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[hairloveindia]

Hair Love India's heat cap: amplify treatments. Shower caps: shield styles. Perfect duo for pampering and preserving your gorgeous locks!

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[stonylovessteve]

June 29th - Day One of Reveals

It’s day one of gift reveals! Check back each day for more reveals or keep an eye on the AO3 collection.

To our participants, please be sure to comment on your gifts and thank your creator for making something for you. AO3 sometimes forgets to send gift emails, so be sure to check this blog (or the collection) each day to see what’s being revealed.

All creators are still secret, so don’t post anywhere about your work, even if it has been revealed. You can, however, reply to comments on your work. AO3 will automatically show you as an anon author until creator reveals.

Creators: AO3 will post your work under the date it was submitted. Once your work has been revealed, go into edit and click “Set a different publication date” then change it to today’s date. This will ensure that your work is posted to the top of the new works.

Without further ado… onto today’s gifts!

Still Halfway Human, Just Going Through It for soliloquent (MCU, 9.9k Words)

Stark Industries was still an incredible place to work. Everyone seemed so dedicated and smart and ambitious, it truly reminded him of Howard and his vision for the future. Steve had even seen Tony Stark a few times in passing or when he made his rounds and talked to Steve’s superior in the office, but he hadn’t talked to him more than a greeting in passing. He wasn’t even sure Tony, who insisted on being called by his first name, had actually noticed him during these times. Steve had noticed him all the more.

Give me the luxuries of life  for Thahire (MCU, 4.9k Words)

Four times Steve reluctantly dabbles in a little luxury + one time he leans into it wholeheartedly

Hot Bouncer for Becci_chan (MCU, 2.7k Words)

‘Hey Steve, We had a very interesting last night. Love to stay and elaborate on that but have to take my playful pet baby – Toothless  for a run. Left some hangover cure you might need. Feel free to use the shower or anything else you need. Be back soon. T.S”

The Long Game for waywardmillennial (MCU, 2.6k Words)

Steve prided himself on being a patient man, he really did. He had stared down Nazis, and HYDRA officers, and the British Press on that one horrible media tour. He could spend hours plotting strategies for situations which may never happen but might, and he had been known to accompany Pepper on her stress-relief shopping trips. Steve could hold his tongue. Steve could outmaneuver his opponent. Steve could play the long game. That last donut broke all of that.

not a lot, just forever for AirlocksandAviaries (MCU, 2.7k Words)

A few months after the Battle of New York, Tony invites Steve over to see the apartment he has built for him. Steve, of course, is totally normal about this and not panicking at all.

give me your number (i'll give you mine) for BladeoftheNebula (MCU, 1.2k Words)

Somehow, Tony freaking Stark showing up at the store isn't Clint's biggest shock of the day.

Cap's Comics for robertdowneyjjr (AA, Comic)

The local newspaper/magazine/online publication runs a comic about the Avengers — from thwarted robberies to statues come to life, they are sort of like funny little recaps of the team’s latest missions that New Yorkers have witnessed. Then the comics start becoming more… domestic, showing the Avengers at home during game nights and weekend brunch. There are even a few where Cap and Iron Man go on a date together. The team comes across these comics and no one realizes Steve’s the artist. After all, the drawings are barely better than stick figures, and Steve’s art is much more refined than that… right?

[shadowdaddies]

💓💓HEllooo!!💓💓 I love Hunt, that big cute angel, could you write something about him? Soft and smut?? You are a witch who needs protection due to threats and he is hired as a bodyguard. One night things get complicated at your house and he saves you, you don't want to be alone + online one bed 😈❤️‍🔥 THANKS FOR YOUR WRITING GOODDES✨

Hi honey!! I love this, needed some Hunt on this blog. And this prompt is so fun! Please enjoy the ✨iconic✨ one bed trope😈💜

Witch Hunt

Hunt Athalar x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, lightning usage in bed??, p in v sex, lil canon typical violence, minors dni

As one of the few Valbaran witches with seer abilities, Hypaxia asked you to come to Crescent City to aid her in an ongoing investigation. She was working with the 33rd Legion on the case, and you’d come to Lunathion to offer your help. 

On your first night, you were headed back to the studio apartment where you were staying when two large males jumped from the shadows. You tried to use your wind magic to fend them off, but it didn’t last long. One made a lunging sweep with a knife, making a long cut on your arm. You fell to your knees, head bowed as you accepted this was a fight you would not win. But rather than being met by another blade, you were met with the sounds of swords slashing, and a hand reaching out to you. 

You looked up to see a stunning angel with dark hair and grey wings, wiping sweat from his brow as he gave you a soft smile. “I’m with the 33rd. You can trust me, my name is Hunt.” You stared at the gorgeous male, tempted by the offer, but scarred by what just happened. Refusing his hand, you stood up and brushed the dirt off of your knees. “Well, Hunt, why did you just happen to be around when I was being attacked?”

He smirked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye that you knew would land you in trouble at some point. “I’m not on duty, but I heard the commotion and came to look into it. Luckily for you.” You scoffed, refusing to let him have the upper hand. After calling Hypaxia and alerting her of the situation, she informed you that she knew Hunt and would be working with the 33rd on assigning him to protect you. That was the opposite of what you hoped for. Waving goodbye to Hunt and hoping you could make it far enough away before he received his orders, you set off back towards where you were staying.

You sighed a breath of relief as you closed the door to the apartment behind you, thankful to be back safe and alone. Headed towards the kitchen for a drink, you turned the corner to find Hunt sitting at your breakfast table, looking smug while drinking a beer. “I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself, little witch. Thought I’d enjoy a drink since I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future.” He’d changed clothes since you saw him, now wearing a backwards sunball cap with a muscle tank that showed off his muscular arms. You swallowed, trying to maintain your composure as you grabbed a beer for yourself from the fridge. “Well, you can enjoy that beer now since you’ll be sleeping on the floor,” you said, nodding to the space beside the bed, the only spot in the tiny studio that such a large angel would fit. He let out a soft laugh, “yes, I figured that.” 

You took a shower, changing into a nightgown before slipping into the bed. As you closed your eyes to try to sleep, you couldn’t help but notice how Hunt’s beautiful wings were crumpled as he twisted and turned on the hard floor. You told yourself it was the decent thing to do, to invite him to sleep in the bed with you. Nudging him with your foot, you nodded. “Get up here,” you sighed, as you scooted over to make room for him. You didn’t account for his extremely large frame, however, or the fact that this beautiful angel was now shirtless in bed with you, his warm skin brushing against yours. “I’m sorry, I can move back to the floor if that’s more comfortable for you,” Hunt whispered, seemingly more nervous than you were.

You huffed, twisting in an attempt to get away from his warm body, instead accidentally brushing against something hard. You froze for a moment as he softly groaned, registering that Hunt was in your bed, and visibly aroused. “Fuck it,” you murmured, turning over to face him, cupping the angel’s face as you looked to him for consent. Hunt’s eyes frantically searched yours for any hesitation before grabbing the back of your neck, kissing you fiercely. You hooked a leg over his waist, pulling your hips against his, grinding against him as he moaned into your mouth, allowing you to slip your tongue inside. Your tongues battled for dominance as Hunt rolled you onto your back, kneading your breasts through your nightgown as you looped your other leg around his waist. 

Hunt pulled away, kissing down your body as his hands lifted your nightgown over your head, baring you to him. He kissed his way down your body, roughly spreading your legs as he wasted no time diving into your heat. He thrust his tongue into you, lapping at your wet folds before moving up to suck your clit while pressing his tongue against the bud. You felt a zap of electricity jolt through you, sending you over the edge with a scream as Hunt continued to work you through your orgasm before pulling back with a smug look.

