#a lot of you are just burning yourselves out for no goddamned reason

[spectordameron]

*gently takes your hands* Tumblr is no better than Twitter. There is a swath of negativity, holier than thou, stuck up attitude on this website just like there is on Twitter. At least on Twitter, people like that are called what they are: trolls. Do not feed the trolls. There is literally no reason to log onto this website to feed the machine of doomerism and negativity, then pretend we're better than other sites because "we touch grass." I assure you, majority of the blogs in every tag you can imagine, are not touching grass.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #14

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

The front door is shut with Jungkook's leg, his hands too busy fiddling with your dress as he tries to feel you up through the red material. Your mouths are occupied with kissing each other, tingling from the amazing sensation.

You're not quite sure how this all started.

One minute you were stressing over Hoseok on the way to Jungkook's home, whispering furiously to him so the driver couldn't hear you. The next your pretended boyfriend assured you Hoseok won't be a trouble anymore, shutting you with his mouth before you followed his slow but intense kisses.

"We're in a cab, Kook." you reminded him as soon as he pulled away, not too much though. Just enough to catch a breath before he went for another kiss.

"Relax, he's probably seen a lot worse." he said, not giving you a chance to respond or protest. And you went with it, because your dignity wasn't as important as Jungkook's lips were.

The only time when you weren't kissing was when the driver pulled in front of Jungkook's apartment building, while he paid him and helped you to get out of the car. When he did, his hand stayed placed on your lower back as he ushered you inside. Those five minutes in front of the elevator were intense, you both wondering who's going to make the first move. But as soon as that elevator door opened and you stepped in, Jungkook clicked the button on his floor before you both threw yourselves at each other. Your back collided with the elevator wall and you gasped, giving him a perfect opportunity to sneak his tongue in.

And here you are now.

"Jungkook," you whisper, feeling his breath ghosting against your neck.

"Hm?" he hums, sucking your skin there, the tips of his fingers grazing over your exposed thigh.

"I want you." you mumble, nails tracing his exposed collarbones as you wish he'd just take off the goddamn shirt, so you could see his perfectly tanned and soft skin.

"I want you too." he admits, your heart clenching at those words. It's something how he says it, so effortlessly and honestly. He makes you feel wanted without even realizing it.

He dives back for a kiss, tongue swiping across your bottom lip just to bite down on it. Not too harsh, just enough to make you groan both in surprise and lust. You can taste the little of alcohol he had on his lips, and you're certain your own match to his. Surprisingly, you sobered a bit during the ride, whether it was a shock of Jungkook kissing you in a cab where the driver just pretended he didn't hear your lips smooching against each other, or simply of you getting some fresh air.

Although, you're choosing the first reason.

"I want you to fuck me." you say bluntly, staring at his doe and dark eyes which soaks into your own.

His throat bobs at your words, bottom lip clutched between his teeth before he lets it go. "I wanna fuck you too," he says, "But are you sure? We both drank a bit."

Your senses are a little bit slowed down and if it weren't for Jungkook's mouth, your movements would be way lazier than they're now. But you're nowhere near drunk, knowing exactly what you want. And that is Jungkook fucking you.

"Do I look drunk?"

"No," he answers, but still making sure he keeps his eyes on you, checking your expression. "You're cutely affected by alcohol."

Giggling, you shake your head at him, seeing his mouth spreading to a wide grin. "What does that even mean?"

He takes a step closer to you, caging you between the wall and his body again. You can smell his cologne, wondering how he can smell so amazing after hours of being at the wedding and dancing. He clutches your jaw, surprising you by his rough movements as he turns your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. And you expect him to kiss you there, but he doesn't.

"That means," he starts, licking his bottom lip which you failed to see. "that you've stopped drinking just at the right time. Otherwise, I don't think I'd fuck you if you were drunk, especially if it's our first time."

Our first time.

This man is trying to ruin you, and he's completely clueless about it.

"So, are you planning to do it or are you just going to talk about it?" you ask, almost whimpering when his hold on your jaw tightens. He presses his nose against your jaw, inhaling as he chuckles.

