I am really proud of this story so Take it.#cipher tag

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odyssean-flower · 1 year ago

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The Winding Path of Fate Bonus Chapter - The Kingdom of Sunflowers

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: There once was a realm split in two. One was the domain of the sea, and the other was a kingdom of sunflowers. Tags: Voyeurism but it's wholesome (?), fluff, one-sied Note: This is set between Chapter 7 and 8 of The Winding Path of Fate. I've been working on this for so long that I don't know if it's good or not anymore haha Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette as some sort of byronic hero

The small, green sprouts. They were lined up neatly in three rows. You had tried to make them as evenly spaced as you could.

Their shiny, smooth leaves. You liked to rub them between your fingers and feel their fuzziness. The texture was pleasant to the touch.

The white pages of your notebook. They were filled with tables and daily measurements. Just scanning your eyes over them gave you a satisfied feeling.

Your worn pencil and ruler. They were trusty implements that had been with you for such a long time that you don’t even remember when you got them. You hoped they would continue to accompany you in the future.

The—

A prickle on the back of your neck. It was a bump in the train track of your thoughts. A train track you tried very hard to follow since you came out here half an hour ago.

The prickle was not the sting of an insect or a small stray object blown against your nape by the wind.

No, the cause was far more terrifying than both of those things.

You turned your head to the house, looking up at the second-floor window that faced the front yard. You had never been in that room before, and for good reason.

It was haunted.

A flash of white. The curtains fluttered shut.

The prickle on your neck came from a ghost’s lilac gaze.

The dining room of the house with a lovely view of the sea was, for most of its existence, quiet. Every once in a while, that quietness would be broken by the lively chatter of small creatures with bright eyes, but otherwise it was only used by the master of the house.

Recently, a change occurred. If the tranquility of the dining room was a perfectly still body of water that was broken by occasional loud splashes, then now there was a series of gentle ripples regularly making their way across the surface.

On this day, one such ripple formed. It looked to be a particularly large one.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, I’m afraid I have some troubling news.”

The ripple—in the form of a young woman’s voice—made its way to the other side of the table, where the master was sitting.

The cutlery he was holding dropped into his plate. “What is it, Madame? Has something happened? I will do everything in my power to help you.”

“On the contrary, sir, I think you are the one in need of help. Your study is haunted by a ghost.”

“...Pardon?”

“I saw a glimpse of it in the window today. I think it was staring at me when I was out making my sunflower observations. It almost gave me a heart attack when I saw it.”

“...”

The young woman carefully sliced a piece of steak and brought it to her mouth. The master was as still as a statue. For a few seconds, the water was as smooth as glass.

“I think you should do something about it. It’s quite troubling. Creepy, even.”

“...I-I’ll...see what I can do.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.”

The young woman finished her dinner, nodded to the master, and went to put her dishes away in the kitchen. The master didn’t stir. An outsider might mistake him for a flawless statue, if not for the gradually reddening tips of his ears.

The ghost did not disappear. In fact, it seemed to have grown bolder. It moved to the dining room now, which had a nice view of the front yard.

Perhaps there were some things that even the Chief Justice couldn’t do.

If even he couldn’t get rid of it, then you supposed there was nothing you could do except put up with it.

It wasn’t so scary. It was more amusing than anything, really.

The ghost wasn’t always there. It was missing from its usual post whenever there was a court case or a hectic day at the Palais Mermonia. It wasn’t as though it was missing much, though, considering how you just did the same thing in the garden every day: examine the sprouts, measure and record their heights, feel the moisture of the soil, make some sketches, and repeat the same thing in the back garden. Very thrilling entertainment, you were sure.

Maybe it wants to keep an eye on me to make sure I’m not ruining its garden, you mused as you lay on your side, studying the underside of a leaf. It makes sense. This garden belongs to it, after all.

Well, if the ghost wanted to bore itself to death (or whatever counts as death for a ghost) by watching you, then it might as well. You were a mere human with no power over it. But you had no intention of changing your routine for it either.

As for you, you decided to focus all your attention on what turned out to be a surprisingly engrossing project. You weren’t exactly an avid gardener, but you had fond memories of doing similar activities when you were a child and with the young students back in your hometown, which was where the sunflower seeds came from. It gave you a certain sense of pride to watch over them as they grew, slowly but surely, under your care.

Of course, it wasn’t all thanks to you. These sunflowers were of a specific breed, one that required plenty of water—about three weeks of constant watering—to ensure the seeds could germinate properly. In your region, sunflowers were usually planted just before the rainy season in order to take advantage of all the precipitation, but it was summer now—the rainy season had long passed.

You mentioned the matter to Neuvillette, who said he would see what he could do. You imagined that he would have sprinklers installed or something.

What you did not expect was the daily rains that came after you planted the seeds.

Each day, there would be two rounds of showers. One in the middle of the morning, when most people were at work or school, and one in the afternoon (strangely, it always ended around the time that Neuvillette came home). It was more like a faint drizzle than a shower, a light curtain of mist over the world. You didn’t even need an umbrella.

You were no expert on rain, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of calculated deliberateness in the weather. The housekeeper remarked that it was quite out of season, more fitting for spring than summer.

Whatever the case, you were very thankful for it.

After the rain, the sun would come out brighter than ever, as though to make up for lost time. That was your favorite time to go into the garden. The heat of the sun’s rays shining down upon your back felt pleasant, and you swore that the scent of the grass and flowers after the rain had some sort of addictive quality to it.

Neuvillette never said anything about these suspiciously timely rains, so you didn’t either. But this mystery was something you turned over in your mind quite often.

You looked at the dining room window. The ghost was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper. You weren’t fooled of course. You could feel its gaze burning into the side of your head just a few seconds ago.

The ghost was staying within the dim shadows cast by the afternoon sunlight that streamed into the dining room. That was good. After all, you knew that it would fade away if it stepped outside. The ghost should really learn to leave things to other people and relax. You had already made it clear to him that the sunflowers were your responsibility, and that he should just wait patiently until they bloom in two months, so—

The ghost, seeming to sense your gaze, turned his head to you. Driven by a sudden vindictive urge, you gave a little wave and saw the ghost jerk a little in his chair. You stifled a laugh.

Who knew ghosts could be adorable?

The dining room continued to be full of ripples at dinner.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, the ghost has not gone away. In fact, it is now haunting the dining room.”

The young woman calmly took a sip of her stew and met the lilac eyes across from her.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Madame. It troubles me greatly as well. I do know of one way to rid us of this ghost, though.”

“Oh, what is it? Why haven’t you done it yet?”

“That is because it requires your assistance.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Allow me to accompany you in the garden, of course.”

The young woman blinked. It was evident that she had not expected that direct appeal. “Why?”

“To make the ghost disappear.”

“But you know how long I spend outside in the sun. I can’t ask you to accompany me for so long, especially after a long day at work.”

“I’m not so fragile that I can’t withstand a bit of sunlight.”

“I can’t forget that expression on your face when you joined me in the back garden the last time. It was heartbreaking.”

“...Was it that terrible?”

“Yes,” the young woman nodded vigorously. “There’s nothing about what I’m doing that would necessitate you needing to accompany me, anyways. It’s incredibly dull work. You would have a far better time staying inside.”

There was a brief, weighted silence. The young woman shuffled her feet anxiously.

“I would not make such assumptions.” The master’s voice sounded more solemn than usual, a contrast to the lighter tone he normally used at home. “For one thing, you seemed to be enjoying yourself with this so-called dull work.”

“That’s because I—” She was cut off before she could finish her sentence.

“I won’t argue with you anymore, Madame. You need not worry. The ghost will disappear in due time.”

The rest of the dinner was spent in silence. But as they say, still waters run deep.

This is probably payback for how I was acting before, you mused to yourself as you rubbed one of the leaves between your fingers. I think I just have a really warped personality.

When you first moved in, you had been curious about him. But out of a desire to not disturb his life any more than you already did, you opted to watch him discreetly (or so you thought). It was an embarrassing time that you still blushed to remember even now.

But afterwards, you told him that you would like to be friends with him, and he agreed. Yet here you were...

Though the curtains were drawn now, you didn’t even need to turn your head to know that the ghost—no need for this pretense anymore, it was Neuvillette—was sitting in his usual spot behind the window. It was as though he was a cursed spirit, unable to move on from this world.

I thought we were somewhat alike...but I guess not. I just can’t tell what he’s thinking.

You sighed. You genuinely didn’t want him to force himself and to take it easy, but there was another aspect to it. The idea of someone wanting to accompany you in such a monotonous activity simply never occurred to you in the first place, so you automatically rejected it. You enjoyed solitude and doing things on your own. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that it was your natural state of being that you couldn’t quite break out of. If you had the choice to do something on your own or with someone else, you would go with the first option most of the time. It had become second nature for you to brush people off.

You assumed that Neuvillette was like you in that way, that he also felt more comfortable being in his own company.

But being comfortable with something...isn’t the same as liking it all the time.

Your throat felt a bit parched. “I need water...” you muttered to yourself. But just as you were getting up to go back into the house, the housekeeper Marie came out of the door with a cup of water.

“Monsieur Neuvillette thought you might be thirsty. He said that this was your favorite,” Marie said.

You stared at the clear liquid in the cup. It looked just like the water you’d get from the tap. Neuvillette had you taste a lot of samples from his collection—you probably said one of them was your favorite at some point. He remembered it, because of course he did.

You still didn’t really understand this whole water tasting business, but he always seemed so pleased when you asked him questions and wanted him to elaborate on the mouthfeel (or whatever it was). The way his eyes would light up, the way his voice would soften, made you want to keep going along with him.

Neuvillette, you were slowly learning, was a terribly sincere person. So sincere that it was a little embarrassing for someone as jaded and awkward as you.

He said it looked like you were enjoying yourself. What kind of expression did you make when you were outside with the sunflowers? Did Neuvillette see it?

What did it say about you that you liked that he saw it?

There’s probably something wrong with me...

You emptied the cup in one big swig. It tasted like regular water, but the taste lingered in your mouth long after you finished it.

You told him that you weren’t going to let the Chief Justice dig around in the dirt and that he should leave it to you. He didn’t understand why it was okay for you to get dirt on your clothes. He wanted to tell you that he had no qualms about getting stains on his clothes or even his hair if it was for your sake.

You told him to stay inside where it was cool and shady instead of keeping you company in the sun, where it was bright and hot. He disliked summer, though he always kept this opinion to himself because it was the favorite season of the citizens of Fontaine. It appeared that you were no exception. He thought he could put up with it a little. Maybe with regular breaks under the porch.

You told him that he should look forward to seeing the sunflowers when they bloom in a couple of months and that there was no need to be concerned about them right now. You would take care of them until then. Time had always been a trivial thing to a long-lived being like him, but now, it felt irritatingly omnipresent. Rather than being in the thrall of something so oppressive, he would rather while away the hours with you until that time came.

You were kind and considerate in your refusals. You shared your notes with him in the parlor. But you made it very clear to him.

This was your domain. Your kingdom for you alone to reign over and no one else.

Very well. If that was your wish, so be it.

But still, might I be allowed a small glimpse into it?

He supposed that he had no right to ask that. There were many things about his work, duties, and identity that he could never divulge to you or anyone else.

The window glass only refracted the bothersome sunlight in awkward angles. It irritated his eyes. He had to learn to position himself so that he could stay in the shadows and look at the garden at the same time.

If he had but one selfish wish, it would be that you might perform this work later in the day, when the sun was not quite so glaring and the air cooler. Maybe then, you would permit him to be by your side. But one thing he found both endearing and frustrating about you—you were stubbornly set in your ways when it came to the things you cared deeply about.

You wore a large straw hat with a floppy brim when you worked. He himself had no strong opinion on them, except for the knowledge that most of the ones he tried made him look faintly ridiculous. He was aware that they were popular among the fashionable ladies and gentlemen in the Court of Fontaine, popularized by Furina’s well-publicized love for them. He was familiar with the ordinance passed a few years ago that limited the heights of the hats in the opera house, on account of the complaints that they obstructed the view greatly. He liked the one you wore for your wedding.

But he couldn’t say that he was terribly fond of hats at the moment.

They really do obstruct the view...he thought as you pulled down the brim, hiding your eyes.

He saw your mouth scrunch in concentration as you stuck your ruler in the soil, carefully lining up the notches with the top of the plant. After you confirmed the height, you dutifully jotted down the number in your notebook. The corners of your mouth turned up a little, or was that just a trick of the light? Did the sunflower grow taller than you expected? Ah, how he wished he could see what gave you that look on your face.

Sometimes, you would lie down on your stomach. You brought a blanket outside for that reason. He was glad for that, since the grass was usually damp after the rain. It would distress him greatly if you caught a cold.

You seemed to enjoy feeling the leaves between your fingers. It feels really nice, you told him. He also started to rub the leaves when he left for work in the morning and found that he agreed with you.

The wind sometimes blew your hair into your face, and you would tuck your hair behind your ear, only to have the effort be in vain when the wind came again. His fingers would twitch on these occasions. He didn’t know why.

Once, he had almost leapt out of his seat when he heard you yelp and jump away from the sunflower plot. A bee had flown past your cheek.

Once, you went out to look at the garden when it was raining. It was when the first of the strange rains had begun. He directed his gaze to his house and saw you walking back and forth in front of the tiny seedlings like a general in front of rows of soldiers. The tiny raindrops looked like pearls in your hair. He had felt somewhat guilty about manipulating the elements to this extent and ruining a great many Fontainians’ day, but that guilt had mysteriously disappeared after he saw your sparkling eyes.

Neuvillette knew very well how pathetic and unnerving his actions were right now.

He understood that according to human etiquette, staring at people without reason was considered terribly offensive. He himself preferred to avoid the public gaze when he was off work.

In the early days of his interactions with humans, watching and observing was how he learned to fit into society. Humans had always fascinated him, but the nature of that fascination changed throughout the years.

Perhaps this is just the next stage of it, he mused.

From observing many humans from above to a single one in close proximity.

But he didn’t think he was learning anything. In fact, he found himself more confounded and self-conscious than ever.

Why do you sometimes smile and sometimes not? Why do you draw me closer sometimes and sometimes push me away? What should I be doing? What is this restlessness whenever I see you on the other side of the window...?

Perhaps this was what it was to form a bond with another person. Fumbling around in the dark, trying to figure out how each other worked, what was off-limits and what wasn’t.

The rays of sunlight momentarily disappeared. A passing cloud blocked the sun. Then another. Then another.