Hooking your feet on his sweatpants, you pushed them down his legs, Hunt helping you as he kicked them off. You reached down to grab his length, and your eyes widened at the size of him. He was by far the biggest man you’d been with, and he looked at you like he knew that. “Just fuck me, angel,” you demanded, lining him up with your entrance. Hunt leaned down to kiss you as he slid halfway in. “I’ll give you some time to adjust. Wouldn’t want to hurt you, little witch.” You huffed out a breath. He was a stretch, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Using your wind control abilities, you pushed a gust of air against his back, causing him to sink all the way into you. You both let out loud moans at the feeling, Hunt resting his forehead against yours while you both adjusted. He slowly started thrusting into you, but you needed more. “Fuck me harder, please, Hunt,” you whispered, kissing his neck as you used your legs to meet his thrusts. “As you wish, little witch,” Hunt said before he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, pounding into you at a relentless pace. You were writhing beneath him, a moaning mess as you neared your orgasm once again. 

Hunt could tell he was close too, bringing his thumb to rub circles against your clit as he continued his thrusts. He came with a loud groan, letting another little shock flow from his thumb to your clit, sending you over the edge again with him. You both panted for air, laughing at the situation as you laid next to each other. This would prove to be an interesting job, after all.

[cindol]

Let's bring back Eren and his rapper! gf, what would he do if she refuses to take care of herself for days because of excessive hate comments 💆🏾‍♀️

You’re actually sick and going to hell for requesting this but I’ll answer anyways!

rapper gf!reader x eren yeager

tw— mention of depression, small tint of angst, black fem reader, eren is very soft here

When she refused to take care of herself he saw the effect it was having on her. When she was in a pink sweatsuit with dark circles under her tired eyes as she wrote down lyrics humming in their bedroom with a small trash bin filled with crumbled up balls of loose leaf paper and broken pencils in half, she was on her eighth pencil now. He could tell those hate comments were getting to her and even some fans getting on her online for not being as interactive the past few days.

Being the boyfriend he is he furrowed his brows getting on the bed with you. He wasn’t gonna watch his girlfriend over work herself on trolls and obsessive fans. He grabbed her pencil and notepad out her hand getting her attention.”ren I gotta write these lyrics. Cmon, gimme my stuff back.” He shook his head.”nope, can’t have this shit making you go crazy and in a depression.” He put the note pad and pencil on a nearby desk next their bed.”everyone needs a break, even a famous rapper baby. Now sit there and stay, gonna make you some soup and draw you a shower.”

She complained a bit but stayed there with a sigh. In some few minutes eren came back, she could hear the sound of shower water running nearby and the small smell of soup in the air. Eren smiled at her sitting there while he went in their closet and picked out two white robes and a black comfortable sweatsuit for her to slip into while he picked out just a white wife beater and grey sweat pants for himself. He then gave her a soft smile bringing his hand out to her.”now cmon baby, got a very nice hot shower just how you like it i gotta get.” She did a small smile even with her chapped up lips and took his hand in hers lifting herself off the bed to walk with him to the bathroom.

He helped her undress of course and even put on her clear shower cap on her hair then undressed himself and got in after her. The whole shower he just focused on showering her himself making her pout and glare at him with her tired eyes.” ‘m a grown woman y’know ren, don’t need to be bathed like a baby.” He just huffed and gave her a playful soapy slap on the back making her gasp.”hush girl, now let me take care of my woman before she breaks.” She just sighed but stood there letting him soap his body up.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Never feel pressed to overwork yourself for those internet trolls baby, genius takes time.”

[peachy-panic]

A prompt: Myles has Elijah strung up and is doing something unpleasant to him

This is a good excuse to insert a piece of canon I've been meaning to write.

WARNINGS: Captivity whump, scars, branding, knives, referenced noncon, self harm

When the shower shut off, the first thing Elijah reached for—the first thing he always reached for—was the tube of scar gel on the bathroom counter. 

He stuck his hand out from behind the curtain, groping blindly in the dark. No matter how much time passed, he still couldn’t bring himself to take a shower with the lights on, leaving him dependent on the sliver of sunlight that came through the small frosted window above the toilet. It was enough to get by, and just enough to leave his body a shadowed blur in his vision.

When his fingers found the familiar plastic, he grabbed it and flipped the cap with his thumb. He dispensed a dime-sized circle onto his palm, careful not to use too much at once. This shit was expensive, and definitely more than he and his mom should be spending with limited funds, but she knew how important it was to Elijah, so she never mentioned it. But every few weeks, a new tube would appear on the bathroom counter like clockwork. 

She just didn’t know the real reason why he needed it so badly. Not entirely.

There was no shortage of physical reminders of Elijah’s captivity etched into his body, and none of them were easy to cope with. Some of them were easier to cover, and some of them never saw the light of day. But only one instilled such a burning revulsion, one that went beyond skin deep, to the point that on several occasions, Elijah found himself on the bathroom floor next to a shattered razor, fighting the urge to filet the entire ugly fucking patch of skin from his body. Instead, he settled for thin, violent slashes across the existing scar, like he was crossing out words on a page. Just to alter it in some way. To take ownership of something that so inherently robbed it from him. 

Today, he bypassed the superficial scars altogether, ignoring the sharp lines of raised skin that had split apart under Myles Voss’s blades and belts, on his arms and shoulders and chest and stomach. Instead, he took the full amount of gel and smeared it across his inner thigh, rubbing until it covered every inch of scar tissue. 

It was overkill to close his eyes so tight, but he did it on instinct, keeping his chin tilted up so there was no chance of seeing the lines on his thigh. He wished there was a way to detach his brain from his nerve endings, so he didn’t have to feel the ridges of lettering under his fingertips like braille, reading it out over and over and over and—

The handcuffs were nothing new, but Elijah knew something was off when Myles didn’t unlock them immediately after he rolled off of him. 

Myles stood from the bed, stretching his arms over his head, and walked to the dresser on the far side of the room. Elijah stared after him blankly, slowly coming back to himself. He blinked hard a couple of times before Myles turned back to him. A golden knife gleaming in his hands. 

He was pretty sure this fucking scar cream didn’t work. He had spent countless hours online looking up his options: creams, lotions, surgeries. Most of which were too expensive to even consider, and none of which would be one hundred percent effective. No matter which route he went, even in a fantasy world where he could afford a real procedure, there would always, always be evidence of the marks Myles left on his skin.

Elijah’s wrists tugged against the restraints before he could even fully process what he was seeing. “W-what are you…?” He couldn’t even form the whole thought. This was normally the part where Myles would force him into some sick semblance of an embrace, followed by a hellish shared bath that always led to the probability of another round. He almost never brought out the knives after they had sex. 

Myles’s expression gave no leniency when he said, “We’ll keep the cuffs on for this, baby. You don’t want to fight me.”

He yanked his sweatpants up to his hips before the towel even hit the ground, like leaving the scar exposed for one more second would reveal him to the world. He could still feel it, though. There were days where the scar tissue was bad, and days where it was worse, but he could almost always feel it; if he stretched just the wrong way, if the jeans he wore were tight enough for the seam to rub just the wrong way against his inner thigh. 

Half of his wardrobe was eliminated when Elijah returned home, and not just because all of his clothes hung loose on his malnourished frame. Any pair of pants that had rips along the thighs—which, given Elijah’s fashion choices through high school, were most of them—posed the risk of showing it. 

Elijah would never be able to forget it was there. Myles had made sure of that. 

He heated the knife first, dipping the blade into the burning fireplace for a few long seconds. Elijah’s first panicked, incoherent thought was that maybe he was sterilizing it. Maybe creating a way to cauterize as he cut. In hindsight, he wondered if it had more to do with making sure the it scarred. 

The moments between seeing the blade glowing in the fire and the knife making contact with his skin were chopped into a motion blur. He recalled pieces: Myles’s weight dipping the mattress. Hands prying his legs apart. He remembered screaming, and even if he didn’t, he would have remembered the dry ache in his throat rendering him unable to talk for the entire next day, leaving Grayson to a silent cellar and a nearly catatonic companion for company. 

