#YIKES ! THESE TWO ARE STILL PINING FOR EACH OTHER

[chronicdisasterwrites]

death is pretty but his eyes are prettier

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - blood, injuries, mentions of death, passing out and intestines spilling out of the body (it's a bit gory but nothing crazy), swearing, reader is shorter than satoru but other than that it's gender-neutral (i'm pretty sure), shoko smoking, protective satoru and suguru.

a bit angsty but definitely FLUFF !!

word count: 3,191 (yikes lmao)

authors note: okaaay, so i was inspired by taylor swift saying "you drew stars around my scars", and also i love slow burns and two idiots silently but obviously pining for each other; SO satoru and reader aren't dating here yet. but they very much do like each other.

also apologies in advance if i messed up any location descriptions :')

enjoy this chaos lol <3

I’m an idiot. 

The curse was dead. The special grade curse you were assigned to kill was dead and you were almost dead. 

As the dissipating remains of the curse mixed with the wind and faded away, you heaved as the blood from the gash across your stomach soaked your dark blue uniform and colored it an even darker shade. Taking a few steps towards the nearest wall, you lean against it, legs buckling and gasping for breath. The light-headedness was growing exponentially and you had to force your eyes to stay open and your legs to stay upright. Blinking rapidly and trying to regain focus, you press one hand to the gaping wound on your abdomen. Red bleeds through your fingers and you feel like you might just pass out. Or die. Or both. 

Feeling liquid drip down your chin, you lift your other hand to the right side of your cheek to assess the source of what you assumed had to be blood. Sure enough, your previously bloodless hand was now stained with sticky crimson. Slowly moving your finger on your cheek to figure out where the blood was coming from you felt a sharp pain when your hand made contact with what seemed to be a pretty large cut. 

Shit. That’s gonna leave a scar.

Your scythe was broken so you had no weapons to worry about carrying back to Jujutsu High. Sluggishly taking your phone out of your uniform pocket you pray to every force you know to let your phone be okay. The black cracked screen stares back at you and the reflection of your worn out, disappointed, and bloodied face is all you see.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. 

Now the question is whether to go to a hospital and get questioned by non-sorcerers about the horrendous wounds covering your entire body or, to go to Shoko and get patched up and hopefully not get asked too many questions and look like an absolute idiot. 

Shoko will ask questions and she’ll obviously be concerned. If Shoko knows, Satoru and Suguru are bound to find out and they won’t be happy with the higher-ups about this… misjudgment.

So, the hospital sounds better. But the nearest hospital is further from my current location than jujutsu high. 

Your breathing is getting shallower and your head feels so light you feel like it’ll just fall off. Closing your eyes and taking the deepest breath you could take without feeling like your stomach will tear open from the searing pain, you decide.

Fuck it. Shoko it is.

Pushing yourself off the wall with one hand still clutched to your bleeding stomach you start moving towards Jujutsu High. You control your breathing and use every last bit of cursed energy you have left to staunch the bleeding and somewhat ease your pain. With that, you urge your legs to move as fast as physically possible without breaking down.

---

You don’t know how you made it without bleeding out in the middle of the road, but the gates of Jujutsu High have never looked prettier. But, the sight of the stairs was enough to make bile rise to your throat. Swallowing it down and heaving some more, you make your way up the neverending steps of your inevitable doom.

Upon reaching the final step, your legs give out and you fall, wounded cheek first onto the stoned pavement. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before; shooting upwards to your neurons and all the way down your body, right to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

It feels so nice to lie down. No no, get the hell up and go to Shoko. Or all this damn walking would’ve been for absolutely nothing.

Hours was it? Or minutes? You’re not sure but you managed to get back up. After first turning from your side to your back and then bending one leg and then using one hand to help your body up and then finally sitting up. Then at a snail’s pace, managing to stand up on your two feet you start moving towards the morgue, where Shoko spends most of her time anyways. That was your best bet. And if she wasn’t there, well then death seemed like the next best option. 

Slugging your way to the morgue, one hand still clutched to your stomach, you aggressively slap your free hand on the doorknob and turn it with your full body weight on the door. The door swings open and unable to keep your balance, you fall again, right cheek hitting the cold floor for the second time that day. 

All you remember hearing before your eyes finally shut is the sound of a chair screeching on the floor followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a string of unintelligible words you assumed belonged to Shoko.

---

Darkness. More darkness. Muted voices. Yelling. Some more darkness. Pain.

When you finally open your eyes, everything is a blur. You blink a few times and look around until your eyes find something to focus on. The white walls, the green curtains, and the smell of antiseptic chemicals all lead you to believe you are in the infirmary. Flexing your hands one, two, three times before slowly lifting your right hand up to gently caress your right cheek, you feel the soft cloth of a bandage taped to your skin. Bringing the same hand down to lay it flat upon the blanket covering your abdomen, you apply the slightest bit of pressure down until you feel a slight prick of pain. Lifting the blanket up you tilt your head down to check the situation. You’re wearing a flowy hospital gown and your stomach looks a bit bulky. Feeling around the wound site you realize there’s a bandage there too. Laying your hand back down by your side, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering how you were even alive.

The creaking of the door opening breaks you from your stupor. 

“That was fast. Thought you’d be out for longer,” comes the smooth voice, the smell of cigarettes and that familiar sandalwood sweet perfume you know only belongs to Shoko.

Turning your head to the side you watch her sit down on the chair next to you fiddling with an unlit cigarette and crossing her legs. Her bangs almost cover her left eye and you notice how tired she looks. She sighs and looks at you with a lazy smile, fingers still twirling the cigarette with ease, she asks, “How you feeling?”

You shift and push yourself up to lean your back against the headrest of the bed. With a loud exhale you look back at her with a half-assed smile, “I’m great actually. Good job, doc.” You give her a thumbs up and hope it’ll be enough to squash any more questions she might have.

With her smile still on her face, she looks down at the cigarette and hums, “You know, Gojo was about to unleash hell on the higher-ups for giving you that mission.”

Your smile is immediately replaced with a frown and you feel unbelievably small upon hearing this. With a scowl you ask, “I mean, the mission was a success, wasn’t it?" You shrug, "And I’m fine too so win-win.”

Finally, her smile fades as she stares straight at you; and you think this is the most serious you have ever seen Shoko look, “You could’ve died. That doesn’t seem like “fine” to me. For once I actually agree with Gojo. It wasn’t right of them to assign you on that mission, especially without warning.”

“I’m feeling unbelievably underestimated right now, Shoko,” your voice is small as you fiddle with the seams of the blanket covering the lower half of your body.

Shoko sighs and shakes her head, short hair swishing as she leans forward with her arms on her legs, “I’m not doubting your abilities. No one is doubting your skills. But your wounds were really bad, you know that as well as I do.”

It’s quiet for a bit before you speak again. You look at her downturned head as you reach out your hand to hold hers. Your voice is demure.

“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shoko. But I promise I’m fine. And that’s all thanks to you.” You smile at her as she lifts her head enough to lock her eyes with yours. A smile she doesn’t return but her hand holds yours back and you know she believes you now.

“Yeah well try not to pass out with your intestines all over the floor next time, thanks.”

You laugh. “I promise. I hope you’re joking about the intestines though.”

Shoko huffs a short laugh and lets go of your hand. Bringing the cigarette to her mouth as she stands up she says, “Your cursed energy is the reason that’s a joke. It’s amazing you held out for that long. But don’t get too used to that luck.”

Bringing your hand back to your lap, you watch as she makes her way out and shuts the door. 

Immediately after leaving she pokes her head in again and says one thing before leaving again without waiting for your reply, “Please talk to Gojo and Geto. Go now actually.” 

You sigh and bring down one foot then the other. The light-headedness returns once you stand up but it’s manageable, so you look around for a change of clothes when you find a new uniform folded neatly on the side table next to your bed.

Changing into the new uniform, you make your way out to look for either Satoru or Suguru or if you’re lucky (more so unlucky) both of them.

---

Jujutsu High really is beautiful this time of the season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the campus looks downright ethereal. You think while walking the halls how this place would feel if it were just an ordinary high school and not a place teaching kids how to wield weapons and slay curses. The classrooms would be filled with boisterous students and teachers talking in the courtyard. Canteens with flirting couples and students playing football outside. The gymnasium would hold basketball games with students wearing the school jersey and cheering for the school team. It would be different. It wouldn’t be Jujutsu High, you think.

“Well well, look who’s up and walking already,” the loud, smug voice you know only belongs to one white-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Stopping in your tracks you turn around and stand face to face with Satoru. You give him a sheepish smile and with the sweetest voice you can muster you say, “Hey there Satoru! I was just looking for you!”

Satoru scoffs and walks closer to you. 

"Drop the crap."

Oh shit.

Once close enough to touch you he waits for a few beats staring at your face, eyes locked with yours as he occasionally looks at the bandage on your cheek. He breathes your name.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes.

You groan, exasperated but expecting this reaction. 

“I’m okay, Satoru. I don’t get why this is such a big deal honestly.”

You can see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses with pure rage as he scoffs yet again. His voice gets louder and his arms flail around trying to prove his point, 

“Oh, you don’t get why this is a big deal? Well for starters, you could have died. You’re a semi-first grade, why the hell would you even accept a job to kill a special grade curse?” 

“Okay, I didn’t know it was a special grade. And I killed it, didn’t I? Have some faith in me,” your tone matches his and you glower as you cross your hands across your chest.

He starts pacing back and forth, facepalming himself to oblivion as he goes on a rant,

“Oh my- that’s not the point! It’s not about having faith. You were all messed up and half dead and you could’ve been fully dead and we were almost about to kill those stupid old geezers but then Shoko stopped us and I swear if she didn’t we would’ve actually gone through with it. I mean seriously what the hell-“

You stomp forward mid-rant and grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. Your voice is soft but steady like you’re comforting a child in distress.

“Satoru calm down. I’m okay. The curse is dead. It’s fine. Now please breathe.”

He stares at you through his sunglasses. His chest is heaving and fists are clenched by his sides, not trying to move at all even though he could easily shove you away and continue pacing and ranting.

He dips his head down and exhales deeply, shoulders slanted downwards and breathing slowing down. He moves forward as his arms encircle your body and his head rests on top of yours. Your nose is squished against his chest and you can smell his scent; a mix of sweets, laundry detergent, and his signature scent; the smell of dewdrops and what you assume would probably be some expensive brand of perfume. You relax against him as you breathe him in and your arms move to hug him back. Shifting your head to rest your cheek on his chest you hear his heart beat steadily. You close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of Satoru. 

Neither of you say anything, but say everything at the same time. All his thoughts poured into that one hug, and you silently hear them all as you hug him a bit tighter.

You can feel him gulp as his Adam's apple moves against your forehead. His voice is small and honest as he says, “I would kill them all. If you didn’t wake up, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.”

You know he would, so it’s not really a confession. But it feels like a confession. Satoru would turn the world upside down for the people he loves. You know that too well. 

“I know,” your voice is quiet. You feel so safe in Satoru’s arms. You think it’s so embarrassing how safe you feel whenever you’re with him. You feel like a baby; guard down and vulnerable. You’re sure Satoru feels the same way. You’ve never once seen him keep his Infinity on when he’s with you. 

He hugs you tighter and you can feel his heart rate quicken. He takes a deep breath and exhales as he lets you go and looks at you. You tilt your head up and try to find those cerulean blues hidden behind the shade of his sunglasses. Lifting your hand up to push his glasses up to his head you finally look right into the swirling blues of his eyes. They’re like the ocean. Calm, but with an unmistakable power surging within them. Like the energy you feel in the water right before a wave is formed, the blues in his eyes seem to pulse and flow with power. But they’re also still and serene, and filled with so much emotion. His eyes hold so much more than just power. 

His hand comes up to your bandaged cheek and he slowly takes off one side of the tape and then another until the bandage flaps open. You suddenly feel smaller and even more vulnerable. You haven’t even seen your face with the scar yet (you’re positive there’s a scar). His eyes zone in on the cut as he traces the raised flesh lining the center of your cheek. As his finger runs down the scar, you envision just how large the cut really is; about 3 inches vertical. It didn’t hurt anymore. Shoko really is a fantastic sorcerer, you think. Not moving your eyes from Satoru’s even once, you see the whirlpool of emotions swirl around in those crystal blues. Anger, sadness, worry, relief, adoration, hope.

His jaw clenches as he furrows his brows ever so slightly, fingers moving across your scar with featherlight pressure. Moving his gaze to your eyes, he rests his entire palm against your wounded cheek. Adjusting his hand to hold the side of your face perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle, his thumb lays on the scar with a gentleness you didn’t know Satoru had. 

It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. The occasional breeze and the mellow chirping of birds bring you back to the world, otherwise, you’re positive you’d forget all about the outside world and be content standing in the middle of the hall in Jujutsu High wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s arms. 

You and Satoru were friends. Of course, you loved him, but that love is no different from the love you have for Shoko and Suguru. They’re your home. You’re a family. You know they love you too. 

But right now, it feels different than all the other times Satoru has held you. Held your hand, held your face, hugged you, clumsily threw his lanky arms over your shoulders, ran his fingers through your hair, wiped the blood off your face, flicked you on the forehead, patted you on the head, messed up your hair, rested his head on top of yours. This particular instance feels different. More intimate, perhaps. 

Maybe because you really could’ve died. Your life was hanging by a thread and you don’t seem to understand that. You were so prepared to die, that such a close brush with death’s scythe didn’t affect you in the slightest. This job comes with a guarantee of death. Even though that is life in general; being a jujutsu sorcerer means your days are already numbered. Anytime you embark on a mission, your chances of dying are much higher than your chances of survival. So you always went out on the field with the thought of dying. Knowing you could die and leave everything and everyone behind. But this was the first time you felt you were one step through death’s door. 

You can feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and you think he might kiss you. You keep one hand on his back as you lift the other to hold his wrist near your jaw. As he leans forward you close your eyes bracing for the kiss to reach your lips. But it doesn’t reach the place you were expecting. Instead, the lightest kiss touches your forehead, almost chaste; as he lingers there for a moment and then moves back. 

By now, your heart is racing and you think you’re dreaming. Only when his hands leave you, do you open your eyes and realize this isn’t a dream. 

He exhales as he stands straight, with both hands by his side. Bringing his sunglasses back down, perched on the bridge of his nose, he gives you a small smile, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You try to mask your stunned expression with a smile and nod. 

As he turns to leave he says, “Suguru’s at the gymnasium, probably.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Alright.”

He walks away and you go in the other direction.

part 2

[aeros-lab]

Hi I've had an insanely productive writing weekend for None Of My Actual Manuscripts but instead random fire and silver character moments so here are some that I found most amusing

Avril PoV stuff:

Valora shook her head, her lips quirking into something almost like a smile. “Because he was easy. Ellard was, is, so ordinary. He wasn’t too loud, too violent, too anything. He was just there. If I was going to have to marry within the pack anyway, I figured he was milquetoast enough to not make it miserable.”

“Man, if my ex ever talked about me like that, I think I’d request euthanasia.”

\o/

“It’s complicated,” I said finally. I tucked my hands between my thighs as if physically folding in on myself could make me disappear and not have to have this conversation with Valora Reins of all goddamn people.

“What, you mean the whole reanimated corpse thing?” she said. “You realize I can turn into a giant dog, right? That’s hardly the weirdest love story I’ve ever heard.”

“Not that,” I said. “Well, okay, not only that.” I focused on my mismatched socks–one white, one striped blue and green. “I made some stupid choices. By the time we’d worked past the mountain I’d built between us, I ended up here. With you.”

Her eyebrows rose. “So sorry to disappoint.”

“No you’re not.”

“You’re right.” She let out a sigh. I scowled. “I mean, I couldn’t care less if you two make it out of this happily ever after. But watching two people dance around each other is agonizing whether you’re invested or not. Trust me, I lived through it with Zieka and Madison. Now that was hell. The emotional constipation. The pining. Disgusting.”

 I raised an eyebrow at her as memories of Lyptic’s prejudiced language filtered through my brain. To Valora’s credit, she caught my look and clarified, “Christ, it’s not because they’re gay. I don’t give a shit. I’m a bitch, not a bigot.”

“We love an ally,” I said dryly.

\o/

She shrugged. “I was angry at a lot of things. I took it out on him because I knew he couldn’t do anything about it. The pack may have owned me but I owned him. It was the only thing I had.”

I hissed through my teeth. “You also hear how fucked up that is, right?”

Valora gazed at me through tired, lidded eyes. “We both know I’ve never claimed to be a good person.”

“Did you love him?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. I wasn’t sure if Valora loving Ellard made this better or so much worse. 

“In a way,” she admitted. “I loved that he was mine.”

“Yikes.”

“I wanted to love him,” she went on. “And I think I did. Still do. But not like that. Not the way that spellcaster girl does. The way she looks at him is kind of revolting.” She made a sick face. “I could never imagine belonging to a person like that–yes,” she sighed when I opened my mouth. “I see the hypocrisy. Once again, I never claimed to be a good person.”

“You know, it’s okay to love people platonically, too,” I said slowly, carefully. “In a non-possessive, healthy way, even.”

~~~

Ellard PoV

“It means Avril’s back and she spent the night with Kithara.”

Hel whirled around with a tiny gasp. “How do you know that?”

Ilum’s eyebrows rose and he went from being puzzled to uncomfortable to amused at my expense. “Wait, did you walk in on them?”

I squeezed Hel tighter, ignoring the question. “Anyway, the gang’s all here.”

“Oh my god, he walked in on them,” Charity said, bringing a hand to her mouth. 

“Listen–”

“My brother in Christ, you have wolf hearing,” Ilum chortled, doubling over. Charity looked away, biting back an onslaught of laughter. “How do you not know when two people are–”

“They weren’t actively doing it!” I exclaimed. 

Helena’s shoulders shook and when I peered around, I noticed she was also failing to hold back a fit of laughter. 

I sighed. “Et tu, my love?”

~~~

Ilum PoV

Charity's eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Everything she said is true. I’ve gotten too comfortable depending on you. In combat. Emotionally. It’s dragging you down. I’m dragging you down.”

“I thought I was the self loathing one,” I said.

“Be serious.”

“Before I met you, I probably wouldn’t have excused myself before tearing Avril a new asshole so at the very least, you’ve made me a more zen person.”

She shot me a bewildered look. “Sorry, did you just refer to yourself as zen?”

“I thought it would make you laugh.”

\o/

“Nobody gets to decide whether a person is good or bad for me,” I said. “Not Avril and not you. Because, clearly, neither of you knows shit.”

“I feel so comforted,” she said flatly. 

“Not here to comfort you,” I said, smirking a bit. “Just being honest.”

“I think I’ve had enough honesty for this morning." She faced the water, watching the sun rise from behind the foliage. Shards of light glittered on the surface. “How about you lie to me instead.”

“K,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze. “Uh…Charity, I think you’re really good at knife throwing.”

“Yeah, nevermind. Lying doesn’t have the same effect when it announces itself.” She scowled. “Also, I’m so not that bad. I have had at least two lucky shots in my life.”

“I’m not allowed to lie anymore, right?”

~~

Kithara PoV (tbh this was just self indulgent romance so it's mostly cheesy but I found 1 slightly silly bit)

“I’ve…never done that before. Was that okay?”

I could only stare at her. 

“That bad?” she chuckled. “It’s okay if you faked it.”

I cleared my throat but my voice came out at least two octaves higher than I’d been expecting. “Have I ever told you what an idiot you are sometimes?”

She burst out laughing, the anxiety sloughing off her at once. “There are worse ways to be called an idiot than by a gorgeous naked woman.”

[away-ward]

Newcomer here and i just finished nightfall, wanted to share because i saw your fics. Unwanted confessions, and idk if you've received these kinds before: dn series made me feel old. These characters mature so fast and were so sexualised since they were young, and later on being only in their mid 20s, acting as if the world will collapse just because they dont have kids or make babies at 24. They gave me white christian religious parents trauma frfr. Their obsession of being liberal but gender roles still being so conservative put the feminism movement back to 200 years ago, i fucking hate every characters in this series except for emory, frfr. Like they can be dark romance rich billionaires and have amazing char arcs but what the fuck was that series? Dn made me believe, rich white privilege people and blonds are really THAT fucking stupid. I'd like to go to the US just to see blond white privileged americans act like rika & winter frfr.

oh, And that wuss ass "lover" guy will grayson who "claimed" to love emory scott so much (🙄) reach out to her yada yada, while fucking around with other women and having threesomes here and there so easily, it was NOT swoony or romantic. He's cheap as fuck, i hate manwhore male characters like him so fucking much. And they just excuse his shit because he was pining for emory, as if he fucking deserves her or somthing. I swear, will grayson does not deserve emory scott, but thats my unpopularopinion. if he had cared enough about emmy, he shouldve fought for her harder. Urgh, i hate weak male characters, such a turn off. All that nightfall plot happening only because he was the weakest of them, yikes. Cant believe he was only ever a man with emory, it's giving "she's only tough when a man saves her" trope, but in reverse, and oh, what does that looks like? Rika fane and winter ashby's arcs! Rika, winter and will, three dumbest characters of the series, frfr. No wonder damon liked them, theyre so similar with one another. Emory scott's patience is truly better than mine.

And Dont even get me started with alex. I hate her in noghtfall. Why did pd butcher her charcter like that? I was shocked, girl! Shocked! Not even banks and rika who treated her like shit initially got a slap, and emmy who didnt even bother got one? In a conversation thats not even about her? The fuck? Where's the girl's girl personality at? Out the window now that her love life with aydin was threathened? Wow. Worse is, they're friends (emmy alex).... i hate pd for this, they just cannot write two pretty female friends who thrive. They always make their male caharcters have amazing bonds with each other, but all fmcs had some sort of internalised misogynistic catfights. If pd can give us willdamon, they can give us rikalaex, banksemmy, alexemmy amazing female frienships alright. Pd just chose not to. And notice how all of their other books, the girls were always around men, but no amazing same-age female presence in their live? Even emmy admitted she was not familiar around woman. Like?? She had amazing relationship with her mom and grandma was compared to the rest no? Why cant we have at least this in this whole disgusting male worshipping series? Istg, there was no reason for pd to build up a powerful and empowering worldbuilding for a women like the horsemen's wives but only to make their same teachers to be men, who never had to know what it feels like to struggle as a woman, ESPECIALLY in their society in thunder bay? This happened in birthday girl, in fall away, misconduct, like??? Its a pattern atp. I hate it. If you have any book recs thathave amazing female relationship between women, please do share, i need some cleansing from all these stupid male chars.