Ah...how troublesome...

Neuvillette anxiously glanced out the window. You seemed to have noticed the clouds as well, for you were frowning up at the sky.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm his roiling emotions. But the worry that he would ruin your day only added to them. He could almost taste the first raindrop that would make its way to the ground.

A knock on the window glass startled him out of his concentration. He opened his eyes and saw you standing in front of it, staring at him. “Monsieur Neuvillette,” you said.

Neuvillette got up from his chair and moved to the window. It was the only thing separating the two of you. As ever, he was unable to read the emotions in your eyes.

“What is it, Madame?” He could see droplets scattering onto the ground. How he longed to be outside right now. Perhaps that would calm his disturbed heart.

“Let’s sit together in the back garden. I want to take a break.”

“In this weather, Madame?”

“It’s only a little bit of rain. I’ll be sitting under the canopy, anyways, so I'll be fine. But you don’t have to join me if you don’t want to...” you looked away, as if a bit embarrassed. “It’ll be well within your right to refuse me.”

“No, I’ll happily accept your invitation.” The speed at which the words came out of his mouth surprised even himself.

You nodded. There was no smile on your face. “I’ll see you there, then, sir.”

You proceeded to go to the back of the house. Neuvillette turned around and found Marie standing there, holding a bowl of watermelon diced into cubes and a pack of toothpicks.

“Share these with Madame, sir,” she said, holding them out to him.

He thanked her and accepted them, then walked swiftly to the patio doors. However, on his way there, his hair seemed to have chosen the worst moment to take on a life of its own. It seemed determined to get caught in every crack and crevice. By the time he emerged onto the veranda, the rain was steadily pattering onto the canopy.

Thankfully, you were already there and seemed to have escaped the rain. You were staring out at the white sky, lost in thought. You looked up when you heard the doors open.

“Madame--”

“Oh, watermelon!” you exclaimed when you saw the bowl. You stood up and took the bowl and toothpicks from him, then stuck a pick into a watermelon cube and brought it to your mouth. He watched you as you savored the refreshing fruit.

You looked up in surprise when you saw him still standing. “Why aren’t you sitting down?”

Neuvillette cleared his throat. “Madame, I must apologize to you for my disgraceful behavior over the past few weeks. It is no way for a lady like you to be treated. I swear to you, I will never do it again. I shall leave you be.”

You were silent as you ate several more watermelon cubes. Your face was closed tightly, like the doors of a tomb. Neuvillette’s heart sank a little. The rain intensified a little.

“You really should sit down, sir,” you said after a while. “I don’t like having you stand while I sit.”

You patted the chair next to you, and he obliged. He crossed his legs almost automatically before deciding against it. It felt too casual.

There was more silence. The moist air usually calmed him down, but his brain was occupied by the horrifying possibility that you might not forgive him, that you might not speak to him ever again, that...

“Monsieur Neuvillette, I forgive you.”

The words struck him like a lightning bolt. “...You do?”

“Yes,” you said. You still weren’t smiling, but something in your eyes changed. They looked lighter, like storm clouds had receded. “I mean, it certainly was off-putting at first, and I definitely don’t recommend that you do this to any other ladies. You’re very lucky that I'm so merciful.”

You smiled a little bit there. It reminded him of the sun peeking over gray clouds. He always felt a sense of disappointment at that sight, but right now all he wanted to do was to carve the image into his memory.

“I would never,” He was so elated that he almost missed the first part of what you said. “Wait, did you say, ‘at first’?”

Now you looked embarrassed. “I got used to it at some point, but then I started thinking about how you must feel, and that made me realize...I haven’t been fulfilling our promise to be friends at all.”

After you said that, you proceeded to eat three more watermelon cubes in succession. He noticed that your cheeks were dusted with red.

“How did you think I felt?” What a novel thing to have someone try to guess his emotions. He unconsciously leaned forward a little, curious to hear what you were going to say.

You seemed a bit taken aback and lowered your eyes. “Well...I thought you might have been feeling a little hurt and confused about why I kept pushing you away, and probably quite disgruntled about being treated like a child who doesn’t know his limits. I’m guessing it’s that mix of emotions that made you behave in such an uncharacteristic manner.”

“Uncharacteristic manner? I’m curious to know just what you think is in character for me.”

“A gentleman who knows well enough to stare at young ladies so intently.”

Neuvillette cannot deny that he felt a jab in his heart at your words, but he knew that he deserved it. It felt like he was back in his early days, stumbling blindly through the basic tenets of human etiquette. He was about to apologize once again, but then you continued.

“But I think...you probably also felt lonely,” your voice was softer now, like the gentle whisper of the rain. Despite that, it reached his ears clearly and distinctly. “And I don’t want you to feel that way. Especially in your own home. So if you want...you can accompany me when I’m out in the garden. Or continue to watch me from the window. Although, this is your house, so you don’t really need my permission to do anything...”

“Ah, but how can I do that, Madame? I can’t possibly intrude into your kingdom without your express permission.”

“...Huh?” You stared at him quizzically.

“Never mind that,” he shook his head. The watermelon looked vibrantly red and juicy, even more so than before. He used a toothpick to bring one to his mouth. The sweetness filled his mouth and quenched the dryness he hadn’t even realized was there.

“Was I right?” you asked, putting your chin in your hands. “Did I guess your feelings correctly? I’m not very good at this kind of thing.”

Neuvillette thought your question over in his mind. Hurt, confusion, disgruntlement...those emotions might have flitted through his heart like minnows at one point.

But loneliness...that was far more than an emotion to him. It was his natural state of being, one that he had chosen to take on. It had been with him so long that when it was pointed out to him, it became a revelation all over again.

You looked at him expectantly. Your eyes were like mirrors. Lying to them would be lying to himself, and that was something the Iudex didn’t do.

“You’re right,” he said, gazing straight into those mirrors. “I was feeling somewhat lonely.”

You blinked. Then you closed your eyes and nodded. “Okay then,” you said and stood up. “Let’s go look at the sunflowers together.”

The rain had stopped a short time ago. The sky was blue again, and the remaining rain clouds were quickly dissipating.

Neuvillette also stood up and winced. His hair got caught in the gaps of his chair and he had to untangle it. You didn’t appear to notice.

The two of you went to stand at the sunflower plot side by side. The sprouts were small and weighed down by the raindrops, but they continued to aim upwards all the same.

Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims, @cielclassy, @the-mxs-of-many, @mxyarylla, @lynettezz, @rosedpetal

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #genshin fluff #the winding path of fate

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typicalopposite · 5 months ago

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Thank you @judymarch15 & @nine-one-wanton for the tag 🫶

First I thought I had nothing to post for today… then I remembered I literally stayed up until ungodly hours working on the Alt First Meeting/Bartender!Buck idea I had a couple weeks ago! 😂

Tommy brings the glass back to his lips, eyes locked on Evan— whose eyes, interestingly enough, seem to be locked on Tommy’s lips. So he licks the lingering drops of whiskey off them, and relishes in the way it causes Evan’s breathing to falter… causes his hand to momentarily stop its ministrations of polishing the same glass he’s watched him polish all night, again. “Why are you doing that?” Tommy asks, breaking Evan out of the trance he seems to be in. “Huh?” he replies, blinking at Tommy a couple times before it clicks. He looks down at the glass. “Oh, heh. It’s an old— uh, trick of the trade,” he explains. “Apparently it makes people nervous when a bartender just stands there…”. “You’re not making me nervous,” Tommy states, leaning forward over the bar, close enough he can easily inhale the scent of Evan’s cologne. He watches Evan swallow, breathe, laugh… and ultimately set the glass down on the counter. “So,” Tommy continues, moving his eyes back to meet Evan’s. “While we’re here, why don’t you lay some of your bartender wisdom on me?” Evan’s eyes shine at the invitation. He bites his lips as he seems to study Tommy for a moment. “Okay, well… you’re— you’re not where you want to be,” he starts— pauses as if to see if he’s going in the right direction; Tommy raises his brows, intrigued. Evan’s smile brightens. “And— and you feel like you're supposed to be somewhere else…” “You said it,” Tommy says, pursing his lips into a smirk. “The thing is,” Evan continues, walking closer to the bar. “I bet if you could snap your fingers and be wherever you wanted to be… you’d still feel this way; not in the right place.” Tommy thinks on that for a second. He thinks on the transfer papers he’s been contemplating on filling out. He thinks about how he misses flying and how the 217 would give him that back. He thinks about how the excitement of something shiny and new will only last until the first time the guys ask him out for drinks, and conversations turn to the ladies and girlfriends and settling down. Evan leans on the bar, face painstakingly close to Tommy’s. “Point is, maybe don’t get so hung up on where you’d rather be… that you forget to make the most of where you are.” “What are you telling me?” Tommy presses, intrigued by Evan’s sudden confidence in his pep talk; intrigued by the fact Evan keeps glancing down at his lips like he wants to taste the drops of whiskey on them himself. “Take a break from worrying about what you can’t control… Live a little.” “Live a little,” Tommy repeats.

Gonna throw out a few tags even though I’m late to it today 😂 @30somethingautisticteacher (if you haven’t yet lol) @onthewaytosomewhere @bucksxkinard @bidisasterevankinard @kinardsevan @thinkof-england @priincebutt and anyone else who wants to participate 🫶

#wip wednesday #bucktommy #bucktommy wip #tommy kinard #evan buckley #alternate first meeting

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shy-nightmare · 22 days ago

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🎄MERRY CHRISTMAS!🎄

Merry Christmas to you all and have a frightful, spooky Creepmas to all my fellow Goths and horror fans out there! 🎄🖤🎄

The Twisted Toon Gang would also love to wish you all a Merry Creepmas and a Happy New Year! ✨🖤✨

Please ignore the blood on the present Echo got for you 🤣

I would also like to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for all you have done for me 🥰.

@weaselnerd My fellow weasel nerd, you are a gem. I will never forget the first time we talked that night right after I posted that Baked Meme drawing, and I will never forget the times we shared, talking and having fun sharing each other's topics of interest. Thank you so much for everything you've done; talking to me, enjoying my story, and for being one of my new friends. And thank you so much for drawing the twins and letting me draw Pepper and June! 🥰 It was so much fun! And I cannot get over how adorable your art style is! Seriously, you'll make a fortune in making and selling plushies! 💲

@lastofautumn You are like the autumn season 🍂; gentle as the wistful breeze, soft as a baby pumpkin, and you have a heart as colorful as the fiery leaves and a soul as warm as the precious remnants of sunlight before winter descends. You truly made my day that morning when I woke up to find you following me, and you continue to make my days enjoying my chapters, my art, and my moon photos. Thank you for being your wonderful, kind self and thank you so much for drawing the twins too! I also love the outfits you gave them; they're KILLING it! 🤩😍🤩

One more thing. Before you ask, YES, feel free to draw Adam and Echo if you'd like! Just please resist the urge to squish Echo's face off 🤣

@marinerainbow If Autumn is like the autumn season, then you are like a rainbow 🌈; your mind is an opalescent beam of bright hues and shades of color, your kindness is as dazzling as the stars kissing the night sky I spend many praising the moon, and you are an absolute joy and just like everyone I've met, you fill my bruised, longing heart with so much happiness and delight🎇! You were one of the first people I've met online when I accidentally thought Kingston was your OC when he's actually Slash's. I'm still very sorry for that 😅 Anyway, thank you for everything you've done too; you thought my Zombie Roo thoughts were cool, you loved the colorful tarantula photos Twyla and I sent you, and you granted me permission to tag you in my story. You really don't have to make me anything for Christmas, I'm just happy you think my ideas are fun! And thank you so much for letting me draw Shiny and write about Poppy! They are one of my favorite couples of all time! 😍😍😍

I've looked up to you, Slash, and Kit for almost a year now, and you guys inspired me to come out of my shell and expand my growth on Tumblr, so I would also like to take a moment to thank you three for taking the time to chat with me and enjoy my silly rambles! 🤣

@slashingdisneypasta A.K.A. @wicked1will0sparkles You are like Moissanite; your kindness and creativity sparkle brighter than all the diamonds in the world and if you were a gemstone, I would describe you as Moissanite 💎 I still read your stories too, even the weasel and slasher smut 🥵! And thank you for enjoying my Baked Bean Meme drawing, that still cracks me up 😂 Like Rainbows, you've shown me nothing but kindness when I decided to join the WFRR/Toon Patrol community, and I will never forget how generous and honest you were when I asked you if you'd be interested in reading my chapters. It's cool if you haven't had the time yet! I get that you too are very busy, and I hope you rejoice in your accomplishments! I believe in you! 👍

@just-kit-ink You are like all the majestic cats in the world; beautiful, ferocious, and truly unique! 🐱🐯🐱 I admire your humility and kindness towards Toons; this world needs to learn humility and kindness, especially from people like you! You also possess your own element of wisdom and knowledge regarding Toons, their cartoons, and how their struggles greatly relate to humanity's and how people need to understand that no matter what species they are or what they seem to represent, Toons deserve love and respect ❤

Thank you so much for sharing your kind thoughts with me the first time we met, and the twins and I hope you and Kitty enjoy the holidays! 🥰

@imaginarytoon1 and @its-metal-mistress I owe you two all the credit for being the sole inspiration of my story, "The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths". I've read a lot of your stories even before I joined Tumblr, and you both share the same love and respect for Toons as we all do! 😊 While I was writing my chapters, I would look back and think of how many times I read your stories and note my favorite parts, and smile as I feel the same immense joy I felt the first time I read them. Thanks to you two, the twins and their story were born. I owe the birth of my story to you both, and I wish you all the luck and success you find in your lives! 😁

@trashogram You truly are wise beyond your years 📚. You speak nothing but the truth about things in life even I haven't thought of, and I'd always say "Damn, how could I have missed that?", and you too have opened my eyes about the weasels' characteristics. You are special, wonderful, and talented in your own unique ways, and you have a lot of kindness and humanity in your heart that is never tarnished, no matter what you have faced in the past ❤. You are also brave and strong, and you show the determination we need to fight back 💪

Thank you so much for being so kind to me too, and thank you for your thoughts on my story as well! 🥰

@basiabd I know we don't talk much, but I have a lot to thank you for too! You've done so much for me than you think when you too liked my Baked Bean Meme drawing, and I really hope it made you laugh! 🤣 You are also very creative and very kind; I love Kipper and Picket as much as I love Pepper, and to be honest, I wanna take them all home with me. *yoinks them and hides them in my jacket* THEY'RE MINE NOW, BYEEEEEEEEE!!! 🏃‍♀️

And thank you again for tagging me about the news two days ago. I really appreciate it! 👍

@los-angeles-toon-patrol You boys know why I'm tagging you again, so deal with it 💅. And yes, I am going to thank you all again, no ifs ands or buts. Thank you guys so, so much for liking my content! Like for real, I didn't think that ANYONE, not even the OG Toon Patrol blog would not only like my art, but also follow me the day after I got 100 likes! 🥰 I know you said you're not the sentimental types, but it really means so much to me you guys think I'm cool enough to follow!😁

Also, Greasy, may I ask why you're disguising yourself as an ornament right above Twyla? 🤨

Thank you all so unbelievably much for all you have done these last four months for me. When I first joined Tumblr, I thought all I was going to do was post amateur moon photography and read some of my favorite stories now that I have access to reading them. But as time went on, I stumbled across the WFRR/Toon Patrol community and read your stories as well, I started to remember how I too would enjoy the movie and draw the weasels. And I continued to do so while writing my own stories and chapters for the rest of the year until this August of 2024, I decided to come out of my comfort shell and start posting my art and stories.