The heat itself, the slice of the blade through the delicate skin of his inner thigh, was a blare of white, hot pain that blew out any conscious thought. He passed out. Several times, he knew, because he recalled waking up over and over to the realization that it was still happening. 

It could have lasted seconds or hours. 

When he woke up, he was on the floor of the empty bathtub, alone. The excess blood had been washed away, a bandage fastened over the wound. Through the white of the gauze, he had already begun to bleed through; patches of red in the neat shape of two letters.

MV.

He never told anyone about the brand on his thigh, but that didn’t mean it was a secret. There were the agents and paramedics who found them, naked and terrified in the master bedroom, leaving nothing to the imagination. Then there were the people at the hospital, both doctors and police, who poked and prodded and splayed him open for photos and inspections and bandage changes and—

And of course, there was Grayson. There was very little Elijah could ever hide from him. This was only one more thing they never spoke about.

Elijah shut off his bedroom light and crawled under the blankets. When he stretched out onto his stomach, the position tugged at the scar tissue unevenly, like a thread pulled too tightly under his skin. He flipped onto his back and scrubbed both hands over his face and into his hair, pulling tightly enough on the damp curls to sting. 

“Now you won’t forget, baby,” Myles crooned, running a calloused finger over his initials. “You won’t ever forget who you belong to.”

***

TAG LIST: @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @distinctlywhumpthing @diyalogues @finder-of-rings @dont-touch-my-soup @wicked-whump @scp-1296 @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @melancholy-in-the-morning @whumpcereal @reflected-pain  @pigeonwhumps @canislycaon24 @flowersarefreetherapy @there-will-always-be-blood @whatwhumpcomments

[miguel-owhora]

please do, come join us PLEASE. i love this au so much it's so fun like genuinely.

but!!!!!! idk how designs work but :3 For the most part, they all look like their game designs, obviously. im only gonna do Micah n Arthur for now, since they're the main characters of this AU, but i might do other characters later on.

Micah still looks the same, same hair and same facial hair, and same body shape. His hair only gets greasy when he forgets to shower, but otherwise it's pretty soft and healthy, and whenever he wears a cap, he pulls it into a short ponytail. He still has the same staring problem and same heavy bags under his eyes. I like to think he wears glasses, but sometimes he just doesn't, so it's 50/50 if he'll wear them. He will, however, wear them around Arthur because he once called him 'handsome' when he was wearing them and it did wonders to his ego.

He generally wears comfortable clothing, both online and in person. Sweatshirts, worn out and well used, often colored in a washed out red color, and sweats (off whites or grays) are also common. Half of the time he wears flip flops with white socks that are in desperate need of some throwing away. He has a couple of hair ties he has on his wrists at all time for either 1. his hair, or 2. to play around with. I think he'd be a big fan of energy drinks, or straight up alcohol whenever he needs a quick booster.

However, I do think Micah does know how to dress himself if he needs to go to some fancy event. Let's not forget he comes from a line of lawyers, and I imagine his daddy drilled into his sons on how to properly dress themselves because "no son of mine will dress like a slob." So he definitely knows where to get suits and has tailors phone numbers written down, so when he's needed at some event that requires proper clothes, he comes in looking well-groomed. He probably carries Arthur around like some arm candy.

Speaking of Arthur, he still pretty much looks the same as he does in the same. I think everyone in college looks a bit younger, but still the same appearance as they do in the game, if that makes sense. Anyways, he still has the same hair cut but his beard is more trimmed, more of a stubble really. He has an almost soft and quiet vibe to him, as in he's a chill guy who looks kinda grumpy lmao. Blue is still his favorite color, he probably also wears sweatshirts like Micah, but wears jeans instead of sweats. When he is at home, he definitely mostly wears shorts, and also wears sandals with socks, like Micah. Probably wears some sort of cap with either some stupid fish joke on it, or a little deer. He always has a tired look on him, because he's almost always tired of dealing with everyone's shenanigans when he just wants to sit down somewhere and draw something.

He probably has some hair ties on his wrists, too, because he happens to know a lot of people with long hair. Anyways, I don't think he's really that deep into his family's shady business. While his dads were a little confused when he chose to study art, they were actually pretty supportive and fund his tuition. Well, more so Hosea than Dutch, because Dutch had been expecting him to follow in their footsteps. Still, he does drill some law facts into Arthur's brain.

Anyways, that being said, since Arthur isn't that deep into the family business, he doesn't really attend any fancy events. That's more of John's job, who does end up following in the lawyer path. But, considering Micah eventually does work his way into Dutch's good graces - which leads to a semi-friendly rivalry between John n him (which could be a nod towards the events of RDR) - Micah gets a higher position and rank within the company, he's forced to attend several events, which he despises. But he does deal with it, and gets cocky and in a pleasant mood whenever Arthur joins him, mostly as his arm candy.

Whenever he does attend these events, Arthur wears a basic and simple suit. Of course, considering he comes from a wealthy family and his sweetheart does have money, it's simple but of high quality, tailored to fit him. And goodness gracious, does it really emphasize his beauty.

[bruciemilf]

JASON AND JAMIE HCS PLS? 🥺🤲

MY BOYSSSS,

Tried to keep their relationship a secret, but jaime ruined it by screaming "THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND " when they're fighting together. It happened on 6 different occasions for every bat brat

Jaime gets along with Damian perfectly!! At first they think the scarab might have brainwashed their little demon, but no? "Damian's a sweetheart, idk what you guys mean"

Sometimes Damian goes to Jason's apartment to clean up when he hears Jaime's coming over. Cleans the whole place up. Shower cap and bath robe and everything, like, " WE CANT HAVE GUESTS IN THIS HOUSE"

He spent 3 seconds in Jaime's house and this was the result

When they bicker, Jaime uses the scarab to be taller than Jason. Butterfly wings, spider limbs, name it. " I have had it UP here with you"

Jason wears his helmet when he's mad and Jaime's just gonna kiss him until he takes it off while calling him sickeningly sweet pet names,

" what's wrong, honey bunny? Why are you mad, sugar muffin? Turn that frown upside down, sweet buns"

Jaime is banned from coms on missions because he keeps making Jason laugh, blowing their cover disastrously

Jason accidentally called Jaime "baby girl" completely unironically in front of Bruce once and didn't come home for a month

Its still not as bad as Jaime's" papi give me the salt" when they were cooking dinner and Jason's brain glitches for a full minute

Jaime's love language is physical affection and words of affirmation while Jason's is quality time and gifts.

Jason has a red beetle tattoo on his back

THEIR HEIGHT DIFFERENCE? PLEASE. Jason picks him up 90% of the time and Jaime is a giggly mess everytime it happens

Jason leaves cute little notes around their apartment when jaime stays over; They're all in Spanish and Jaime has a scrapbook full of just them

Jaime's cameraroll is filled with pics of his boyfriend, candid and sweet, and he can't wait to show them off to whoever has the chance. He also picks fights with red hood haters online and is known to doxx a little here and there,,,,

Jaime " I fucking love anime" reyes and Jason " if I'm subjected to anime I'll die again" todd

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

hi! i saw your fem hairstyle post, and wanted to ask you a question that has been plaguing me for a while

what are the things i should avoid when taking care of my hair? how often should i wash it? with what? how do i keep my hair soft and fluffy without damaging it?

also, i love how dedicated you are to this blog, and i appreciate all that you're doing. this is all very helpful! :)

Lee says:

My younger sister is a hair-care fanatic and one thing she swears by are silk pillowcases, but they can be expensive. I used to wear a satin sleeping cap when I had longer hair, so that or a silk durag might help if you're on a budget. Either way, you need to sleep with either something on your head or with a special pillowcase if you want to reduce friction so your hair will be less dry and frizzy. If you don't have a protective hairstyle in like braids, twists, locs, etc it can also keep your hair from getting too tangled.