Other than that, i guess i shouldnt have ever expected monogamy or exclusivity in relationships when it comes to pd's books too. These chars are all so overly touchy. I heard about the rikabanks bonus, and it ruined hideaway and corrupt for me. Because why is banks whole ass personality about being jealous of rika, being so caught with damon and kai, AFTER A WHOLE DECADE. does she not have a fucking hobby or go to therapy or something? Stupid as hell. And why is rika being in the centre a.fucking.gain. God, shes dull af, pd just stop! What also pisses me off even more is when people can freely kiss and touch will (like alex, winter to will in killswitch and noghtfall train scene), but god forbid emmy had the same attention or touchesfrom other men, that bitchass grayson starts to act up, as if he fought for her life or something. Fuck him honestly, atleast damon admitted he was a literal piece of shit. I hate people and chars like will because theyre so hypocritical. Never in a million years i would expect to hate will in his own book, but god damn, he really really ruined nightfall for me. Not a single redeeming quality to that fucker. He made me swore so much. I already hated him for his treatment to rika banks and winter in the previous books, and now him with emmy? And just watching emmy getting hurt again again again, not only by her world and herself, but also by will, by his own friends, and by the people associated to his world like aydin and taylor, and never standing by her side through it all? Yea. No. Fuck man, i hate will grayson so much. I wouldve given up on him by the end of the train scene, ngl.

will grayson will never be a real man to me. Like he's a wuss, my girl emory deserve better. "His only mistake was he loves too much", no his mistake was being a hypocritical self-righteous shallow privilege entitled narcissistic assaulting male whore. And Thats only the tip of the iceberg of his shitty character. Nightfall ws the biggest scam.

i honestly just wanna vent out my feelings about this book, because i just finished nightfall, and hooooo i never thought i'd hate will, man. Never thought i'd hate him like i hated michael and damon but here we are. It's always the hypocritical angelic male ones that ends up being scum like this. Oo at least kai was only whiny and hurt rika/ banks and bare in mind, kai was still fucking shit and i hate him, but god damn, will grayson really was the biggest disappointment of devils night series for me. I immediately went to tumblr to check out his tags and found your fics, and i'd like to say, i like your will only 5% more. I cannot imagine will being that good to emmy honestly, so i guess it stays as a wish fulfillment for me as a fan of emmy. I might fucking hate will, but emmy loves him so wtv. If emmy had done one wrong thing, its will grayson. i cant lie, this was shocking to me because i went into this book expecting to like will. But i only came to meet a whiny loser ass white privilege guy who never had to suffer anything other than the consequences of his and his friend's actions? Wow, not enough that we had this kind of man irl, theyre everywhere in fiction too, god! And people hate rika more? Nah, i hated rika, but never more than will grayson frfr. Theyre all so fucking dumb. And on that dumb note, whats with the chars (except for emmy) always anticipating damon? He never served? He talked shit so much, but never actually served? The fuck? At least in haunting adeline, zade meadows did what he said. Damon was just the guy thatblabbers too much, but do nothing. And even when he had plans, its always with someone else's help? Huh? Cant believe they compared zade to damon. Theyre both scums, but at least zade had creds, and then theres damon, the bland no-skills wolf-like guy.. ughhhh 🤮🤢 i hate when author tries to use shock value to hide their awful arcs, because damon torrance and rika fane were two of their mostshitty ass chars arcs written so far. Plus michael. Michael was like a standee to his friends, but thats a whole nother topic.

i honestly dont know if its fine for me to rant here since im a newbie but if you dont feel comfy, you can just delete this post, just wanted to vomit my rants yk.

i honestly dont know if its fine for me to rant here since im a newbie but if you dont feel comfy, you can just delete this post, just wanted to vomit my rants yk.

Honestly, I have inadvertently cultivated a place for people to send their anonymous rants, so I guess why not? It’s fine.

To be perfectly honest, though, there’s not a lot for me to reply to.

First, thank you so much for reading my fics! And for hating them 5% less that the series. I’m going to take it as a compliment. If it wasn’t meant that way, then let me live in delusion.

Of course, the characters in my fics are a bit more idealized. I write them the way I wanted them to be, which if you read other portions of my blog, is far from what PD has given us. That’s fine, they own the characters; they can write them however they want. But I wrote something that was self-indulgent and soothed over the parts of the series that hurt the most for me, or that I felt were the most intriguing. I wrote them for me first, and posted them in case it helped anyone else. I’m happy that people enjoy them, but I know they’re not everyone’s tastes.

Second, I guess I’ll say I’m sorry about Nightfall. The sour feeling of being let down, I think, is one that most of us are familiar with here.

Ummm. I do think it’s a little weird that you’ve read multiple PD books, and even finished the DN series… especially since you were looking forward to Will. Because I hated Will for the first three books and if I weren’t curious about Emory, I wouldn’t have finished the series at all. I also find it equally weird that your first impulse after finishing a series you hate is to go to the tag of the character you hated the most? I mean, I’ve definitely clicked on hot-takes I know I’m going to disagree with and hate-read things, but it’s not my go-to.

I’m sure the Emory tag is lovely.

I haven’t read any of PDs other books, so I don’t know how they compare.

Beyond that,

I swear, will grayson does not deserve emory scott, but thats my unpopularopinion.

Maybe if you were to poll everyone who has ever read the series, that would be an unpopular opinion, but I think if you look back about six months on this blog, you’ll probably find a dozen or so messages almost exactly like this. So, around these parts, it’s not such an unpopular opinion. I think most people who message me probably feel the exact same way.

But I’ve already written essays of poorly done character analysis to defend Will, Emory, their relationship, and his relationship with others. There’s not much for me to add to that without just restating myself. I share some of the same opinions as you, and some different ones. I don’t think your thoughts and feelings are very unpopular at all.

If you have any book recs thathave amazing female relationship between women, please do share, i need some cleansing from all these stupid male chars

Unfortunately, I haven’t had a lot of time to read lately, so all of my recommendations would be old. When I do have the time, I’ve been rereading stuff.

I also don’t have KU, so I’m not familiar with the catalog. I had it at one point, specifically to read Nightfall, and afterward I started a lot of different series, but there wasn’t a lot that caught my attention. I’m sure there are a lot of KU readers with blogs around that would be able to offer you a rec.

I have recently reread the English version of Hana Yori Dango, or Boys Over Flowers. One thing I noted was how amazing the female relationships are. They’re so positive, even when the girls are conflicted. It’s a manga, 37 volumes long, so of course it would take a diagram or a PowerPoint to break down how this is, but it was something I really appreciated on this read through. The girls are all very different, too, without feeling like they're cardboard cut-outs. If you’re at all interested in manga, and I know not everyone is so no worries, I highly recommend it. It’s honestly a superior take on the “4 rich boys who cause trouble” and their romances.

I’ve also been rereading Sempre, which I mentioned before. That’s sort of a mafia romance, but I would categorize it as dark. I’ve been noting how supportive the female relationships are there as well. I’ve really been enjoying that this time around.

And that brings me to a TV show, actually. I’ve mentioned it and reblogged a lot of Leverage stuff, but it truly is a comfort show for me. Parker sits very close to Emory in my heart, and I had hoped that Emory would have some of the same opportunities to develop relationships that Parker had. Parker’s relationship with Sophie is so interesting and nice to watch unfold.

In fact, something I haven’t said before because I don’t think anyone would understand it, is that I had hoped that Alex would become more like a Terra-type character. For anyone interested, here’s an episode. You’d need Amazon to watch it, but it’s probably free somewhere anyway.

Anyway, that’s all I got right now. I truly am sorry that it was such a bad experience for you. You’re welcome to stick around, but I’m sure since you hated so much, you’re ready to move on after unloading like that. But it’s all good either way. I hope you’re on to better and better things.

Take care of yourself!

With love and appreciation,

-KO

[wuxiaphoenix]

A Tree Full of Birds

Brown-headed nuthatches, to be precise. The twittering could be heard fifty paces away. Probably further, if I hadn’t been distracted watching the turtles watch us walk along the edge of the pond. I suspect someone’s been feeding them....

If you’re not familiar with them (I wasn’t), nuthatches are distinctly odd. Here’s a bird about the size of a chickadee, that bounces through the branches in much the same style. As a matter of fact, nuthatches, chickadees, and titmice will often flock together. Yet this small bird with a chickadee-style small seed-munching bill is also poking at cracks in bark and bits of branches like a woodpecker, even sometimes hanging upside-down to do so. And it looks like it has almost no tail!

...It’s actually long wings that mostly hide a moderate-sized tail. But it takes time or staring at a still picture to pick that out. I did a bit of both. Through various misadventures I have at least two different Birds of North America guidebooks, because while one of them has well-illustrated birds in glorious color, the small and plainer images in the other may be closer to what your unaided eyes have glimpsed disappearing into the branches. So I consult both. If I can ID the same bird in both books, I can be fairly sure that’s what I saw.

So. Nuthatches. A lot of nuthatches. They never stopped moving long enough for me to count them, but I would estimate somewhere around a dozen or so; probing the bark, twittering at each other, or fluttering wings in a not-quite-grown bird’s “feed me!”

Which makes me think this may have been the parents and offspring of one nest. Apparently they can have up to 11 in a clutch! And from hatching to shooing them off on their own only takes about two weeks. Yikes. Birds live fast.

At least some do; nuthatches raise and kick their young out much, much faster than crows and ravens. And yet, like those two more long-lived birds, brown-headed nuthatches are tool-users. They eat insects, like woodpeckers. But they lack the long bill and pounding skull tools of woodpeckers. Meaning they can hear all these juicy edible larvae under the skin of the trees and can’t - quite - reach them.

Not without a tool.

Nuthatches use a flake of bark to hammer at weak points and pry up other bits of bark and wood weakened by insect damage. They generally can’t hold onto their flake and grab the tasty prey at the same time, meaning they end up having to go after the dropped flake or find another one after they’ve eaten. Very primitive tool use. But it is a tool.

And it’s all happening up a pine tree full of twittering.

[mugenmine]

I posted 226 times in 2022

That's 22 more posts than 2021!

24 posts created (11%)

202 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fuckyeahfightlock

@destinationtoast

@buckysbaron

@luthienebonyx

@pennypaperbrain

I tagged 210 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#stucky - 30 posts

#writing - 28 posts

#steve rogers - 27 posts

#mwt - 24 posts

#bucky barnes - 24 posts

#true facts - 23 posts

#mugen writes things - 19 posts

#captain america - 12 posts

#what remains - 10 posts

#you may never see - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 47 characters

#and came up with a wee 2-chapter one after that

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

10 notes - Posted June 16, 2022

#4

I’ve got 50k words between two WIPs now. Six chapters deep into a long fic and two chapters into a 5-chapter novella. This time last year and for many years before that I had zero words. Things are definitely looking up. Not sure how long this writing bout will last this time, but enjoying it while it’s here.

12 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

#3

Title: You May Never See - Chapter 1 Author: mugenmine Fandom: Captain America (MCU) Pairing: Steve Rogers/James “Bucky” Barnes Rating: NC-17/Explicit Chapters: 1/4 Wordcount: @ 5000 Contains: Pre-War II Steve and Bucky, Angst, Pining (tags will grow with each chapter)

Summary: His longing for Bucky flared up like summer allergies, some years the symptoms were relentless and painful in their severity, lasting weeks before they worked through his body and he could breathe again. Other times the feelings would be fleeting and easier to swallow back down. He didn’t know why this bout had lasted longer than all the rest, why thoughts of Bucky inevitably drifted to what his mouth would taste like, or what would happen if a touch was allowed to linger. This fever had been raging for more than a month now, and he just wanted it to fucking break.

* * *

So very weird to be writing/posting/putting stories out there again! New fandom, new pairing, new words. (same kinks, yo!) The story is complete and I’ll be posting it weekly. Thanks so much for reading!

15 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

#2

10 Things I Learned From my Duran Duran Fanfic

I unearthed my Duran Duran fan fic from the closet the other night. I've been contemplating posting it on AO3 but after cringing/laughing hysterically for an hour I think it might just be better off staying in the vault. But I did learn a few things...

I was 12 when I wrote it. For some reason I thought I was older.

Prince shows up in the third act.

This might have been my first bondage fic... (Hello, Nick Rhodes!)

I wrote the entire fic in first person starring ME! (*facepalm*)

I paired my least favorite friend with Andy Taylor...

Everyone in England drives an Aston Martin.

Guess overalls are all the rage.

All of my friends grew up to be high fashion models or private investigators...

Halfway through the story everyone goes ice skating.

Somehow we all end up at Studio 54.

It clocks in at 115 handwritten pages. Yikes! Sadly I never gave the story a title.

***

I was digging though my old LJ and found this entry and it still cracks me up. I'm still seriously thinking about transcribing this pencil-on-notebook paper disaster and posting it on Ao3 and just backdating it from the '80s... I'd have to change the names of all my school pals tho.

25 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You May Never See - mugenmine - complete

Title: You May Never See - complete Author: mugenmine Fandom: Captain America (MCU) Pairing: Steve Rogers/James “Bucky” Barnes Rating: NC-17/Explicit Chapters: 4/4 Wordcount: @18,500 Contains: Pre-War II Steve and Bucky, Angst, Pining, Body Worship, First Time, Bondage, Friends to Lovers, Pre-serum Steve, and more...

Summary: Of all the ways he’d imagined his first time with Bucky—and he’d imagined many—sitting tied up on his kitchen table in his underwear, while Bucky dug under the sink for the first-aid kit had never been one of them.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36746308/

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

And it's done! I guess I'm officially writing for a new fandom now, I've got the receipts! This is the first story in a series that I don't have a title for yet. I'm excited to start the next one...

36 notes - Posted February 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[demonprosecutor]

FROM THE EYES OF THANATOS

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

thanatos was not a being who strayed far from his station in life, he was someone who was wedded intimately with his work, and could not find the time to dally them away. however, there were extenuating circumstances, always has been - and they always, infuriatingly, began with zagreus. hades never really spoke about his son beyond irate murmurs of his disruptions of the ill-begotten peace or, more recently, of his subsequent escape.

he cared not for the deeds of zagreus. not when he had bested the furies. not when he defeated the lernean bone hydra, not when he had defeated the champion of elysium or defeating the god of the underworld himself. other gods would have roared their joy and delight at the virility of their offspring, praised their achievements with ambrosia and nectar flowing freely.

but that is not what hades did. all he did was hunch over his desk, scrawling over endless piles of scrolls for a work that never ceased. beyond that, it seemed that hades had washed his hands of his offspring, leaving him to do what he wished in the world above.

if he wished to debase himself and pursue fruitless heroics like the offspring of the olympians - do so, he did not care.

------

“you do not seem remarkable.” thanatos spoke into the open air, startling the mortal groundskeep who pattered around the small kitchen with a chicken in their arms.  they flinch, enough that the hen is able to squirm free and cower underneath the table with a fearful cluck!

the apple trees shuddered outside shied away from the clouding sun, the wind trembled. thanatos knows the matter of his presence, knows that wherever he steps, silence follows - for peaceful death was often quiet. the air felt far colder than before, in spite of the midday sun. and all the mortal could do was bow their head respectfully. “lord thanatos.” they were soft-spoken, words feathery that hardly rose above the curls of smoke from embers smouldering. their eyes remained downcast, pinned firmly on the ground and unmoving.

if thanatos was a lesser being, he could’ve mistaken the mortal for being a statue - if not for their living colour and the subtle rise and fall of their breath. 

“do you wish for me to fetch prince zagreus? he is resting in his room.”

conversation was hardly the tool of his trade, and many would be hard-pressed to elicit more than succinct sentences or monosyllabic responses. a conversation with a statue would glean more than one with thanatos. “no.”

confusion halts the mortal’s reverence, tilting their head up to stare at thanatos, straightening in place, spine unfurling like a sapling freed from the throes of a hurricane.

to his eye, the mortal was unassuming. plain-looking, boasting no beauty that would make poets weep, nor with a voice that could charm sirens. they were, unequivocally, average.

gods always gravitated towards the remarkable, yet here the groundskeep was, an antithesis towards a previously cemented notion. they were not aggressive, not brave, not out-spoken, nor overtly clever from their brief interactions (he unspooled their life like a scroll, reading their memories like prophecy). nothing about them made them stand above the nameless masses. 

yet word flows freely from one shade to the next, word of the new destiny that his sisters, the Fates, were unravelling. that was the thing about mortals, they may have their destiny predestined, but the paths that they take to that eventual end can differ and sometimes, they could change their destiny.

not like them, not like the gods - both freed and trapped by their divinity.

nevertheless, this sort of inanity was a gift, he supposed. the eyes of gods were rarely kind ones and to scorn one of them... well, the countless tails of minor deities and mortals being turned to nameless monstrosities to be slain by upstart heroes.

the mortal shifts in place uneasily, their hands clasped behind their backs, but with the way their muscles shifted under skin told thanatos that they were grasping their hands together uneasily. they were not used to this manner of scrutiny.

there was a part of him that disliked the mortal, that despised that secret jealousy that was born from: what was so good about the surface world? gods were a prideful and jealous folk, and thanatos was no exception to the rule, he simply hid it better than most. 

“do you wish for tea?” the mortal asks carefully, rocking from heel to ball of their feet, they do not smile, but their eyes speak of kindness. it’s an offer that surprises, but one he did not simply have time for.

besides, the nourishment offered in the mortal realm often paled in comparison to the immortal one.

the hen, which had gathered its courage, plucks at the flowing reaper cloth that clung to his form. a nameless rage befalls over him, and it is with one fell swoop, blood splatters in an artful arch on the floor, over the mortal, staining their chiton with spots of crimson.

he was not prone towards acts of unwarranted violence like this, but it was a substitute of what he wanted to do to the mortal. thanatos hides his shame of calm lost with an impassive expression, expression not shifting with the aghast and terrified look that the mortal gave at the way the hen fell lifeless. its soul shuddered as it shed its flesh vessel, flickering like the dying of a candle.

without further word, death incarnate disappears with a flash of light and the ear-splitting sound of a bell.

------

zagreus finds him, hours later near the river. time had always moved so strangely for gods, and what appear to be hours for mortals was simply minutes to his kind. death had always been inextricably drawn to life, vice versa, and he knows - the moment the grass shifts, the air whispers, that he was found.

“you didn’t have to do that, than. you didn’t have to... frighten them, threaten them.” thanatos does not turn around, content on staring out at the expanse of untamed woods, something that he was sure that lady artemis would find delight with hunting in.

his grip on his scythe tightens, “my presence is threatening enough. besides... i did not do anything much, it was time for their pet to die anyways.”

the prince stands next to him, shorter, but presence imposing enough. he looked angry, displeased with what he had done. “you could’ve waited! you didn’t have to kill it in front of the groundskeep - what’s wrong with you? you... you’ve never done this before, than.”

thanatos purses his lips, “you are a coward, zagreus. running away from your problems, running away from home,” running away from me without a goodbye.

“so take it out on me!” zagreus thumps his chest, flames flickering at his laurel wreath, teeth bared, “not on the damn mortal who couldn’t even lift a finger to fight back!” his hands flex, as though ready to fight back.

and it was that moment that truly hurt than. was zagreus truly prepared to leave them all, to wash his hands of the underworld? just for this world, and his mother and that mortal.

oh blood and darkness, how humiliating. was he... was he jealous?

his pain must have filtered through his mask; for zagreus had frozen, expression dropping in surprise. “than--- wait.”

but it was all for naught, thanatos disappeared in a familiar flash of light and shriek of a bell, leaving zagreus cursing quietly.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Do you think if any of the Cullens were humans in the same time period they’d still fall for each other? For example if Bella a human when Edward was would he still fall for her? Or if rosalie was human when Emmett was human (yikes I forget when he was turned)? Do you think there’s anything any of them would be attracted to if they had human qualities or they didn’t have being a vampire being them together?

Interesting question.

I've already answered about Edward and Bella (the answer is no by the way). And as you can probably guess from the blog, the answer is going to be no all around.

First, a Caveat

The Cullens in different times would be very different people. This isn't so much the case for Rosalie and Emmett, who were born very close to one another. Carlisle and Esme though span centuries and that makes a huge difference.

Carlisle in the 1910s is not Carlisle in the late 1700s. Esme in the 1910s is not Esme in the late 1700s. They'd be presumably quite different people.

So, this is a bit of a very strange exercise that also depends on, well, circumstance.

Another Caveat

In terms of your second question, while we can't know for some of them, I think the extreme vampire/human attraction debacle Olympic medal winners are Edward and Bella.

Esme is attracted to Carlisle while she's human, and we don't know enough to be sure, but she doesn't seem to go "Ew, human, boring" in the way that Bella Swan does. She also doesn't see Carlisle Cullen long enough to have it hammered home how inhuman he is (compared to say Bella Swan).

What I'm getting at is that I don't think that's an issue for most of these guys but also not the answer to "will they fall for each other".

Rosalie and Emmett

No.

Rosalie and Emmett were both human at the same time, but in vastly different parts of the country leading different lives. Rosalie is in society and Emmett is... um... not.

Part of what compels Rosalie to turn Emmett, in what is described as a very strange turn of events, is that he resembles her friend's son just after she's been raped, turned into a demon, and told she will never have the life she envisioned or a child of her own.

Rosalie is a traumatized mess when she and Emmett get together and while they're by far the most functional Cullen relationship, they still have their issues.

In this world, presumably, that hasn't happened.

To end up with Emmett, Rosalie would have to throw away everything and run to the mountains of Tennessee. Before Royce, Emmett isn't what Rosalie thinks she wants.

She'll likely be physically attracted to him still, as she was in canon, but I don't see her acting on that (and in the circumstances where she would she'd been gang raped and left for dead which means she dies as a human).

For Emmett, I imagine he'd find Rosalie very attractive, but they come from different worlds. It's just not going to happen for him with a girl like her and he knows it. More, if he did marry her, she'd want things like a house not in the country, a husband who's a lawyer or doctor or businessman, not a mountain man.

It's just not going to work for them.

Carlisle and Esme

Maybe.

Depends on circumstances.

If Carlisle is Esme's human doctor and she develops a crush on him we have the same problem we had before where Carlisle leaves town and Esme pines after a man who's not coming back.

More though, we know that Esme is pushed into a marriage not of her choosing by her family. She does leave her husband and perhaps could find a way to meet up with Carlisle after that, but they'd have to find each other.

It's unclear in canon how much physical attraction there is between the two. We never see them as physically into one another as Bella and Edward or Rosalie and Emmett, so it's unclear if this comes into play.