I did not think anyone would like my posts or even notice I exist, but you all have proved me wrong. You have all given me so much; friendship, guidance, solace, and above all hope. You give me so much hope to keep going, to keep sharing my art and stories, and hope that there are other people who love my work and accept me for who I am. This year has been tough for all of us, and I may not be a seer, but I do see life and beauty in each and every one of you and I hope you all see that.

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! 🎄

Love,

Shy-Nightmare 🌙

P.S. I'm going to post Chapter Eight at 11:00 A.M. on New Year's Day and I'm gonna open my ask button on that day ❤💚❤

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carlos-in-glasses · 1 year ago

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Thank you for the tags @carlos-tk @thisbuildinghasfeelings @inflarescent @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @strandnreyes @sanjuwrites @heartstringsduet @whatsintheboxmh @herefortarlos 🩷

Something from Flashback Fic (which I'll start posting on Sunday!) It's 2021, the day TK and Carlos break up. Carlos is drawn back to the honky-tonk...

Smiling politely but tearfully at the barman, Carlos orders a tequila slammer.

The barman blinks. “Excuse me?”

“One tequila slammer, please,” Carlos repeats, “Actually make that two!” He’s only ever had a tequila slammer during Austin Pride, at a pop-up bar with rainbow awning called Mermen on the Rocks. The silver tequila was mixed with red food dye to become pink.

The barman raises an eyebrow. He’s an older guy – a gray-bearded biker type in a leather waistcoat. His arms are covered in aged, greening tattoos of snakes curling around daggers, thorny roses growing around crucifixes. “How about one shot for the road, and then you get a taxi home and drink lots of water, son?”

“No, no, no!” Carlos appeals with flare. “I can’t go home. I have to stay right here.” He spirals a finger and then bounces it against the bar. “Right here.”

“Why can’t you go home?”

“I don’t have one. I mean I do. I’m a homeowner.”

“Okay.”

“But I was staying with my…my…” Carlos keeps swirling his finger in the air, like he’s aiming to land on words visible only to him. “But! You know. Sometimes.”

“Ah. Yeah,” The barman smiles. He has a gold tooth. Shiny. “I think I get what you’re saying.”

“Thank you. You’re the only one who does.” He’s also the only person Carlos has talked to since TK fled from him at 2 p.m. this afternoon.

“Women trouble,” the barman says definitively.

“Something like that.”

“We’ve all been there.”

“I haven’t.”

“No?”

“I mean. I have. Literally with a woman.”

“Uh huh.” The barman surreptitiously fills a glass with water and pushes it towards Carlos slowly.

“But this is different. TK’s different.”

“Flowers. Chocolates. A groveling apology. It’s all we’ve got.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The barman stifles a laugh. “You almost certainly did.”

“All I did was buy an apartment for us. Without mentioning it. But like…it was meant to be a happy thing. A nice surprise. It was meant to be, like…hey I got you a piece of forever, and this piece of forever has great light, and it’s near clubs and that really good bakery. You know?”

“Sounds like a good forever to me.”

“I thought so.”

“Have a little water, son.”

Carlos seizes his glass of water in both his large hands, like he has the dexterity of a three-year-old. He sips from it gently. “This is good,” he says, as if the barman has given him something new and delicious. “My partner is totally sober. My ex, I mean.” His voice cracks as he cries. “I haven’t been drunk like this in a long time.”

“That does not surprise me.” The barman sighs and hunches, leans his folded arms on the bar to create a little privacy with his shadow. He lets the strange man cry in his presence, as many have done before.

“We had our first dance here. First kiss. First–”

“Son, look at me and listen,” the barman says firmly. Carlos does. He looks into friendly blue eyes surrounded by crinkled skin. “Tomorrow is a new day. You sober up yourself, and then you take that pretty girl the biggest box of chocolates your money can buy, and the biggest motherfucking bunch of roses too. You get down on your knees and tell her you love her with your whole dumbass heart. I’ve got no other advice for you, than to try.”

Tags below + open tag!

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @inkweedandlizards @redshirt2 @louis-ii-reyes-strand @jesuisici33 @three-drink-amy @orchidscript @basilsunrise @mikibwrites @fitzherbertssmolder @ambiguouspenny @wandering-night19 @catanisspicy @sugdenlovesdingle @noxsoulmate @theghostofashton @paperstorm @reyesstrand @goodways @bonheur-cafe @freneticfloetry @rosedavid @chicgeekgirl89 @spaghett-onaplate @liminalmemories21 @never-blooms @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @ladytessa74 @lightningboltreader

❤️ 🩷 🧡 💛 💚 💙 🩵 💜

#wip wednesday #flashback fic #cig fic #my fic #tarlos fanfic #cig tagged #I'm so exicted to upload chapter 1 soon!

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titanicfreija · 4 months ago

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more crucible headcanon

@epsilonhybrid asked for it!

I invented an entire feed, Crucible Feed Alpha7. In the process, I came up with general headcanon ideas, take and leave as you like and add your own please. (In the post, not in the tags please, I always feel like I'm talking to myself)

The feeds are basically like TV sports channels. There's a lot of ways to consume them; audio/visual only, projections, or screen displays, depending on the broadcast and its availability. I'm sure some idiot tried to rig up a whole simulation platform and regretted it.

I haven't decided how the procurement goes, but while Shaxx's feed and maybe a few special others are broadcast live, most of them are between twelve and twenty-four hours old and broadcast by an array of feeds.

Standard-issue features of feeds are the overlay of the broadcast and the pre-selected camera choices, but most of them can change camera angles by choice, turn off and on their commentators, and follow the little text box to profiles of the fighters as stored in whatever databank for this purpose.

The feeds collect and show their selected matches with voiceovers from the commentators of that feed. Commentators will give rundowns on fighter profiles, do play-by-plays, slow things down and explain exactly what happened, etc., and call scores during breaks or down-times. They call for slow-mo replays and recap longer matches.

There's a lot of these, as with sports channels. Most of them follow a theme of some kind, but due to the nature of the crucible, levels of formality and cleanliness can range from weird-streamer to ESPN-official. There's one channel that only shows matches featuring Sweet Business regardless of game mode with no commentary or edits; and then there's a full with-the-shiny-blue-room-and-all-the-scrolling-scoreboards-fancy. Sponsorship is absolutely a thing, there are CERTAINLY foundry-owned feeds that showcase their own weapons.

Alpha7 is about as formal as a local news broadcast. I made up the theme thing after I made up the channel, and also I didn't have one to match my stuff together ^ ^; Halfass decided they do a different game-mode or arena every day on a cycle.

Alpha7 has four commentators that treat the match as live-ish and do play-by-plays and profiles during the matches. Their broadcast divides the matches into segments about 150% of the match-type's maximum game-time (so if it's a ten minute limit, the feed will give it fifteen minutes of airtime). How they arrange the broadcasts changes by type/time. On the in-betweens, after mercy rolls or short elimination matches, they fill in with fighter interviews, weapons breakdowns, and a fashion segment I've named When Looks Can Kill with a set of fashionistas and their episodes of Hot or Not and Style Guides

I'm sure I have more, but I'll have to go look at my notes and stuff.

Feel free to add/ask more!

#crucible #crucible headcanon #destiny 2 #d2 #I did not mean to make this so long

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muffinrecord · 1 year ago

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Rambling Thoughts (Negative)

Putting this under the cut and out of the main tag for reasons. Sometimes people will read my opinion here and then say it elsewhere-- to be clear, I just want to say my own feelings without influencing anyone about the state of the game.

(also I accidentally lost and rewrote this post twice so I apologize if it feels all over the place)

So yesterday I responded to a post about Homucifer and EOS, but my feelings are actually a little more complicated than that.

The truth is, I do think that this game has maybe another year left, but maybe not more than that. I'm not actually sure how it could keep going-- not because of Akuma Homura, but actually because of all the power creep. But let's talk about Akuma Homura first.

Everyone and their mom knows the issues that plague her release. First off, she didn't get a new shiny transformation video but a copy+paste of her rebellion one. Hell, even youtube was like "this shit isn't original" and gave me this:

This video is banned in Austria and Germany for its content, not because of music (for once) but because it uses footage from the Rebellion movie. Like jeez.

The game has been having issues with its transformation videos for a while now, so I don't think anyone expected something revolutionary for her video-- but to have it just be reused animation is very disappointing for an anniversary unit and such an anticipated one at that. Additionally her chibi poke animation looks super weird and offputting (which is such a stupid complaint but it really adds into every other problem with the unit). Her Doppel reuses more animation, which is a shame.

I think that's the big deal for me-- this is a massively anticipated unit, and she was an Anniversary unit. I think everyone, not just myself, expected more effort to be put into her. I say this as someone who wasn't hyped for Akuma Homura-- I didn't have massive expectations to meet.

All that said, I still don't think that Akuma Homura herself is an EOS signal at this point. I meant it earlier when I said that I think the game has another year left. The entire reason that Devil Homura was considered an EOS signal in the first place was because that was the "big" unit that could for sure draw in the most money. She was the one "oh shit" button that could draw in a crowd and force people to spend money.

And in a way... she kind of did, through some scummy tactics. We all know very well why they released Historia Yachiyo the way they did-- she looks like an Anniversary unit, she has gameplay like one, and her banner runs throughout Anniversary. I completely believe that they released Historia Yachiyo to drain folks' pockets of magia stones so that people would be forced to spend money to get Devil Homura.

All that said-- to go back to my earlier point, I don't think Devil Homura is an EOS signal. I think that Madoka & Homura and Kyoko & Sayaka would fill a similar role. They are also both very anticipated units.

Additionally, I don't think that Akuma Homura being released in such a state, no matter how pathetic, is an EOS signal. As mentioned above, the game is having issues with its transformation videos. If they're going to budget the game accordingly, I'd rather it affect the henshins than anything else.

Here's the thing that makes me think the game is starting to wrap up in this year: Gameplay.

This game is suffering from powercreep. No, it didn't start now, or even last year-- I think Madoka & Iroha definitely began a bad trend which has become more and more monstrous. But even before then, we had units like Yozuru and Mikage which just completely outclassed units before them (before getting outclasses themselves).

But imo, Madoka & Iroha were still at least fun to use? But then you get to units like Devil Homura and Historia Yachiyo.

These units are straight up not fun to play with. In fact, they're the opposite of fun-- you don't even need to play the game. I did all of the EX-Challenges with my Historia Yachiyo and... jeez, the hardest part about them is that I can't turn off magia/doppel animations or use auto. And maybe the answer is: well don't use Historia Yachiyo then.

But what did I roll her for? I want to play with this character. I got her four-slotted. I like her aesthetic. I liked Puella Historia and I want to use a character that encapsulates that.

It's just, it feels like lots and lots of parts of the game that used to be important simply aren't anymore. Remember when the poison used by that one uwasa boss was a murderer for teams? Or the curse inflicted by the little uwasa mail familiars? You don't really need to worry about things like that anymore.

I'm not just speaking as a whale either... I do have alt accounts that don't spend money that I play a whole lot of.

At a certain point, the gameplay gets really really stale, but investing in your characters isn't fruitful anymore either, because they're already maxed in episode levels, magia, doppels... The only reason that Spirit Enhancement isn't maxed is 'cause the middle to large fragments are artificially capped and you can't grind them out.

But how do you give players more ways to invest in their girls without increasing further power creep? Attribute Enhancement was introduced and god, the numbers are fun but also jesus christ. Like, in what possible way can you make the girls have new ways to be new?

....

This really is a ramble.

I don't think the game is going to eos in the next six months or so. I base this on all the promo this anniversary put out (that costs money to make money), all the new quality of life things put in place by anni, the announcement of Magia Day + Scene Zero, and the upcoming movie. These are all signs that the game is gonna keep going for a bit.

But man, it also just kinda sucks that this game I love is actively becoming less fun for me.

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smileweakandwrong · 1 year ago

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find the word!

tagged by @eskawrites and big thank you because work is painfully slow and I don't want to be productive.

rules: search your WIPs for the words you're given and share the extract they're from.

the words I was given are: glass, remain, unlikely, loyal, and wrong.