It's been a long time since I had long hair so I've forgotten a lot, but I remember using coconut and jojoba oil sort of like leave-in conditioner. My sister has a giant bag of hair stuff that she uses to condition and clean her hair so it all depends on how involved you want to make it. You shouldn't shampoo your hair every time you shower, but you can wash it with water and condition it more often. You should try using a sulfate-free shampoo and conditioner that's meant for your hair type.

I was not an expert in this area even when I did have long hair, so I would recommend that you seek out online communities, forums, and social media groups dedicated to hair care for your hair type.

If you have type 2A hair you will likely need to follow a different hair care routine than someone with type 4C hair, for example, and someone who wears their hair in box braids or straightens or dyes their hair is going to have different hair-care needs than someone who wears their hair naturally in a ponytail or Afro on a typical daily basis, so the products, tools, and frequency of actions will vary depending on what kind of hair you have and what style you keep it in.

If you feel overwhelmed by diving into the online world of hair care, it can sometimes be easier to schedule an appointment with a hairstylist who specializes in your hair type and texture. They can provide personalized recommendations for products, styling techniques, and maintenance routines tailored to your individual needs.

It can help to find a hairdresser who has worked with other LGBTQ+ clients if possible so you can feel comfortable in the space. If you have friends who have a similar type of hair as you do, ask them what they do to maintain it and who they see!

Followers, please help us out here-- give anon some tips on maintaining clean, soft, and fluffy hair!

Followers say:

dixy says: i have long curly hair, honestly i feel like a lot of it for shampoo and conditioner is trial & error. i tried one of the brands recommended on the curly hair holy grail list but i think the shampoo might be drying out my hair a bit so i plan to switch back to love beauty & planet shampoo. letting your hair air dry is also quite good for it

aroaloe says: I don't have curly hair myself but my partner does and we've been working on finding a way for her hair to grow out and not get damaged. The biggest thing is a leave-in conditioner. After the shower when the hair is damp but not too wet, you add the leave-in and comb in through with your fingers from the tips to the scalp, then gently scrunch the hair to help encourage prominent curls. Hair stays a little oily feeling for a few hours but after that is super light + soft

[yuadokjon]

a hierarchy not based on strength

summary: he's a gym owner.

-----

New job, new life. When you finally heard back from your dream job, you couldn't hop on a plane fast enough away from the hellhole you unfortunately called your hometown. Sure, it would start as a mostly administrative position at the bottom of the totem pole. Sure, the pay wasn’t great. And, sure, the only way you would be able to afford living anywhere remotely near your workplace would be in a shoebox of an apartment in the sketchiest side of the city. But, hey -- new job, new life. And, most recently, new gym.

Within the first few weeks of moving in, you were sifting through yet another smashed-in pile of new resident mailers until digging out a glossy, colorful flyer for a gym. Malevolent Shrine, huh? You eyed the neon-colored temple, the sharp edges of the skulls and teeth littering its base piercing into the two words it centered. Loud. Bombastic. And unbelievably douche-y, you noted with a raised brow at the captions splashed haphazardly across the page in tribalistic all-caps:

‘ONLY A HIERARCHY BASED PURELY ON STRENGTH MATTERS.’

‘DISCOVER THE HUNGER TO TAKE HOLD OF YOUR DESIRES.’

‘STAND PROUD. YOU ARE STRONG.’

Was this for a gym, a rave, or a cult? What kind of business owner signed off on this? It just screamed frat bros and gym rats, and you were pretty sure you weren’t the target market. But it did its job of grabbing your attention and, a quick search of its close location later, considering its relatively reasonably priced offers. Brand new members could even sign up for a 30-day trial with zero dollars down as an offensively yellow spike in the corner shouted. It couldn’t hurt. Maybe you needed something of a familiar routine to help better ground yourself. Help adjust to this lonely foreign land that you hoped to eventually replace ‘home.’ 

Of course, you, ever-diligent skeptic, had to uncover all the public secrets you could before stepping one foot inside. Not that there was much to find. Nothing much was on their official site other than current promotions and classes in that same gaudy font from the ad. No social media accounts. No gallery of staff or trainer photos. Not even an ‘About’ page. It was opened sometime in 2018, going by the sparse Internet reviews and photos you did find. You would have been impressed a business could survive in this day and age with such a specter of an online presence if you weren’t so frustrated. But it was indeed a real gym, one with decent reviews and a decently large layout providing enough spacing among machines to retain some level of privacy while easily cycling through them. No Wi-Fi, televisions, or cafés peddling the latest health fads but 24/7 with great showers and sauna. A very no-frills gym. You could appreciate that.

The next day some kid in a white-pink ombre bob took down your information, not offering a smile or tour throughout the entirety of the speedy sign-up process. You could barely get a word in that wasn’t a simple affirmation or denial as they reviewed your application and drilled through the gym policies and rules in a monotonous drone, pointing vaguely in the respective directions of the few amenities before ushering you out of their office with a handful of brochures and a temporary gym badge. You think you might’ve signed something and mumbled a thanks right before they neatly shut the door in your face. You weren’t sure if you had even caught a name. But you did recall them confirming something about a free cancellation policy within the first thirty days, so you took full advantage of it whenever you could.

Today was day 22 of your trial period, and so far it was...fine. Generally everything was fine, except for...your eyes scanned cautiously around the gym's perimeter. You felt the squat bar you were resting against lurch and whipped around, coming eye to eye with a pair of scarlet ones. You squeaked and jumped back in surprise, immediately earning the icy stare of a certain manager that chilled the back of your neck. You hissed and huffed as you adjusted your clothes for no apparent reason.

“Ugh, Sukuna!” 

“Afternoon, gorgeous,” he greeted cheerily in return. You merely crossed your arms over your chest and scowled back at the grin that only widened at your defensive display.

“First time seeing you here during these hours,” he casually continued as he pushed himself off the bar he’d been dangling over and peered down at you from his full height, “Missed you this morning.”

“I was hoping to, actually,” you sighed and shooed him away from your rack, hands on hips until he obediently bowed out outside and around the metallic cage, “For the last time, leave me alone.”

Yeah, generally everything was fine save for this pink-haired menace that terrorized your every gym visit since popping up out of nowhere one day.

Sukuna had smoothly inserted himself into your routine and refused to let you recall ever knowing a peaceful start to your day since joining Shrine. He was there. Always. Every early morning -- or even the occasional late night -- it didn't seem to matter when you timed your pilgrimage. Sukuna was always there, waiting for you outside the locker rooms with that suspicious smirk and two fresh towels slung over his shoulder. What are we working on today? How about we try pushing past your PR? Need a spotter? What am I saying, of course you do. Wave after wave of rhetorical questions and light barbs always buffeted you first as he followed around after you like an eager kitten. What protests you eked out during his infrequent ebbs were patiently listened to but quickly drowned again, swept up by the tsunami of suggestions from someone who was obviously more experienced at this than you. Though you would always insist on sticking to the schedule you had already carefully laid out prior to each session, you always found yourself drifting away and towards his instead by the end. It was a ritual at this point.

You couldn’t deny that your physique was the best shape it’d been in a while, his challenges helping you push past limitations that had long been entrenched for years. And he was also useful in warding off other goers, whose numbers you were surprised to find even during the odd hours you purposely chose. A singular distraction with honest -- if crude -- motivations, you could handle. Multiple ones wanting who knows what from you? Especially from around this part of town? One close brush was close enough for you. No, Sukuna was decidedly the lesser evil that you knew. Probably.

You understood their caution and had shared it when he first stepped up to you. He was taller and bigger than any of the regulars you now recognized. Wide muscled thighs and arms that seemed to strain the basketball shorts and cutoff tanks he always wore that would have blanketed any other man. Perfect limbs that balanced vertically at the convergence of his comparatively slimmer waist. Bulging veins that recorded a history intimate with everything within the gym’s interior and scars that suggested a familiarity with dangers past the confinement of their brick walls. Like a wrathful Buddhist deity rendered exquisitely in flesh and blood. Not that you were ogling. He was just hard to not notice.