Given the right circumstances, though, I could still see the pair getting married and having a much better relationship as Esme's no longer left the planet, there's not this deep seeded issue of eating people, and they're on the whole on much firmer footing.

But, again, it depends on the circumstances.

Alice and Jasper

No.

The reason these two got together is that Alice saw them getting together. They have nothing in common, share no grand ideals, and miscommunicate at every turn.

Without the history they have in canon, Alice finding him and telling him she's his future and Jasper having been through hell itself, there's nothing to ever bring them or keep them together.

[honeytae]

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests or not, but I was hoping I could request something along the lines of where you’re in love with your best friend, taehyung, but he doesn’t know and he’s getting married soon. you don’t tell him how you feel until the night of his wedding when you’re a bit tipsy from drinking your feelings away. you can decide the ending! thank you in advance if you end up writing this! hope you’re doing well and staying safe. Xx

hi darling! i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write. i couldn’t get it to a point where i was satisfied with it for a really long time, i still don’t feel that good about it honestly but hopefully it’s okay for you!!! i tried to make it angsty (yikes) so hopefully it’s not horrible lmao

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

genre: angst

word count: 1.6k

warnings: um so much heartbreak, oc is a little (very) in denial about the situation and comes off a little toxic tbh, requited love but nothing they can do about it now, mentions of tae going into a panic attack

You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the ‘congratulations to the happy couple,’ nor the Mr. and Mrs. Kim sign practically floating over their heads. You couldn’t handle the copious bouquets and all the preparations that went into this.

And you felt like a complete asshole about it.

Which is precisely why you decided to prematurely exit the event, doing yourself and everyone else a favor by leaving for the night to go sulk in your hotel by your lonesome.

The elevator ride up to your floor was miserable, your own battles within your mind coupled with the fact that your floor was the top one, making the ride excruciatingly long on top of everything else.

Rustling with the hotel key in your bag seemed to take forever as well, finally barging into your half unpacked space with a sigh. You quickly shut the door behind you, hoping you’d been able to sneak away from the hotel lobby without any guests noticing.

Shuffling further into the room, you sat on the edge of the king bed in the center of the room, placing your head in your hands at the mere prospect of this weekend.

Taehyung was getting married. Kim Taehyung, your best friend, the one person you’d been pining for since middle school, would be legally bound to someone else in less than twenty four hours.

Maybe you just shouldn’t have come. Despite sending red flags to Tae, you couldn’t think of a better solution than fleeing at this exact moment. Why did you think you could handle this?

Two knocks against the locked door had your head raising from its resting place, cursing under your breath at someone coming after you.

You didn’t feel well. That would be your excuse.

“Hey, you okay?” Immediately upon opening the door, Taehyung spoke the question out into the air, dark eyebrows knit in concern and kind eyes imploring yours for an answer.

“Hi. I’m fine, just a little tired, Tae.” You pressed your lips together in a hopefully believable smile, the man frowning before nodding at you.

“Me too. Can I come in?” He asked, the question completely innocent however making your heart rate a bit faster at the what if. What if things had gone differently? What if it was still a possibility for things to escalate between you two?

Cut it out. He’s about to be a married man.

You raised your eyebrows at him for a moment, then stepped back to allow him in, putting all your concentration on shutting the wood for a moment as you took a steadying breath.

“What about your party?” You wondered aloud, the man humming as he took a seat on your fully made bed.

“I’m tired of the parties. They’re exhausting.” He chuckled, covering his face with his hands as he reclined back on your bed.

Your heart skipped another beat at the vision, his tight pants leaving little to the imagination and buttons from his dress shirt stretched to new limits with his strained position. Diverting your eyes, you walked over to the desk chair in the corner of your room, reaching for a water bottle out of your mini fridge. Get a fucking grip.

Tossing one over to the bed beside Taehyung, you sat down in the plush seat, grateful that the man didn’t seem to notice your distance from him as you glanced out the window.

Until….

“Are you really okay? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

At his sudden words, you froze, gripping your water a bit tighter as you brought your eyes back to his face. He was closer now than before, having scooted to the edge of your bed to lean toward you, eyes showing concern for you as you shuffled in your seat.

Taehyung was never one to beat around the bush, and at times like this, you really wish he would just brush some things under the rug as easy as you could.

“I’m good, Tae. Just have a lot going on, I guess. I’m sorry I made you feel like that.” You said, hoping to clear the air and dismiss the topic as soon as you possibly could. The man’s stare wasn’t helping your state any.

“No apologies. Just wanted to check in on you.” He sighed, seemingly disappointed with your lack of response before a hideous painting across the room caught his eye.

“What the fuck is that?” He griped, making you chuckle as he sat up to lean toward the art piece, squinting with his lip curled in amusement.

“It’s not so bad.” You shrugged, smirking when he turned back to you in bewilderment. Realizing you were teasing him, his eyes went back to normal size, a smile meeting his own lips at the return of your familiar banter.

“How can you sleep in a room with that shit? I feel like asking for a refund.” He shook his head, making you laugh before taking a swig from your water.

“Somehow I manage.” You replied, twisting the cap back on the bottle with a sigh.

It’s times like these that you feel as though nothing is wrong. Times like these that transport you back to periods of your life when Taehyung was just a call away, and you thought maybe, just maybe, you two had a chance. But that was over now. Those days were no more.

Because Taehyung informing you about a blind date then turned into him in a full blown relationship, a serious one at that, and soon enough they were taking big steps such as meeting the parents, moving in together, and yes, getting engaged.

Your friends had been just as shocked as you were, pitying you with deep sympathetic looks over Taehyungs shoulder as you hugged him in confused congratulations. It had all happened so fast...how did you manage to lose him forever?

Waking up the next day, you felt a particular heaviness on your chest. It was the day before the wedding, the rehearsal dinner turned into an entire day of partying for their guests. A celebratory day, if anything.

But waking up and getting all dolled up for this occasion was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, today or ever. You had always thought that you’d have much more of a starring role in Kim Taehyung’s life. Shaking your head to dismiss those kinds of thoughts, you cursed as you left your hotel room, wondering how the hell you’d be getting through this day.

Four martinis. Four martinis was how you’d be getting through today. The bartender had become one of your closest acquaintances over the past few hours, eyeballing you silently as he poured you yet another cocktail, your demands obvious that you were not drinking out of celebration.

Sitting at the bar, you contemplated everything. From the time you’d met Tae, you had been so sure that you two completed each other. Were you that naive? And fuck, why are you still thinking about this now? It’s over. You and Tae will never be.

Nearly jumping off your stool at a hand suddenly clapping your back, you shifted your gaze over to the arm belonging to Jungkook, one of Taehyung’s youngest yet wisest friends.

“You’re sulking.” He said plainly, dark eyes tracing over your faded features, briefly examining the drink in your hand before shooting the bartender a knowing look.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” You sighed, nearly breaking into a sob when his hand laid over yours, fingers fitting between your own in a comforting gesture. With one glance at the man, you gained all the information you didn’t want.

He knew.

You wondered how long he’d known. Jungkook, being the quiet and relatively introverted person he was, was an observer. He knew everything about everyone it seemed, by not speaking to them at all. He noticed everything.

You just hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes started blinking rapidly, and that he’d instead just go back into the party without another word.

“Neither should you.” He replied to you, his tone holding nothing but concern as he tried to catch your eyes.

You just couldn’t hold it in.

“Well maybe if I wasn’t in love with him I’d be having a better time.” You mumbled, leaning your head down on your hands, elbows pressed to the tops of your thighs, sad and tired as Jungkook froze beside you.

Unbeknownst to you, a concerned Taehyung had also come to find you, stumbling upon that very scene as Jungkook tried to console you.

Meeting eyes with his older friend, Jungkook’s mouth gaped open for a moment, opening and closing like a fish out of water as you cluelessly rambled under your breath about how stupid you were to ever let yourself come here.

With a shaky exhale, Taehyung silently began to put it all together. The way you’d been working constantly lately, picking up every shift you could to decline his repeated attempts at getting together with you, the way you’d ran off last night and brushed it off as you being too tired. It was all adding up.

You were struggling with this as much as he was. Maybe more.

But what Taehyung could do about this years ago was no longer an option, his hands shaking at his sides as he spun on his heel and walked out of the lobby. He could briefly hear Jungkook call for him but ignored it, breathing heavily as he rounded one of the hallways leading to the restrooms.

Unshed tears misted over his eyes as he hugged a corner of the wall, feeling rather unsteady as he leaned his forehead against the cool surface. The burning pain in his chest had him sinking down to the floor in an instant, sobs wracking his shoulders with heightening emotions rising in his throat.

You’d finally given him the green light. And it was too fucking late.

[orangeoctopi7]

Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Suspicious Crash of Stanley Pines

The theme for @stanuary week 3 is Crime... what about... TRUE CRIME? I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved this last summer, so I’ve been wanting to do something like this.

If you don’t watch Buzzfeed Unsolved, this is probably gonna seem like a lot of rambling.

On the morning of July Fourth, 1982 in the sleepy logging town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, there was a firey explosion that wasn't part of the fireworks and festivities. A car had gone over the edge of the town's famed floating cliffs.

"Floating cliffs?" Shane asked

"They're like, giant overhangs. They're not just floating up in the middle of the air like Pandora or something." Ryan explained, showing Shane a photo on his phone.

"Oh, that's pretty."

"It is really pretty."

"What a beautiful place for a car to careen over a cliff."

Ryan cracked up.

"You get a lovely view as you plummet to your death." Shane imagined.

Between 6:15 and 6:20 PM, the Gravity Falls Police Department received six separate calls reporting seeing a yellow car in flames drive off the edge of the cliff and crash to the valley below.

When investigators arrived on the scene, they found the remains of a crushed and burnt 1971 Subaru DL Coupe. The police report notes finding that the brakes were cut, and evidence of gasoline being poured into the driver’s seat to start the fire. Strangest of all, no body was found in or around the crash, only a few burnt strands of hair.

“So, right off the bat, real suspicious.” Shane commented.

“Yeah, and it only gets more suspicious from here.” Ryan assured his co-host.

“And I’m assuming there’s no chance that they guy, y’know, got up and walked away from the crash?” 

“Oh, no, no way. You saw the picture of the cliffs.”

“Oh yeah, no way.”

“There’s no way anyone in the car would have survived that fall.”

“And it was on fire.”

“And it was on fire.”

Despite the lack of a body, the police determined from the few burnt strands of hair and an anonymous tip they received at 6:15 PM on the day of the crash, the driver of the car was one Stanley Pines, a 31 year old man from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Allegedly, he had been coming to Gravity Falls, Oregon to visit his twin brother, Stanford, who lived just a ten minute drive from the cliff Stan’s car had driven off.

“Wait, wait, wait--” Shane interrupted Ryan’s explanation, “Twin brothers. Named Stanley and Stanford.”

“Yeah.”

“Who the f___ names their kids like that?”

“I know, right?”

“Were they identical twins?”

“Uh, I couldn’t find anything saying they were definitely genetically identical, but, uh, with the way this case goes, it’s safe to assume they were identical enough.”

“Yikes, I feel sorry for them growing up, can you imagine how often people got them mixed up?”

“Yeah, but imagine the kinds of shenanigans they must have gotten up to!”

“Oh, that’s true. There would have been plenty of shenanigans. Lots and lots of shenanigans.”

“If you had twins, would you give them cutesy twin names?” Ryan asked.

“No.” Shane answered firmly.

“I think I’d just do like, alliterative names. Nothing too similar.” 

“Yeah, no I think twins probably have to deal with enough confusion bull___ without having to throw similar names or the same initials into the mix.”

“Interestingly enough…” Ryan started.

“Yeah, I’m guessing from your comments that the twin thing plays into this.”

When interviewed by the police, Stanford claimed his brother never arrived at his house. However, testimonies of other townsfolk reported seeing a red 1967 El Diablo with a distinctive “STNLYMBL” vanity license plate driving up the road to Stanford’s house earlier that winter. The house is out in the woods, isolated from the rest of the town, so no one would drive up that way unless they were going to see the cabin.

“Well what if they just wanted to take a walk out in the woods?” Shane countered.

“It was in early February.” 

“Snowshoeing.”

“In a blizzard.”

“Ok, you do not have a weather report for the exact day they saw this car!”

“Two of the testimonies mention there was a snow storm that day. Plus, the license plate says STANLEY MOBILE.”

“Well, Stanley is a fairly common name.”

“You-you’re just being contrary to bug me now, aren’t you?” Ryan accused.

Shane just grinned.

What’s more, that same red El Diablo was the car Stanford now drove. 

“What!?” Shane laughed with disbelief for a moment before putting on a mocking tone. “Uh, yeah, he never showed up, but, uh, I have his car. I’m still driving it. Y’know, seemed like a waste to just let it sit in the driveway.”

“He didn’t even change the license plate.” Ryan added.

“Oh, of course not!” Shane said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

Upon further inspection, the car that crashed was registered to Stanford, and had been reported totaled almost seven years prior.

“It’s interesting that they say it was totaled.” Ryan commented. “Because totalled just means that the damage is more expensive to fix than the car is worth, so it could have still been drivable.”

“And if you’re trying to fake a car crash, what better to use than an already worthless car?” Shane agreed. 

“Exactly.”

Stanley Pines was declared dead by auto accident and the case was closed in September of 1982, due to lack of evidence and quote: “A lack of interest from the involved parties”.

“A lack of interest from the involved parties!? What the h___ does that even mean?” Shane asked in bewilderment.

“It’s odd, to be sure.”

It’s when we look into the background of the presumed dead Stanley, and his brother Stanford, that this case becomes truly bizarre. 

Stanley Pines left home at the age of 17, and had brief but unsuccessful careers as an amature prize fighter and as a salesman, before he turned to a life of crime. Prior to his reported death, he had been in prison five times, in three different countries, and had lived under at least eight different assumed names, with several others that were never confirmed. He had known ties to the mob and drug cartels.

“Quite the shady character. That might explain why the police didn’t look too closely into his ‘death’.” Shane put air quotes around “death”.

“Well, does it? I mean, if they thought his death might have been related to the mob…” Ryan argued.

“They know better than to mess with the mob, even in Oregon.”

“I mean, we have seen in several past True Crime episodes, what can happen if you mess with the mob.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You don’t wanna do it.”

“Nope.”

His brother Stanford was no less strange. He was born with fully-functional polydactyly, meaning he had six fingers on each hand. It’s worth noting that after 1982, Stanford no longer had 6 fingers. He claims that he had them surgically removed, because, quote: “I was sick of people staring.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Shane said doubtfully.

“You don’t believe that explanation?”

“Let’s just say I find it highly suspect.”

Stanford was also a certified genius, graduating with the most PhDs Backupsmore University had ever awarded. As a graduate student, he worked as a researcher and inventor for the US Government. Some sources say he worked on top-secret experiments. 

In 1975, he received a $100,000 research grant, which he used to move to Gravity Falls and become a Paranormal Researcher. When he arrived in Gravity Falls, he was the subject of many rumors throughout the town, due to his reclusive nature and strange area of study. 

“Oh, so this guy was basically you.” Shane pointed out.

“He’s basically me if I didn’t have you.” Ryan agreed.

“Awww, that’s sweet!” Shane placed a hand over his heart.

Many residents reported seeing strange lights coming from Stanford’s home in the woods starting almost as soon as he moved in, as well as strange sounds.

“Well, it seems like Gravity Falls is a pretty small town. People gossip.” Shane reasoned.

“Ok, yeah, but people gossip about who’s cheating on who, or what business secretly sells drugs out the back. They don’t gossip about strange lights coming out of the new neighbor’s basement.”

“They could. It’s gossip. Gossip can be about anything.”

Reports of the lights stopped in late January of 1982. Just four months later, in March, Stanford began opening up his home for tours, and in a matter of weeks, transformed his home into a tourist stop called the “Murder Hut.”

“Oh my g__.” Shane stifled a laugh. “A little on the nose there, don’t you think?”

“He did rename it to the Mystery Shack about a year later.”

“Hmm, yeah I wonder why?” Shane asked facetiously. 

Stanford also exhibited paranoid behavior on several occasions before the crash, especially in the early months of 1982.

One local reported seeing Stanford screaming “No it isn’t, you creeps! I can see you just fine!” down an alleyway. Several other eyewitnesses reported seeing him fall out of his seat at the Triple Digits Truck Stop Diner on Route 14 and scream for something to “get out of his mind” before fleeing the building.

“So, he definitely seemed to think something was out to get him.” Ryan commented.

“Not the words of a sane man.”

“Unless something really was out to get him.”

“Eeeeh, even then…” Shane wiggled his hand in a so-so motion. 

Dan Corduroy, one of the few people who had regular contact with Stanford before he opened the Mystery Shack, had this to say about the sudden change from research lab to tourist trap:

“Oh, he’s definitely been acting differently. He was really shy before, hard to talk to even. He seemed uncomfortable spending a lot of time with people. I’d invite him over to one of my family’s cabins to visit, but he only ever wanted to visit the haunted one while we were all out of town. I’d say it was a good change, though. It wasn’t good for him to be alone all the time like that. I’m glad he’s finally spending time with other people.”

“He only wanted to visit our haunted cabin.” Shane repeated with disbelief. “Hey, do you wanna come over to visit one of our cabins?” He put on a voice. “Uh, that depends, what kind of cabins have you got?’ ‘Well there’s one by the lake, one with a nice view of the valley, and one that’s haunted.’ ‘Oh, I’ll take the haunted one!”

“What gets me is he only wanted to visit the haunted cabin while everyone else was out of town. We’ve stayed in our fair share of haunted places, and it was bad enough staying overnight, just me and you, but there is nothing that could convince me to spend the night in one of those places all by myself.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure none of the places we’ve been to have actually been haunted, but I see what you mean. It’s not fun to go to a haunted house by yourself. It’s kinda boring.”

“Um, we’re not gonna get into this discussion now, because we still haven’t even gotten to the theories yet, but you’re wrong.”

The case came to light again in August of 2012, when Federal agents arrested Stanford Pines, and detained him for several hours for questioning. By the next day, he had been released, and officials stated that his arrest had been due to a false lead. What exactly that false lead was, however, was never stated.

Now that we’ve gone over the extensive background of this case, let’s get into the theories of what really happened that 4th of July in 1982.

Theory #1: The theory put forth by the police, that Stanley Pines died in a fiery car accident.

“So then how do they explain what happened to the body?” Shane asked.

“It doesn’t say.” Ryan.

“And why were the breaks cut?”

“No explanation given.”

“That’s a stupid theory, those cops ought to be fired.”

Ryan stifled a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

Theory #2: That Stanley killed his brother, made it look like his own death, and took over his brother’s life. This would explain the loss of his extra fingers, the sudden change in behavior that led him to open up the Mystery Shack, and his sudden acquisition of Stanley’s car. It does not, however, explain the lack of a body in the crash.

“He could have disposed of his brother’s body somewhere else, and then just like, left an ice block on the gas pedal and let the car run itself off the cliff.” Shane theorized.

“That’s possible. I was also thinking, maybe the body was gone. Maybe Stanley didn’t necessarily kill Stanford, maybe they met up in the woods, Stanford got eaten by a bear, and Stanley, who was already in trouble with the mob, took advantage of the situation, and faked his own death.”

“How--why did you work your fear of bears into this?” 

“That’s just my variation on this theory.”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why not say that he was the one who got eaten by the bear? Why fake the car crash and then say his brother never showed up?”

“Because if the mob knew he’d talked to his brother before he died, maybe they’d come question him?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a possibility.”

Theory #3: That Stanford killed Stanley and made it look like an accident. People who support this theory say the psychological trauma and guilt of killing his own brother may have driven Stanford to change his appearance and behavior to more closely resemble that of his dead brother.

“That’s… kind of a stretch.” Shane said slowly. “I feel like, Occam's Razor, theory 2 is more plausible.”

“What makes you say that one’s more plausible?”

“I dunno, just saying ‘He killed his brother and took his place’ seems a lot more likely than ‘The other brother killed him and the guilt drove him to act like his brother. I don’t think that’s how psychology works.”

Theory #4: Both brothers are still alive. Stanley, on the run from the mob, came to his brother Stanford for help. Meanwhile, Stanford was worried about someone or something that was out to get him. They came to a solution that would solve both their problems: switching places. They would fake Stanley’s death, throwing the mob off of Stanley’s trail. Then, Stanley would take Stanford’s place in the public eye, while Stanford went into hiding.

This theory is supported by photos that surfaced on Facebook in 2012. Several photos of Gravity Falls after a series of earthquakes did extensive damage to the town show what is supposed to be Stanford. However, another man that looks just like him is seen standing in the background. Interestingly enough, both mens’ hands are obscured in all of these photos. 

While the photos haven’t been analysed by any professionals to definitively determine if either of the men are Stanley Pines, it has been determined that the photos are not edited.

“Would the whole photo recognition software even work on identical twins?” Ryan wondered.

“I don’t think so?” Shane answered unsurely. “I mean, my Facebook facial recognition auto-tag doesn’t even recognize my mom half the time, so I wouldn’t be surprised if twins throw it off.”

“Just looking at some of these photos yourself, what do you think?” Ryan handed a few print-outs from his folder to Shane.

“Oh wow, yeah, they do look alike.” Shane nodded. “Alright, yeah, I’m convinced. We solved it, guys! Video over!”

“We actually do have one more theory.” Ryan informed him.

Theory #5: Stanford was abducted by aliens.

“Oh for f___’s sake--” Shane threw his hands up in frustration. “We have four perfectly good, plausible explanations, and you have to throw that in!”

“This one actually does have some evidence behind it.”

“Bull____, but go on.”

Stanford was a professional paranormal researcher. Although he was very secretive about his research, even to his grant committee, some of his research notes do list looking for proof of ancient aliens visiting the valley before European contact. Could it be the thing he was afraid of was aliens?

“... That’s it?” Shane asked. “When you said this one actually had some evidence behind it, I thought you meant there was a UFO sighting in the same area around the same time.”

“The negative space between the floating cliffs kinda looks like a UFO” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a random researcher in the 80’s was abducted by aliens! That’s like, if I found a ransom note for you in the office, but I said ‘Well, Ryan was afraid of bears. Bears used to live in California, there’s one on the state flag outside our building. He must have been eaten by a bear.’ That’s the kind of leap in logic we’re talking about!”

Was this a case of fratricide? Or is this the longest and most elaborate twin switch of all time? For now, this case remains… UNSOLVED.