I'm pulling everything from chapters of I Will Remember You that haven't been posted yet because it's the only thing I'm working on that's not just an outline at the moment.

glass

Nancy left the porch and picked up a decent sized rock from what appeared to have been a rock garden before months of neglect killed off any non-local plant life. She balanced the weight of the rock in her palm, said, “Anything can be a key if you throw it hard enough,” and sent the rock smashing through the sidelight beside the door. Reaching through the new opening, careful of the jagged glass that surrounded it like a mouth full of teeth, Nancy flipped the deadbolt and opened the door. Nothing appeared to be disturbed inside, certainly not like anyone had ransacked the place looking for hidden secrets about El or Brenner’s work. The rooms were minimally decorated in monochromatic colour schemes with utilitarian furniture and no photos on the walls, just the framed mass-produced prints that often hung in hotel rooms—snow-capped mountains, a boat at sea, a pair of wolves in the forest. Arbitrary art to break up the blankness. Someone had stayed here but no one had lived here. A turntable sat atop a cabinet with a single shelf of records. A newspaper was folded neatly on the kitchen table, the crossword fully filled in in pencil.

remain

Nancy climbed out of the hole, digging her fingers into the hand holds and feeling the clay cake under her nails as the web-like blackness sunk back into them like it always did when the darkness in her made contact with its home. She scrambled over the top, crawled a few feet on her hands and knees, and threw up that morning’s gas station coffee and muffin onto the earth. She crawled away from her mess and collapsed down into the overgrown grass of the ball field, flat on her back, waiting for the seasick feeling in her stomach to calm. The grass had been left to grow unchecked since July. Mowing seemed pointless when the gates remained locked and large ‘Park Closed’ signs were fastened to the chain link fence that enclosed the field. It grew tall enough that when Nancy turned her head to the side she couldn’t see the base at third, her view swallowed up by feral field. If Robin were lying in the grass with her, she’d be making some joke about bases, trying to make some suggestive comment for only Nancy to hear and being about as successful at sounding smooth as she’d be if she picked up a bat and tried to hit a homerun over the back fence. But Robin wasn’t here to lay in the too-long, too-itchy grass with her, no one was, and that truth made Nancy want to roll over and vomit again.

unlikely (apparently the only appearance in the whole damn fic)

“Look, I don’t know what to do with you, but I can’t call the pound because I’m not supposed to be here and there’s no way I’m putting you in the car and taking you there myself. They’d probably just put you down anyway because you kind of suck, but it’s not your fault. Your job was protecting, you’ve got to be pretty brave and a little mean for that—” Nancy told the dog, opening the bag of food and scooping a generous amount into one of the shiny stainless steel bowls. “But I’ll tell you what, you can stay here and stay warm and fed until I figure it out as long as you dial back the crazy, deal?” The dog just licked its lips and waited until she slid the bowl across the concrete floor with her boot. She just watched as her unlikely new roommate started eating.

loyal and wrong exist in the same passage, how fun

The thing about guilt is that it’s excessively hard to smother, like a stubborn ember hanging onto its heat, loyal to its flame and ready to reignite the moment it's presented with oxygen and a new fuel source. Nancy had been trying to snuff out her guilt and stop dwelling on the shame that came paired with it like a buy one; get one free of her perceived wrongness, but it burned deep, smoldering on her kindling bones and filling her lungs with smoke from the inside out. Sometimes she’d make it an entire day without feeling the burning and think maybe she’d finally managed the impossible—believing that Robin’s reassuringly kind words were true—but then she’d see the freshly healed bite-mark scar on Robin's neck and the fire of guilt would consume her all over again. Guilt was hard to smother, especially when it burned Nancy’s palms every time she tried.

but I also like this bit, so wrong gets two

The centre backed onto a park space, basketball courts and a playground and a splash pad that would have been full of kids hanging onto summer a month ago. Now, it stood empty as the autumn leaves collected in little piles on the brightly painted concrete. A deflated green balloon clung to the branches of a nearly-bare tree like it was trying to recreate the summer greenery, a leftover scrap of latex from the million and a half balloons released over the city a few weeks ago. Nancy just shook her head as she noticed just how many dead balloons littered the city, a stupid idea gone wrong the way that most stupid ideas do. She watched as a small and shriveled but not-yet popped pink balloon bounced along the ground in the breeze and out into the road where it was finally flattened by traffic—just another pretty thing lost to the falsehood of good intentions. She looped around to the next street over that wasn’t blocked off by a police car and officer redirecting foot traffic, and made her way through the park to the back of the rec centre.

I'm not tagging anyone because anxiety, but feel free to play if you want!

Your words are shoelace, sidewalk, rusty, palm, sincere

#ronance #nancy has powers fic #wip word game #find the word #wip games

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imbiowaresbitch · 2 years ago

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Sounds Like Forever

Hello! Welcome to another Destiel fic ‘cause I’m never going to escape these idjits, and I don’t want to. Rating: Explicit

Words: 13088

Author’s Notes: What started as a hilarious meme of a mug making an accidental announcement turned into something kinda angsty, a little violent, very fluff, and just a bit horny (okay, more than a bit). That said, please mind the tags about domestic violence and abuse. If you're not in the right headspace to read this one, pass it by. Above all, be kind to yourselves.

Summary:

Cas started dating April Kelly to try to get over his feelings for his best friend, Dean. But she is both volatile and violent, and after five months, he's had enough. When an apology gift she forces on him makes an unexpected, unwanted announcement, Cas panics. Her reaction to being dumped is explosive, and Cas calls the person he trusts most for help.

Excerpt:

Cas wasn't ordinarily the type to bring his work home with him. In his previous jobs, he'd always believed in a strong sense of work-life balance. Once he went into business for himself though, well, he couldn't help it.

Rescuing plants and trees that would otherwise die was gratifying. Hardly the same as bringing home paperwork as an accountant.

He set his new plants on the counter and collected a shallow tray, filling it with water. He set it on the rolling rack he had near the window, then put his new plants in to soak up some water on their own. He looked at the cracked earth and frowned.

The supplier's quality had fallen off, and he'd bought these three plants himself and brought them home to coax them back to health rather than try to sell them to anyone. Glancing around his dining room, he sighed happily. There was green everywhere. Spider plants and ivy, jade, as well as two temperamental African violets under glass bells to keep them warmer and hold in moisture better, a sickly orchid a little apart from the others while he figured out why the petals were spotted brown. There was a variegated philodendron draping its healthy, shiny leaves from a hanging basket in splashes of green and white, and a royal princess philodendron sat on the floor in its enormous pot, the huge leaves a mix of green and pink.

Sitting on the window sill were a trio of cacti, a few other succulents, and a giant aloe vera plant he'd coaxed from a small, damaged thing to this monstrosity over the years. Further over was a collection of herbs, and he eyed the flourishing basil hungrily, wondering if he had the ingredients in his pantry to make pesto.

Grinning at his new additions, Cas adjusted them in their tray to make sure they were getting the sun they needed and snapped a picture. He posted it on Instagram, then went back to the kitchen to clean up the bit of dirt that had spilled when he re-potted his new arrivals.

He felt his phone vibrate and pulled it from his pocket again, grinning as he saw the notification was a text from Dean. His best friend followed him on Instagram but didn't really use it. And yet he was always one of the first to react to Cas’ posts.

Dean: nice new babies! You're gonna nurse them back to health in no time.

Cas grinned and started to type a response when a second text popped up.

Dean: you might need to get permission from the city to rezone your house as a protected green space though.

"Assbutt," Cas muttered with a grin, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest.

Cas: they'll be fine. But I have to find a new supplier. I can't keep bringing home plants because the product has fallen off since Roman took over.

Dean: yeah, you said that guy was a real Dick.

Cas snorted.

Cas: hilarious. Don't give up your day job. 😜

Dean: yeah, yeah. You just want me for my hands.

Cas' face reddened, and he was glad he wasn't face-to-face with his best friend. He cleared his throat and shoved away the longing with the ease of long practice.

Cas: speaking of, we still on for tomorrow to get those planters built for the deck?

Dean: way to prove my point, buddy. Lol. Yeah.

Cas sighed and set his phone on the counter, pouring himself a glass of lemonade, then rifling through his fridge for a handful of berries. He washed them carefully and dropped them into his glass. Snipping a couple of mint leaves from his planter over the sink, he rinsed them lightly then pinched them, bruising the leaves before adding them to his drink. Taking a sip, he smiled contentedly.

His phone vibrated again, and he picked it up, flicking the screen awake with a grin to see what Dean had said.

His smile faded into a frown, and he groaned, leaning against the counter in exhaustion.

April: I'm on my way over.

read the rest on AO3.

thanks much to @hectatess for the beta!

#redamber79writes #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #profoundnet

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kkai-zen · 3 days ago

Text

ᯓ★ oh damn, i feel like a HOTSHOT

──── featuring ITOSHI RIN.

summary: what happens when your famous pro-soccer player boyfriend ITOSHI RIN finds your Tumblr fan account for him?

contents: 18+ nsfw! MDNI. fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!rin, p in v, porn w plot, established relationship, reader nicknames (pretty, pretty girl, pretty thing, good girl), praise, crying, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation

a/n: part of my new series featuring the bllk boys! the series can be found here!

wc: 1.7k

✰ .ᐟ your pro-athlete boyfriend ITOSHI RIN . . .

finds your Tumblr fan account, "itoshi-rins-world," when you accidentally leave Tumblr open on your computer while using the bathroom.

your blog is filled with itoshi rin thirsts!, bf!rin headcannons!, and, of course, itoshi rin smut.

he sees that you’re following a handful of tags with his name, including (but not limited to): #rin itoshi, #rin itoshi x you, #rin itoshi smut

gets flustered reading the downright pornographic posts you’ve written, liked, and reblogged, but also gets cocky.

tries his best not to let it show.

thinks it’s cute how you post about all of his games, stats, and interviews.

moved by the amount of support you've given him since before the you two even started dating.

more motivated than ever and falls in love with you even more.

Strolling back into your bedroom with a stretch, you raise an eyebrow when you see your boyfriend RIN hunched over your desk, scrolling avidly through something on your laptop. A smile curls at your lips seeing him so invested in…you squint at the screen. A Tumblr blog?

“Rin, what are you- ”

Your heart stops in your chest. There’s no way he’s-

“Reading through your Tumblr account.”

He turns to face you with a cool, stony expression, and you’re frozen in the doorway of your room, brain completely shut down.

“You post a lot on-” Rin starts, but before he can finish, you’re sprinting to your computer, slamming it shut, and collapsing to your knees.

“Oh my god, I- I’m so sorry,” you splutter, a bright red blush erupting over your cheeks as you bury your face in your hands. “I made that account so long ago and I was just a huge fan and y’know, over the years I just- kept up with it, and I- ” you’re rambling on and on, panicking when you look up only to be met with Rin’s stoic expression.

Does he think I’m some crazy fangirl now?! Panicking, a million thoughts rush through your head as you squeeze your eyes shut, missing the faint blush that begins to creep up Rin’s neck. “I’ll delete everything, don’t worry,” you blurt, hesitantly meeting his teal gaze again as you reach for your laptop—but this time, you’re surprised to find an expression of confusion and disbelief painted on his face.

“Why on Earth would you delete it?”

He stares at you in bewilderment. Huh? You scratch your head. “Well, I mean, I figured it made you uncomfortable…” you mumble, eyes flitting to the floor. Heart thumping against your chest, you wait a few quiet moments for Rin’s reply.

“Hey, look at me,” Rin eventually murmurs. Face still flushed, you don’t even find the guts to try looking up at him. “Rin, I- ”

“I said, look at me.”

He grabs your chin and pulls upwards, forcing you to look at him, and oh—

Rin doesn’t think he’s ever seen a sight so tantalizing in his entire life: face flushed crimson, soft lips trembling just the slightest bit, and big, shiny, eyes looking up at him, it’s almost as if you’re begging him to ruin you.

On top of that, the swell of emotions he experienced reading through your blog—filled with hundreds and hundreds of posts about him, following his whole pro-soccer journey—has his heart throbbing and thoughts completely jumbled. He swallows a lump in his throat as he feels his pants tighten.

Fuck.

“Stand up.” Rin orders, and you stumble to your feet. “Huh? W-wait, Rin, I- mmpf!”

You gasp as his lips suddenly crash into yours, kissing you breathless as his arms wrap around your waist in a vice grip. Sitting you on top of the desk, his slender hands had already slipped your pants off by the time he pulled away from your lips with a gasp. You notice his face is flushed pink with an uncharacteristically urgent look in his eyes.

“Fuck- need you,” Rin groaned, slipping a hand into your pants, elegant fingers dipping down into your panties and finding your already-wet hole.

“Mm- Rin- ah!” you squeal as he shoves two long digits into your dripping cunt. Biting your lip, you try to stifle your moans when Rin curls his fingers to perfectly catch each of your sensitive spots.

“Don’t hold back your moans, pretty girl,” Rin breathes into the shell of your ear as he thrusts his fingers into your soft cunt, sending shivers through your body that only amplify the sudden sensation of his thumb rubbing circles on your throbbing clit. Pulling a lewd moan from your throat, you grind your hips desperately against his hand, your cunt pulsing and aching for more friction as you pull him into another bruising kiss.

“Fuck- can’t believe a pretty girl like you has been a fan of mine for so long,” he pants, chest heaving as you pull away from his mouth, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. “Always knew y’had good taste,” he grunts, nipping at your collarbone.

The wet sound of Rin’s fingers in your sloppy cunt is so obscene and has you whimpering in need, bucking your hips against him in a frenzy. “A-ah! R-Rin, keep- going- mmm- !” You whine, throwing your head back as he scissors his fingers deliciously inside of you, the sensation tightening the burning coil in your core. “C’mon, pretty thing,” Rin growls. “I know you’re close…go on and cum for me.”

“O-ooh, ffuuuck!~” Crying out in ecstasy, your vision grows hazy as Rin’s husky voice tips you over the edge. You can feel yourself clenching around his fingers, nails digging red crescents into the taut muscles of his back. “Fuck, pretty, you’re clamping down on me so nicely,” Rin whispers, a smirk gracing his features.

Gasping for breath, you see Rin drag his tongue effortlessly across his fingers —the fingers that were just inside you— and you feel arousal pooling in your core again.

“R-Rin,” you stutter, but you barely have time to catch your breath before he rips your top off, pulling your bra down to expose your breasts, where your nipples are perked up and begging for attention. Still smirking, he dips his head down and lets his tongue glide over the curves of your chest, teasing your nipples before latching his mouth onto one and rolling the other between his nimble fingers. “A-aah, no- Rin, I’m still- s-sensitive!” You squeak, nails scraping against the wood of your desk, drool slipping out of the corner of your open, panting mouth. “Sensitive?” He arches an eyebrow. “I didn’t even touch you here earlier. Besides, isn’t this what you want?” Rin huffs out a chuckle between licks, his mind rushing back to absolute filth you’ve written about him.

And of course, he’s right; you’ve fantasized about him railing you senseless for so long that this barely feels real. “Rin-nie! Just- ah! Just f-fuck me already!” You whine, back arching as he tweaks your other nipple between his skillful fingers. His eyes narrow, and all of a sudden you find yourself bent over the desk, legs spread and sopping wet hole in his full view.

“Since when did you give orders around here?” He snaps, and you yelp when you feel the sting of his palm meet the soft flesh of your ass. “Just shut up and be a good girl f’me,” Rin hisses, grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing harshly. You let out a wanton moan, shifting your hips from side to side in desperation.