But more than his imposing build or the tats he unabashedly wore across its expanse, it was the air around him. Heavy. Intense. Suffocating. He was a planet, its inescapable gravity forcing further down the lowered heads and eyes from everyone encircling his orbit. His presence both demanded and eschewed attention, the correct answer of the two one might realize only afterwards (and possibly much too late). Nobody dared to approach you now, even in the past thirty or so minutes you were free of him for once within this gym.

Other than the flirting, however, Sukuna seemed harmless enough as you got to know him over the course of your visits. He hadn’t yet given you any reason to fear him, though he left you plenty to question everything else. You weren’t sure how or why such an intimidating man took an interest in you at all. 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he chuckled and sidled in behind you while you checked over the loaded discs that flanked the opposite ends of the steel pole and the clips holding them firmly in place. His big hands hugged the centimeters of space above your hips as he leaned down, smirking, “You know how to get me to stop.”

“For the last time,” you repeated to his reflection in the mirrored wall in front of the two of you before slapping his hands away, “I don’t go out with jobless losers.” 

“Hmph,” he pouted but eased back again as you swung underneath the bar and shouldered the metal onto your squeezed blades, “What makes you think that again? Spread your feet farther, doll.”

You rolled your eyes but complied. His hands now hung loosely under yours that tensed and tightened their grip. You peeled your gaze away from them and onto your reflected form as you took a deep breath and started your descent.

“One,” Sukuna voiced aloud your thought as you came back up, the deep reverberations scattering away what focus you had managed to muster. You furrowed your brows.

“Loser because obvious. Jobless because,” you grunted as you steadily lowered yourself again, “How else could you always be here? And in the middle of the day.”

“So are you,” he scoffed.

“I’m only here now because I took the day off.” 

“I could have, too.”

“Doubtful. Wish I could take a day off from you for once.”

“Two -- aw, hurtful. Are you trying to avoid me, [Y/N]?”

You didn’t answer. You tried to ignore the heat emanating from the body that followed behind you as you continued with your reps and he with his count. You fixed your eyes on your heaving diaphragm to blur out the thicker frame that overshadowed yours several times over. Your heart was pounding. Your head was starting to spin. Maybe you had already overdone it. Or you should’ve drank some more water beforehand. Breathe, you thought you heard your partner warn, don’t forget to breathe. You shut your eyes as you struggled to drive up the bar a final time and quickly re-racked it with his help before doubling over to catch your breath. He bent down in concern before shooting back up as a pointed finger stabbed the air in front of his face.

"One. Date," you panted, shakily but emphatically jabbing the singular digit skyward again, “Got it? One. One date then you'll leave me alone to lift in peace.”

He blinked. An unusual softness crept into his features that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when you looked up and awaited his response. 

“One,” he agreed, the usual snark now returning in full glory, “So…how about now?”

“No.”

“But you just said you had the day o--”

“No.”

[stonylovessteve]

2024 Creator Reveals

We’ve reached the end of the exchange and that means it’s time to reveal the creators of all our works.

Thank you for putting so much love and effort into Stony Loves Steve 2024, you really made it a great experience. We hope everyone loved it as much as we did!

Giftees, be sure to leave a comment and kudos on your gift if you haven’t already. All our creators worked hard to make this event a success, so show them some love.

You can now post your work publicly outside of the exchange. Tag it as #stonylovessteve2024 on tumblr and we’ll reblog you. @ us @stonylovessteve on twitter and we’ll retweet you.

Below the cut is the final list of all the works produced for the exchange and the creators.

Still Halfway Human, Just Going Through It by Becci_chan for soliloquent (MCU, 9.9k Words)

Stark Industries was still an incredible place to work. Everyone seemed so dedicated and smart and ambitious, it truly reminded him of Howard and his vision for the future. Steve had even seen Tony Stark a few times in passing or when he made his rounds and talked to Steve’s superior in the office, but he hadn’t talked to him more than a greeting in passing. He wasn’t even sure Tony, who insisted on being called by his first name, had actually noticed him during these times. Steve had noticed him all the more.

Give me the luxuries of life by BladeoftheNebula for Thahire (MCU, 4.9k Words)

Four times Steve reluctantly dabbles in a little luxury + one time he leans into it wholeheartedly

Hot Bouncer by Infinitywrites for Becci_chan (MCU, 2.7k Words)

‘Hey Steve, We had a very interesting last night. Love to stay and elaborate on that but have to take my playful pet baby – Toothless  for a run. Left some hangover cure you might need. Feel free to use the shower or anything else you need. Be back soon. T.S”

The Long Game by betheflame for waywardmillennial (MCU, 2.6k Words)

Steve prided himself on being a patient man, he really did. He had stared down Nazis, and HYDRA officers, and the British Press on that one horrible media tour. He could spend hours plotting strategies for situations which may never happen but might, and he had been known to accompany Pepper on her stress-relief shopping trips. Steve could hold his tongue. Steve could outmaneuver his opponent. Steve could play the long game. That last donut broke all of that.

not a lot, just forever by Thahire for AirlocksandAviaries (MCU, 2.7k Words)

A few months after the Battle of New York, Tony invites Steve over to see the apartment he has built for him. Steve, of course, is totally normal about this and not panicking at all.

give me your number (i’ll give you mine) by ishipallthings for BladeoftheNebula (MCU, 1.2k Words)

Somehow, Tony freaking Stark showing up at the store isn’t Clint’s biggest shock of the day.

Cap’s Comics by sadieb798 for robertdowneyjjr (AA, Comic)

The local newspaper/magazine/online publication runs a comic about the Avengers — from thwarted robberies to statues come to life, they are sort of like funny little recaps of the team’s latest missions that New Yorkers have witnessed. Then the comics start becoming more… domestic, showing the Avengers at home during game nights and weekend brunch. There are even a few where Cap and Iron Man go on a date together. The team comes across these comics and no one realizes Steve’s the artist. After all, the drawings are barely better than stick figures, and Steve’s art is much more refined than that… right?

i live in a city that lives in a different age by soliloquent for ohjustpeachy (MCU, 10.8k Words)

Steve Rogers has fourteen days to complete fourteen therapy homework assignments.

Five Times Steve Woke Up Early (And One Time He Didn’t) by AirlocksandAviaries for ABrighterDarkness (MCU, 8.3k Words)

Steve’s not actually a morning person, despite his body’s insistence. It’s quite possibly the one thing about the serum he’s not immensely grateful for. Forcing himself up and on a run to burn through the overwhelming, restless energy that builds bright and early would be much more tolerable if it were a few hours later. Tony decides to do something about this.

Steve is a (Wonderful) Person But A Terrible Patient by Neverever for sadieb798 (MCU, 3.5k Words)

Tony is assigned a new patient, Steve Rogers, who has a lot of medical issues and Tony is ready to help. But he finds he has something to learn from Steve.

Come With Me by ChocolateCapCookie for meidui (MCU, 3.4k Words)

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” asked Tony. “Besides trying to volunteer at every charity in New York, of course.” Or the one in which Tony isn’t sure if Steve is a stalker or just a really, really good guy.

I surrender to you(only you) by captainstars for AvengersNewB (MCU, 1.6k Words)

He doesn’t know if the first time is a mistake. The phone rings. The sound is so unnatural that Steve almost doesn’t answer it. And then he scrambles for it, but the finger that presses on the answer button is still impossibly gentle. ‘Steve,’ Tony mumbles. Steve squeezes his eyes shut. It’s late in the night, but no one in the compound sleeps. It’s quiet nevertheless, and for a moment the only response Tony gets is Steve’s rasping breaths as he tries to gather what is left of himself.