 * * *

“It was really hard for me to stay on topic while I was researching this one.” Ryan admitted as they wrapped things up. “There is a lot of weird stuff related to Gravity Falls, we should go there for an episode one of these days.”

“I’d love to do that, it looks like a beautiful place to visit.” Shane agreed. “Are you sure you wanna do that though? It seems like the place is crawling with haunted cabins and bears.”

“Well, one could argue this entire series is about me conquering my fears, so… Why not?”

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Christmas Crush

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem-Reader

Words: 6693 (yikes)

Summary: Bucky has been infatuated with you for months. Will the Christmas Spirit finally help him make his move?

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (just all of it), fluff(I don’t know y’all, I have trouble qualifying this one), slightly dom partner, overprotective partner, SMUT (like over 3700 words of it y’all!), 18+

A/N: Sooo, this was supposed to be like 2500 words guys but I got a bit carried away. Made it in right under the wire for day 3 of my birthday week. This is also an entry for the Merry Hoemas challenge that is being hosted by @amythedvdhoarder​ @chrissquares​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @pumpkin-and-pine​ and @starlightcrystalline​. I chose the dialogue prompt “I’m not going to fall in love with you. I promise.” (from The Holiday). Please enjoy!!

“You better be wearing something nice, Barnes! No cargo pants!” you yelled out to the living area as you finished applying your makeup in the bathroom.

“Yes, boss!” He yelled back at you as he adjusted himself in the dress pants he borrowed from Sam. They weren’t uncomfortable, just tighter than he was used to.

“Dude, leave your crotch alone!” Wilson chuckled at him.

Bucky scowled at him and did his best to focus on anything else. “I can’t believe I let the two of you talk me into this.”

“You know how the boss-lady is, once she gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.” Sam gave him a grin as he lounged on the sofa, sipping a glass of scotch. “Would you relax? We’re going to a club, you literally fought of a group of five assassins on your own last week. This is nothing!”

“I’m used to fighting, I haven’t been dancing since….”

“Oh god, have you not gone out since World War II!” Sam threw back his head and gave a laugh from deep in his chest. “Hoo, boy this should be entertaining!”

The three of you had been on a surveillance assignment for the past three months, and a replacement team had finally arrived to take over for you. Your flight back to the states wasn’t until tomorrow, and you had insisted that all of you find something to do to get over the stir craziness that had taken over. When you found a flyer for a hip hop Christmas party at one of the fancier downtown clubs, you ran back to the suite and insisted that you all head out. Sam was of course down immediately, but it took you a while to convince Bucky it would be a good time.

It was hard for him to not feel like the third wheel sometimes with the two of you. You and Sam loved your hip hop, and Bucky still remembered the first time he walked into one of your sparring sessions while Wu Tang was playing and had to immediately turn around and leave, ears turning red as you and Sam shouted mirth-filled apologies after him. He was slowly warming up to the aggressive music style, but still occasionally pined for the days of the Andrews Sisters and Bing Crosby.

He squirmed in the dress pants again; when did they start making suits so tight? He rolled the sleeves of his deep green shirt up over his forearms, trying to get more comfortable as the lights glinted off his metal hand, when you finally came out of the bathroom.

“You two boys ready to go?”

Fuck me, he thought.

You were wearing a bright red dress that was covered in sequins. It was in a wrap style that was wide open across your chest, exposing the valley between your breasts almost down to your navel. A thin gold chain with a dark green stone dangled around your neck and nestled in your cleavage, drawing the eye as is twinkled in the dying light through the windows. The skirt portion of the dress was short enough that it was almost obscene, and the apex of the wrap was almost up to your hip. You topped off the look with a pair of thigh high black velvet boots.

“Damn, mama, you look good!” Sam whistled at you as he stood up and spun you around with one hand.

“You’re not too bad yourself Wilson. Barnes, you clean up real nice!”

He couldn’t speak. He was suddenly extremely aware of just how tight his slacks were, and he strode over to grab all your coats from the rack and hold his in front of his crotch as he handed Sam the other two, hoping it wasn’t obvious what he was trying to hide as he slipped it over his shoulders.

“Ok, then, let’s head out!” You said, giving Sam a look as he helped you slide into your wool coat. He just shrugged at you before donning his, and the three of you got on your way.

Sam and you walked arm in arm on the way to the club, chatting idly and laughing at the occasional quip. You tried to engage Bucky in the conversation, but he just marched behind you scowling, collar pulled up against the chill in the air.

He couldn’t deny he had developed a bit of a crush on you over the course of your assignment. You always tried to keep morale up in the surveillance house, brightening the air with your laughter as you baked some sort of treat for everyone, or broke out an obscene amount of liquor when two of you had a shared shift off. He still remembered the time you had indulged in the gin just a little too much during a game of poker and passed out with your head in his lap. He hadn’t slept or moved from that position the entire night until he had to relieve Sam in the morning, reluctantly removing your face from where it had nestled during your rest.

He did his best to move past his crush, trying to convince himself it was just an infatuation that needed to wear itself out.

Then he saw you fight for the first time.

Sure, he had seen you sparring with Sam, and may have even done a session with you himself he hadn’t been concerned about how his body would react in such close proximity to you. But when that group of thugs attacked the house last week, he really saw you in action.

You moved like water. Dodging every blow that was thrown at you and landing flurries of strikes of your own that seemed like they shouldn’t have caused any damage but would reduce your opponents to puddles. Bucky almost got knocked out when you had pulled out your knives to spin them through your expert fingers like they were extensions of your will. He’d had to lock himself in the bathroom after the fight to jerk himself off, imagining it was your hands wrapped around him.

Now he watched your ass swaying back and forth in front of him as you arrived at the club, wearing those boots and that dress that made you look like walking sex. His mood soured as he handed his coat to the check girl and shoved his call ticket into his pocket, so he headed to the bar to get himself a drink.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder and gave a wince as he turned to face you.

“C’mon, Barnes, it’s Christmas!” You were giving him a heartachingly beautiful smile. “Wipe that frown off your face and come dance!”

He softened as you looked into his eyes. It wasn’t your fault he felt like a pervert everytime he stood next to you.

“I think I’m going to go grab us a table for our drinks, you go have fun with Sam. Maybe I’ll join you in a bit.”

“If you’re sure?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and bit your lip, and he felt his gut clench and his cock twitch at that look.

“I’m sure. Enjoy yourself.”

You gave his arm a squeeze before ordering yourself a shot of vodka that you immediately tossed back before heading to join Sam on the dance floor.

Bucky took his double scotch to one of the tables scattered around the floor and perched himself on a tall stool. His gaze scanned the dance floor before finding you and he let out a groan.

If he thought your fighting was beautiful, it was nothing compared to your dancing. You looked ethereal and free as you tossed your hair, rolling your hips as your arms raised above your head and followed the motion in your torso before they sank back down and rolled along your sides, highlighting the curves of your body. Sam suddenly grabbed you by the waist and spun you, causing you to throw your head back with a beautiful lilting laugh.

Bucky tossed back his scotch and flagged down a waitress, handing her his card and instructing her to keep the drinks coming. Maybe if he drank enough it would relieve the unbelievable ache he was feeling in his chest.

You and Sam joined him at the table after a few songs. You were breathless and flushed and all he wanted to do was kiss you then take you to an alley out back and fuck you stupid.

“Barnes, you are being a bit of a Scrooge here.” You grinned at him as you nibbled on a pretzel. Sam had headed to the bathroom, and you flagged down a waitress and ordered yourself a vodka cranberry before turning back to him. “I’ll order you to have fun if I need to.”

He grinned in spite of himself when you gave him a wink. “Sorry, Y/L/N, this isn’t really my type of party.”

“Aww, Bucky,” he took in a sharp breath, you’d never used his first name before. “You just need to loosen up. I can lend you a hand with that if you need it.” You reached a hand over and wrapped it around his wrist, giving it a light squeeze.

He almost said something then, but the waitress arrived back at the table at that moment with your drink and you turned to give her a smile and thanks. Sam arrived back from the bathroom then with a bourbon in his hand, accompanied by a beautiful woman with a bright smile.

“Bucky, Y/N, this is Marta, she’s a model!”

“Well hi there Marta, you going to steal my dance partner?” You were giving the girl a massive grin as you teased Sam.

“Yeah, Marta doesn’t really speak English.” Sam grinned.

“Oh, sorry.” You asked her the same question in Swedish.

Marta’s smile grew even bigger as the two of you started babbling away at each other while Bucky and Sam just shook their heads. Marta grabbed your hand suddenly and started to drag you away from the table.

“Be right back boys!” You said over your shoulder as you and your new friend headed off to the bathroom. Bucky watched you walk away and gave a deep sigh.

“Jesus Christ, man, you need to make your move already!” Sam said, exasperated.

Bucky almost choked on his scotch. “Dunno what you’re talking about.” He mumbled, wiping his chin with a napkin.

“Bruh, you’ve been staring at Y/N non-stop this whole night. Not to mention the fact that you were moping around the surveillance house for the past few months like a kicked puppy.” Sam shook his head as he tossed back the rest of his drink. “Oh, and if you thought you were sneaky about your little post-fight bathroom session last week, you are very mistaken.”

Bucky snapped his jaw shut and felt a flush creeping up his neck as he imagined your reaction to the discovery he had been touching himself to thoughts of your body underneath him.

Sam waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry, Y/N didn’t notice. I sprayed the fuck out of that bathroom with Febreze after you left. I am never doing anything like that for you again, though.”

Bucky’s heart rate went back down in relief. “We work together Sam. Even if that wasn’t the case, what am I supposed to say to her?”

“Geez, man, just fucking kiss her!”

“Fuck, Sam, we haven’t even been on a date! Don’t women usually want that sort of preamble?”

“Some women, sure. But don’t treat them like a monolith. Y/N appreciates directness and the worst thing that could possibly happen is she tells you to back off.”

“She could stab me.”

Sam guffawed. “Don’t look so turned on at the thought, dude. She’s noticed how weird you’ve been acting. She thinks you don’t like her. One of the main reasons she made us all go out tonight was to hopefully get you to warm up some.”

Bucky sighed, he hadn’t meant to push you away. “I dunno, Sam. She’s super fucking intimidating.”

“Get over it, Barnes. If you don’t make a move, someone else definitely will.”

“Oh my god, Sam, get your ass out here! It’s Christmas in Hollis!” You and Marta were back on the dance floor now and you were bouncing up and down, waving your hand excitedly at Sam.

“Aw, shit, that’s my jam!” Sam was backing onto the floor now, trying to get Bucky to follow him before giving up and turning to you and his date.

An unsteady woman sank into the seat Sam had just vacated and gave Bucky a lecherous grin before she started talking to him in slurred Swedish.

“Sorry, I can’t understand you.” He shouted at her.

“Oh, American man.” The woman purred at him in what he assumed was supposed to be a sexy voice. “You, me, fuck in bathroom.”

Bucky didn’t hear her. A giant blonde man who looked like a knockoff Thor was dancing behind you now, trying to put his hands on your hips and grind his crotch into your ass.

Bucky watched you turn and place a hand on the intruder’s chest, giving him a polite smile as you stopped your dancing, saying something to him that Bucky couldn’t make out over the music.

The guy didn’t take the hint and put his hands on your waist, pulling you flush against his front and putting a thigh between your legs, edging the hem of your skirt upwards.

Bucky didn’t realize he had been gripping the back of one of the chairs with his metal hand until he heard a crunch and looked down to see he had bent the frame when he clenched his fist.

“Knulla.” The suddenly sober woman said, standing up abruptly and scurrying away from the table.

Bucky found himself striding towards the dance floor, fists clenching and a low growl emanating from his chest.

That dirty fucker was still trying to hump you as you gave him a firm shove, trying to turn back to Sam and Marta. He wrapped a hand around your upper arm and jerked you back. Sam stopped dancing and tried to step in, but the son of a bitch slapped him in the face before turning back to you and smashing his mouth into yours, shoving his free hand up the front of your skirt to try to get at your pussy.

Bucky arrived just as you pulled back from the cocksucker and drew the offensive hand back so sharply, a snap resounded across the floor and he let out a scream.

Bucky punched him in the face before grabbing him by his collar and tossing him away from you as three security guards came rushing to the scene, too late to offer any sort of assistance. Marta managed to intercept them and started screaming at them in Swedish as you and Sam moved between Bucky and the giant Swede who was now a blubbering mess on the floor.

“It’s good Barnes, you can relax.” Sam said.

“Bucky, it’s ok. He isn’t worth it.” You were as close to Bucky as you had ever been. He could feel the heat radiating off you as you put a hand on his chest.

You had never seen Bucky so angry. His jaw was clenched so tight, you were worried the tendons in his neck were going to snap. He was breathing deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring as he glared murderously at the man who had touched you.

“Baby, you can let it go. I’m ok.” You murmured low enough that only he could hear you.

He looked into your eyes and relaxed, taking a deep breath through his mouth and nodding as the security guards dragged your assailant out of the club.

“Good boy, now you owe me a dance.”

Bucky’s look instantly changed to confusion as you dragged him onto the dance floor, giving him a breathless laugh as you started dancing again.

He had no idea what to do with himself. You saw his look of utter helplessness and turned to face him. You placed his hands on your hips and your hands around his neck and looked into his eyes. You’re hips started rolling to the rhythm as the rest of your body swayed in time with the music. Bucky was too aware of his feet and broke eye contact to stare at them, trying to figure out how he was supposed to move.

He felt your hand lift his chin and you shook your head at him before bringing the front of your body flush against his. You lined up your hips to his and started rolling them, your legs on either side of his massive thigh as you gyrated against him. He let out a moan and screwed his eyes closed.

You brought your face against his neck and whispered in his ear. “Just relax honey.”

You dipped your hips slightly and he followed you, nuzzling into your neck and inhaling your scent as his brain finally stopped overanalyzing what he was doing.

You felt the muscles underneath his shirt tightening and releasing as he rolled his body against you and your pussy clenched over his thigh. You gave a soft gasp and hoped the rush of arousal hadn’t soaked through your panties and onto his pants. His hands were pressing into the soft skin of your hips, and you knew you would have light bruises there tomorrow.

You pulled away suddenly and Bucky groaned at the loss of you before you flipped your hair forward and dropped your ass, separating your thighs slightly as you slowly drew your back up Bucky’s front before nestling your ass into the dip in his pelvis that seemed made to fit you.

Bucky growled into your hair and nipped at the soft skin behind your ear before starting to grind himself into your ass. He brought his metal arm to press against your abdomen and push you further into him, while his other wandered up between your breasts, giving one of them a soft squeeze before loosely wrapping his fingers around your throat

You felt him harden against you and let out a small gasp, starting to pull away before his metal arm locked you in place.

“Don’t you fucking move.” He growled in your ear, nipping gently at the lobe with his teeth.

His hips were moving at their own rhythm now, the music forgotten. Neither of you noticed Sam making an exit with Marta, grinning back at you before shrugging his coat over his shoulders and heading out into the snow.

Your breath was hitching softly as Bucky rutted himself against your ass, and the sound was driving him crazy. You could feel your cunt throbbing as it became slick, your arousal soaking your panties and threatening to start leaking down the insides of your thighs. He suddenly stuttered his hips and let out a hiss before stilling.

“Shit.”

He had come in his pants like a teenager, filling his boxer briefs and leaving a small wet spot on the front of his slacks. His arms released you as he stood up straight, leaning his forehead against the back of your head and screwing his eyes shut. He’d never been so embarrassed.

You shuffled the edge of your skirt down before turning around and pressing your lips against his softly. He groaned against your mouth as he brought his hands to either side of your face, tangling them in your hair. You discretely untucked his shirt as you kissed him, covering the evidence of his orgasm graciously. You pulled away before he could really lean into the kiss, and he let out a dissatisfied sigh.

You looked at him through heavy lids, biting at your kiss swollen lips before taking his hand and dragging him to the exit. “We’re going back to the hotel”

You tossed the coat tickets at the girl at the counter, breathing heavily as you tapped your nails impatiently. You snatched the coats from her without a word and tossed Bucky’s to him before charging out the door.

Bucky almost slipped several times back to the hotel as you set a brutal pace. He couldn’t get a read on you now and was worried he’d ruined things already.

You rode the elevator up to your floor in silence, one hip cocked to the side as you clicked the opposite heel against the floor rapidly. As soon as the doors opened, you strode down the hallway like you were possessed and Bucky hurried after you, concern written all over his face.

You arrived at the room first and wrenched the door open, leaving it open behind you as you stepped inside. Bucky was a few steps behind you but stopped at the entrance. He was certain you were going to lay into him as soon as he entered and wanted to take a moment to collect himself. He was running his metal fingers through his hair when your arm suddenly shot out, your fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt and hauling him inside as he let out an uncharacteristic yelp.

You slammed the door behind him and pressed him up against it, shoving your fingers under his collar and wrapping them around his neck before you smashed your mouth to his violently, clashing your teeth against his before shoving your tongue down his throat.

Bucky overcame his surprise quickly and grinned against your lips as he slid his coat off his shoulders before cupping your ass and giving it a squeeze.

Your lips left his suddenly, leaving him breathless. You gave him a small smirk before sinking to your knees and starting to undo his belt.

“You’ve been keeping this pretty cock from me baby. My pussy’s been gushing thinking about your hot length in my mouth.” You were kissing around the bulge in his pants as you slipped his loosened belt out of the loops and undid the buttons. He leaned his head back against the door and hissed through his teeth. He’d never had a woman speak to him like this before and it was making his cock ache. He jutted his hips forward and you rubbed your face against his cloth covered erection before drawing his slacks and boxer briefs down his legs swiftly, freeing his dick to bounce back up against his abs.

You spat in your hand and wrapped it around him, drawing a groan from his chest. You started peppering soft kisses along his shaft as you ran your hand up and down slowly. “God Bucky, you’re so fucking big, I can’t wait to feel this in my pussy. I need to taste your sweet cum first though honey.”

You softly ran one finger up the underside of his shaft, tracing the vein that ran from root to tip before dragging your tongue in a heavy stripe over the same path.

He wrapped your hair around his hand and let out a hiss. “Fuck, Y/N, who taught you to talk like that?”

 “Mmm, you like it sweetie?” You asked him wickedly as you ran your tongue over the sensitive slit along his tip, lapping up the pre-cum that was starting to collect there.

“God, yes.” He couldn’t believe how much the filthy praises you were giving turned him on.

“I’ll give you as much as I can honey, but I’m worried this cock is going to fuck out my throat.” You took him in your mouth then, relaxing your throat as you drew in his entire length, feeling his balls hit your chin as you swallowed around him.

“Shit!” he thought you were going to go slower and he almost came immediately when you hollowed your cheeks around him and pulled him out slightly before taking him in again, bringing a hand up to fondle his balls.

He braced his metal arm against the door as he started to thrust his hips, fucking into your face as you choked around him, tears streaming down your cheeks and drool leaking from the corners of your mouth.

“God baby, you’re taking my cock so good. That mouth of yours is fucking amazing.” His hips picked up speed and he gazed down at you. You looked sinful, a flush in your cheeks and over your chest as you gazed up at him through thick lashes. You moaned around his cock as his praise caused a fresh rush of arousal to leak from your cunt.

“You gonna take my cum down like a good girl?” His hips were starting to stutter and you felt his cock twitch at the back of your mouth. You let out a tiny whine and tried to nod as he shoved himself all the way in, stilling himself as you felt his release run down your throat.

He pulled his softening cock out of your mouth and wiped the drool from you chin before softly cupping your cheek.

“Stay right there for a second pretty girl.”

“Yes, sir.” You whispered at him, your voice husky now that your throat was raw.

He unbuttoned his shirt and rolled it off over his shoulders, then removed his undershirt and tossed it aside too until he was standing in front of you naked.

You let out a low moan at the sight. His muscles were sculpted beautifully, his chest dusted with dark hair that tapered to a happy trail that led down to his thick cock. The skin around his metal arm was scarred and puckered, and other faint scars were visible elsewhere on his body, giving him an air of danger and menace. Your cunt clenched as you took in the sight, biting your lips as you ached to run your hands over his body.

“Stand up.” He ordered you. He didn’t know what had come over him. He had spent months wanting to beg you for some sign of affection, but now that you were there kneeling in front of him, he just wanted to take it from you. And you were willing to give him whatever he required.

You drew yourself up slowly and he picked you up with one hand and wrapped your legs around his waist. He brought your mouth down to his and teased your lips open with his tongue as he carried you to the bedroom.

He knelt on the bed with you straddling him and started to trail rough kisses down your neck, sucking occasionally to draw a bruise against your skin.

As he reached your shoulders, he wrapped his metal hand through the chain around your neck and gave it a yank, snapping it off you. He drew the shoulders of your dress down, exposing your tits as you arched your back up to meet him.

“God Bucky, please” You whined as nuzzled his face into the valley between your breasts, his stubble scratching the skin there.

“You want something, baby?” he asked you wickedly, kissing slowly up the slope of your breast until he almost reached your nipple, then moved his mouth away again.

You groaned and wound your fingers into his hair. “Need your tongue on me, please baby.”

“Where did you want it sweet girl?” he asked innocently before cupping one breast in his hand and rubbing the nipple with his nose. “Did you want me to lick you here?”

“Yes, yes, fuck!!” His tongue swirled slowly around your nipple, drawing it to a sensitive peak. “God Bucky, that’s so good!”

He brought up his metal hand to palm your other breast and you gasped at the contrast of the cool metal against your warm flesh. He tweaked the other nipple and you groaned. “You want my tongue on this one too, honey?”

“Pleasepleaseplease….” You whispered breathlessly, whining when he moved his mouth where you asked him. You started grinding yourself into his thigh, desperate for release as your pussy quivered and wept.

“No.” He ordered, grabbing your hip with his metal hand and holding you still. “You don’t get to come unless it’s on my cock sweetheart.”

You let out a thin keen as tears leaked down your cheeks.

Bucky brought his face back up to yours, holding your chin with his other hand and kissing you hungrily. You cried into his mouth in desperation.

“You want this cock, pretty girl?”

“God, yes. Please, Bucky!”

“You asked me so nicely, honey. I’m gonna give you what you want.”

He gripped your dress in his metal hand where it had gathered at your waist, gave it a twist, and ripped it off you, sequins and beads flying off the bed and across the floor. He grabbed your panties next and shredded them, bringing their ruins up to his face and inhaling your scent deeply before tossing them aside and giving you a wicked grin. You bent one leg up to start to remove your boots when he slapped your hand away.

“Leave those on.” He growled at you.