"Keep talking and you're going to regret it."

Your core clenches, breath hitching which he hasn't failed to notice.

"Or what?" you press, stomach bubbling with anticipation of what his answer might be.

"Don't tempt me, sweetheart."

"I think I'll risk it." you smirk, amused by those darkened eyes that gives you an intimidating look, sending a rush of shivering down your spine but you don't let it show.

Provoking Jungkook has always been fun. Well, you never really provoked him in this kind of situation. But you find yourself feeling much more thrill and fun doing it now. You want to push his buttons, see what kind of exact person he is when he's clouded with lust and excitement. You managed to see a tiny bit of his dominating persona during the time when he went down on you. Maybe it's the natural curiosity that's rooted deeply inside of you, but you just can't wait to see him during sex. He seems like a person who likes to handle others, showing them what he's capable of. Just the thought of him being rough with you makes your legs tremble. Again.

The growl that erupts from Jungkook's throat is unexpected, before you're being turned around by his rough hands, chest colliding with the cold wall of his corridor. He pushes himself against you, hands groping your ass as your own are sprawled against the plain white wall. He gives you a perfect opportunity to feel his hardening length against the black slacks he wears. Your bottom lip is caged between your teeth, a single memory of his cock in your mouth makes you salivate, and it leaves you whimpering.

"I told you not to tempt me," he spits, lips brushing against your right ear. "But you like to disobey just for the sake of your fun, don't you?" he chuckles, but it's not one of those cute and bubbly ones he usually makes. This one's dark, low and amused at the same time.

You've seen so many different sides of Jungkook, but you barely get to see this one. Which is understandable, he's your best friend after all. Best friend who you have never had any sexual encounters with before. But this is different. This is like the same Jungkook you know, but he's like another person at the same time. It's confusing.

"Jungkook," you whimper, pushing your ass against his bulge causing him to chuckle at you.

"Are you being a needy slut for me?" he asks, letting the question settle into the air as he waits for your response.

He tenses behind you, maybe in fear that he crossed the line with you by calling you a slut. You're surprised yourself, and you never liked the whole degrading thing or someone calling you a bitch for pleasure. However, even though he just called you a slut, there wasn't an ounce of actual seriousness or that he meant it literally, despite how serious he sounded.

Just when a whiny and breathless 'yes' leaves your mouth, it's just enough for him to relax and continue with what he started. The tips of his fingers brush against your thigh, hiking up the dress as his hand disappears underneath it. Your whole body shivers automatically, leaving you speechless of how lack of control you've got over your body.

He traces the hem of your lacy panties, humming in appreciation and before you can dwell on how it sends another set of shivers down your spine, he's hooking finger exactly where your clothed heat is. Your body jumps backwards when he touches your clit, tracing your wet heat with gentle and slow movements. Your ass hits his hardening bulge, and this time you get to feel it more prominent and hardened. This turns him on exactly like it does to you.

He groans, teeth nibbling on your shoulder before he circles your clit. "So nice and wet. All for me, baby?"

Your heat clenches, desperate to feel something inside of you. All you can think of is how Jungkook's cock is going to feel inside of you. Is it going to hurt? You remember how you barely took him in your mouth, feeling the corners of your mouth being stretched for a couple of more minutes after you were done. Not that you regret it, it was worth every second.

When the palm of Jungkook's hand meets your ass cheek, you gasp into the wall. He doesn't have to say anything for you to understand what it was for.

"Yes, all for you." you confirm, voice slightly shaking.

Gasping, you moan right after he enters you with one finger kissing your shoulder. He slowly pulls out, before he enters you with slow strokes leaving you gasping all over again. He adds another one, praising you for being a good girl. You clench around him and he chuckles, but doesn't comment on it.

"That's it, gotta stretch you out." he says, voice raspier than before as he adds another one.

He's stretching you more than at the beginning, and you can feel the stretch slightly burn but it doesn't feel bad. You take his fingers well, clenching around his fingers no matter how many times he tells you to relax. You can't, it feels to good and if he continues with the slow strokes, you're cumming soon.