Courting the Old Fashioned Way by zappedbysnow for Infinitywrites (AU, Art)

There’s a new mechanic in town. He bought a small ranch and fixes cars on the side. Steve is just being neighborly, welcoming him with some pie. It has nothing to do with the guy being cute. Nope. Not at all.

in the laundry room by wingheads for captainstars (616, Art)

steve isn’t so much ashamed by getting caught holding tony’s underwear in his hand as he is aroused by catching tony secretly wearing his jacket.

my curse is that I bill by the hour by picturecat for Fluffypanda (MCU, 5.5k)

Steve Rogers, the 21st century, and his no-good, really awful, legitimately-cursed first week in it.

(you look so lovely) running through my head by robertdowneyjjr for tinystark616 (MCU, 5.9k)

All his life, Steve has dreamed of a gorgeous brown-eyed brunet genius who’s too smart for everyone around him. Everything points to these being soulmate dreams, but that doesn’t make any damn sense when it seems like Tony’s in some far off future and Steve is just trying to get through a life of illness and poverty in 1930’s Brooklyn. Against all odds, they meet anyway.

In the Depths by waywardmillennial for WikketKrikket (MCU, 5.1k)

Prompt: Steve gets pranked on national TV as part of a charity TV fundraiser. It’s embarrassing, and leaves him feeling shaken in a way he didn’t anticipate. But it was for a good cause. So he’s fine with it. Really.

you’ve really missed a trick when it comes to love by meidui for ChocolateCapCookie (MCU, 2.3k)

Steve thinks he’s happier than he’s ever been, or at least he should be. This is the closest he’s ever come to having everybody he loves in one place and the Compound doesn’t echo with emptiness anymore, and he’s seen more of Tony in the past few months than he has in the last seven years. He’s still getting used to being with Tony again, this softer, older version of him, and how difficult that makes keeping his hands to himself because all he wants to do is touch him.

good enough for you by tinystark616 for Neverever (MCU, 4.6k)

Steve is having self-esteem issues because he feels like he isn’t good in bed. Tony finds out and decides to do something about it.

All I Need by VenomousSoliloquy for purpleicedteas (MCU, Art)

Sometimes Steve finds himself lost in doubt. Tony always knows exactly what he needs.

Summer Whispers by ABrighterDarkness for starksnack (MCU, Art)

Tags include ‘horseback riding’ but there is no provided summary.

my plus one has a plus four by starksnack for zappedbysnow (MCU, 7k)

five first date attempts + one first date

Magnum Opus by FrankTheSnek for wingheads (MCU, 6.3k)

Magnum opus (noun): a great work; a large and important work of art, music, or literature, especially one regarded as the most important work of an artist or writer. Steve does not believe in true mates, they are just an old wives’ tale. The man he has been dreaming of and turned into his greatest masterpiece is just an imagined muse and nothing more… Right?

Now and Then by Wikketkrikket for picturecat (3490, 10.6k)

Things haven’t been right between Steve and Natasha since she got back from a business trip overseas. How did things go so wrong, and can Steve make them right again? Also; they’re trapped in a basement.

Just Right by AvengersNewB for LadyGigi (MCU, 2.3k)

Omega Steve wears sexy lingerie, even though he’s deeply insecure about the way he looks in it. Alpha Tony is there to show him how perfect he is; wearing the lingerie and in general.

I’m on fire, but I’m trying not to show it by Fluffypanda for FrankTheSnek (MCU, 2.3k)

Steve misses being an omega. Tony helps him out with that.

Wish You Were Here by One and Five Nines for ishipallthings (MCU, 1.8k)

Steve starts sending Tony postcards

[Comic] Man Out of Time, Fish Out of Water (Prologue) by LadyGigi for VenomousSoliloquy (MCU, comic)

Mermaid Steve is swimming to the ocean surface with a bag full with human trinkets for his friend, Sam, to demystify when he comes across a red comet in the sky- at least that is what it looks like until it flies over him, revealing its humanlike form, and crashes into the water near the human island. Steve must decide if he will heed the warnings of his kind or investigate this once in a lifetime occurrence.

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

if he wants the world to know that is his wife which he does then nothing else will ever matter in the grand scheme of things.///

FINALLY someone stated the BIG elephant in the room. 👏

It doesn’t matter if this is real/ pr/ real with PR…..etc. Either way Chris seems like a fool. 🤷🏻‍♀️

The red bold speaks volumes!!!!

This man chose to have this God awful woman associated to him. People can make all the excuses in the world but this is the current reality. He even went so far to have the world believe his fans were the issue (remember the article and various people online including Scott alluding that the fans were crazy or the issue) and not his WIFE trying to deflect from her racist friends by posting her shower nudes.

She probably thought it would be a big news story and add to the world thinking his fandom were crazy and jealous. Everyone knows nudity isn’t a big deal in many parts of the world, right? But making it seem like she was hacked or whatever else is another story.

It’s like white people seeing friends and family be racist yet trying to justify it. People against racism do NOT allow themselves to be in a situation like this or associated with racist.

People fell in love with Cap and that Hollywood image, but THIS is Chris Evans the real human.

Now we have individuals taunting people with fake pregnancy bs or gaslighting people into believing they know when it’ll end, due to this mess.

i nearly opted to not answer this ask because the end grazed over a topic that is not discussed willy-nilly on this blog but i choose to use this to reiterate:

dearest students,

please take these celebrities off of any pedestals on which you have them placed.

yes, they have the benefit of a platform. yes, we should expect them to be good, decent people. yes, we can celebrate and thirst and bond with other like-minded fans because of their work. but none of these things are good-cause to put them above others.

these people are humans and they do (and will continue to) make mistakes - probably a lot that will be disappointing. this is the nature of humans.

if your favourite celeb does something which you are so heavily disappointed by that their work as a celebrity is no longer enjoyable for you because of their personal life situations then cut ties and move on. it's ok to "grow out" of being a fan of someone. not all people grow in the same directions nor at the same pace.

this is not an excuse for the celebs. this does not justify any/all of celebrities' behaviours. this gives you the fan the guilt-free prerogative to walk away.

[lizziedelgrant]

Hair Care

secrets from south asian women

To start, south asian women are known for their thick long hair. This is achievable, but you need to keep in mind the climate of where you live, as well as the water quality. I would suggest investing in a shower filter or a water de-hardening system.

Additionally, nutrition plays a huge part in your hair. Drink your water, take your vitamins, eat your protein (or drink it i guess), and eat fish.

Now lets get into it.

Stay away from heat. if you want to see results, prioritize your hair and scalp health. keep the heat tools to a minimum and keep that shower water and the blow dryer on low or cool.

Oil and Massage. Even when you don’t have oil in your hair, don’t skip your nightly scalp massage. Brush it a hundred times before bed. For oil, you can either buy premade oils from online or from your local indian grocery (they won’t stare at you in there, ppl just come to buy their vegetables). If you’re Pakistani, you know the hype behind Amla and rattan jot/ alkanet root. these are the oils you want to look for. Others will also do. I oil on Saturday nights and wash it out Sunday morning. Make sure to really massage the oil into your scalp. Shampoo twice to get it out. Never overpay for oils from sephora or anything. A bottle of oil should Never be more than 10-15$.

Yogurt scalp mask for dry/flakey scalp.

Braid your hair instead of keeping it up all the time. Keeping your hair up in a ponytail or bun stresses your scalp and puts weight on it. French /Dutch braids are the way to go.

Henna makes a great hair conditioner. it also adds a slight red/ amber hue /shine to your hair

Put a teaspoon of apple cider vinegar in a bottle of water. poke a hole in the bottle cap with a pen and squirt the water onto your scalp/ hair. Let the water drip off into the tub. after you get through the whole bottle, rinse your hair and condition. Bonus points if you add onion juice to the water. This is THE magic scalp potion. Only do this one every 2 weeks since its so strong.

remember! consistency is key. results take time. keep at it.