He took a moment to pause and look at you, memorizing every slope and curve of your body. He spread your legs wide and gave a low moan when he got a look at your pussy, coated in slick and swollen with desire. He drew two metal fingers softly up the inside of your thigh before running them over your sex, coating them in your arousal and making you moan. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them clean.

“You taste so good baby girl. Maybe once I’ve fucked you stupid with my cock I’ll eat you out.”

“Unnhh, Bucky, give it to me.” You begged him.

“You need something baby? You gotta be specific.”

“God, need you inside me. I fucking need your cock. Bucky, please.”

“Alright sweetheart. You better have at least five orgasms on my cock sweet girl. Otherwise I might have to spank you.”

He lifted your right leg and looped your knee over his elbow, opening you wide as he brought himself up to your entrance. He slowly drew his length through the slick gathered there as you whimpered, then he slammed into you, bottoming out right away and knocking the air out of you.

“FUCK!!!” you screamed as you came immediately, clenching and fluttering around him as you went rigid and started to tremble.

“That’s one, baby.” He grinned as he started to fuck into you, not bothering to wait for you to come down from your orgasm. “Shit, this pussy was fucking ready for me. Look at you gripping me so good, like you’re fucking made for my cock.”

“God, Bucky!” you whined. “You’re so big, keep moving baby. Fuck that’s so good!”

Lewd squelching noises filled the room, combining with the slap of flesh against flesh as he drove into you hard.

“Mmm, you’re squeezing me so tight, honey. You gonna come on my cock again?” Bucky slipped a hand underneath your ass and tilted your hips just a bit and felt you clench around him.

“Shit, right there. God, I’m coming again. Don’t fucking stop.” Your face screwed up as your second orgasm ripped through you, curling your toes in your boots as your legs quivered with the strain.

“Good girl.” He praised you as you fluttered around him, your release soaking your thighs as it seeped out around his cock. “I’m gonna move you now, sweetheart, get ready.”

His hand moved under your waist and he wrenched you up until you were flush against his chest. The coarse hair there scratched against your sensitive nipples and you gave a soft whine at the change in position.

Bucky stared into your eyes. Your face was a mess. Lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin. Mascara and tears running in streaks down your flushed cheeks. Mouth open and panting with need and pupils blown wide as you gazed at him through your thick eyelashes.

You looked like the perfect mixture of sin and sex. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

He wrapped both his arms behind your shoulders and buried his hands in your hair, pressing your face to his and forcing his tongue between your lips and teeth, running it everywhere it could reach inside your velvety mouth, growling into you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and opened yourself up to him, whining as he increased his pace even more and you felt the tension gather in your core again.

“Give me another one, baby. My good girl. Show me how good that pussy is for me.”

You buried your face in his neck and groaned as you felt every muscle below your waist go rigid and another orgasm wracked you. You didn’t know if you could handle two more.

“God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good. This pussy is making a mess everywhere.”

He pulled out of you suddenly and you gasped, hoping for a reprieve. But he just flipped you so you were on all fours and slammed back into you, making you scream.

“Just two more pretty girl. Then I’ll fill this pretty cunt with my cum.”

You didn’t know how he could last this long as he pounded into you relentlessly. He drew you up straight suddenly so your back was against his chest and you gave a small whimper. Your throat was raw from him fucking it and from your screaming, and the only sound you managed to make now was a stream of unintelligible mewls.

You leaned your head back against Bucky’s shoulder as he brought a hand up to palm at your breast. His metal fingers moved to the apex of your thighs and started drawing rough circles against your clit. You felt tears leaking down your cheeks as your pleasure began to gather. He drove them into you suddenly and you let out a thin wail as your entire body went stiff before vibrating with your release.

Bucky guided your fall forward gently until your face was resting against the blankets. Your arms couldn’t hold you up anymore so they laid limply next to your face as Bucky gripped both of your hips and drew them back to him over and over. You felt drool leaking from your open mouth as you blinked slowly. You were absolutely cock drunk. The sheer number and intensity of your orgasms had made your brain short circuit. He really had fucked you stupid.

Bucky slapped your ass suddenly and you gave a sharp gasp as you came one last time, fisting your hands into the blankets to try to keep from passing out.

“Good girl.” Bucky murmured at you. You could feel the smile in his voice and you felt your cunt clench around him at the praise. His hips started to stutter and you felt his cock twitching inside you.

“You ready for me sweetheart? This pussy treated me so good, I’m gonna fill you up.”

You managed to moan out a single word through your hoarse throat. “Please…”

The wantonness in your voice pushed him over the edge and you felt his hips still suddenly as he released inside of you. The feel of his hot cum coating your velvety walls made you moan like a whore.

“Fuck, baby. That was so good.” He gently lowered himself on top of you and you felt him soften inside of you. He peppered gentle kisses along your shoulders and the back of your neck as he pulled out of you slowly. You gave a contented sigh as he rolled off you and headed to the bathroom. You’d never been fucked so well in your life.

You heard the water running and you managed to lift your head to watch Bucky return, holding a damp washcloth. His abdomen, thighs, and cock were coated in your release, glistening in the soft light of the bedroom as he walked back towards you and sat down on the edge of the bed. The sight of his naked form filled you with a renewed sense of desire.

Bucky rotated you carefully until you were lying on your back and brought his face down to yours and gave you a soft kiss before moving himself between your legs. You heard him suck in his breath sharply when he got a good look at you, drawing your knees apart to get a good look at your pussy.

“Fuck honey, you’re beautiful.”

The skin of your mound and thighs was flushed red where he had thrusted into you repeatedly and it was all coated in the evidence of your multiple orgasms. Your cunt was swollen and pulsing as his cum slowly leaked out of you, collecting in a small puddle on the sheets.

Bucky gently cleaned your thighs and mound with the cloth, being careful to not irritate your already sensitive skin. Then he worked your folds apart with his metal fingers and drew the damp fabric over your slit slowly, collecting his release from your entrance. You gave a groan and pressed yourself into the cloth when he tried to pull it away.

“Jesus, sweetheart, already?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and stared at him. “Bucky, you promised.”

He shook his head and tutted his tongue at you. “No, I said I might eat you out after I fucked you stupid. No promises were made.”

“Bucky, please?” You begged him, your voice husky with lust.

He gave you a look then moved to kneel between your legs. “Can’t say no to you, pretty girl. Not after this pussy treated me so good.”

You gave a soft chuckle followed by a gasp as he flattened himself on the bed and drew your left leg over his shoulder, softly kissing and sucking down the inside of your thigh before he nuzzled himself into your folds.

He softly licked at your entrance, lapping up the renewed evidence of your arousal as he dragged his tongue up and down your slit before he wrapped his lips around your tiny bud and sucked softly.

“God, Bucky! More…please…” You moaned at him, winding your fingers into his hair and pressing him further into you.

He gently teased two metal finger around your entrance before inserting them slowly, grinning against you as he felt your pussy flutter around them.

He started fucking them into you steadily while he gently sucked at your clit, crooking his wrist to hit your sweet spot as he picked up speed.

“Fuck! Right there! Don’t you dare stop! So, so, good! Please baby!” You started babbling, the pitch of your voice getting higher as he edged you closer to your release.

He latched on and sucked hard at the same time he added a third finger, and you came apart around him, soaking his chin and stubble as your thighs tried to crush his head between them and your pussy clenched and twitched around his fingers.

Bucky crawled back up the bed and laid next to you, drawing you to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You nuzzled your face into him and let out a low humming noise to show how content you were.

“God, it took you long enough, Barnes.”

He laughed and kissed the top of your head, pulling the blankets over the two of you and flicking off the bedside lamp.

“You know, you could have made a move yourself.” He murmured against your hair.

“And offend your World War II sensibilities, grandpa? You would have run away screaming.”

“Grandpa?”

“Whatever, you were scared of me. I didn’t want to frighten you off before you took advantage of your crush.”

“Right, crush.”

“Mmm, if this is how you fuck on the first date, what are you going to do when you fall in love with me?” You teased against his chest, your breathing growing deeper as you drifted off to sleep.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not going to fall in love with you. I promise.” He lied as he dozed off.

The snow was falling heavy over the city. And Bucky was dreaming about marrying you.

[shadlad24]

Five Funny Little Moments #30: Warrior…Princess…Tramp

Thanks for the encouragement, @screwyourdefaults! I’ll try again with these no matter how much fun I’m just not having with season two thus far, from an FFLM perspective. Anyway, without further ado… No, wait! CAUTION: I am bitter today! My stalker struck again mid-post-making and put me in an even worse mood. Sorry. / Skip this post if necessary. 🥲

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So, Joxer spends this episode in a different place than is oft-remembered overall. I almost forgot that he lusted after Xena first and even saw Gabrielle as a child way back when. Which makes his later pining for her even more scummy, but there you go. Also, he is not yet Joxer the Mighty but rather Joxer the Magnificent here, which I actually forgot. And now reminds me of Gurkhan. Yikes, Jox.

Meg is awesome; I’ll give this episode that. But while she is usually remembered for being illiterate, she was also innumerate (another thing I forgot). And, of course, hilariously weird. Or is it just Lucy who’s a whackadoo? ’Cuz I well remember when Meg popped out of that cake in “Soul Possession” singing and dancing to the original, uh, lullaby that Lucy apparently used to put to her son Julius* to sleep with each night. What does THAT even mean? Did she find her infant son sexy, and that’s why her song for him was her go-to while acting as a prostitute dressed in a very risqué bikini and trying to seduce a bummed-out god? And what does that say about Rob who presumably signed off on Lu’s decision? Ahem. Anyway, this scene is a reverse of that moment. Instead of singing a lullaby to a potential, ahm, client, Meg’s sings a barroom song to “her” baby. After all her effort to impersonate Diana too (not to mention, success with King Lias and Xena)! LOLz Okie.

Oh, Gabrielle. First, you insult Xena by not being able to tell her apart from an acquaintance or complete stranger, despite having lived with and idolized the warrior princess for more than a year. Then, you don’t have the sense to duck when her chakram is coming right at you! Need I remind you what happened to King Lias’s crown after Diana threw the chakram? Why take that chance if you weren’t sure who was in front of you? 😂 Even Joxer knew enough to not just stand there! (Also, I like how he and Xena mirrored each other’s expressions for a couple of shots there.) And, naturally, Xena vented her hurt/frustration by not only pulling that stunt with the chakram but also unnecessarily breaking a bunch of stuff belonging to the people she’s trying to help. LOLz, part …who knows?

Oh, really, Xena? Then why do you still feel guilty and let that emotion rule your life, eh? Yet another instance of Xena being unable to practice what she preaches. heh Ah well.

Hey, look! Each major character gets a highlight this time around! Yey. And we have another multi-point moment. Double yey. One, Princess Diana just knew Xena was going to be a dumb-butt yet again and send the guy “holding” the baby flying, and thus, the baby flying. Two, three, four, and five, her daughter uses her final close-up to prove that she is the angriest little lady in existence (adorable and amusing; and, really, who could blame her? 🤣), poor Philemon nearly wets his pants, the baby enjoys her flight, and Diana finally catches something! Yaaaaay! You go, princess! 😝 We’ll take that last part as character/skill development rather than a plot hole, since your inability to catch anything is what tipped Philemon off to Xena playing your decoy last season. Also, bye, sweet little family. 🥲 ❤

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Guess what! I think I may have finally defeated the bug! YAAAY! Also-also, my last post was my 250th! Yey. …Oh yeah!

Previous Season 2 FFLMs: #25 #26 #27 #28 #29

*Yup. Xenie hates Caesar, but Lucy named her son after the man and even considered naming her second son Roman. LOLz

[gwynrielendgame]

Nyx x Tamlin’s daughter

Okay so literally no one asked for this but I gotta write when inspiration strikes 😭😭but I got like a whole story line for these two in my head so if people like it I’ll write more

"They're late."

"They'll be here. Just give them a moment."

"I told you they wouldn't come. Tamlin has never gotten over his grudge."

"Anyone else think this is lame?"

"Why are we even doing this?"

"We need to make peace with the Spring Court. This stupid feud has gone on long enough." Feyre declared from her spot at the dinner table.

Nyx thought his presence at this meeting was pointless. It was not his duty to befriend his mother's ex-lover. Alas, Violet, his youngest sister, and him seemed to have been roped into this evening.

"It's been over a hundred years and Tamlin is still pining over you? Yikes." Violet unhelpfully chimed in. Nyx rolled his eyes at her.

"He's not pining over me. I do not know why he has held a grudge all these years, but that's what this meeting is for." Their mother responded. She was obviously nervous from the amount of squirming she was doing in her chair. She had yet to remain still since they all sat down together.

"My High Lord and Lady, Lucien has arrived with your guests." One of the guards entered the dining hall. Feyre let out a deep breathe and adjusted her crown. Something she always did when she felt nervous.

"Send them in."

Nyx had never met the High Lord of the Spring Court, so he was not sure what to expect. Tamlin walked in with more confidence than Nyx would have assumed. He certainly exuded authority. Shoulder length blonde hair, tall, strong build, sharp facial features. Nyx could understand why his mother was so smitten with Tamlin at first. Nyx quickly lost interest in Lucien and Tamlin when the third guest walked into his line of sight. It was a beautiful woman. He could already tell she was young for fae years, but her tattoos and scars revealed she had to be old enough to have lived through the most recent war. Her white blonde hair was pulled up into a half bun much like Cassian often wore his hair. The pieces that were down barely reached her shoulders but a few of the pieces were braided by her ears. She was almost as tall as Tamlin and athletically built. She was built like the Valkyries, all muscle. Nyx thought it made her more intimidating; though, the tattoos on her face made that apparent enough. She had black markings that started above her right eyebrow, curved around her temple, and stopped at her cheekbone. They appeared to be similar to the Illyrian tattoos except hers were harsher, blunter lines. Most Illyrian tattoos flowed and ebbed with the body. These facial markings had defined endings. Perhaps it was a language that Nyx did not know. The tattoos did a good job of emphasizing her sharp facial features. Prominent cheekbones and a long sharp nose along with bright green eyes and large lips made her face more intriguing than conventionally beautiful. She walked with so much confidence that Nyx was certain she was well sought after by many suitors. He would just have to get in line it seemed. He continued to observe her as they all took their seats at the table and exchanged pleasantries. Her face remained impassive though. She gave nothing away. She wore a pale pink dress that Nyx knew was meant to make her seem less threatening. He would not underestimate her no matter how much Tamlin wanted him too. Pleasantries were exchanged all around the table except for the woman who remained silent. Tamlin was less than social which ended up making the greetings more than a little uncomfortable.

"I apologize, but I do not think we have met before." Rhysand began. "Are you Tamlin's wife?"

Nyx wanted to laugh at that. She was much too young to be the High Lord's wife. Besides, if Tamlin had gotten married, Nyx would have heard of it. He was certain his parents would have too. A small smile finally graced her lips as Tamlin snorted a laugh himself.

"I am Isa." Is all she offered. Nyx watched as the small smile continued to play at her lips. She was toying with them. She enjoyed that they didn't know who she was.

"Isa is my daughter and heir to the spring court." Tamlin finally answered after a long pause. Nyx watched as his mother's jaw hit the floor which caused Isa to giggle. It seemed so out of character for the intimidating looking female that Nyx decided to make a game out of it. How many times could he get her to giggle like that in one evening?

"I was not aware you had a daughter, Tam." His mother tried to recover and seemingly failed. The nickname that slipped so easily from her mouth had the high lord's face hardening. Nyx stifled a groan at that. His mother wondered why this high lord did not prefer her company? Perhaps she should stop insinuating that they have known each other intimately at one point or another.

"That would be by design." The woman answered with a slight accent. He didn't hear it when she first spoke, but he could hear it now as the last word was sharper. He couldn't place the accent though. It did not sound like a spring court one, but it could be an eastern accent. It did not make much sense for her to have lived in Hybern or any of the other eastern countries, but he was not sure where else that it would come from.

"What do the tattoos mean?" Violet quickly changed the subject. She was too curious for her age and asked the first thing that popped into her head often enough. She was clearly as intrigued by Isa as he was.

"They protect me from the evils of man." The accent was heavier, but Violet was clearly in awe. Nyx would not be surprised if Violet came home with face tattoos tomorrow. The table became unusually quiet. His mother and father studied her with identical cocked heads. Lucien cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Witch." Amren accused from her spot at the head of the table. Isa's lips twitched into a half smirk, but Rhysand and Feyre were clearly unnerved. Nyx contemplated this new information. It would explain the accent. Young witches grow up in their coven completely isolated from the outside world. Most of the witches he had run into had a variation of this type of accent.

"Tamlin, I want this meeting to broker peace between our two courts," Rhysand started wearily. "But your daughter may not practice any witchcraft here. It only brings chaos and destruction."

Tamlin seemed unphased which put Nyx at ease. If her father was unworried then was she truly a threat? Only if Tamlin wanted her to be, Nyx supposed.

"You will find my daughter more accommodating than myself. If you want something from her, I suggest you ask her."

Rhysand looked towards Isa with raised eyebrows.

"Your lack of knowledge and ignorance of witchcraft is insulting at best. However, I suppose I shall limit my abilities to that of my natural magic for the remainder of the evening." She gave a shrug and finally made eye contact with Nyx.

She sent him a quick wink before turning back to Rhysand with the look of pure innocence on her face. Nyx knew in that moment that she would be trouble, and unfortunately for him, he loved trouble. Nyx looked towards his parents and began to feel unnerved by their expressions. They must know something about witches that Nyx did not.

Nyx had discovered quite a bit from them as he often liked to share a bed with them. They proved to be up for anything with no expectations or strings attached. He would not be surprised if they had a bad reputation though. He rarely paid attention to his history lessons and the witches he interacted with seemed innocent enough.

"My husband meant no offense." Feyre interrupted before Rhysand could say anymore. "We would love to learn more. Perhaps you could give our son lessons on your culture." She gave Isa a wide smile and offered her the first bowl of food. None of the food had been touched even though it sat ready to eat. Nyx guessed tensions were too high for anyone to think about eating.

He narrowed his eyes at his mother. If he were to take lessons from Isa, it would not be to learn her culture of witchcraft, but an excuse to spy on her and learn her strengths and weaknesses. His mother was more cunning than the fae gave her credit for. Isa seemed unphased by this offer, but accepted the bowl of food nonetheless. She was the first to begin eating. Once she took her first bite though, everyone else joined in.

"I would be much more interested in a marriage proposal than a cultural lesson." She said so nonchalantly that most of the table just stared at her blankly as Nyx spit his wine out.

"Sorry." He spluttered, quickly trying to wipe away the wine that dribbled onto his chin. Nyx looked to Tamlin to see that the High Lord was vaguely amused and his daughter was giggling. He noted the giggle in his head as one point in his game to get Isa to giggle. He was still counting it even if it was unintentional this time around.

"We are not arranging political marriages for our children." Nyx's father quickly recovered, only to watch Isa warily as he spoke. "We are allowing the children to marry as they see fit."

Nyx wished his dad would shut up. A beautiful female basically throws herself at Nyx and his father is shooting her down for him. He groaned internally. Nyx could have his pick of females. It was not as if he was lacking in that realm, but he wanted this particular female who was bound to cause chaos. Not that he wanted to marry her, but he had a feeling that she did not want to truly marry him either. After tonight, he had a feeling that the new rule would be that Nyx could marry whoever he wanted to as long as it was not Tamlin's daughter. Though it did seem like a smart move politically. Ever since his mother left Tamlin for Nyx's father, there has been bad blood between the courts. A marriage would be a good way to heal that after all these years.

"Does it appear that my father speaks for me?" Isa smiled as she asked the rhetorical question. Nyx could tell his father did not exactly know how to take that. Was she disrespecting him or being genuine? Nyx couldn’t truly tell either. Although, he had a sneaking suspicion it was the former.

She smiled more than he initially would have thought. Grant it, most of the smiles were sarcastic, but he assumed she would be more like Nesta just based on looks. From this small interaction, she already seemed more like Elain.

"Isa can marry whoever she wants." Tamlin waved his hand as if to say none of it really mattered. Nyx found it interesting that Tamlin would not seem to mind if she were to marry his ex-lovers child.

"Isa is a very odd name." Azriel noted. He had been observing the entire conversation, but had yet to speak until now. Tamlin rolled his eyes. It surprised Nyx how casual the high lord seemed. All the stories he had been told painted Tamlin as someone who demanded proper manners at all times. Isa giggled once again and Nyx was annoyed that he was not the one to win the sound from her.

"Her mother thought it was funny." Was the only explanation he gave. Isa, however, felt the need to embarrass her father.

"It is short for Isabelle and Belle means beauty as does Feyre. My mother thought it amusing to name me after the lover that jilted him."

Now it was not Nyx choking on his wine, but his mother. Violet began laughing at that.

"She sounds like a peach." Amren muttered while sipping on a glass of red wine. He would never have spoken back to the small, scary female, but it appeared that not much frightened Isa.

"She never took life too seriously. Everything was something to laugh at. She was good for dad." Her accent was heavier and her words sharper. Azriel's shadows began to change as if seeking more information on the mysterious mother.

The mother was a point of contention clearly. Nyx kept that thought bookmarked in the back of his brain for when he may need it next. Tamlin cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair. He looked every ounce a high lord as he started to speak.

"We did not come here to discuss her mother." A tough topic for him as well it appeared. "Some day my throne will be hers and I do not want to leave her with shambles. I was hoping that not only could we come to some sort of alliance, but that if Isa were to find herself needing guidance, then you and your court might aid her in that."

"Why would we need your alliance? Other than a unified Pyrinthian, I see no reason for us to help clean up your messes." Feyre narrowed her eyes at the male. For all her talk about bringing peace between the two courts, she was quick to antagonize the High Lord. Nyx thought his mother was more petty than she ought to be considering the circumstances.

"My court still suffers from your petty vengeance. I would not be so quick to forget, Feyre."

"It is not my fault that your lack of leadership has led your court astray. Perhaps if it was so easy for me to wreck your court, it was not strong to begin with."

Nyx cleared his throat as a signal to his mother that she was getting off topic. He could see his father squeezing her hand as well.

"You will find," Isa interrupted Tamlin and Feyre's back and forth, "that you might prefer me as an ally rather than an enemy." Her tattoos started to glow as if to emphasize her words.

Nyx could not remember ever experiencing glowing tattoos with previous witches, but Isa was also part High Fae which made her more dangerous. Their lack of knowledge coupled with her obvious strength made her someone he did not want to make an enemy out of. At least not yet. He would want to discover the scope of her abilities first.