As if he could sense that, he slaps you with his other hand, chuckling when you moan out loud. It's almost too loud, but there's no time to be embarrassed over the fact you like being spanked. He curls his fingers, circling your clit with a thumb while he palms the sensitive flesh of your ass.

"So dirty, I didn't know you love to be spanked so much." he muses, an amused tone laced in his raspy voice.

If your mind weren't clouded with so much lust and eagerness to reach your end, you'd roll your eyes at him and tell him to fuck off. It's nice to know your thoughts are still the same, even when he's fingers deep inside of you.

The feeling of how perfect the pace is isn't long lasting, especially when he picks up his pace and pumps you with his fingers much more eagerly. He praises you each time he thrusts them into you, mainly calling you a good girl or baby.

A simple 'fuck' leaves Jungkook's mouth when he feels you clenching even more, tightening around his three long digits. But still, he manages to keep up the pace just the same, bringing you closer to your end. Just as you feel like that's it, you're cumming, it fades with a snap of fingers in a second. The amazing burn nestled in your womb and between your legs is long forgotten, a sigh of disappointment coming from you in response. It takes you a few seconds to understand what has just happened.

Jungkook pulled out his fingers, causing you to slowly turn around with flushed cheeks and an irritated expression which is understandable. But the young man just grins, slowly bringing his fingers into his mouth as he tastes you.

You gasp, staring at him with mouth agape as his eyes don't leave you.

"Mhm," he almost moans, tongue swirling against his fingers before he pulls them out with a soft pop.

"Why would you stop?" you ask breathlessly.

"I told you not to tempt me. Consider this as your punishment." he shrugs, lips twitching with a hidden smirk which you clearly notice as you huff a breath of annoyance.

"Are you serious?"

Punishments. You never talked about that. Plus, you thought your punishment was him manhandling you and spanking your ass. Now that you think about it, it doesn't make sense.

"Absolutely." he answers confidently.

"But I was about to cum!" you exclaim, not believing he just cut off your orgasm like that. It's called betrayal!

"Oh, I know. I could feel you tightening."

Instead of feeling embarrassed by his blunt words, and the fact your best friend says them to you, you're more annoyed. You were so close. You could feel how bomb orgasm that would be. But no, Jeon Jungcock decides to change that just for pure fun and punishment.

"Whatever. I'll just take care of myself then." you huff once again, making sure he gets a perfect glimpse of your pissed off expression.

You're ready to walk away from him, planning to bump into his shoulder just to emphasize your annoyance. But before you can even take another step, he's grabbing your wrists and pulls you closer to him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You don't let it phase you, although you can't feel your heart jumping at the sudden intimidating tone and look.

"To take care of myself. Since someone decided to punish me." Okay, that was kind of petty but you're pissed.

It pisses you even more when Jungkook snorts, his serious facade cracking as he starts to laugh at you. "Awh, are you mad baby?"

"Don't call me baby. You don't get that privilege anymore." you murmur, causing him to laugh again.

"And what privilege do I get?" he challenges you, cocking his brow at you.

"You can stand behind the door and listen to my moans." you answer dryly, knowing very well that you're not able to make yourself cum just using your fingers. It just won't work for you.

"As tempting as it sounds, I'd rather fuck you." he tells you, slowly reaching for your face before he kisses you. And you let him.

Your lips tingle from the rough kisses he delivers, making sure you feel his want and need towards you. Mind still twirling over the fact he said he wants to fuck you, and no matter how many times he has already said it, it bursts that bubble of arousal inside of you. Maybe it's because you haven't had sex for so long, or maybe because you haven't been touched this way — ever.

It should be weird you're so turned on over your best friend touching you this way, wanting to fuck you. But you're not. All you can think of is how amazing he's going to feel once he's inside of you. Jungkook swallows your every breath, before he's forced to pull away.

Smirking at you, he interweaves your fingers as he leads you towards his bedroom. You take that time to admire his muscular back and broad shoulders, the white shirt doing his body justice, not that he needs it.