When you hear Rin’s pants slip onto the floor behind you, you can’t help but steal a glance, twisting your head back to see him lining his rock-hard cock up with your soaking entrance.

Cunt quivering with arousal, you swallow in anticipation just looking at his dick, standing tall and thick against his toned abs, pearly beads of precum decorating his angry red tip. He bends over you, his broad muscular chest flush against your back, and purrs into your ear, “You ready, pretty girl?”

You nod helplessly, grinding back against him in desire. “M’ready, Rinnie,” you whisper, breath hitching.

And fuck, the moment Rin starts pushing his tip into you, you see stars dance in the corners of your vision. The stretch of his fat cock was suffocating, and your jaw drops open with soundless whines as he tries to slowly ease his throbbing length into your velvet walls, inch by inch.

But your sloppy, creamy cunt feels too good, Rin decides. “Fuck, can’t take this anymore,” he grunts, and with one brutal thrust, buries himself balls deep into your drooling heat. You squeal, shuddering with pleasure as your weeping cunt adjusts to his cock, twitching violently inside your snug, soft walls. “Ri-innie, ooh, fu-fuck, you feel- s-so, so goo-od!” you moan, tears pricking at your eyes as Rin’s cock starts to thrust in and out of you at an unforgiving pace, kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips.

“Tight lil’ pussy so- fuckin’- warm and wet f’me,” Rin snarls, speeding up his thrusts. You whine, pushing your hips into him as his cock rearranges your insides, arousal dripping down your thighs in sinful pearls. “Love gettin’ fucked stupid on my cock, huh? Nasty fuckin’ girl.” and you whine in response; hearing the stoic, ice-cold Itoshi Rin spew such filth from his mouth was nothing less than intoxicating.

His heavy balls smack against your clit with each lewd thrust, moans spilling from your lips as the tense knot in your core tightens unbearably. “Riii-innie, I- I’m about to- ah, fuuuuuck!!” You sob, writhing under him, vision going white as your orgasm slams into you, knocking you breathless as your slick squirts over Rin’s cock.

“G-good girl, cumming for me so well-” Rin groans, hips still pounding against the fat of your ass in a punishing rhythm, ripping screams from your throat as his balls slap your overstimulated clit again and again.

And finally, after what feels like a lifetime of fucking you dumb on his dick, you hear Rin pant out a “Fuck!”, throwing his head back as his thick, warm seed paints your throbbing cunt white. Your overstimulated body trembles with pleasure, tears sliding down your face as your pussy flutters around his twitching cock, still spurting ropes of hot cum into you.

His hips stutter to a halt as you gasp for air, and you can feel his heavy breathing on the back of your neck as his cum overflows and spills out from your abused hole. You both bathe in the afterglow of the moment, sweat and slick and cum cooling on your burning skin, before your legs promptly give up on you. You would’ve fallen straight to the ground if Rin hadn’t caught you by the waist, his strong, warm arms wrapping around you and lifting you effortlessly into a princess carry.

“Mm…Rinnie…” you murmur, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Hm?”

“You really enjoyed reading my blog, huh?”

“…maybe.”

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hounding-reality · 11 months ago

Text

Yall I think I’m gonna post my newest script

Be aware this is long

Pokémon,

Name: XXXXXXX

Pokémon: fletching, zorua,rookide, fennekin,shiny zigzagoon

Girlfriend (future):Sonia

——————————————————————-

I wake up in a flower pile,

I realize I shifted,

I realize I don’t remember my script,

I get up,

A fletchling comes over and guides me to a rookidee,

I find the wounded rookidiee and heal it,

I become besties with the rookiedee and fletchling,

I name them, famine and chaos,

I lie back down in the flowers,

Sonia finds me with a wounded leg,

I pull out my first aid kit and help her,

She takes me to her lab,

We become best friends,

We hang out more for around 2 days,

She teaches me to catch a zorua,

Hop comes over wounded late at night,

I heal him and explain the whole ordeal,

We bring up that we’re gonna explore the abandoned research facility,

We spend one more day hanging out with hop Sonia and Marnie

We see on the news is that Raihan is thought to be dead,

We go over to explore that abandoned building when it’s filled with people who we try to fight off,

We are given cloths to switch into,

We go on like this for about 1 week,

We meet the legendary birds and I’m really good with Zapdos,

We meet Raihan,

When hop, Marnie, Leon, and piers try to break in,

We escape,

I go to my OR.

——————————————————————-

Day 1 February first 2024

:train method:

February 6th

MosMos method,

I wake up in the morning,

February 9th

My safe word is : ELL NAH I AINT STAYING FOR THIS SHIT

Pocket contents: pink lemonade gum and lots of it.

Whole aid kit

Bottle filled with 7up,

Lip butter,

All of my theriotypes tails,

And Aton of human realm snacks

Snacks I eat:

Pokeball based oreos/bought snack

Bento boxes,/by Sonia

Quesadilla,/by me

Indian food, /ordered

Hash browns eggs pancakes and bacon, /by me for breakfast

Pok’e

Sushi/ gotten with hop, marnie, me, and Sonia

Grilled cheese/

Pancakes

Cinnamon rolls

Things me and Sonia do

Cook together :we cook together Sonia bakes I make drinks

Watch a Pokémon version of twilight (the whole series)

Catch Sonia a rock ruff,

Do quadrobics,

Watch hazbin hotel

Do funky Science,

Watch the show mha,

Get frozen yogurt,

Help Sonia with math homework.

Random facts:

Smoking isn’t bad for you,

All wild animals love me

My hair always look nice

My breath is always good

Every under stands what a therian is

I have a popular TikTok’s account named pyre-on-paws

People never smell/sweat

No one ever has to use the bathroom

I can run off of no sleep

All food tastes like heaven

My eyes: my eyes are cymk, with adjustible pupils

I have perfect quadrobics form

I have a junk yard with my other therian freinds where we hang out

People think my voice is beautiful

My lips are never chapped

My hair is always beautiful

Nobody finds me annoying

I don’t have a period

I always smell good (and mildly like strawberry cigarettes)

I notice EVERYTHING

My subconscious fills in what I want but I didn’t write down

I get paper cuts easily but they don’t hurt

Everyone has good breath

My teeth never hurt

My eyes: my eyes are cymk, with adjustible pupils

I have perfect quadrobics form

I have a junk yard with my other therian freinds where we hang out

People think my voice is beautiful

My lips are never chapped

My hair is always beautiful

Nobody finds me annoying

I don’t have a period

I always smell good (and mildly like strawberry cigarettes)

I notice EVERYTHING

A round of tag has been happening in the

#reality shifting #shiftblr #therian #shifting community #shifter #pokemon #shifting script

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rkived · 4 years ago

Text

year 22 (m) — jjk

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x f!reader

Genre/Tags: angst!!!, drama, a lil fluff, f2l, e2l-ish, pining, slow burn, smut

Rating: M +18

WC: 11.5k

Warnings: time jumps, underage drinking, jk being a douchebag for most of the fic, reader can’t catch a mf break, mention of character death ((no major one tho)). smut in the form of oral (f. receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex ((wrap it b4 u tap it y’all)), my being called pretty kink making a brief appearance soz

A/N: i listened to cardigan for the first time n had it on replay the whole time i wrote this so ig u should do it too ! this is my first time posting smut on here but who would i be if i didn’t throw in some good angst ? also tysm to @periminkle for being my unofficial beta reader n checking it up for me, she knows i’m constantly looking for her validation n i def wouldn’t post this if she didn’t love it ilu vira thx for being the best ever mwah !!!

You’re five, cowering behind his mother’s legs, sniffing as tears stream down your face. In front of you both stands Jungkook, there’s remorse written all over his face as his mother stares him down with hands on her hips and a look that just screams that this is only the beginning of his punishment.

‘’Apologize to Y/N right now Jungkook, or I’ll have your father have a word with you,’’ she threatens with a stern tone, making her son quickly shake his head no. ‘‘You need to learn how to share your toys.’’

You peek behind her lanky leg and find the slightly older kid looking at you with narrowed eyes, ‘‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’’ He apologizes with a bow, but he’s obviously displeased with the whole ordeal.

His mother sighs and Jungkook pouts at the look on her face. She urges you to come out from your not-so-secret hiding spot and to go back to playing with him, even though you seriously doubt that will do any good to what just happened.

Jungkook’s bedroom door is kept open as he sits back down on his city patterned carpet, you twiddle with your thumbs and stare at the Spiderman poster on his wall. There’s an awkward silence between you two until you feel a toy bump your crisscrossed legs.

It’s the shiny red car he had refused to lend you before, provoking an argument between you two which eventually made you run out of his room in tears as you ratted him out to his mom.

‘‘Wooow,’’ you whisper in awe, taking the car in your hands with so much care, treating it like it’s one of your newest dolls.

Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms as he looks at you with distaste and he’s forced to settle with other boring toys as you giggle to yourself, making the car follow the carpet’s tracks. He learns then to never trust his mother again. If she ever says she’ll bring a new friend for him to play with again, he’ll refuse wholeheartedly.

He doesn’t like sharing his toys, and it’ll probably take him a long time to learn how to.

You’re nine as you hand Jungkook one of the multiple Valentine’s Day cards you carefully crafted the night before with your mother, adding all kinds of pretty stickers and shiny glitter to make each one of them unique. His is different from the rest, though.

You added hearts to the dots in the I’s, there’s a hint of your favorite body splash enveloping the pink construction paper and it fills Jungkook’s nostrils with so much force that he feels he could gag at the smell.

‘‘What do you think?’’ You ask the fourth-grader with a big smile on your face, cheeks tinted with a light shade of red as you see him reading the little message you wrote inside the card.

Jungkook lets out a mocking chuckle, ‘‘Are you serious? You like me?’’ He asks you, but it doesn’t look like he’s looking for answers. Your smile slowly fades away, looking at him with glossy eyes, ‘‘I don’t like you, you’re just a dumb little girl.’’

His card was the one you had invested the most time in and yet it only took him a second to crumple it with his hand, and another five for him to toss it into the trash can near you before he goes back to his group of friends in the school’s playground.

You learn how to hold your tears in then, thinking it’s a great accomplishment and that maybe now he’ll stop calling you a crybaby.

His friends receive him with high-fives and he smiles with gratefulness because they just saw how much of a badass he can be. Once recess is over and everyone’s going back to their classrooms, Jungkook nears the garbage bin where he had thrown the Valentine's card in, but finds it’s now dirty with yogurt someone tossed inside.

He grimaces at the sight and sighs, there’s no way he can save it now.

You’re twelve and you’re the only girl in the treehouse who hasn’t gone through puberty yet. It wasn’t something that bothered you until just recently, when it became pretty evident why none of the boys would even give you a onceover compared to the other girls.

“I don’t know if I want to play,” you mumble after Kim Jihyo suggests playing spin the bottle. You’re the only one who opposes the idea, though you could count Jungkook in given as he just sat there without saying a word.

Park Yerim rolls her eyes, “You’re so boring, Y/N!” The comment makes the rest giggle as you pout at being the designated party pooper.

It’s all fun and games of truth and dares to whoever the bottle lands on and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid the tip of the plastic Coca-Cola bottle to point at you, until it lands on Jungkook who has done a few funny dares so far.

“Alright, Jungkook, let’s make things even more fun!” Jihyo announces since she’s been the one who has assigned most of the embarrassing challenges and questions, “I dare you to kiss one of the girls here for ten seconds.”

The dare makes the boys cheer with excitement and the girls gasp with anticipation, hoping one of them is the lucky chosen one. Your lips part slightly as you stare at him sitting across from you, he’s clearly not comfortable with the dare, but knowing him, he won’t express his current discomfort.

His eyes land on you as you stare back at him with concern, hoping that he’ll speak up to avoid himself the embarrassment. Has he even kissed someone before? If this is his first kiss, you’ll witness it alongside everyone else and you can only imagine how terrifying that must be. Even though Jungkook’s always been a brave kid, you can always tell when he feels under pressure.

“Uhm, I’ll uh—“ Jungkook keeps staring at you and you feel your heart start to beat like you just ran the usual ten laps around the gym in P.E class. Are you about to have your first kiss? With him?

You nod your head absentmindedly, a sign to let him know it’s okay for him to pick you from all the other developed girls who probably have more experience kissing than you do, but it’s okay because you’ve always been a quick learner.

“Yeji,” Jungkook says after what feels like forever, though it’s only been a mere few seconds, “I’ll kiss Yeji.” He adds, removing his eyes from yours and settling them on the girl with the high ponytail and pink colored nails.

You bite your bottom lip hard, breaking the dry skin as you feel yourself taste blood. It doesn’t matter because no one’s paying attention to you and instead they’re focused on Jungkook’s neverending kiss with Yeji.

When you get home that night, you look at yourself in the mirror and frown at your lack of everything. Is this the reason as to why he hadn’t picked you?

You’re fourteen and Kim Taehyung just sent you a message through MSN in which he confesses to have feelings for you. Your eyes widen, rereading the message several times, rubbing at your eyes just to make sure you’re seeing things correctly.

You run off across the street to Jungkook’s house, ringing the doorbell quickly for someone to open up. You’re greeted by him looking at you with an annoyed expression, he had to pause his GTA game to come and open the door.

“What do you want?” Jungkook asks harshly, crossing his arms as he stares into somewhere that’s not your face. He’s anxiously waiting for you to spit out whatever it is you’re there to say.

You calm yourself down by breathing in deep and out, blowing the air right at him, “Does Taehyung like me?” You ask him, making Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise and his brows to raise.

His reaction tells you that you might’ve just discovered a secret you weren’t supposed to and it only makes your heart beat even faster because if it’s true, then this is a pleasant surprise. Kim Taehyung is one of the hottest boys in the tenth grade and he happens to be one of Jungkook’s closest friends. You think he must know something since you see them hanging out at lunch.

“Uh—I don’t know, Y/N.” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck, finally looking at you and he feels a gut wrenching punch in his stomach at the sight. “Taehyung isn’t a really good guy, you shouldn’t—“

“What are you saying?” You interrupt him with a question, confused as to why Jungkook was painting a negative picture of his friend. “He was really sweet with what he said, he thinks my eyes are pretty when they sparkle — I didn’t even know they did that!”

Jungkook grimaces and sighs, there’s really not much he can do here. You’ve always been so stubborn, so relentless. No matter how many times life tries to tell you something’s not meant for you, you challenge each and every one of it’s obstacles until you take what’s yours.