"Would your coven aid us in war if we were to be allies?" Nyx said instead of allowing his parents to continue to antagonize them. Despite his parents ignorance, Nyx actually did know a few things about witches and where there was one there was many. Best to have them on their side in any sort of issue.

His parents gave him identical glares that cause Violet to muffle a laugh. Azriel and Isa stared at him with curiosity though.

"Would you beg for it?" Her words were heavy with insinuation. It had Violet and Lucien laughing hysterically while every other fae at the table gave disapproving looks. Nyx's eyes widened. She was much too bold for a princess. He needed to assert his authority once more. She had the upper hand against everyone too many times tonight.

"A witch has never asked me to beg before."

"There's a first for everything."

"Unlikely."

"I do not speak for my coven, but if it was found that aiding in war pleased the spirits, then perhaps." She answered seriously as she took a bite of her chicken.

"Or if it prevented extinction of your kind?" Nyx knew their numbers were dwindling which was a point of contention for many of the witches.

"Yes. Or that." She pursed her lips. Obviously displeased that Nyx knew more than his parents. He did not know much more than that, but he would never allow her to know that. He kept the upper hand as long as she was unaware of how far his breadth of knowledge went.

"We would not be able to return the favor. If your coven ever needed help, we could not give it." Nyx cringed as his father continued to insinuate that the witches were less than.

"We would never ask for your help." Her nose crinkled in disgust. "You have no respect for magic and therefore would never be able to help us with our own conflicts."

"I respect my magic."

"No. You feel entitled to your magic. You think you are owed magic because you are a high lord. Witches understand there is a balance to all life. A give and take. We would never take something we were not willing to give. My own father is proof that you do not view your magic in the same way. He was willing to align himself with the enemy for Feyre, only to not get Feyre in the end and be stuck in a deal with the enemy."

"Do not lie to my face. I am too old for that and I know that witches deal in blood magic all the time." Rhysand finally switched to his High Lord voice. It demanded the respect that Isa did not want to give.

"Because they are willing to give what is needed. It is not without consequence when we invoke blood magic. High fae, however, can use their magic for good or evil with no consequences either way. Do you view your death lords as better than us? Your own sister could have ended the world and still reaped the benefits, yet you view my kind as evil? Tell me, where is the justice in that?"

"Enough, Isa." Tamlin snapped.

"They sit here and disrespect my culture, Mom's culture, and yet you reprimand me?" She was incredulous that her father was not defending her. Nyx did not think it would help any even if he did.

"We meant no disrespect-"

"You have done quite enough." Tamlin glared at the High lord of the Night Court.

"We will use this as a learning experience. Ignorance is stupidity. If they choose to be stupid, allow them. Never lose your temper during a diplomatic meeting."

After a very tense pause, Feyre gave Isa a curious look before asking a question.

"What do you shape shift into?"

The question would have appeared to come from out of nowhere if Feyre did not know that Tamlin was attempting to keep his daughter from lashing out. Whatever she shape shifted into was dangerous. After a moment of stiff silence and a staring contest between father and daughter, Isa turned to me.

"I think I need some fresh air. Mind showing me the gardens?"

"It would be my pleasure."

[uwurakax]

another day ♡

pairing: oikawa x f!reader ♡

genre: angsty // exes // mutual pining ♡

summary: after the constant fighting and bubbling insecurities, you and oikawa both decide that breaking up is probably for the best. too bad that it wasn’t what either if you had wanted ♡

♡ read part one ‘save your tears’ here ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: super tired, i should be packing but im not lol, 4am gang ayyy. as always not proofread because i cannot stomach the idea of rereading what i wrote. this was what originally ‘save your tears’ was going to be, but part one got too long so haha. spoils of part one, so if you haven’t read it go ahead, or don’t lolol it could be read alone ig hurr hurr ♡

♡ (inspired by save your tears - the weeknd/ariana grande) ♡

At one point in time, you would’ve enjoyed an atmosphere like this; the blaring lights, pounding music, and even the heat radiating off warm bodies in a cramped space. It was much more enjoyable when you had the familiar, comforting presence of him.

Yes him: Oikawa Tōru. Also known as the the guy who broke your heart less than two months ago. You hadn’t seen him since the week after, finally being able to pick up everything and go. It was scary how silent it was between you two. The unit the both of you had made a home, your first home with him, just a little more barren. Just a little more bare.

Just a little more empty.

Once homely rooms were now plain. To anyone else, it could be called minimalistic or modern. Sleek if you were to exaggerate it. To the both of you however, it was just stone cold. A lifeless corpse. One poor imitation of what it once was.

And seeing it like this was almost enough to have your heart break for a second time. It was a physical representation of your relationship. The feelings of warmth, comfort, admiration, any and every word any literary body could ever akin to love was once found here. It was sad to see it gone, almost like it was never there. However if you looked past the surface you’d see all the small details of things that once occupied the room. The once full drawers now easily fitting clothes with plenty of room to spare. A countertop with products only to one half of the sink. The minuscule dust imprints left behind on the shelves that once housed your books.

The lingering smell of your perfume that was once so prominent.

You couldn’t tell, but Oikawa could. In the week you were gone, it slowly started to fade. The first night Oikawa was drowning in it. It clung to, what once was, your pillow and on the blanket. Choking and suffocating him with the sweet smell. He couldn’t bear to see the bed without you in it, and hated the God awful smell. Opening the window and facing away, he had a dreamless sleep that night.

And as the week passed, so did the scent of you.

He couldn’t explain why, but the moment he opened the door, his body felt at ease. His eyes blessed, even if you had those dark circles and slightly red eyes with unkempt hair. It was as if it was instinct to feel relief at being near you.

It was the longest few hours of Oikawa’s life that day, and somehow it was still just too short. Helping you gather your things, putting them into boxes and loading them into a tiny hired truck until eventually there was nothing left.

You were gone from the apartment, and now Oikawa’s life.

It was awkward the second time, saying goodbye. The finality of it all dawning on the both of you. You at least had this excuse to see each other once more. After this, there was nothing. No more reasons to come back, to call, message or even see each other again.

This was officially the last time you’d ever get to see Oikawa Tōru.

You’d both stood there for a few moments, only the wind against leaves and the occasional car offering any sort of background noise. Neither of you wanting or willing for this moment to end. Despite it all, it wasn’t hard to see that you both yearned for each other. Just how cruel it was that you couldn’t see it.

Oikawa kept your pillow close that night. The smell of you was so faint, he was sure that it wouldn’t be too long before it completely faded. As he held the plush item near his chest he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he could’ve had with you if he wasn’t so prideful? All the fantasies and white picket fences surged in his mind, and so he finally drifted off to sleep, thinking of you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Here”

You turned to see your best friend handing you a glass of, well you weren’t sure exactly but anything to dull your senses at this point was okay in your book. Yes, almost two months since your breakup and you were still so torn. It was what he wanted right? Your lives are better this way. You’re sure his is. He wouldn’t have to hear you “nag” as he so put it, and you didn’t have to feel the exhaustion resulting because of it.

It was better this way. You knew it. Oikawa knew it. Your friends and family knew it. Heck even the old ladies down the damn street knew it.

So why did it feel so shitty.

You downed the drink quickly, not wanting to go through the spiral of emotions you were sure you were going to experience. You’d deal with the pain and hangover tomorrow like the adult you were. For now you just wanted to dance till your feet hurt, and then drink until they stopped hurting. A quick descent into self destruction that you’re sure you’d regret.

Or maybe you wouldn’t.

The moment you turned your head to get back to the dance floor you locked eyed with him.

For a moment you stopped breathing. The music faded out quickly and the patrons of the club disappeared. Suddenly it was just you and him.

He looked good this time around, nothing like the last time you saw him. His perfectly fluffed and styled hair that was just so effortlessly Oikawa had become messy bed head. His bright chocolate eyes that twinkled just a little with mischief when he smirked had become sunken. His whole demeanour had completely drooped into a depressive state. It hurt to see.

He wasn’t like that now. He looked like how he had been before. No longer were the remnants of a heartbroken man. Oikawa Tōru had gone back to his charming self once again.

A cute girl with silky, long black hair approached him and just as quick as they went, everything came flooding back; the music, people and you found yourself being able to breathe again.

She touched his arm and laughed. The look in her eyes filled with the glimmer coyness. Her body language oozed with flirty persona. It was all too familial.

You should’ve guessed that he’d date again. It wasn’t like he couldn’t. The moment you both severed the relationship he had every right to do what he wanted. You did too. Sure you were seeing someone, but it wasn’t like that.

All too, touchy-feely.

It hurt to see, you weren’t going to lie. Seeing the way he touched her, held her, danced with her. For a good portion of the night you saw it. Seeing him be with her, the way he used to with you. No longer being the main character in his story; you were in the audience, watching.

You didn’t want to stay until the ending.

Without a word, you briskly brushed passed sweaty bodies, being bumped a few times before you finally made it to the door and opened it.

You walked a couple paces to the middle of the footpath, deeply inhaling the fresh air. It wasn’t suffocating anymore. You fumbled with your purse, reaching inside to pull out your phone. With the glow of neon lights emanating behind you, you saw a stray tear on the blackness of your screen.

Fuck, when did that happen?

You wiped it with the palm of your hand, and went to unlock your phone. As you prepared to send a text you heard the call of your voice.

“Tōr-Oikawa?”

He mentally winced at this, the formal tone of using his surname struck something inside. He didn’t like it, not at all. It wasn’t right, it felt strange.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here? You followed me”

“Right... I guess I just wanted to see how you were, that’s all” he looked away, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You softened at this. It just took you back to why you fell for him in the first place. The little things like this, that made you feel cared for and loved. Perhaps for a few minutes you could be delusional and pretend that Oikawa still cared for you.

“I’m fine, what about you? How is everything going?” Yikes. You cringed at how awkward you were being. You supposed that that’s how it was, not exactly friends and not complete strangers either.

“Yeah fine too...” he trailed off, and just like that you were brought back to that time before you left. Before the official goodbye. Not ready to end things just yet, but neither knowing what more to say.

Just for a little while, let me remember every trace, curve and detail.

You didn’t know what came over you, but soon enough you found yourself drawing closer to Oikawa. He looked at you with half lidded eyes, not daring to move a step, almost afraid if he did it would ruin this moment with you. Yes, it was selfish but...

You lifted your hand to cup his cheek, just like a memory from before. Using the pad of your thumb, you gently brushed over the soft skin. Ever so delicately, you traced down his jaw. The intimacy of your movements crossed a boundary between you. You knew it and he did too. You’d let yourselves be greedy though.

Oikawa raised his own hands to touch your face, perfectly ingraining it into his mind and body. His fingers slowly going over your features. He wouldn’t allow himself to forget any part of you.

It wasn’t long until you both wanted to overstep more.

The longing between you too great to try and stop. Eventually you both moved closer, faces and soul alike reaching for the other. Just a bit closer.

“Y/N?”

“Oikawa?”

You both frantically pulled away, heart racing now.

“Kageyama..”

“Tobio”

Oikawa tried to hide the venom in his voice, he really did, but when he saw Kageyama make his way beside you he couldn’t help but see red.

It didn’t seem like life was playing a very fair game.

“Oikawa are you alright?” He looked down at the petite girl beside him, now clinging to his arm. He threw on one of his brilliant smiles and told her it was okay.

“Are you cold? Here” Oikawa couldn’t keep up that smile for too long, not when he saw him putting his jacket around you. How you snuggled into the warmth. How it showed Oikawa that you were no longer his, and that you now found solace in another.

He couldn’t blame you, he knew that deep inside. He did the same, why shouldn’t you? It didn’t stop the burning hatred and envy he felt. The overwhelming sadness that enveloped him. All a heavy dump of emotions thrown on him within a few seconds.

You felt it too though. That girl hanging off his arm. Getting to parade around that Oikawa was hers. It was totally unreasonable to feel this way. You both ended things. It was mutual right? You would’ve told him and he would’ve told you if this breakup was a mistake right?

Right?

“Wanna go?” Kageyama whispered in your ear. You nodded.

“It was nice seeing you again T-Oikawa” you smiled sadly.

“You too Y/N...bye” you both turned away, walking in opposite directions. With every step, your heartache grew just a little more. Almost like your body needed to be near his, the memories it held being more truthful than your head could ever be.

Your heart, body and soul wanted Oikawa.

Your mind told you to let him go for his sake.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hey Oikawa?”

“Yes Kageyama?”

“Hmm?”

“He was your ex right? Oikawa?”

“That girl back there, is she her? The ex?

“Yeah he was”

“Yeah, she was”

“Do you still love him?”

“Do you still love her?”

There was a pause and you both stopped, mulling the question over.

Did you still love each other? It wasn’t hard to tell, everyone knew the answer. Ask any stranger but...

“No”

..

...

..

You both lied.

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut (maybe)  words: 3.5k

a/n: ah the sweet sweet smell of mutual pining. also 3 more chapters are planned, not written yet though bc i just decided i’d be writing them lmao. hopefully can get started on that this weekend and post them next week 🤗

taglist:  @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie @oikawasbooty @chocolate3010 @sugawarabby @greenyiplier @kritiiiii @tokyosdawn @youstydiaa @h3llok1ttygirl 

one | two 

Chapter Three

“You want me to help you with what?” You ask, a bit stunned when he showed up at the door, a terribly annoying but also cute pleading expression on his face.

He groans, his shoulders hunching forward in exasperation. “Ya really gunna make me repeat it?”

You peer closer at the top of his head and see that he’s being serious. The roots of his hair growing in are a dark brown and it had never even occurred to you that he dyes his hair the blonde color you’re so used to. “No, but why do you need my help?”

This is so embarrassing. Normally his roommate or a teammate can help him but none of them are available today and he’s already let the roots grow longer than he likes. But when one of them suggested you help him out instead, something inside him rebelled. For some reason, the thought of having you dye his hair for him made him uncomfortable, like he’s showing you an intimate part of him. This hair has been a part of him so long he can’t remember the last time he’d let it grow out.

“I can’t see if I got everything,” he admits. It took a lot of pacing around his room and staring at his roots for him to get up the courage to come over here to ask you. He can’t really explain why he was so against it, especially since you don’t seem to mind after you got over the initial shock of realizing this isn’t his natural hair.

A wave of relief washes over him when you sigh, conceding, “Alright. Just let me change into something I can get bleach on. I’ll meet you at your dorm.”

While he waits for you, he busies himself with mixing the dye together so it’s ready for you, and when you arrive in a t-shirt and shorts with paint splatters all over them, he mentally kicks himself for thinking about how even wearing something so simple you still look better than anyone he’s ever seen. Crossing your arms, you motion for him to take a seat at his desk. Before he does so, he reaches behind his neck to grab at the collar of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment, it taking you a second to process that he’s now standing before you shirtless and you’re free to ogle his muscular chest and arms to your hearts content. He doesn’t pay any attention to you, knowing if he meets your gaze, he won’t be able to stop the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. Instead, he wraps a towel around his waist to protect his shorts and sits in the chair to wait for you.  

Except now, you have free reign to stare at his back, which is just as defined as the front of him and you need a few more seconds to reel your thoughts back.

“Whaddya waitin’ for darling?” He drawls, throwing you a glance over his shoulder, not expecting you to be standing there frozen, eyes pinned to his now bare chest.

He opens his mouth to tease you further, but your eyes snap to his and you practically shout, “Do you have another towel?” He just cocks a brow and then points to his closet where another towel is hanging on a hook. Snatching it, you return to him and drape it over his shoulders, hiding most of his annoyingly toned body. “Don’t want to get any bleach on your skin,” you explain, no way in hell ever admitting to him that you’re finding it hard to focus with him on display like that.

Absentmindedly, he hands you one of the clips he bought a long time ago, one that’s almost completely bleached itself and you start running your fingers through his hair to section it. He closes his eyes, focusing intently on the soothing sensation of your fingers on his scalp, doing his best not to groan out loud at how good it feels. With anyone else, this isn’t anything special, normally he sits as patiently as he can whilst trying not to annoy whoever is doing his hair (lest they decide to ‘mess up’ as punishment). But with you, it’s a different feeling entirely.

It's jarringly intimate as you clip his hair back and reach over him to grab the plastic gloves that came with the dye. Lathering up the applicator brush, you start slathering it onto his hair, trying your hardest to make sure it’s evenly distributed and surrounding each strand. As you do so, you ask, “How long have you been doing this?”

He resists the urge to shrug, not wanting to jostle you, replying, “Osamu and I started in middle school.”

“Osamu dyes his hair too?”

“Yeah, he goes for gray. But I’d heard blondes have more fun so—here we are.”

He grits his teeth as your fingers skim over his scalp, glad for the towel you wrapped around him to hide the goosebumps skittering along his bare skin.

“Let me guess,” you muse. “You guys did it because people couldn’t tell you apart?”

“That,” he laughs, “And we thought it would look cool. The first time we did it, it looked like shit.”

Your answering laugh warms his heart as you unclip a section of hair and keep working. “I can’t imagine your mom being too happy about it.”

“Livid. We got bleach everywhere.”

You laugh, continuing to move through his hair methodically. It doesn’t take very long as you’re just dying his roots and they weren’t that bad to begin with, contrary to what Atsumu thinks. When you finish, he gives you a sheepish look and has to swallow his pride to ask you to help him wash it out. Every time he’s tried to do it himself, he always ends up leaving a huge chunk of bleach somewhere.

You oblige, following him to the bathroom, not bothering to care about the looks you get along the way. If they want to stare at a shirtless Atsumu and then glare at you for having that all to yourself, that’s their prerogative. It does wonders for your confidence, regardless that all of this is a ruse.

Luckily, the bathroom is empty and Atsumu dutifully bends over the sink to let you start washing the dye out of his hair. He’s immensely grateful his eyes are shut, and his face is shoved into the sink to hide his flushed cheeks as he thoroughly enjoys your fingers running through his hair. The sensation of your fingernails lightly scraping over his scalp makes him ball his fists as he has to bite his lip to keep from making any sounds.

You’re unbothered, until you notice the towel has slipped from his shoulders and with the way he’s bracing himself against the counter every muscle in his back and arms is on display for you to see. It’s an effort to continue your task as if nothing is wrong and force yourself to look off into the distance instead of eyeing him up.

It’s no easy feat. Especially when you finish and he rises, scrubbing at his face with the discarded towel before moving on to his hair. You press your lips into a firm line and let yourself indulge just a little bit looking at the way his muscles flex with the movement, droplets from his damp hair trailing down the planes of his chest towards the waistband of his shorts and—your attention is broken at the sound of him chuckling and you snap your gaze to his.

You find him staring at you with mischief sparkling in his eyes, so you speak before he can tease you. “Is that it?”

“We have to actually dye it now.”

“Oh.” You turn on your heels desperate to escape his gaze. “Let’s go then.” A smirk plays across his lips, but he refrains from teasing you, solely because he very much enjoyed the way you were looking at him and doesn’t want you to stop.

And yeah—sue him if he thinks about your hands in his hair for the rest of the day. In the end, he might be a little grateful no one else was available to help him.

When mid-semester break arrives, it comes as a surprise that you actually miss each other. What surprises you even further, is that he’s the one to bring it up. Within the first night, he video calls you, a sheepish expression on his face, explaining he needed someone to complain to.

“What do you mean?” You teased. “Sounds like you’re getting stuffed with good food from Osamu and you have plenty to brag about.” You winked, smiling devilishly at him and pointing to yourself. You’re only joking. Slightly. You aren’t sure what will come about if he tells his family about you, or if that’s even a good idea. It’d be much easier to break this off cleanly without the involvement of each other’s families.

He sighs, flopping down on his bed and scrubbing his face with one hand. “They’re just dyin’ to meet you now.”

Your brows lift, half-expecting him to have tried to keep this a secret. “You told them?”

“I wasn’t gunna,” he explains. “But apparently some college sports news channel caught um—,” he coughs awkwardly, remembering very vividly this day, yet the two of you haven’t acknowledged it since. “Our—uh—celebration.”

Eyes widening, you stare at him a moment before the both of you burst out laughing. Between your giggles you manage to say, “Oops.”

Laughing alongside you, he grins, despite the pang in his heart at the voice in his head desperately trying to remind him all of this isn’t real. You aren’t his girlfriend and the moment all of this ends, you probably won’t bat an eye at him ever again. He hates how much that hurts.

Forging onward towards his demise he discloses, “I am now a very proud owner of a very jealous brother now, so thank you.”

That only makes you keep grinning, setting a hand on your cheek and dramatically saying, “What? Of little ol’ me?”

He fights the urge to tell you that yes—jealous of little ol’ you. The girl who is slowly becoming the girl of his dreams. The beautiful, funny girl who deals with him and everything that comes with him. He swallows all that, keeping the mood and saying, “He refuses to let me try any of his onigiri. A crime, really.”

“Of the highest caliber,” you agree, stifling your laughter. “Though I’m sure you steal some when he isn’t looking.”

“Yeah, but he caught me and hit me on the head with his spoon.”

“How dare he. Lucky for me, my family is clueless.”

“What do they think yer doin’ right now then?”

Shrugging you say, “I told them I had a project to work on with a classmate. Which isn’t entirely a lie, I do have a project to work on. But someone interrupted.”

He smirks. “Wonder who that could be.”

“Beats me.” His responding grin does something to you that’s been happening a lot more frequently lately. Making you feel like all the air has been punched out of you and like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. Though, you’ve gotten quite good at hiding it.

In the distance, you hear someone calling his name. He panics, it’s bad enough his family knows about you now, but he isn’t sure if he’s ready for them to meet you. Especially Osamu, who he has the sinking feeling is already suspicious of this. It’ll be a miracle if he can slip this by him.

“Gotta go!” He says quickly, and before he ends the call, he hears you chuckle and say, “Beware the spoon.”

Every day his situation only gets worse.

The next night he can’t get Osamu off his back. Enough that when he tries to retreat to his bedroom to give you a call, pathetically missing you again, Osamu bursts in when he’s about two minutes into the video call with you. He tries to shove him out, embarrassed and afraid Osamu will see straight through him. But Osamu is stubborn, and he hears you laughing on the other end of the call before saying, “Aww, Atsumu won’t you at least let me try to charm the pants off him?”

He grits his teeth, the thought that he wants you to charm the pants off of him, not his brother flitting through his head before he can stop it. But he relents, letting Osamu sit backwards on his desk chair to join the conversation.

He isn’t sure how, but somehow you get Osamu to believe this is real in a matter of minutes. You have him laughing and talking about culinary school and he almost feels jealous that your attention is now on Osamu instead of him. It’s a ridiculous notion, he knows it, but it doesn’t stop him from keeping the camera on him as much as possible.