[beautification-tales]

Steffi, clad in her favorite blue overalls, hurried through the bustling cafeteria, her heart racing. Today was the day! The day she would finally muster up the courage to approach her crush, Luke. She had meticulously planned her approach: go to the cafeteria during lunch, casually walk up to Luke's table, and confidently hand him the ice cream she had bought, a gesture of her friendship and admiration. As she neared Luke's table, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter wildly.

But just as she was about to make her move, her foot caught on something on the floor and she tripped, sending the precious ice cream carton flying through the air. Horrified, she watched in slow motion as the ice cream landed with a splat on Luke and his group of friends, drenching them from head to toe. The shock and humiliation were almost too much to bear as Luke turned to her, his face contorted with anger and disgust, and shouted, "What the hell, loser?! Could you be any more clumsy?!" Tears streaming down her face, Steffi turned and ran, her heart feeling as if it had been ripped out of her chest.

Steffi fled to the one place she knew she could find solace: her lab. She had spent countless hours in this sanctuary of her creation, tinkering with chemicals and formulas in an attempt to find a way to fit in with the "cool kids" like Luke. And finally, she had succeeded. Sitting on the counter was a small vial of green liquid, labeled "Cool Serum." She had created it by combining a rare ingredient she'd found online with a few drops of her own blood. The serum promised to make her feel confident and cool for a whole day. But now, with Luke's harsh words still ringing in her ears, she didn't know if she had the courage to use it.

She stared at the vial for what seemed like hours, debating what to do. Eventually, she decided that she had nothing to lose. If the serum didn't work, she'd be right back where she started. And if it did, maybe she could finally gain Luke's respect and friendship.

Steffi wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, and carefully screwed the cap of the vial. She couldn’t wait to show the fruits of her labor to Luke.

Making her way to Luke's house, she tried to compose herself. Her heart was still racing, but at least the tears had stopped. As she walked up to the door, she gathered her courage and knocked. A moment later, Luke's mother answered.

"Oh, hi Steffi," she said, looking surprised. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Steffi replied, forcing a shaky smile. "I just wanted apologize to Luke for being such a clumsy girl today.”

Luke's mother looked surprised. "Oh, dear, you don't have to apologize for that. Luke is just in the shower. Why don't you come in and wait for him?"

Steffi hesitantly stepped inside and took a seat on the couch. The living room was much nicer than she had expected; it was decorated with tasteful art and comfortable furniture. She couldn't help but wonder if Luke had anything to do with the interior design. As she waited, she took out the vial of cool serum and held it tightly in her hand. Her heart raced with anticipation and fear.

Just then, Luke entered the room, still drying off his hair with a towel. He looked her up and down before sitting down across from her. "Hey, Steffi," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was just thinking about you earlier today. Thanks for the ice cream, by the way."

Steffi took a deep breath and held up the vial of cool serum. "Luke, I know I messed up really bad today, and I feel terrible about what happened. But I was hoping... I wanted to show you something." She uncapped the vial and held it out to him. "I've been working on this... it's called the 'Cool Serum.' I made it myself. It's supposed to make you feel cool and confident and definitely not clumsy.

"I don't know why I made it or why I thought it would help... I just wanted to... to be your friend, I guess. And maybe if I could be cool enough for you, maybe you'd want to hang out with me." Her voice trembled slightly, but there was a newfound strength in it that Luke had never heard before.

Luke looked at the vial, then back at Steffi. He couldn't deny that she looked different. Her usual glasses were gone, replaced by a pair of sexy, black frames that accentuated her eyes. Her hair, normally tied back in a ponytail, was loose and flowing around her shoulders. And she was wearing a revealing top that showed off her curves in a way he'd never seen before.

His heart skipped a beat as he registered the change in her scent; it was intoxicating and alluring. He felt a sudden urge to touch her, to feel her skin against his. "Steffi...," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You look... incredible."

Steffi blushed, ducking her head shyly. "Do you... like it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luke could only nod in reply, his heart racing. He felt a surge of desire well up inside him, making it difficult to think straight. All he could focus on was the way she looked, the way she smelled, the way she moved. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her presence.

"You're beautiful, Stephanie," he managed to say, his voice barely audible. "Incredibly beautiful." His words seemed to spark something within her, and she looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and joy. A blush crept up her neck and spread across her cheeks, making her even more alluring.

As they sat there, locked in each other's gaze, the air between them crackled with electricity. Luke felt like he could feel every inch of her body, even from across the room. He ached to touch her, to feel her skin against his own. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her presence.

Steffi, on the other hand, was drowning in a sea of new emotions. She had never experienced anything like this before; Luke's words and gaze made her feel desirable and wanted in a way she never had. Her heart raced as she waited for him to make a move, to take the next step.

As their connection intensified, the air around them seemed to grow heavy with anticipation. Luke leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers, and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. His touch sent a wave of heat coursing through her body, making her shiver with pleasure.

His hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin in a gentle, hypnotic circle. Steffi closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, as she felt Luke's other hand slide up her thigh, coming to rest on her hip. His touch was so light, so gentle, yet it sent a wave of desire coursing through her veins.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. When she opened her eyes again, she found Luke looking down at her, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness. The air between them seemed to crackle with an electricity that was both intimate and thrilling.

As he leaned in closer, she could feel the heat of his body against hers, and it sent a shiver of anticipation through her. His lips brushed against hers, soft and gentle at first, before deepening the kiss, taking her breath away. His hand slid lower, cupping her bottom, lifting her up off the couch so that she was straddling his lap.

She felt his erection pressing against her, and she arched her back, pressing herself closer. Their kisses grew more urgent, more demanding, as their bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new. His other hand moved up her back, unfastening her top, revealing her bare breasts to the cool air. He groaned into the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he caressed her nipples with his thumbs.

Steffi moaned, her hips moving faster against him, her desire building with each passing second. She felt herself growing wet, aching for him to be inside her. As if sensing her need, Luke reached down, unbuckling his pants, freeing his hard length from his jeans. She gasped as he guided it to her entrance, feeling the slick heat of her body surround him.

He pushed slowly inside her, groaning at the tight, perfect fit. She arched her back, her eyes closed in bliss as he began to move, their bodies in perfect sync. Her hands ran up and down his back, digging into his skin as she urged him on. Luke could feel her muscles gripping him with each thrust, her moans filling the room.

Their lovemaking was fierce and urgent, a dance of desire and need. His movements grew more powerful as he lost himself in the sensation of being inside her. He could feel her body tensing, her muscles clenching around him, and with a final thrust, she cried out, her eyes squeezing shut as she came, her body shuddering beneath him.

Luke followed her over the edge, his body tensing as he released himself into her, groaning her name as his seed filled her. They clung to each other, their breaths ragged and heavy, as their bodies slowly began to relax.

Steffi nestled into Luke's chest, feeling the softness of his T-shirt against her skin. She smiled, content and satisfied in a way she never had been before. "That was...amazing, it feels so good ….. to be cool.” she purred, her voice still shaky from the intensity of their lovemaking.

[alfiely-art]

Alright chat here is my laundry tutorial WITH PICTURESS. Alfie washer and dryer reveal

So. Your washing machine is empty.

It may look something like this! This is a top-down view of mine, but your washing machine may have a horizontal door. That's okay! That doesn't change much of the instructions. Basically, what you wanna do is fill this thang up with clothes you want to wash.

I've chosen to wash my blankets. Now, very important- I haven't filled the washer entirely. Unless you're doing EXTREMELY light clothes, you do NOT want to fully fill your washer. This can overload it and cause it to break. Doing ONLY heavy clothes can also overload your washer- ex: a load of only bath towels. It's important to keep in mind what exactly you're putting into the load- if the clothes will get much, much heavier after getting wet, do less clothes. My blankets are all pretty light, so they're all good.

Next, you need to find where the detergent goes. This will be different for every washing machine, but it should be relatively easy to find- here's mine.