“Okay, then what are you gonna do? Date him? You haven’t even had your first kiss yet.” Jungkook reminds you with a mocking tone and you furrow your brows together because, how does he know that?

You stammer, “I-I have! I had it at camp last summer, actually!” That’s a lie, but he wasn’t there so he can’t prove the veracity of your statement. “And what do you care? So what if I want to date him?” You add with anger, not understanding why couldn’t he just support you in search of true love.

The thought of dating Kim Taehyung had never crossed your mind, thinking he was way too out of your league for him to ever notice you. But that confession sitting in your MSN chat now served as a nice feeling of knowing you aren’t as invisible as you think you are.

Jungkook scoffs, “Taehyung would never date you, okay? He’s older than you, he’s cool, he goes to parties and has kissed almost every girl in his grade, do you think he’d really like someone as boring as you?” He doesn’t mean to be so harsh, but you’re just so difficult and impossible to get through.

Jungkook’s used to the trembling bottom lip and the teary eyes that you give him everytime he says something that definitely strikes a nerve within you, but he’s always impressed on how you always refrain from crying in front of him. Last time you did that you were both kids and he probably took the last lollipop from your batch of collected halloween candy.

“Screw you, Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already.

He looks at you quickly stomp your way back to your house, only heading back inside once you slam your front door shut. Jungkook enters his room to find two new messages in his MSN.

$$ kIm tAaEhyYyuNG $$: it worked!

$$ kIm tAeEhyYyunGG $$: she fell for it xDxD where did u even come up with the sparkly eyes thing?? that’s gold bro rofl

Jungkook sighs, ignoring the messages and shutting his computer down.

You’re sixteen and you’ve been invited to your first party. Granted, it was Jungkook’s, but he knew that if he didn’t ask you to come you’d probably tell on him with his mom. No matter what age he was, he’d always fear his mother’s scolding.

“Drink this!” Park Jimin says with his beautiful smile and you’re starting to realize why they gave him that very same superlative on the school’s yearbook. You take the red solo cup without any second thought, placing the rim straight to your lips and choke once you feel the liquid burn your throat.

“Ugh—What’s this?” You ask, cleaning the droplets of liquid around the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles, “Fruit punch!” The liquid is indeed red like the familiar drink you’re used to, but there’s definitely something else mixed inside. “Oh, and vodka,” he adds with wiggly eyebrows as he shows off the small flask he was hiding in his sweatshirt’s front pocket.

You gasp and hand him the cup back, “No, I don’t drink alcohol, sorry.” Jimin rolls his eyes and it reminds you of the many times you’ve received this same reaction from your classmates before. Always a party pooper. He’s about to take the plastic red cup from you until you quickly drink the spiked punch in one go.

The boy howls in excitement, “Woo, go Y/N! Another one coming right up.”

Jungkook knows he should be making sure everything’s alright downstairs. If his mother notices there’s at least one misplaced object, she’ll know right away something went down in her house while her husband and her were away for the weekend on an emergency trip to their hometown. Leaving him unsupervised only because they both believed their son was old enough to tend for himself.

But Jung Eunha had dragged him into his room with the excuse of wanting to see what it looked like, but the mini tour had turned into them kissing on his bed and Jungkook is thankful he changed his Spiderman sheets in exchange for some boring plain grey ones. Eunha smells like fresh mint and Jungkook is way into his head to focus on properly kissing her.

It’s not until his bedroom door is abruptly open, slamming against the wall that Jungkook literally jumps to his feet, making Eunha gasp as they both look at the person who has interrupted their awkward makeout session.

“Guk-ah, what are you doin’?” You curiously wonder, a hiccup following right after which makes you giggle. Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with quickness as he notices you look different from the last time he saw you twenty minutes ago when you were talking to Jimin. “Guk-ah, were you—you kissin’ Eunha?” You ask once more after not receiving an answer to your previous question.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks in concern, coming closer to analyze your weird state. You stretch your arm out to avoid him from nearing you, making him falter in his place as he studies your expression.

You hum, “Guk-ah, you busy. Sorry,” you apologize in a shy tone, ready to head back down and have more of that fruity alcohol punch you now found tasty, but you stumble and only avoid yourself from falling by holding onto Jungkook's door frame, he’s already reaching out by then.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N? Get out!” Eunha complains with irritation, getting up from the bed and ready to kick you out of his room, but his free arm stops her from getting near you. “Whu—?”

“Eunha, go back down. I’ll deal with her myself.” Jungkook says as calmly as he can, thinking three’s a crowd and dealing with you wasn’t an easy thing in of itself. She’s about to argue, but he interrupts her again, “Go down, now.”

She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder against yours harshly once she steps out of his room, “Whatever, that kiss was shitty anyway.”

He pretends he didn’t hear that and takes you in his arms instead, dragging you to lay on his bed as you cuddle into his favorite pillow and hug it close to your body. How much did you drink? Why did you even do it in the first place? Jungkook knows you’ve never tried alcohol before, which means he’ll be in big trouble if you show up back to your house like this.

When you open your eyes hours later, your head hurts and it feels lightweight when you move it side to side. The room you’re in is familiar, that spiderman poster is still hung on the wall, but there are no more toys laying around the floor; they’ve probably been stored somewhere in his garage or sent off to a donation center under his mother’s demand.

The pillow that you’re hugging smells just like him and any other day you’d hold on to it tighter and inhale his scent like your life depended on it, but you abruptly sit on the bed as you’re reminded of how you got here. The action is not appreciated by your dizzy head, but you look around the room to notice how dark it is and there’s no more music playing downstairs.

You quickly jump to the ground, only to hear a “Fuck, ouch!” from below, stepping on Jungkook’s leg unintentionally. It makes you gasp, looking down to notice the older friend laying on the cold floor, having gotten rid of that childhood carpet of his. His head’s laying on a makeshift pillow made out of a towel and he’s trying hard not to shiver.

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!” You quickly apologize, stepping away from his figure as he soothes the shin of his leg you stepped on. “Jungkook, what happened?”

He sighs, “Someone decided to drink like five cups of spiked punch knowing damn well it was their first time drinking alcohol, stepped into my room like a crazy person, and then crashed on my bed like they—What’s with the face?”

“Bathroom.”

Jungkook grimaces while he holds your hair back, you’re throwing away all the liquid you had taken with a few additional snacks you had munched on earlier, “Are you done?” He asks in a tired mumble and you shake your head no.

He feels guilty that you’re in this position. He didn’t even want to kiss Eunha, but she was one of the most popular girls in his grade and he knew that if he turned her down she would most likely put a bad word in with the rest of the girls and the guys would make fun of him for being such a wuss.

That would’ve been better, because after laying you down on his bed he had to go down and tell everyone that the party was over, putting an excuse that the neighbors had warned him and threatened to call the cops. They all cleared pretty quickly, but he knew he was going to be the butt of the jokes come Monday. He even had to call your parents to let them know you had gone home to a friend’s house for a sleepover, which he knew wasn’t totally believable, but it had somehow gotten them convinced that their daughter was alright because they trusted Jungkook to never hurt you ever.

Once you feel like you’ve puked your stomach out, Jungkook hands you a pill accompanied with a glass of water and hands you clothes of his that might be more comfortable to sleep in.

“Good night, Jungkook,” you whisper once you’re laying back on his bed, still hugging the pillow he preferred to sleep with. He makes a sacrifice to make it up to you.

His back is going to hurt by the time the sun comes out in a few hours, but it’s okay if it means you’ll sleep comfortably after the events of tonight. “Good night, Y/N.”

He’s unable to sleep, but finds entertainment in your hanging hand beside his bed. The skin on your palm looks soft and there’s this strange urge inside of him that makes him want to grab your hand in his, but he refrains.

To calm the current chaos in his head, Jungkook finds peace in the light snores coming from his bed.

You’re just about to turn eighteen and your date to the prom is Jeong Jaehyun, who had only asked you out a day before the event because the girl he had initially wanted to take had been asked and he didn’t have a plan B.

Jaehyun is okay, at least he managed to get you a corsage that matched the color of your dress. He even smiles in the pictures your parents take of you both as you awkwardly try to look comfortable with his arms around you even though by then you had only exchanged a few sentences.

The prom’s theme is Summer Nights and you think it’s fitting considering this is the very last event before the graduation ceremony, meaning that you’d most likely never see most of these people ever again. You had purposely applied to a college that was outside of your hometown for that same reason. You’re ready to live the life you’ve always wanted to live, without anyone judging or knowing you.

Your date spends most of the night talking with his group of friends as you’re left alone on your table, looking at your well manicured nails. You knew you weren’t going to get the same prom experience the high school kids on T.V enjoyed, but you at least hoped it would’ve been a little more fun than this.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around to see Jungkook trying to loosen the tight tie around his neck. He looks incredibly handsome and you suppose his mother helped him pick the suit out, Jungkook rarely ever wore fitted clothing, so this is one of those once in a lifetime moments..

“Hey you,” you say and he gives you half a smile, wondering why you’re sitting by yourself at an empty table when everyone else was either mingling or dancing. “Where’s your date?” You ask with curiosity, you’re surprised that Jinsoul isn’t trailing alongside him given how she had behaved for the past week ever since he asked her to come with him.

“Retouching her face or something,” he answers casually, “what are you doing sitting here? Where’s Jaehyun?” Jungkook asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Don’t know, probably talking with the guys of the basketball team. He’s been gone for a while.” Not like you care, anyway. If your conversation with him inside his car on the way to the venue had been any indication of what it would’ve been like for the rest of the night, you’re glad he's not here trying to make any more small talk with you.

Jungkook huffs, thinking he’ll kick his ass if he sees him. He had asked him to invite you so you wouldn’t come alone, and yet here you are, sitting all by yourself while the douchebag’s making a social life somewhere in the crowd. He calms down once he notices how unbothered you are by it, though. You’re a big girl now, you’ve been through too much to be affected by something as simple as this.

“Is there something you wan—“

“Dance!” You interrupt with excitement and Jungkook chuckles.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted something to drink, but—alright, let’s dance.” Jungkook can’t dance for shit, but you took lessons when you were younger and he can still remember how you’d always show him the routines you learned in class. He’d always boo you, but in reality you were pretty good. He wonders why you stopped, he doesn’t recall you ever telling him.

It’s just his luck that once you both step into the dancefloor, the hired DJ stops the up-tempo song playing before and switches to a much slower romantic one, “Alright everyone, I want all the couples on the dancefloor for this one.”

You step away from him with nervousness, it’s couples only after all. But Jungkook holds onto your lower back firmly, pulling you closer into his space. Your eyebrows raise as your lips part, “Uh, s-should we, uh—?”

“It’s just a song, Y/N. You wanted to dance, then we’ll dance.” He tells you with such confidence it makes you feel like this is totally normal and something all friends do. All the known High School couples are dancing together, heads tenderly placed over chests and chins resting lovingly above them. You wait for Jungkook to take the lead because you have no clue of what you should be doing, you might’ve taken dance lessons years ago but you’ve never slowed danced in your life.

Jungkook places his hand on your hip, the touch makes goosebumps crawl in your arms. He pretends he doesn’t notice it as he takes your right hand in his. You stare at the way he delicately holds it like it’s his mother’s fine china. “Place your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructs and you do as asked, your palm coming to rest on the strong muscle.

He’s only slowed danced once before at a family member’s wedding where his mother taught him how to, with her as the teacher. Back then he thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but now he’s sort of glad that happened because he’s the teacher now and you’re now looking at him with your big eyes as you sway alongside him.

You clear your throat, “This isn’t that hard.” Jungkook nods as he stares down at you, noticing how uneasy you are given that you’re looking at everything and not entirely immersed in the moment.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says out of nowhere, making you look at him like a deer stuck in headlights, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had never called you that before.

An awkward laugh escapes your lips, looking away from his intense gaze as you try not to take his words too literally, “Ha ha, that was a good one.” To you there’s no other explanation than this being one of his mean pranks on you.

But Jungkook doesn’t falter both his words and gaze, “I’m not laughing.” There’s seriousness in his voice and you have to look back at him again just to make sure he really isn’t, “You look beautiful, just take the compliment.” You nod and there’s silence between you two after that. You’re digesting the romantic lyrics that the singer is talking about and hope that the song ends soon, because you’ve never been this close to him and it’s starting to feel too crowded.

You clear your throat, “So…”

“So…,” he repeats.

“What are you doing for summer?” You ask him in an attempt to break the tension and wanting to take advantage of the little intimate moment since Jungkook rarely ever lets you pry into his private life.

“I think I’ll train before heading off,” he answers. It was more than obvious he was going to earn that sports scholarship he had been aiming for, he was one of the best athletes on the school; though you considered him to be the number one between them all. “I’m kinda scared, not gonna lie.”

You look at him with surprise, tilting your head to the side, “You’re scared?” You ask in disbelief because as long as you’ve known him, he’s never been scared of anything. This is the same kid who instilled your fear of monsters in a closet after watching Monster’s Inc. together, also the same kid who helped you get over it after he realized you had actually taken it seriously.

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, I’m just scared about starting over.” It’s interesting how his biggest fear is the one you’re looking forward to the most, but you suppose it’s fitting for someone who has never had to worry about what people think of him. In this town, Jungkook has swam freely without any concerns. Out there, he’s just another fish in the big and scary ocean. “Aren’t you?” He questions, hoping that you’re able to relate to what he’s feeling.

“Honestly, I—“

You’re interrupted by Jaehyun clearing his voice in front of you two, making you both turn your heads towards his direction. You quickly separate from Jungkook and he feels his body lose the warmness you were providing.

“If you wanted to dance, you could’ve just asked. I’m your date after all.” He says smugly and you chuckle awkwardly, nodding because he’s right.

Jungkook wants to punch his stupid face, how dare he interrupt you both when he had been ignoring you the whole night? Why does he suddenly want to dance with you when he’s probably still upset at him for asking Jinsoul to the prom before he could?

“Your date’s looking for you, buddy. She doesn’t look too happy.” Jaehyun adds with a smirk as he takes your hand in his and drags you away from Jungkook towards another place on the dancefloor.

He’s left to stare at the way he holds your hand, and he only hopes he’s doing it ever so carefully.

You’re twenty when Jungkook sees you for the first time since you both left for college two and half a years ago. He’s rendered speechless when he spots you in the crowd, there’s a manly hand around your waist as you giggle into the stranger’s mouth before placing a kiss to his lips.