When the call ends, Osamu looks at him seriously, and for a moment Atsumu thinks he’s just been pretending to believe you this entire time. However, he breaks into a smile and smacks him on the back saying, “Got yerself a keeper, there.”

Atsumu tries to grin with as much sincerity as he can. Yeah—he knows he does. But that isn’t going to stop this from ending.

That night, both of you go to bed feeling like you’re getting in too deep.

And as per usual, when school starts back up again, neither of you bring it up. You’re happy to keep ignoring it, hating yourself for liking this arrangement and him more and more every day. It sad really, how much time in your day is spent thinking about him. Wondering if there’s any possibility that the two of you could just transition to a real relationship. Because to you, that’s already what this is. Nothing would change, but at least you’d stop feeling guilty every time you enjoy his hand in yours or the soft press of his lips to the top of your head.

A few days after returning to school, you find yourself alone with him in his dorm room studying. He’s sitting at his desk, hunched over a textbook while you lay on his bed, head propped up by an elbow. You can feel your eyes drooping, the words blurring together, it becoming harder and harder to stay awake. His bed is too comfortable and smells overwhelmingly like him, a scent you’ve come to enjoy every time you’re pressed up against him. A mixture of his body wash and the ever-present faint smell of the volleyball court. Eventually you’re powerless against the solace of sleep.

When Atsumu notices you, his heart jumps into his throat. You look so serene and peaceful, your chest rising and falling ever so slightly, part of him wants to crawl in beside you and press his face into your neck and fall asleep right along with you.

But he too has begun to feel like this game has gone too far. The moment he had to tell his family, lie to Osamu, he knew he’d crossed a line. It isn’t fair to you. No longer does he need to pretend for his teammates that he can have a serious relationship, there isn’t a reason to torture himself and keep you tied to him anymore.

Yet, thinking about not being without you, no longer eating lunch together, studying together, or having you in the stands at his games wrenches his heart in such a way he actually feels like it’s crumpling inside his chest. He hasn’t been able to admit it, but at some point along the way, he thinks he fell in love with you. And it just hurts too much to keep pretending. Especially when you’re only doing this for peace and quiet during your showers.

For you, he shouldn’t drag this on any longer.

So, a couple days later, you texted him telling him you were in the library and can join him anytime if he wants. A harmless text, one you’ve sent him many times since this whole thing started, but this one makes his heart sink. Knowing this is the opportunity he’s been waiting for to talk to you. He tries to not think about it, trying to let volleyball take over his thoughts, but it’s futile. All he can think about is saying those words to you, and how it’s quite possibly going to utterly destroy him.

But you take it well, as he expects, squashing the hope that you might feel something for him too.

That night in the library feels particularly lonely. There’s no quick-witted remark from the boy who carved himself a place in your life, no one there to make you laugh when you’re struggling with a problem. Instead, you’re met with nothing but the darkness and silence of the library. It’s almost too much to bear, and once the silence starts closing in on you—you force yourself to leave, refusing to let yourself wallow.

The next weeks are hard. He never imagined that he’d think that after all of this was over. He keeps showering in the mornings to avoid you and uphold the deal you two struck months ago. He ignores the empty hole in his chest when he eats lunch without you, or studies late alone. The most jarring thing is your absence at his games. He constantly finds himself searching the crowd for your face, before remembering you won’t be there. He misses that intense gaze he could always feel on his back, the one that kept him awake at night when he let his thoughts run wild.

He feels as though something has been ripped from his life, leaving nothing but a gaping hole behind that seems intent on devouring him whole.

The same can be said for you.

Who knew you’d ever miss his teasing remarks while you shower? Or miss how you could complain to him endlessly about classes and then have him comfort you in the warm solace of his arms? Even the little things like walking to class together, now that you do it alone, it feels like there’s something missing.

The two you go on like that, thinking of the other every night before sleeping, tossing and turning with the thought of what could have been.

And eventually, you reach the point where you’re over it. Over pining after him day after day, peering out your door to make sure he isn’t around, or taking detours just to avoid him in the hallways. You’re over it. Enough that you’re willing to swallow your pride and confess to him, even if he doesn’t feel the same way—maybe you can fucking move on then.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you stomp to his dorm room, his roommate opening the door; his eyes widening upon seeing you. Immediately, he grabs his keys saying into the room, “I forgot I need to go to the store Atsumu, see you later.”

He leaves no time for Atsumu to protest, out the door in a matter of moments, leaving you standing in the doorway. Atsumu is just sitting in his desk chair, looking dumfounded at you, having fully expected to never see you again.

The gears in his head grind to a halt as you say, “This is stupid.”

He gives you a bewildered look, unsure what exactly you mean by that.

You steel your courage and press on. “I like you. And you like me. I think. And all this pretending that we don’t is stupid.”

After a few moments, his lips curve into a smile, the mischievous one you used to hate but now feel relief seeing. He can’t help the joy building in his chest at your confession. How many sleepless nights thinking about this very moment did he endure?

“You said it,” he teases.

Despite giving him a look, you do nothing to stop the grin rising to your lips. “Well, it didn’t seem like you were going to.”

His smile only widens, and he motions you into the room. “Get yer butt over here already.”

You move on instinct, striding into the room and climbing into his lap, settling your legs on either side of his you wrap your arms around his neck. The overwhelming sense that yes—this is exactly where you want to be, washes over you. He smirks up at you, his large hands resting at your waist, waiting for your next move.

“I can’t believe I actually missed that stupid smirk,” you say, lowering your lips to his, fingers slipping into the short hair at the base of his neck.

His smile hasn’t faltered, muttering against your lips teasing, “Does this mean I can shower at night again?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, but he smothers it in another kiss and refuses to let go.

[jeongi]

cabin fever | jjk (m)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 8k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | fluff. smut. mild angst. exf2l au (?)

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering, unprotected floor sex (dongs better be wrapped irl), light dirty talk,  very soft, fluffy smut. jungkook is sad, soft babie.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | trapped in a cabin with your ex-best friend jungkook, you’re forced to overcome the fallout between you two. 

↣ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | cabin fever

“We're lost!” Seokjin shouts dramatically from behind the wheel. “Hopelessly and forever lost!” The van’s radio crackles and pops as the soft ooze of music sits underneath your friends’ bantering.

“You're such a baby,” says Namjoon as he smacks Seokjin with the map he's holding. “Relax. I know my maps.”

“You've only been here all of one time—” Seokjin spits back, his fingers clenching the wheel harder. You chuckle under your breath at their bickering, your body immediately tensing as you feel Jungkook adjust himself next to you. A part of you wonders if he’s still alive; you have no idea how he’s managed to sleep through the endless bickering- yet, there he sat, still snoring away. If you remembered correctly, Jungkook was almost impossible to wake up.

You ask yourself why you still felt somewhat nervous in Jungkook’s presence, and for the upteenth time, your memory reminds you of that giant nothingness that now separated you two.

Hoseok giggles behind you and your mood dampens further. His excessive, unwarranted giddiness irritates you on any given day, but today it seems extra warranted. How could you not feel irritated when your ex boyfriend is sat behind you, practically playing grab-ass with his new girlfriend?

You ask yourself again why you ever agreed to come on this trip, let alone agree to be stuffed in a van with an ex-boyfriend and an ex-best friend. And once again, you come up empty. You're sure there must be a reason.

“Hey, focus on the road!” Jyo-en shrills from the seat directly behind Namjoon. “Some of us want to arrive alive and unharmed.” Jungkook once again shifts in his seat, his shoulder pressing against your own and his mouth wide open. You can faintly hear the purrs of soft snoring escaping him.

Alas, your motives come to light. Frankly, you knew you were doing this as a favour to Jyo-en more than anything else. Her undying, one-sided pining after Seokjin had her on her knees begging you to go on this trip with her. There wasn't much that could ever reduce Jyo-en to such a state, but her affection for Seokjin's masculine wiles had been too much for her to bear. The fucker was just too damn charming and you couldn’t blame her either. From the broad expanse of his muscular shoulders, to the plump of his pink, full lips, you figure the chaos that naturally comes from his presence is usually heavily subdued by the sheer epitome of beauty that is Kim Seokjin.

Nonetheless, you had agreed to come on this trip, much against your initial refusal.

“Pipe down back there,” Namjoon shoots. “It could be worse.”

“Yeah,” says Hoseok, “Namjoon could be driving.”

Involuntarily, you snort. It isn't so much the humour that prompts such a response, but the bitterness you can't help but feel. However, that response is lost amidst the sea of laughter that now fills the van, save yours, Namjoon’s and a sleeping Jungkook’s.

Namjoon turns in his seat and glares at Hoseok. “Just because I don't have a license doesn't mean I can't drive.”

Seokjin chortles. “You literally almost drove us straight off a cliff the one time I let you drive.”

“You’re being dramatic. It wasn't even that tall a cliff…”

Beside you, Jungkook smacks his lips in his sleep, and sinks his shoulder further into yours. You absentmindedly wonder what he’s dreaming about.

Do you even care? Probably not. But the mental exercise in speculation offers some respite from the storm of emotion slowly and undeniably building within you. You glance back at Hoseok and Nancy, their disgusting buffet of PDA having no regard for anyone but themselves. You know for a fact you and Hoseok would have never done this. Turning away, your eyes once again fall on Jungkook.

You hope it's a dream better than this.

2:04pm [You]: ugh.

2:05pm [Yoongi]: Lol. What’s wrong?

2:07pm [You]: remind me again why i couldn't come tomorrow with you guys?

2:10pm [Yoongi]: Dude we've been over this, you couldn't swap spots with Jimin because he works tonight. It's the entire reason we're leaving tomorrow

2:10pm [Yoongi]: Is it that bad?

2:14pm [You]: between hoseok munching on his new gf and jungkook literally speaking to everyone but me,,, i’d say this is the car ride from hell

2:15pm [Yoongi]: Yikes

2:15pm [Yoongi]: Sounds about right, but I don't know what I can do from here...

2:25pm [You]: it’s whatever, tell jimin and tae i miss them dearly

2:26pm [Yoongi]: I’ll probably forget

2:27pm [You]: you’re the fucking worst.

You sigh heavily and lock your phone, haphazardly flinging it back into your lap. The van door opens with a whoosh and your eyes immediately squint against the intense albedo that now renders you temporarily blind.

“Did you just fucking hiss?” Seokjin asks, no trace of humour in his voice. You shoot him a silencing glare and he plays along to it, his hand shooting up to his chest as he fakes a few stumbles back. The effort to make you smile is that of triumph, the edges of your lips quirking up to a faint smile. Nonplussed, Seokjin continues. “Well, this is it!” He says with far too much enthusiasm for have driven nearly six hours. He reaches down towards the duffle bag by your feet and you swallow the bubble of discomfort that fills you when Nancy squeals behind you.

“This cabin is huge!” Her voice reminds you of Polystyrene rubbing together. It pierces your skull, scorches the skin on the back of your neck and you internally scream. Hoseok chuckles beside her and you can’t help but want to gouge out your eyeballs with a screwdriver.

When Seokjin swings the navy blue bag over his shoulder, his eyes briefly glance towards the still sleeping figure next to you, his face static in the grips of slumber.  

“Hey!” Without warning, a red glove speeds past your face and smacks Jungkook in the nose with a surprisingly satisfying thwack. Immediately, Jungkook jolts awake, shooting you an accusing glare so icy, the snow around you may as well be a sunny beach. Before either of you can react, the glove’s partner in crime follows and smacks him in the face again. “Well, good morning, sleepy beauty,” jeers Seokjin. “Now that you're alive, how about you start helping us move our stuff?”

Blinking in the new light before his eyes, Jungkook sighs explosively, half yawn, half exclamation.

“It’s sleeping beauty, you imbecile.” You think you hear him grumble under his breath. A part of you wishes he’d acknowledge you again like old times. Another- and you convince yourself, a greater- part of you simply cannot be bothered to care anymore.

“I think that’s the last of it!” Namjoon yells from the trunk of the van. You hear him close it with a loud thud, one arm holding a cooler, the other locking the trunk. Seokjin stands by the porch of the cabin, nodding approvingly at the progress. He checks his watch.

“I’m hungry,” he says, “Should we go into town?”

You groan in protest. “Dude, we just got here. You want to hop back in a stuffy van and drive, again?”

“Yes,” he answers without a beat.

“Yup!” echoes Namjoon. You have no idea how he heard this.

“Ah, food would be so good,” Jyo-en says as she comes up from behind you, a hand patting her stomach and a frown adorning her face. You can't help but roll your eyes; she’s not hungry at all.

“Food it is,” Seokjin confirms. Despite the peckish feeling that jabbers at your stomach, you're not certain your appetite can handle another car ride with them so soon.

“You guys go ahead without me, I had a big breakfast this morning,” you lie.

“Suit yourself,” he says with a simple shrug of indifference. Turning away to head inside, you hear Seokjin yell for the others. You’re not sure where Hoseok and Nancy scurried off to, though the list of possibilities is disgustingly short. As if on cue, they near stumble out of the room they had chosen for the night, their lips swollen and clothing frayed. You think you’re going to be sick, and a subsequent twist of your innards does everything but confirm the sentiment.

You need to get out of here. You desperately need to get out of here.

As quietly as you can, you pull your boots on and stuff a spare water bottle in your jacket. The door before you opens, and with a breath, you crunch your way into the snow covered trees. You should have worn something warmer, you scold yourself as you cross your arms over your chest and blow out a huff of air.

The air is still- too still, you think. Even the melody of chickadees sound too far away. Your breath comes out in stiff clouds, hanging seconds in the air before fading away. You shove your nose deeper into your scarf as you aimlessly wander, allowing your thoughts to get as lost as you’re about to be.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost be convinced it was four years ago. The way the wind nips your face reminds you of waiting for the train at the worst possible hours of the morning, despite the fact you only had the one class that day.

The rest of the day was for the squad.

This could mean anything from half-attempted study sessions (in reality, a thinly veiled excuse to gossip about your classmates and munch on overpriced cafeteria food) to skipping down to the neighbourhood village just down the street from your university for the far better food that was just as expensive. It could mean sneaking off between classes to a quiet staircase and into Hoesoek’s arms for as many fleeting moments the two of you could steal in a day. It could mean a walk down to the university bar for curly fries and maybe one too many drinks. Sometimes it was the train ride home, hand in hand and falling asleep on each other’s shoulders.

The wind was just as cold as it has always been, but you haven’t been. Somewhere along the line, something had changed. A whole lot of somethings. At some point or another, it all just started to come crashing down until now you stand, here, in a snowy field standing ankle deep in fading memories.

You’d ask yourself how it managed to go to hell so much, so fast. But you don’t feel like opening that vault again— you’ve had it closed for good reason.

The piercing caw of a crow snaps you back to reality. Your eyes open, and the freezing train stations and too-warm classrooms fade away with the snowfall. You feel the first snowflake hit your cheek and when you look up, another hits your nose. Whichever way you go, whether it’s memory lane or the slow, cold walk back to the cabin, it’s going to be a bitch either way. It doesn’t take long for your boots to become soaked, and it takes even shorter for your toes to begin freezing. Your only regret is you find yourself wishing you’d have noticed it earlier; you were too preoccupied with watching the sun’s last stretch across the mountaintops.

Your laugh is what Jungkook remembers the most as you two walked towards the train station on those cold winter mornings. The light fragrance of your perfume that overpowered the icy winds had always made you feel like home to him. And your laugh, the thing he missed the most. When was the last time he’d seen you smile? When was the last time he’d even talked to you? It seems a lifetime ago now.

Jungkook’s fingers hesitantly hold the black pen against his sketchpad as he allows the natural skill of his hand overtake the paper. The desk he’s sat on faces towards the blanket of white snow against a crisp blue sky. He sighs, the view of the mountain sheathed in nothing but white bringing him back to old memories of you.

He can almost taste the pork bulgogi he’d always order at lunch with you. One look is all you had to give in order to silently invite him to eat after class. It was that cocked eyebrow, the slight tilt of the head and he was already transferring money into his bank account. And your scent- soft and subtle against the cold winter air. Even if his lungs were crystalized by the cool winter air, your perfumed scarf still lingered to his nose. You’d always felt somewhat like a distant lover than an old friend. What happened? He happened.

Just as Jungkook blasts his Spotify playlist through his earphones, you walk through the front door. Unbeknownst to you or him, the cause of your melancholy sits on the floor above you in his room. Your hands are freezing, a soft curse escaping your mouth as your teeth clatter and you stomp your way inside. You’re covered head to toe in snow, a sudden icy flurry hitting you on your way back. Perhaps a spontaneous walk down memory lane was one of your dumber ideas but if anything, it was nice to get away from this bullshit for even a little while. And by the looks of it, you’ll be able to escape a little while longer as you stand in the foyer of an empty cabin. You’re alone with your thoughts once again. How did you get here? You ask yourself a million times over.

Shrugging off the weight of your coat, you unravel your scarf and land with a loud sigh against the brown suede couch. It’s a cozy cabin, you’ll have to give Namjoon that much credit but his need to treat everyone as equal despite obvious differences landed you in this more than miserable situation. Your fingers hesitantly uncurl, the heat already uncoiling the ice in your veins. You reach for your phone, the only notification being a “Merry Christmas” email from your dentist. You almost laugh at yourself.

4:04pm [You]: yoongs, entertain me

No reply, instead a big fat, red “not delivered!” pops underneath the message. You frown, annoyed at the world and mostly Jyo-en for dragging you along this getaway from hell. On top of this, the three people you’ve been wanting to see and talk to the most in the world won’t be arriving for another excruciating twenty-four hours. Old Man Winter chuckles to himself as he prolongs your misery.

Jungkook is mindlessly working upstairs, watching the flurry of snow coat the mountains and area around the cabin further. If it weren’t for the gentle ooze of Keshi in his ears, he’d be concerned by the rapid snowfall. His hand works diligently, his sketch near finished as he watches the sun set outside. Somewhere between the last of his shading and perfecting does the lamp in his room suddenly give out.

Silence.

You freeze as the world surrounding you goes absolutely still. The sound of heat coming through the vents stops, the lights flicker off and you’re approaching darkness as the sun settles outside. Fuck, you think to yourself. This could not be happening.

Reaching for your phone, your fingers clamour as you hastily give Namjoon a call.

Straight to voicemail.

You try Seokjin; it doesn’t even ring.

Panic settles over you, your flight or fight kicking in as you think of what to possibly do. You scour the main floor for a landline, anything that could be of use in this situation. Surely there was a maintenance number somewhere? It’s when you’re in the kitchen that you hear the footsteps above you. You freeze again.

Now you’re almost positive it’s an intruder ready to murder you. Like in those horrible, terrible horror movies. Although you’ve played a lot of Outlast, you doubt you could handle whatever the fuck has spawned upstairs. As the footsteps shuffle some more, you grab a knife from the counter and decide if you should wait to be murdered or move towards the sound like every idiot in those movies. But just as you’re deciding, the steps move rapidly down the stairs until you’ve panicked and dropped your knife, shrieking out of pure terror with your eyes shut.  

Jungkook stares at you in complete bewilderment.

“_____?” He cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows strewn together in genuine concern. His eyes fall to the knife on the floor, further confusion littering his mind. “Are you okay?”

The voice sounds familiar, too familiar and it pangs you to know exactly who it is.

Your heart plummets to your stomach when you tentatively open one eye and see Jungkook’s big doe eyes staring right back at you.

“Jungkook? What the hell are you doing here?” You put your hand to your chest and sigh a heavy breath of relief. “I fucking...thought…” You look back up at him, the furrow in his eyebrows suddenly flooring you with emotion. You haven’t really looked at him in ages, it feels.

“You didn’t go with the others?” His lips form an innocent pout as he asks. You haven’t realized how much you missed his boyish charm. It’s then that you find yourself observing him head to toe for the first time in a long time. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and (unintentionally, you convince yourself), the plaid red pajama bottoms you got him for Christmas three years ago. Is that how long it’s been since you’ve last spoken? He looks different, more confident, more tone in his body. Although his hair remains the same shade of brunette, it’s slightly longer and rests in natural curls. His jawline is even sharper, you note. From the small mole just under his lip to the faint cleft in his chin, you find yourself completely absorbed in how good looking Jungkook has gotten.

“N-no,” you’re suddenly stuttering as you catch yourself out of flagrant staring. “I thought you did—”

“Nope.” The tension brews around you two, both of you stood across from one another as sudden realization dawns on you.

“The power’s out,” you say and Jungkook nods in agreement. You really didn’t think this day could get any worse yet here you were. “I-I tried calling Namjoon but it wouldn’t go through.” Jungkook taps his pointer finger to his lower lip in consideration.

“Phone lines must be out too,” he said half to himself. “Must be a hell of a blizzard out there.” You shudder involuntarily as you remember the way the wind tore through you on the return journey to the cabin, and with the memory comes the bittersweet nostalgia…

You mentally stomp the memories out. Not the time, not the place. Not anymore.

“Well, I don’t want to starve,” you say as you start to feel your stomach glare at you hungrily. Maybe you should have gone with them after all. An image of Hoseok and Nancy sucking face flashes before you. You shudder again. It might still be hell here, but at least it isn’t a hell so deep as watching them. Besides, this is the most Jungkook has spoken to you in years.

“Fortunately, they left us with the food,” Jungkook says to you. “If memory serves correct there should at least be a box or three of smokies floating around somewhere.” He pulls on a sweater and rubs his hands together in an attempt to warm them up.

“What about the fire?” You ask.

“What about it?”

“Well, I don’t know. Can you start one?” You know for a fact you might be able to, but this isn’t the time for you to test your skills.

“Probably. It isn’t exactly rocket science,” he replies with a smart grin. There’s a small door just under the staircase that Jungkook opens with little to no hesitation. You had always admired how unafraid of the world Jungkook had always been. Perhaps those values washed away when he too walked out of your life.

You snap yourself out of it and roll your eyes. “Jungkook, you’re the least handyman person I know.”

“At least I’m remembered for something,” he replies as he dips below the stairs to search for wood.

You damn near have to stop yourself from smiling.

You’re not certain if it’s just the natural dynamic you shared with him, or if it’s completely circumstantial, but one thing was for certain; like it or not, you found the pair of you swiftly falling back in step with one another in more ways than you’d care to admit… and more ways than you’d care to remember.

It’s almost as if he hadn’t just chosen to vanish from your life for nearly three years. It’s almost as if it were like old times. What had happened to you guys? Why did he stop calling you?