I don't use liquid detergent, I use the little crumbly dust shit. I'd recommend only using about that much detergent in a load- you don't want it to be TOO soapy. If you use liquid detergent, you don't want to use too much, either. I'd say about a third of a cap of the container. But, yeah! Just plop it in the part that says "detergent". If you have a softener to use, put it in the other part (assuming your washing machine has this seperation). Then close that, close the lid, and turn your attention to the buttons.

This is a lot of buttons. On a normal wash, you won't have to touch most of them, thankfully- just go to the water temp area and turn it to cold. I'd only recommend using hot water if the clothes Really need it- I only use hot water if a cat peed on my clothes or something similar to that nature. Hot water is more expensive and could be better used for washing dishes or taking showers or other things. So! Cold for normal loads. The little wheel can be turned for specifying what sort of load you're doing- though, I rarely turn it. That part is up to your discretion! Also note that it has an option for "tub clean". It's a good idea to let your washer clean itself every once in awhile. After you've chosen all the settings you want, just hit start.

Now, let's say your washer has finished. Now it's time to use the dryer! The dryer is pretty simple. Just put your clothes from the washer to the dryer. VERY IMPORTANT THING TO REMEMBER: the lint trap. When drying clothes, lint will accumulate, and most dryers have a lint trap to catch it. Lint is EXTREMELY flammable. Make sure to clean the lint trap each time you do a load of laundry.

Lint isn't sticky or gross but if you can't bring yourself to touch it or are allergic, that's perfectly fine! You can use gloves, a butter knife to peel it off, whatever. It's very loose and tends to all come off at once. No matter what, though, don't forget the lint trap. If you let it sit there you have a fire waiting to happen. On the bright side, though, if you collect it you have easy fire starters for camping and such. Woohoo!

Now, the dryers buttons.

You probably won't have to use most of these buttons. Hell, I've never used any of these buttons other than the Time Dry, Power, and Start button. But your load may need these. Either way, just hit what settings you need, and start the load. When you've just transferred your clothes from the washer to the dryer, I recommend having the load dry 60 minutes. It may need more or less time depending on what's in the load and how wet they are, but 60 minutes is a good place to start.

And you're done!! You did laundry. There's different ways to wash different things (shoes, for example) but this is mainly an overview of it. If you have any specific questions let me know, or look it up! There's lots of tutorials and guides online. I hope this helps! Doing laundry is an important skill to learn, I think, and I'm happy to help people learn how to do it 👍

[edgarrallannhoe]

5.08.024

Ok, i’m noticing no one is looking at my tumblr lol, so i’ll keep writing whatever and turn this into my online diary ( i have a real one that is the most gorgeous diary you’ll see, i swear, if someone is interested in seeing it i’ll post it! ) so i can write the most unhinged shit on it.

Today i woke up humming “joyride” by Kesha, best summer song tbh, and now I’m listening to it on repeat since then ( i alternate between Joyride and Guess, i’m feeling cunty today ). I discovered that i like my face more with only blush and a little bit of nose contoure, and some dark pink lipstick. i think eye liner and mascara drags my face down in some way, idk, and also makes me look older.

i ghosted a guy i knew for 4 years circa. He always treated me kinda bad, but i really cared about him and i always made sure to be kind, gentle, understanding and loving towards him, i now wonder why i was like that but whatever. He is almost ten years older than me, and he used this weird technique to keep me around that consisted in him telling me how special, smart, unique and cool i was, we made fun of others together and we used to gossip and laugh all the time, i obviously had him on a pedestal, and he knew it, and made me believe we were on it together. Idk if i was ever even in love with him, i just really liked him, and i found him interesting.

When he met a girl, he used to make fun of her with me, telling me how dumb the girl was or how crazy she was - i have to admit, these girls were really crazy, but he was as messy as them tbh, so idk why he felt so much normal compared to them -, but then he would take them out to eat and restaurants, or bring them to some fancy hotel, or send a taxi to pick them up.

The fact is, in all these years it was me going to his house - very far away from mine, like 1hour using public transports-, i would always pick up food, i used to just offer him like lunches or dinner cause i knew his economic situation wasn’t the best. I always slept at his house, that was a fricking mess; i would never enter the kitchen, and the bathroom was the stereotype of men’s bathrooms: one shampoo 18 in 1 in the shower, a practically finished toothpaste without the cap and a toothbrush that probably wasn’t changed in forever. The toilet with the toilet seat broken and the flush button broken as well, so you had to fill up a bucket in the sink and then throw the water in the toilet. A true learning experience. And yes, i’m embarrassed that this was the man i liked, please, don’t make me feel worse than i already feel.

One day, he was back in Rome ( he left rome to go live first in Berlin, then Milan ), he was sleeping in a abandoned occupied building that was taken up by a political group; the atmosphere and way of living in these building are pretty brutal, they are not the most clean, you sleep on mats on the floors, during the winter is pretty cold and so on. While we were texting he tells me something like: “Mary- a girl we both know that flirts w him since a lot- asked me to meet!! I don’t know what to do, i’ll try to find some money for a good hotel so we can spend the night together, i can’t make her come here and sleep here..”

The next day, he texts me, I asked how the night with Mary went, he says they didn’t meet, i say something like “aw that’s a bum! i’m sorry” and then he is like “hey what about you coming here tonight - at the Strike- so we can stay together here and sleep together??”. I stopped answering. Why i don’t deserve a nice hotel room? why i don’t deserve a dinner at a restaurant? why i doN’t deserve all these things that other girls can have?

We didn’t speak for a while, then he came back to Rome another time. Me and him had sex like maybe more than ten times, i really didn’t like having sex with him a lot.. he is pretty egoistical, has a very small penis that doesn’t know how to use, sweats a lot and it’s just not good. Luckily he also finishes in like eight minutes, so i didn’t had to endure this whole things for too long. While these were my thoughts on him, he always told me that i was the best sex he ever had, and that many times he thought of me while having sex with other women. One day, when he came back to rome another time, i invited him sleeping at my house for one night cause he had nowhere to go; we share a passion in common that is horror movies, so i was pretty happy to spend the night with him cuddling and watching movies. We had dinner-paid by me obv lol- and then we went to bed and put on one of those trash horror movies that i love.

that night, i didn’t really wanted to have sex, i was a little melancholic, i wanted to cuddle, hug, hold hands and give some kisses. After like twenty minutes that i was with my head on his chest, and was caressing his hand, he started to put his hand under my shorts, then under my undies; i then said: “hey bb, sorry but tonight or rn in general i really don’t want to have sex, i would like to hug and watch the movie.” idk, maybe it wasn’t the right way to put it? idk but he went ballistic. He got up and started shouting: WHAT THE FUCK I CAME HERE FOR? so why am i here? are you kidding me? are you fucking kidding me???” i was speechless, but took courage and said:” I thought u we’re here because we are friends and we like spending time with each other” “Go fuck yourself Emma, what the fuck is this? You are fucking with me, i will not be here for this.” “ok, go away then, i don’t want you here”.

He started dressing up and packing up his things, then said “you are mean, i don’t recognize you.” “go away, i don’t want you here, if you just want someone you can fuck whatever it will not be me, fuck you” “i don’t recognize you” “GO FUCKING AWAY BYEEEEE”. He went away. God had my side that night, cause as soon as he went away a crazy storm fell down on Rome; lightings, thunders. The amount of rain falling of that night was absolutely insane. The funny thing is that J had absolutely nowhere to go, cause he had to sleep at my house, and he didn’t live here anymore, so after thirty minutes he started blowing up my phone while i was staring smiling at my phone at the thought of him out there. Then the messages started: “sorry yadda yadda please let me came back yadda”, again, smiling at my phone. Then i turned off the notifications and kept watching the movie.

The story didn’t finish here, but i’m tired of talking about this douchebag rn. Kisses🤍✨