There’s only so much social media can provide him, pictures and stories aren’t enough for Jungkook to keep up with you. He thinks you’ve changed, not only appearance wise but you seem way more outgoing, carefree, and happy. Did he miss the boyfriend announcement picture? He’s sure he didn’t, he checks your profile almost every day and he’s never even seen him in any of your stories.

A gasp escapes your lips once you spot him, completely forgetting about the possibility of bumping into him given that both your schools were playing against each other that night. You tell Namjoon you’ll be right back and he nods, going back to a conversation with the group of college friends you had made.

You surprise him by jumping into him, arms around his shoulders as you hug him from behind. You let out a shrill of excitement and he blushes as his friends chuckle at the unexpected approach from this unfamiliar girl.

‘‘Jungkook! You didn’t tell me you’d be here,’’ you say once he turns around to face you and he’s able to see you better upfront. You look beautiful and he thinks the Instagram pictures are not doing you enough justice. You’re glowing, and it has nothing to do with the highlighter you applied on your face and collarbone area.

The both of you aren’t able to properly talk until you suggest moving to a different area, Jungkook apologizing to his friends as he explained he needed to catch up with an old friend. They don’t complain and instead shoot him teasing looks and small pervy comments that go by unnoticed to you.

Jungkook listens with intent to your ramble about what you’ve been up to. From your courses, to your roommates, the parties you’ve attended, and even the fact that you handle your alcohol better now. He’s happy that you seem so too, but it irks him that you hadn’t been capable of telling him that you had a boyfriend now. Is there a reason as to why you omitted that important piece of information?

‘‘And what about you? How’s college?’’ You ask with curiosity.

He blinks a few times, realizing you had stopped talking about yourself and was now wondering about him instead. ‘‘It’s fine,’’ he answers with a tight lipped smile, the lack of detail compared to you was astonishing, but even though you were still hungry for more you decided not to pry any further.

There’s fear in revealing that he’s been having a hard time catching up with the rest of his peers. College was indeed fine, but it could be better. He’s settled with the idea that this is as good at it’ll get, some things just aren’t like you expect them to be. At least you’re happy, and that fact brings him comfort.

‘‘Was that your, uhm─boyfriend?’’ He finally asks after a while, both about to head back to your respective group of friends.

The question takes you by surprise, looking at him with raised eyebrows and mouth agape. ‘‘Who? Namjoon?’’ He nods, though he doesn’t know anything about the guy he had first seen you with. You let out a wholehearted laugh, ‘‘Hell no, too many commitment issues with that one,’’ you answer and Jungkook’s forehead creases with confusion.

Why were you kissing him then?

‘‘We’re friends with benefits,’’ you inform him as if you had read his mind. ‘‘He’s a nice guy, though. Also, super smart, he’s helped me with a few of my─’’

‘‘You’re not a virgin anymore?’’ He abruptly asks, disbelief in his tone as he internally screams to himself for thinking out loud. Jungkook expects you to berate him about such an imprudent question, but is surprised when he sees you giggling.

‘‘Duh, silly. I think I lost it freshman year?’’ The carelessness in your voice makes him look at you like you’ve gone crazy. Why are you so lax about this? Why are you telling him about losing your virginity without a care in the world? ‘‘Anyway, are you going to be home for the─’’

Jungkook interrupts you once again, ‘‘Was it with your boyfriend at the time?’’ He asks in genuine curiosity and you sigh, rolling your eyes slightly at him.

‘‘No, it was some random dude at this party I went to. Could you please─’’

‘‘Y/N, are you insane? Why would you give up your virginity to some fucking stranger like it’s nothing?’’ Jungkook’s voice raises as he scolds you about being so negligent about yourself, ‘‘You can’t do shit like that!’’ He fumed, making you let out a breathless chuckle.

‘‘Could you stop treating me like a fucking child for once in your life? I’m perfectly fine, Jungkook. I’ve been doing pretty well for myself without you here, actually. I don’t know why you think you have a say on what I do, is it the entitlement you have of me that you still carry around because we grew up together? Because if that’s it then you can drop it, I let go of my little girl who wanted a friend and was treated like pure shit in return complex a long time ago.’’

He knows you’re right, but he thinks he’ll always have this odd sense of protection over the five year old girl who cried to his mom about not lending her his favorite toy. He’ll always want to apologize to the eight year old girl who declared her love for him with a Valentine’s Day card while he ended up breaking her heart in exchange. He’ll always wish to look for help within the twelve year old girl who witnessed him give out his first kiss to another girl who he didn’t even like. He’ll always feel guilty towards the sixteen year old girl who had gotten tipsy on a spiked fruit punch and crashed on his bed. He’ll always hate himself for not asking the seventeen going on eighteen year old girl to prom when he knew he could’ve, but chose not to in fear of ruining your friendship.

You only wanted someone to be there for you growing up and Jungkook had never been the brave boy you thought he was, always running from his fears in hopes he’d have a wide advantage margin from them. Yet here they are, standing right in front of him in the form of a twenty year old you, and they’re there to let him know that you’ve never needed him, yet he’s always needed you.

He can’t even apologize, he only looks at you with wide eyes as he fidgets in his place. Either you’re both too old now to understand each other or you just realized that you’ve outgrown Jungkook.

Your mouth set in a hard line as you crossed your arms, the night’s breeze feeling colder than usual. ‘‘I miss you Jungkook, but I can’t keep playing this cat and mouse game with you any longer.’’

You leave him behind to go back to Namjoon’s arms, seeking refuge in his sweet embrace as you try your hardest to put on practice what you learned all those years ago when Jungkook broke your heart for the first time, you should be used to it by now.

You’re twenty-one when you’re back in your hometown to attend the funeral of the old lady down the street, the one that always scolded you and Jungkook growing up.

You had been scared of her as a child, but always following along your friend’s footsteps when he proposed playing around her garden. It tugs at your heartstrings even if you hadn’t known the woman well. Her death was imminent seeing as she’d been ill for quite some time.

A taller figure stands next to you as you both stand way in the back of the ceremony. He looks tired and you figure that it’s because of the fact he arrived late into the night, you heard his car’s engine from your bedroom window. Dressing in all black, you notice he bought a new suit. You’re sure that the one he wore for prom no longer fits considering he’s bigger now.

You haven’t talked to each other since last year when you both left off on a sour note. The hurt you felt was no longer present, though. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of a way you could talk to him again without making things awkward, but you let out a small gasp once he placed his arm around your shoulders, giving it a small squeeze as he sighed and kept his focus on the service.

Watching the casket be lowered into the ground felt weird. She was a human being just like you, but her existence was a reminder of your childhood. Would it be okay to say that her death meant a part of you leaving with her too?

Once it hits you, it’s Jungkook who consoles you by hugging you tight. Your eyes are too blurry with tears for you to realize this is one of those rare moments where he’s holding you close without hesitation. He lets you ruin his tuxedo’s jacket with your mascara covered tears as he brushes your hair as a sign of comfort.

You know things are back in order when he proposes the idea to go back to the old lady’s porch, for old times sake. ‘‘Will we ever let her rest?’’ You ask him with a small laugh as Jungkook sits on the doorsteps of the old lady’s empty home, opening the bag of candy worms he bought at the grocery store.

He shrugs, ‘‘She loved us, always told my mom how much she missed us running around the street.’’ The revelation makes you smile, hoping it was true. He pats the empty space next to him, indicating for you to fill it up with your presence. Once you do, you feel the familiar warmth of his proximity.

Jungkook seems different and you only hope he’s changed for the best.

‘‘When are you going back?’’ You ask him with curiosity, hoping that he’ll be in town for a few more days so you can catch up with him on a better note this time around.

He munches on one of the snacks, ‘‘Tomorrow morning, I have training camp and can’t miss it.’’ His answer makes you sigh with disappointment, but you nod nonetheless. ‘‘What about you?’’ He asks in return, and you inform him that you’ll stay for a few more days to spend time with your family. There’s silence after that and Jungkook can only offer you the gummy worms in the bag, you take one with a small thanks.

‘‘College fucking sucks,’’ he says out of nowhere and it makes you look at him in bewilderement, ‘‘I hate it there, I wanna drop out so bad. But I’m a year away from graduating so it’s too late now.’’ You see his shoulders visibly relax, like a weight had been lifted off them. ‘‘Plus my mom would kill me if I do so,’’ he adds with a chuckle.

Last time you asked everything was fine. Had things changed or had they always been this way and he was just now being honest with you?

You rest your head on his shoulder and focus all of your undivided attention on him as he keeps rambling about what his life has been ever since he left this town. He’s had bad games, bad grades, and bad girls. But he’s also had incredible games, good grades, and a couple great hookups, and yet he still feels empty, it’s not enough.

‘‘I miss you,’’ he mumbles as he faces you, ‘‘I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend, you deserved better.’’ His apology is genuine and you can feel it in the way his voice trembles, sincerity has always scared him after all.

Jungkook’s never known when the time is right, and he misjudges the look on your face. When he leans down to press his lips against yours, he’s blinded for a mere moment into believing that you wanted to kiss him just as much as he had been waiting.

You abruptly separate from him with wide eyes and parted lips, ‘‘Jungkook, I’m─I’m dating Namjoon now.’’ He can physically feel his heart shatter, the revelation coming out like an old newspaper headline he should’ve read a long time ago.

He lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘He got over the commitment issues?’’ The rhetorical question is bitter.

You scoff, ‘‘And what about it? I preferred to wait than to rush into getting my heart broken.’’ Plus it’s not like you were expecting Namjoon to grow feelings for you, the whole no strings attached arrangement was named that way for a reason.

Jungkook looks at you with narrowed eyes and he shakes his head sightly. Old habits never die down, still so stubborn and challenging as ever.

He’s startled as you stand abruptly, fuming as you look at him, ‘‘I don’t even know why you care! Did you forget that you threw my Valentine’s Day card into the trash? Or that you kissed Yeji in front of my face? Or that you let Taehyung date me as prank between your friends? Or that you were making out with Eunha while Jimin kept giving me alcohol? Or that you asked Jaehyun to take me to the stupid prom even though I was perfectly fine going without him or anyone for that matter?’’

‘‘We were just kids!’’ Jungkook argues back at you.

‘‘It still fucking hurt,’’ you counter, ‘‘still hurts, actually. You think that by giving me a measly apology and kissing it better I’ll suddenly forget about all of it?’’ Jungkook knows it won’t ever make up for all those years, but he had at least hoped you’d be willing to give him a chance.

He wishes he could say something else. Explain that he had just tried to protect you in his own shitty way from everyone else or himself maybe, he doesn’t know anymore. He wants to speak up again, but there’s disappointment written all over your face, you’re not angry at him...just saddened.

‘‘Hope you have fun at your training camp.’’

Jungkook watches as you leave him sitting by himself on the old lady’s doorstep. A hand runs through his hair as he feels his eyes water, and he can almost hear a whisper in the wind that asks him why he didn’t stop you when he could’ve.

Jungkook didn’t think that his family coming together with yours for Christmas dinner would’ve been a great idea. You’re cold to him at first and it’s fitting for the winter weather, but as always it only takes for him to sit next to you for things to warm up again.

It’s with the excuse that you’ll run over to your house to grab a new bottle of wine from the kitchen counter that Jungkook trails behind you, both slightly tipsy on the different alcohols your families had offered each other.

Years have passed since he last stepped foot inside your home, you used to visit him more often than he did anyway. It still smells and looks the same; the only difference is that there’s new pictures of you hung up on the walls, updated accordingly to the changes you’ve made ever since you left off for college.

You’re sporting a big smile in all of them, which in exchange makes him copy the action as well. His lack of presence in your life has done you better than compared to when he was around, and if that’s the case, then at least he did something right.

There hasn’t been much said since the beginning of the night, just a simple hey out of courtesy. There’s so much he wants to say, but with no clue where to begin. Another apology is due, though he thinks it’s a little too late for that. He also wants to ask about what you’ve been up to since he last saw you, are you still dating the Namjoon guy you had told him about after he kissed you? If he’s still there, Jungkook rather keep quiet and not wonder out loud to you, he’s sure that it’ll hurt if it’s true.

Growing up Jungkook always mistook your bravery with stubbornness and your courage with relentlessness. You’ve always been challenging, but only because you wanted him to do so too. It’s moments like this that prove him that you’ve always been the stronger between the two.

‘‘So, we’re just gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong between us?’’ You ask, speaking directly to him for the first time that night. It makes him look at you like a deer stuck in headlights, surprised by the sudden question and out of all the years of knowing each other, he feels small under your gaze for once. ‘‘How much time is it going to pass until you want to finally talk things like adults?’’

Jungkook gulps the lump in his throat, his brain quickly thinking of the right thing to say, ‘‘I just wanted to protect you from─’’

‘‘From what? From you? Everytime you’ve done that I end up getting hurt in the end. I’m left to pick the pieces up by myself,’’ you interject with anger in your voice. ‘‘It fucking pisses me off that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you kissing me, I haven’t stopped thinking about you and─’’ A sigh, you close your eyes to center yourself again as Jungkook waits for the final blow, ‘‘and you look like none of this has ever bothered you in the slightest because, you don’t really care about me do you?’’

‘‘I do care about you.’’ He’s sure about it, even though he’s been extremely bad at showing it.

Even though your eyes are threatening to spill tears, you still muster up the last bit of what’s left of your courage to step closer to him until you’re a few inches away. ‘‘Prove it, then. Show me that you care.’’

His brain is sent into quick overdrive due to your close proximity. There’s a slight hesitation because he only hopes that what he’s about to do is what you’re demanding him to prove. He doesn’t care if you’re still dating the Namjoon guy because he’s settled with the idea that it’s okay if you don’t correspond, it’s not like he did the same to you when you were both younger.

Once his lips press against yours, there’s no turning back. He’s waiting for you to push him back and let him know that your heart’s still taken, but you kiss him with such fervor that he knows in that moment that you’re right, it’s better to wait than to rush right in.

It’s no fairytale kiss, though. There’s desperation in the way you chase his lips, as if you were to slow down he’d find a way to escape from you. You grip the cotton material of his crewneck into your small fists, holding on to the fabric like your life depended on it. The small kiss you had both shared last year was nothing compared to this, and Jungkook’s taken aback by your neediness.

He doesn’t know how you manage to drag him to your childhood bedroom without missing a beat, only separating once you both realize you need to catch your breaths, and even then Jungkook can’t have a minute to take just happened in because your lips attach to his neck to get more of a taste. His fingers curled around your arm, sighing at the way your kisses felt like electricity on his skin.