For the umpteenth time, you snap yourself away from this. It’s too late. There’s no use in thinking of the past. You sigh and return to the kitchen, scouring, searching every cabinet and square surface for candles and matches.

A heartbeat or three passes, and a clonking of feet on wood alerts you to Jungkook’s return.

“I've got good news and bad news,” He huffs as he steps back onto the main floor from the cellar.

“Oh, god,” you start. You feel a slight panic coming on again.

“Good news?” He hefts a frayed and worn burlap bag. “I found firewood.”

“And the bad news?” You ask tentatively.

He feigns sadness before he brings out two giant bottles of cabernet sauvignon from behind his back. “There's all this wine, and nobody around to drink it,” he finishes. “Except us, naturally.”

For however brief a moment it was, you knew for certain that the flash in his eyes, the quick smile he now wore, you hadn't seen for years. It seems as though, if only for a split second, the old Jungkook had returned. Somehow sensing your revelation, the moment passes as swiftly as it came, and then a stone faced Jungkook returns.

“I-if you want to, anyway.” The coolness returns without indication, a coolness you are now determined to thaw out.

“I’m insulted you even think you have to ask,” you return playfully. A hint of colour returns to his cheeks, and a fraction of a grin returns. Silently, he sets about starting the fire while you work on opening the wine.

It takes you a second to realize that the wine is in fact corked, and you had not a corkscrew between the two of you. You glance at Jungkook, his back still turned to you, rubbing two sticks together or something. You really don’t know, and he doesn’t share; in fact, he seems quite absorbed in his work.

You glance back at the wine bottle. Taking the lapse in effort, you ask yourself if this was really worth doing- if this was even a good idea.

“Aha!” You hear a whoosh followed by a golden radiance that now permeates the space. “And that,” Jungkook turns towards you, grin wide and proud, “is how you start a fire.”

You’re not only warm, but impressed- leave it to Jungkook to be perfect in literally every department. You suppose he hasn’t lost that talent yet.

Though the feeling of pride quickly fades as you see the can of body spray in one of his hands and a lighter in the other. You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, silently calling him out on his middle school arson methods.

“It was ah, taking too long,” he adds sheepishly, rolling the can of body spray towards the corner and playfully tossing the lighter at you.

“Seokjin is going to kill you.”

“What for? Theft of his lighter, or his outrageous body spray? If anything, I’m doing him a favour…how are you making out with the wine?”

“We… don’t have a corkscrew,”  you reply somewhat dejectedly. That half-serious face comes about his visage once more as you see him wracking his brain, trying to solve the problem.

His grin returns. “Don’t worry,” Jungkook says after a minute. “I have an idea.”

“What a waste of a fucking match, oh my God!” You’re sure to sound extra exasperated as you watch Jungkook wrap the loose piece of twine around the neck of wine bottle.

“Do you want to drink or not? Let me work my magic…” Jungkook wears determination on his face, a tongue poking out, eyebrows scrunched together as he ties it once, twice until you’re sure even a wine bottle could choke. You watch as he carefully takes a match and strikes it with the expertise of a pyrotechnic turned for the better. With little hesitation, he lights the twine on fire, a burning noose around the neck of the wine bottle. It doesn’t take ten seconds for the glass to crack open. He’s two for two; at this point, you find yourself enjoying his company more and more.

You’re honestly mesmerized. “How…?” You ask. He lets out a soft chuckle, barely audible.

“It’s magic,” you hear him say as he shrugs. “I don’t have to explain shit.” Another eye roll later, you’re returning to the kitchen and opening the cabinet above the sink in search of wine glasses. To no avail, you find stainless steel coffee mugs instead.

“Is this even safe to drink out of? I won’t choke on microscopic shards of glass?” You ask Jungkook after your third and fourth glasses. It’s a little too late to be asking such a question but you’re sure at this point, your words are a little slurred and nothing quite makes sense. Inwardly, you realize it’s a moot point anyway, and with that realization comes that for the first time in longer than you can remember, you’re just trying to strike up a conversation with him.

It’s hard not to when Jungkook has planted a pile of pillows and blankets in front of the fire, the pair of you sat and drinking potentially lethal wine. Before you lies half-finished board games you two attempted to play yet failed due to sheer anger at the game itself or each other. You’re sure if you were sober, this would be a lot more difficult.

“Magic, _____.” Jungkook slurs, his cheeks flushed and that half grin he does so well. Despite a certain flutter in your chest, you scoff into your mug of wine, small bubbles splashing back onto your upper lip.

“Magic?” You nearly spit. “This isn’t Harry Potter, Jungkook. How exactly do you personally quantify magic?”

A quiet moment passes as he swirls the final dregs of wine in his cup thoughtfully.

“I’d define it as the things you do to me, actually,” he replies before downing the rest of his cup.

Are you hearing things right? Did that actually come out of his mouth? Is this happening? You glance at your own cup. What the fuck is this wine, anyway? You’re drunk. Both of you are.

Jungkook stands and reaches for the bottle, filling up his cup before topping up your own. You still sit in a stunned silence, observing as he tosses another log into the fire, a shower of sparks floating up the chimney.

“Wh… Where did that come from?” You manage. He waves his hand dismissively, breaking eye contact a moment.

“Next question?” He asks as he sips.

Feeling bolder now, you pursue. He isn’t getting away that easily.

“Okay. I’ll put it another way.” You pause to sip, the confidence now flowing nominally through your system. “What exactly happened to us?” There, you’ve asked it.

A silence now spreads the two of you apart, despite the lack of inherent distance between you two presently. Now it seems to be Jungkook’s turn to be stunned into silence.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing this entire time,” he replies. The stone is slowly creeping up to his face.

“You can do better than that,” you egg him on.

“What, now you believe in me?” He shoots back. The venom in his words would take you off guard if it weren’t for how earnest his was before you. He drinks again, gulping this time. He must be on his sixth glass now. You can see the same sentiment in his eyes that you hold in your heart; a universal now-or-never. This is the chance to lay the cards on the table. You know it’s going to hurt, but you know it’s necessary. He rises slowly to his feet, swaying ever so slightly from the wine.

“How about you tell me what happened to us, _____?” Jungkook almost shouts. “We used to be close. We told each other everything. I used to stay up late just to make sure you got home from class or work, I made sure you ate your meals, that your homework was completed. I cared. We both did. Maybe a bit too much...” With this, he sighs explosively and flops down onto the dusty couch behind you, his chin resting on his hand. “We used to be something. I don't know what, but it was there. And now?” He waves an arm absentmindedly towards the window. “Nothing but cold.” The irony, you think. But it's an irony that's been a long time coming, and a certain sick irony that could only come from him.

But the question sticks with you, more than you'd care to admit. Something had slapped you deep inside, and even still it reverberated within you.

No, you're not going to stand here and take this.

“You tell me what happened, Jungkook.” You uncross your legs and rise to your feet, striding towards him. “You stopped texting, calling. You stopped wanting to hang out, and suddenly there was this wall between us. You never even told me what I did.”

For a moment, he looks hurt, as though a thousand predisposed assumptions has just come hurtling down. He regains his composure, though barely, and through shaken words, he continues.

“No, _____.” His face softens. “It isn't what you did. It isn't anything you did, not really.” He's nervous now; his knee bounces, his jaw clenches. You're fairly certain he's beginning to sweat.

What isn't he telling you?

“Tell me,” you whisper. No venom now, merely curiosity, and perhaps a hint of something more. Your hand finds its way onto his own, and your fingers slowly curl around his palm. Contrary to your assumptions, his hand remains there. Even more surprising, his hand reverses and his fingers interlace with your own. A heartbeat passes, and his eyes meet yours.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, _____. I don’t think either of us did anything wrong. Passing ships in the night? Too little, too late? Just bad timing, is that all? Hell if I know.” He takes a deep swig of the wine. “We vibed. Hard. Everything about us was natural and made sense.” You have to agree with this, even now, not talking after so long- you two felt real, felt right.

“No, Jungkook, that’s bullshit and we both know it!” You insist. “You stopped putting in the effort, you stopped wanting to be in my life, you….” It hurts you, a sinking feeling in your chest as you choke out your words. “You wouldn’t even look in my direction the past however long ago it was that you decided to walk away from my life without a single warning.” Perhaps it’s because you’re drunk that tears spring. It’s a deep-seated memory that you’ve brought back, a confrontation that you had always convinced yourself would never happen. “And I don’t even get an explanation why?” This whole situation had to have happened for a reason, you drunkenly tell yourself. If fate really was real, this moment would be its poster child.

Jungkook is staring at you with a look you can’t quite read. You can’t quite decide if he’s about to cry with you or angrily escape this situation. Instead, he places his cup on the wooden coffee table and stands up. His walk towards you in confident, as if he’s ready to expel whatever it is that riddled him in shades of torture for as long as it did. He takes your hands, a slight shake in the way he grasps them.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you with him,” he blurts.

A moment passes, your eyes unleaving as you try and process the weight of his words in your scrambled, drunken mess of a mind. You with who? Hoseok?

“Him?” You find yourself repeating. “Why would you…”

Jungkook sighs and lets your hands go, his fingers moving up to rake his brunette locks away from his face. He’s definitely sweating, you note.

“Wasn’t it obvious, _____?

“B-but what about after we broke up, you could’ve—”

“Could’ve what?” He laughs humorously. “Could have gone back to the way it was before?” He cranes his neck to the side, the palm of his hand rubbing against the skin. “It doesn’t work like that, _____. I’m selfish for you but not that selfish. Staying away was better anyway... neither of us would get hurt.”

But you were hurt, hurt more than the break up itself because at the end of the day, all you wanted was your best friend and even he had left. “You’re such an idiot.” You can’t help but say. “Stupid, stupid idiot. How could you do that?” You want to punch him, slap him as hard as you can for him to feel any amount of equivalence in physical pain that he gave you in emotional pain. All those nights you had laid wondering what you did wrong had all been for nothing?

Your frown deepens, more questions than ever before emerging. “You liked me?” Had you ever even thought of him as more than a friend? You’re not sure you should even be asking these questions with vigour liquor coursing through your veins yet, you remind yourself that the liquid courage has brought you two here thus far.

Jungkook laughs once more, no strain of humour in the vibrato. “That’s an understatement.” He then mumbles and you’re left racking your brain. For a brief second, it makes perfect sense before you completely lose your train of thought.  “Besides,” he continues. “There’s no point in thinking what could have happened, I just—” There’s a pause as his chocolates in his doe eyes search yours for something. “Will you just let me kiss you right now?”

This takes you wholeheartedly off guard, your eyes widen as you speak with hesitance. “Y-you want to kiss me?”

“I’ve always wanted to, _____.” How does this phrase create such a powerful flutter in your chest? You wonder if it’s the alcohol or maybe, just maybe, a deep-rooted longing you;d never known you had in you.

Without answering his question, you kiss him first.

As your fingers reach for his face, Jungkook grapples your waist. You feel tiny in the palm of his hands, he thinks as he feels your lips against his for the first time. Jungkook feels as if he’s dreaming- perhaps the alcohol has something to do with that.

Red wine is what you taste the most, mixed with a subtle sweetness of mint. You drown in him, melt against him as he carefully engulfs you into his arms. The fireplace warming the space around is nothing in comparison to the sudden inferno in your chest. It’s then that you realize, this is what you’ve wanted all along.

Your hand slides down Jungkook’s face to his chest. He feels broad underneath your fingertips, a certain firmness to the touch that you hadn’t expected. He only brings you closer, arms wrapping around your torso as his lips press against you harder. His tongue is soft with your own, a gentle roll with your own as a certain heat builds up in your core.

Suddenly, it’s messier. Jungkook’s tongue swipes your bottom lip before planting a soft bite. It releases a whimper from you, earning a quiet groan from him. You’ve never thought this day would come. Are you dreaming?

When you pull away, Jungkook’s full attention is on you only. He runs a thumb over your wine-stained pout, his eyes large and completely enveloped in the sight of you. “I never thought I would get to kiss these lips.” He says.

You moan and lean in for another.

No matter how much your lips fuse together, how much you press yourself against his stronger hold, you cannot get enough nor do you want this to end. It feels right, comfortable to be in his embrace like this, his mouth against yours and chests connected. It’s not long before you’re both succumbing to the fall on your knees against the self-made bed Jungkook made of old blankets and pillows. It’s cozy, neither of you wasting time to run upstairs to a proper bed. You think this is the most romantic setting you could have ever hoped for.

It’s when you’re suddenly on top of Jungkook that you feel a growth settle underneath your core. You feel the sheer girth of it as your kissing intensifies, two large hands coming to rest upon your thighs as they persuade your hips to skim over it. You gasp at the feeling, sure that you’re already soaked beyond measure. It’s not hard for you to already feel him like this, the thin veil of his pajama bottoms being the only barrier away from you having it in you. The thought arouses you far too much, leading to a harsher grind that has you both moan out. You haven’t been touched in a long while.

Jungkook’s hands travel up your sides until he’s cupped both of your cheeks in each palm. Your lips are guided once again to his own as he places a hard kiss against you. With each fleeting moment, your want for him intensifies. You can’t help but think this was meant to be, that you’ve wanted this somewhere deep within you. Perhaps the old you was looking out for the future you.

It’s with both hesitance and confidence that Jungkook inches your sweater up. His hands feel warm against your bare torso, a shiver running through you when they lazily travels up and down your sides. As you pull away, Jungkook gives you that lopsided grin you hadn’t realized you’ve missed dearly until this moment. It almost feels as if nothing has changed, as if there hadn’t been a giant nothingness between you two for so long.

“You look so beautiful.” Jungkook whispers, his right hand reaching to push a strand of hair away from your face. He helps you guide your shirt off before a thumb strokes your cheek, and then your lips. You softly bite it and receive a contempt groan in response.

“Yours too,” you gently urge as you play with the hem of his white shirt. Jungkook grins and lifts his torso before pulling the fabric over his head. He does not hesitate to kiss you again.

With each kiss, the intensity grows until you’re sure you’ve caused a puddle in your pants as you shamelessly grind your cunt against a very erect bulge in Jungkook’s pants. He feels so firm, more built than you could have ever imagined as he pulls you tighter against him. You’re slowly losing your mind before you decide to take the initiative.

“Jungkook,” you mumble against his mouth.

“Hm?”

“Let me taste you.” Jungkook nearly unravels just from those words alone.

“Yeah?” You nod, a coy smile spreading across your face as surely a heavy blush riddles your cheeks in a crimson red. Jungkook merely chuckles, planting a feverish kiss against your mouth. “You’re so adorable.”

You trail kisses down his torso, the definition of muscles in his abdomen driving you absolutely mad. You’re still unable to fully comprehend what exactly was happening yet you’re equally unable to stop yourself.  Jungkook helps you get rid of his pants, your mouth instantly watering when his erection lands against his torso with a soft thwack. It glistens against the golden aura surrounding you. He cocks his head to the side. “Think you can take it?”

If that’s a challenge you hear in his tone, it’s a challenge you’re willing to take. You might even think Jungkook remembers how competitive you are. You move down his body with ease before placing a tentative lick against the head of his cock. Jungkook’s hands immediately surrender to your hair, moving it out of your face until he’s made a makeshift ponytail out of his own hands.

“Fuuuck,” he drags out shakily when you take the whole of his head in your mouth. You suck just under his head, a certain ball of nerves that drives Jungkook absolutely mad. The hold he has on your hair acts as an invisible guide, in motion with his hips lifting does he simultaneously move your head down. “Just like that, baby.” You groan against his cock as you take more of him in your mouth. Jungkook is thick, girthy with a prominent vein that sits right where your tongue can trace it. He’s losing himself further and further into you as you begin a steady motion of sucking. Your hand holds the base of his cock as your mouth works wonders, earning you whimpers and curses from him. “So good, so good.” Jungkook gasps when you pick up the pace. It’s when he feels himself really about to lose control that he pulls you away from his cock, a satisfying pop following the disconnect.

“C’mere,” he murmurs before smashing his lips against yours. Though your lips are coated in saliva, his kisses have become sloppier, rougher as he cradles your torso with one arm before flipping you until you’re underneath him. “These have to go.” He pulls at your pants and you giggle with agreeance.

“That would be ideal.”

Jungkook undoes the buttons before tugging them down your legs. You’ve now got nothing on but your bra, a pale violet with a lacy trim on the top. Did you subconsciously know you were going to get fucked by none other than Jeon Jungkook today?

He pulls your legs apart, a satisfied hum escaping him as your glistening folds welcome him. “Fuck, _____.” He whispers as his thumb skims over your wetness. You suck in a sharp breath, the callous on his thumb sensitive against your cunt. You want him to touch you there.

It’s as if he can read your mind, the thumb now dragging over your clit. The sigh of relief you give only fuels Jungkook’s satisfaction more. He too would like to taste you.  

You cry out, hands grappling for his torso as he begins circling the thumb over your sensitive nub. “So wet,” he groans.

“J-just for you.” This makes Jungkook move faster with his thumb. He wants to feel you. Jungkook slowly slides the defts of his index and middle finger into you, your cry filling the space. He takes his time, feeling your walls clench around his digits as his thumb simultaneously circles over your clit. He’s amazed by how each thrust of his fingers causes you to coat them farther in your arousal. And you’re amazed by how soon you’re about to come. It only makes his own erection angrier and your cunt clench tighter.

“You coming, baby?” Never would Jungkook have thought he’d get to call you baby. You nod with vigour, each pump of his finger along with the relentless rub of his fingers causing your legs to shake.

“S-so fucking close...oh my god.” You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re— “Jungkook!”

He dips his head in between your thighs, his mouth instantly suctioned to your clit as his fingers continue their torture. With his tongue replacing his thumb, you come undone almost instantly, the wave of pure white, hot filth overtaking your entire body. You shudder, legs trembling as your fingers thread through the lush of Jungkook’s brown locks. Jungkook continues licking against your clit, flicking and sucking until you can no longer take it.

“F-fuck me, Jungkook- please,” you beg as your cunt craves for more. You want absolutely all of him.

Jungkook’s cock is ready, heavy against his palm as he takes ahold of the base and spreads your legs apart. His mouth is wet with your arousal, his chest littered with beads of sweat. “Your pussy looks so fucking good.” He remarks, letting the pink tip of his dick rub against your wet folds. You both moan at the sensation.

With one more rub of his head, he lines himself against your entrance and slowly pushes his hips forward. You think you could come instantly again. Jungkook’s cock feels amazing, full as your tightness grips with so deliciously, even he has to hold himself back from not undoing quickly.

“Fuck.” You let out as you place a hand on his chest, letting the feel of his cock overtake your entire body. He stops when he’s reached the hilt, careful to rock his hips out before slamming them back into you. You can’t help but cry his name out. “You feel so good.” You’re whimpering, the hand on his chest and moving to the back of his neck as you push his head forward to kiss you. He follows suit, beginning a rhythmic pace of his hips as you lose yourself further and further into him.

Jungkook kisses you feverishly, hot and wet against your mouth as he continues to rick in and out of you. His breaths are laboured, filthy words and curses escaping him as you clench around him with each thrust.

“Yeah, baby?” You’re losing your mind, already close to a second undoing. You know you’re going to come again soon. Jungkook takes your legs and places your ankles on his shoulder, plummeting into you with a force so delicious, you’re about to go delirious. You’re so tight, Jungkook can feel himself edging closer to his own end. “Fuck, turn around for me.” You do as requested, turning to your stomach. Jungkook pulls your ass up towards him and lines himself up once again. Without hesitation this time, he pushes into you, a new type of fullness that overtakes your innards. He feels so fucking good.

It’s a steady rock, your ass hitting against his pelvis as he continues a continuous motion with his hips. He’s relentless in his movements, the new position allowing him to reach deeper, feeling you clench tighter.

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook is moaning out. He grabs a handful of your ass, using it as support while he rams into you with no plans of slowing down. The room is filled with the sound of your skin slapping and your deep breath and moans. Jungkook knows he’s so close.

He reaches forward, first and second digit immediately gravitating towards your clit. As he rubs, the familiar rubber band stretches in the pit of your guts. You’re going to come again, you feel it.

It’s when Jungkook whispers into your ear how much he wants to come inside you, that you give out. It washes over you, makes you tighten your grip on the blanket underneath you as you clench so hard around Jungkook that he too comes with you. You feel the spurts of him fill you to the brim until you’re nothing but a puddle underneath him. You lay still, letting his fluid mixed with yours dribble out of you as Jungkook pulls out. It burns to have him away from you. You want him to hold you all night.

“Was that okay?” Jungkook asks, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. You nod in reassurance, twisting your head around so he can kiss your lips.

It’s then that your phone blares, taking you both by surprise. You rush to your feet, arms reaching for your phone when you see Namjoon’s name flash across your screen.

“Hello?” You answer with no thought.

“_____! Oh my god! Are you okay? There was a huge storm, we’re trapped in town until Monday- did I ask if you were okay? I think Yoongi—” The line fizzles out.

There’s a pause as you look at a curious Jungkook.

“It looks like we’ll be here a while.”

a/n: hey babies! so sorry for the long wait for this one! i really hope you liked it! it’s been in the works for a little while haha. this is my first fic back in a WHILE! and more to come soon! let me know what you think as per usual. i love you so much!!!!!!! and happy holidays to you, your friends and families ✨💞

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

The fact Jungkook and Tae don't post about jm in their PERSONAL ig say everything. Jikook exist only during work, the evidence is there. Tae and Jungkook think about each other everyday because they miss each other when they're apart. Taekookers are happy because they post in their ig profile and they're not forced by the company. If Jungkook is still close with jimin why he doesn't want jimin on his ig??

I don't have the answers honestly because I can't read minds so I don't know why Jungkook chose to post Taehyung and not Jimin, but maybe you'll have some answers for me. If Jungkook and Taehyung miss each other so much why did they travel separately? It's the second break they don't see each other... Yikes. You make them sound like two high school kids who can only miss each other and never spend time together when they're multimillionaire men who can meet whenever they want. Are you in high school, maybe and that's why you make them sound like Romeo and Juliet constantly pining for each other and not being able to do anything about it? Because actual adults like taekook can do something more than posting photos if they miss each other so much.

Also, Taehyung is always super active on social media when he's going to release music, look at the "evidence", it's been happening since 2019 and it's always around the end of the year. He has actually talked more about his music than about Jungkook and everytime he has talked about Jungkook it was in relation to music.

I know it doesn't feel nice that it could be just him promoting his music, but my evidence tells me it could be just that. Taehyung said he wanted to kill people on weverse after the dating thing he had, believe me he did not need Instagram to post whatever he wanted.