‘‘Y/N,’’ he calls your name out in a breathy tone, but you’re too immersed in your little bubble to even realize it.

Jungkook groans when you bite into the skin of his neck, then blowing over the red mark as you kissed it better. It’s going to be bruise and he doesn’t like when that happens, but he’s not bothered at all if it comes from you. He forcibly grabs your chin so you can face him, looking at him with big eyes, a small pout, and with your chin messed with drool.

It’s then that Jungkook kisses you hungrily, making you feel like you’re in a dream-like state, though you could partially blame the Christmas eggnog for that. The way he bites at your lips and how your tongues clash together is an extreme juxtaposition as to how you could describe this moment. It’s as if you’re floating on air, clouds surrounding you in a heavenly embrace, angels singing in the background every time his hands touch, grab, hold and caress every part of your body. And yet, even with such a difference, it’s perfect because it’s Jungkook. You’ve been waiting for this too long, which is why your hands creep beneath his crewneck, touching his tonified abdomen tentatively and enjoying the way goosebumps arise on his skin at the sensation of your fingers trailing patterns wherever they caress.

It’s only fair that he pays attention to yours as well. Jungkook’s lips trail from your mouth onto your jawline, planting wet kisses on each space until he begins sucking on the skin of your neck, making you moan in the process. He chooses then that his new favorite sound is the way you voice out the pleasure he gives you. ‘‘Hurry up,’’ you say, ridding the bottom of the crewneck higher over his stomach, making him shiver at the sudden change of temperature.

Jungkook chuckles before completely getting rid of the material, ‘‘Calm down,’’ he sighs as he gives you a sweet smile, ‘‘You know our moms could talk forever.’’

You ogle his chest, admiring the way his training camps have obviously done wonders to his body. ‘‘It’s not them I’m talking about,’’ you correct him with a teasing smile that only makes his grin grow wider, chuckling at your impatience. Jungkook lets out a small gasp of surprise when your hands grasp at his shoulder blades, turning him around so you can back him until the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed. It’s funny how he lets himself be bossed around by someone who’s way smaller compared to his frame.

Jungkook finds leverage on his elbows splayed against the mattress, your knees resting on each side of his hips as you leaned into him and kissing him just as widely as you had done before. Jungkook could fill just how quick things were escalating, especially the way his crotch area was beginning to become a problem he couldn’t possibly control at the moment, not with your own being directly on top of it. In any other situation he would’ve apologized with an awkward laugh, but his breath hitches once your hips start grinding over him.

His hands make their way on the inside of your knitted sweater, provoking goosebumps on the exposed skin. You let out a shaky laugh, halting your movements so you can quickly get rid of the fabric as Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in surprise at your haste and then at the sight of your bra covered breasts. His hands are still steadily placed on each side of your waist, only brought up because your own had redirected them over your breasts, hoping he gets the message on what you want him to do now.

Jungkook hesitantly squeezed one of the round globes, provoking a small moan to come from out of your lips. He wishes to hold you as close as he possibly can because the idea of ever being away from you again has been his main fear as of lately. But he refrains, you look so delicate and he feels like you could easily break. He stares at your body lovingly and your cheeks heat up at the way his eyes ogle your chest like a kid in a candy story. You give his arm a light slap and he chuckles, leaning over you to place a passionate kiss on your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly. It doesn’t help to dissipate the flush on your face, but the compliment doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Jungkook leans in to trail kisses past your collarbones and into the swell of your breasts, making you bite your lip with anticipation. He looks at you asking for permission and you nod quickly with parted lips as you start to become impatient for him to make his next move. Jungkook lowers the cups of your breasts, freeing your hardened nipples and immediately envelopes one of them with his lips. “Mph—!” A sigh escapes your lips as you try to memorize the way his tongue traces over your tit. He pays attention to your other one, fingers rolling over the bud and pinching ever so often.

You can feel your panties damp by then, trespassing into the fabric of the black leggings you’re wearing over them. Reaching behind your back, you fumble in unclasping the hooks of the now uncomfortable bra. Jungkook’s forced to stop the undivided attention he had places on your breasts to look at you like he’s lost, why are you going so fast?

Once your hands delve with the buckle of his belt, he has to hold on to your wrists with a firm grasp, ‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asks with quick breath, you blink stoically towards him.

‘‘Uh─getting you naked?’’ You answer with a nonchalant tone, but his hands don’t let go and your demeanor changes, ‘‘D-Did you not want this?’’ Your voice turns smaller, embarrassed that maybe you had pressured him into something he didn’t want to participate in.

Jungkook quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘No, I-I do want this! It’s just─you’re going so fast,’’ he tries to explain, ‘‘I’ve been waiting for this for too long, I don’t wanna rush.’’ Your eyes lit up at the revelation as he waits for you to answer back, only for his back to hit the comforter with a small thud, giggling at the way you urgently kiss him again, but this time with much more care.

‘‘Why didn’t you say so before, stupid?’’ You mumble with a sheepish look, ‘‘I thought it was just going to be─nevermind, I need you right now.’’ You have to force yourself from spitting out any details that could possibly ruin the moment between you two, deciding to wait instead for any emotional confessions you want to make.

He switches positions between the two, panting as he brings you down to the mattress and Jungkook can feel the goosebumps on your skin, whether from the coldness of the room or because of the sheer electricity of his hands caressing your body like it was molded just right for him. He dips his hand lower, cupping your clothed heat on his hand. It makes you tremble and you whine, encouraging him to keep going.

“Baby, you’re really wet,” he comments with a teasing tone and you pout at him. His fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings and he pulls them down as he travels with them, greeted by the sight of the damp cloth of your panties. He exhales with content, caressing your thighs in an up and down motion. You twist underneath him and he has to hold your hips down to calm you down, “Patience is a virtue.”

“I’ve been too patient, do some—Ah!” Your whining is interrupted once Jungkook moves your underwear to the side holding it with his free hand, fingers coming to trace the slick covering your pussy lips. He becomes entranced with the transparent gooey liquid, bringing them close to his face as he separates his fingers and sees a strand connecting between them. “Guk-ah, p-please…” Your needy voice brings him back to reality, delving his fingers back into your exposed heat but this time with intent.

Jungkook’s thumb lifts the hood covering your clit, mouth coming down to give it a small tentative kiss. That action alone has you writhing above him, it makes him chuckle to himself as he dives back in. The moans you let out are loud and clear inside your bedroom, thankful that it’s only you and him inside your house. Your hand pulls at his hair, making him groan against you and the vibrations are felt throughout your body, only adding to the euphoric pleasure you already possess. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs until they reach your entrance, circling the fluttering hole which makes you pull at his hair harder and with your other you hold on to the bedsheets of the comforter tightly into your fist.

Jungkook’s tongue is still working your engorged bud, but he focuses his eyes on you as he dips the first finger inside you. “Oh—fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan. He tries to maintain a rhythm between his two ministrations, but it’s hard when he wants to focus on all of them at once. “‘Nother, please,” you begged once he let your clit rest, quickly following your request by adding another into your warm heat. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he notices how easy it is to thrust both fingers inside of you, your whole crotch area is covered in slick and his wet chin is a dead giveaway to where he was seconds ago.

He watches you unravel over him with such adoration, not even his wettest dreams or dirtiest fantasies could prepare him for this. Seven minutes in heaven he plans to stay in forever. “Guk-ah, I wan’ you. I-Inside, please.” You plead with teary eyes, and he slowly stops, removing his arousal covered fingers from inside you as he makes you sigh in the process. He kisses you again and again, your hazy brain is probably hallucinating all of this right now, but damn is it good. You tug at the crewneck he’s wearing, he’s too overdressed for this occasion. He tends to your demands, quickly getting rid of all the layers of clothing that stop him from being inside of you fully.

“I don’t have a—“

“I’m on the pill.”

You both speak at the same time, making each other chuckle. Jungkook gulps at the idea of taking you raw as the first time together, and you salivate at his hardened length; the head already oozing precum out and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around it and lick the tip up. You’re just about to when Jungkook quickly grabs your wrist to stop you from reaching him, you look up at him with the big sparkly eyes he has loved for too long.

“I just—I wanna be inside you right now,” he sheepishly admits, and you smile with a nod; sharing the sentiment. You back up until your head rests on the pillows comfortably, relaxing into the mattress as you wait for Jungkook to ready himself. He places a kiss on your lips before placing a hand next to your head, using it as leverage above you. His free hand takes his cock and rubs the tip along your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. Jungkook chuckles, “Are you ready?” He asks with a sweet smile.

“I’ve always been,” you whisper, your hand tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear.

A caress to his cheek as he nods, slowly pushing the head of his dick into you. You bite into your lip hard, it’s been a while since you had sex with someone and Jungkook’s size and girth was different from the rest. Your walls are tight around him and he has a tough time trying to reach the hilt with you squeezing him so hard, “Baby, relax for me.” He pleads and you nod apologetically, breathing in deep as you feel him reach parts inside of you, you didn’t know existed. Once he’s all the way in, he waits for you to give him the go ahead while he presses kisses into your heated cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and give him a nod, letting him know he was allowed to start thrusting.

Jungkook manages to hit all the right places, keeping a steady pace as he enters and exits you each time. You’re left to moan and writhe underneath him, letting him take you as he pleases. Your kisses become messy, teeth biting into each other’s lips, teeth grazing against each other as you both tried to fight for the dominant position. It’s that heavy makeout that incites you to push at his shoulders, making him turn in his back, exiting you in the process. Jungkook pants, chest rising and falling with quickness as you straddle his lap, arms connecting behind his neck.

“You always want to win, right?” He chuckles with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way your pussy lips grinded over his twitching length. You bat your eyelashes at him, offering him an innocent smile. The same technique that used to get you everything you wanted when you were younger. Same determination as you seek for what’s yours. He’s under you after all, still a victim to your charms.

Jungkook takes the bulbous head of his cock and teases it in your clit, if you weren’t holding on to him tight you would’ve collapsed into his chest. And by the way you moan his name out, he knows you’ll always look for him no matter the weather. “What a pretty girl,” he coos into your hair and you pinch his nipple in retaliation which only makes him groan in return. “My pretty girl.” He states before sinking himself deep into you again, sighing at the feeling of your hips circling over him. His rough hands guide them as you bounce up and down his length, moaning every time you rose and hissing when you came back down.

He makes sure to keep this image engraved on his head forever. Your breasts bouncing over his face, your thighs working extra hard to keep up with his thrusts, and the way your sounds bounced off the walls of your bedroom.

“You’re doing s-so good, baby.” Jungkook praises you, kneading your ass cheek. “Taking my cock s-so well,” he falls into a trance of admiring the way his length would appear and disappear inside of you, covered in a thick layer of your arousal. It makes him drill into you faster, sitting properly against the bed’s headboard as he takes your hips with force. He’s too turned on to keep treating you so delicately, and the way you moan and pant at the increase in speed only lets him know you enjoy him like this way more. “I-Is it good, baby? Am I-I fucking you well?” He asks in between rapid thrusts, your thighs had given out by then.

You nod and a whimper escapes your lips, “Y-yes, Guk-Ah. S-so good, feels amazing.” Your praise is honest, the fucked out tone in your voice is a clear indicator of how well of a job he was doing. A minute longer and you’ll be right on cloud nine, never wanting to come back down. “Wanna cum Guk-Ah, plea—“ There’s no need for you to even finish your sentence because his thumb rubs your clit in figure eights, making you groan with the intensified feeling of his hips circling inside you deliciously. You can almost see the blinding white light ahead as Jungkook kisses you feverishly. You feel tears escape the corners of your high, the familiar feeling tickling inside you as Jungkook’s thrusts don’t let up. ‘‘Ah! Yes, yes, fuck,’’ you cry out once your orgasm hits. Jungkook holds you close to his chest, trying to soothe your shaking body with his arms. Your walls squeeze and relax continuously around him, it serves him as the impulse he needs to chase his own high.

‘‘I love you, Jungkook,’’ you confess in between panting breaths, ‘‘so much.’’

His release shoots out and he groans, digging crescent moons into your hips. You hiss at the sensation, but giggle at how his eyes are screwed shut and brows still furrowed together, as if he was holding on to the last of his orgasm. In reality, Jungkook is just hoping that once he opens his eyes you’ll still be in his arms. Your fingers tilting his head to face you are very much real, he sees spots once he opens his eyes as they adjust to the room’s lighting.

‘‘I love you too.’’ He says with a fixed gaze and you coo at how perfect this is.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook’s finally yours.

You’re both twenty-three and it’s another weekend spent at his apartment, he’s been playing for three hours now and you’ve given up on having him pay attention to you. Deciding to switch your plan around and join him instead, if only he would let you play.

‘‘Jungkook, you said it was going to be my turn five rounds ago!’’ You complain with a pout, crossing your arms across your chest.

His gaze is still stuck on the T.V screen, ‘‘Baby, shhh, you’re gonna make me lose.’’ He mumbles as he tries to remain concentrated on the game in hand, but he can hear your humph’s from behind him, ‘‘Patience is a─’’

‘‘Virtue, yeah, who cares.’’ You interrupt him with a roll of your eyes, familiar with the saying a little too well. ‘‘Hope you remember that for later tonight,’’ you add in a mumble, but he doesn’t hear it because of the loud sounds coming from the game on the screen.

‘‘What did you say, babe?’’ He asks with a raised brow, hitting the buttons of the controller with expert ease.

‘‘I’ll call your mom and tell her you don’t wanna share.’’ You joke with a threatening voice, but Jungkook knows better than to take your words so lightly. He pauses the game and turns to look at you with an are you serious? expression on his face, you giggle as you’ve finally got what you wanted.

He apologizes by covering your face with kisses, pleading for you not to tell on him with his mom. You promise not to do so this time, knowing that the woman was probably tired of having to scold his son at his big age.

Plus, ever since Jungkook surprised you with the almost exact replica of the Valentine’s Day card you gave him all those year back, you’ve taken advantage to tease him even more knowing he’s at your beck and call. You always remind him that he came close because the stickers he used were not like the ones you had, but he remembered to add the hearts on the I’s so that’s good enough.

‘‘Alright you can play, but━!’’ He says after he finishes his attack of kisses, ‘‘I’ll be your guide, I can’t risk you messing my record up, no offense baby.’’ None taken as you nod excitedly, you’ll always take whatever chance he gives you.

Jungkook’s finally learned how to share his toys after all.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #bts smut #f: year 22

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