Jungkook pushes the door from his bedroom open, leading you straight towards his bed as he turns around before he spins you, gently pushing you down his bed.

You help in surprise, giggling when your body funnily bounces, causing the corner of his lips to turn upwards as a soft chuckle leaves his mouth. He starts to loosen his red tie, eyes focused on you the entire time meanwhile you gulp at the filthy sight in front of you.

Fuck, how can somebody be so hot?

Plopping yourself on your elbows, you watch him taking the tie off but he doesn't throw it like you expect him to. It stays in his hands for a few seconds, twirling it between his fingers as he looks through his cocked brow at you. He tosses it at the end of the mattress, before starting to unbutton his shirt.

Licking your lips, you shamelessly watch him and almost disappointedly whine when he doesn't unbutton nor take it off entirely. If he sees your reaction, he doesn't comment on it but the confident smirk is just enough for you to know he noticed it.

He slowly makes his way towards you, knees plopping himself right next to your legs before he's hovering over you. You tilt your head slightly upwards, enough to see his close features before he kisses you again. This time it's slower, more passionate and leaves you breathless all over again. He urges you to completely lay down, your elbows betraying you as your back and head is met with the mattress again. He sits down on his knees, staring down at you with dark eyes and you almost raise yourself again, but before you can give him a glance of curiosity, you're turned around.

It all happens quick, one second you feel his arms around your waist and the next you're turned over to your stomach. A loud gasp escapes your mouth, your head already turned around to look at Jungkook. He just cockily smirks at you, fingers hovering over the zipper of your dress. He lets his finger scheme over your shoulder blades, gently caressing your exposed skin that makes you shiver underneath his touch.

"Do you really want this?" he asks, voice calm and relaxed like he's not ready to devour you whole.

You notice the sudden change of atmosphere, his tone serious yet soft. He's making sure you really made up your mind. He sees the way you patiently wait for him to touch you, leaving you pressing your thighs together. He's responsible for the ache between your legs. He sees it all, yet he needs to hear you say it again.

"Of course, I do." you answer, making sure you stare into his eyes which is quite troublesome since he's right behind you and caging you with his knees on both your sides.

He doesn't react verbally, all he does in response is slowly unzipping your dress while you press your cheek against his sheets, loving how flowery they smell. The room's temperature isn't low, yet it leaves you shivering when the cold air meets your naked back.

"No bra?" Jungkook questions, not hiding a mere surprise.

"This dress doesn't need it." you breathe out, your voice slightly muffled.

Again, he doesn't react verbally but you're shocked, gasping when he pulls your ass up. It leaves you on all fours, the dress slowly falling down your arms.

"Turn around." he demands, and you obey right away.

He chuckles, not wasting time with undressing you before you're left in your panties and heels. He leaves your dress on the floor, not bothering to properly place it somewhere less dirty, even though Jungkook's home is cleaner than yours. He doesn't care they can crinkle if they're tossed on the floor, and neither is it your priority.

All you can focus on is feeling his hands working on your heels, taking them off before he finally frees your ankles and the tight strap around it. Once he's done, he hovers over you again, pressing his lips against your stomach and slowly making his way up your chest. Your perked nipples don't go unnoticed by him, his doe eyes looking up at you before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Arching your back, you gasp while he swirls his tongue against it. The other one is occupied by his hand, molding the soft flesh in his huge palm. He does the same thing to the other one, his lips reddened when he's done. Your nipples look just the same, reddened with the attention they just received while still covered in his saliva. You shiver, meeting his eyes as he licks his lips.

You lean forward, kissing him while your arms wrap around his neck pulling his body even closer to yourself. He grunts into your mouth, arms holding himself as he tries not to crash you with his weight. Legs wrapped around his waist, you thrust your hips upwards making the two of you gasp. He's already getting hard, the bulge in his black slacks says it all.

You're remembered by the fact he's still fully dressed and you don't like that. Your hands already work on their own, unfastening his belt and zipper with needy and quick movements.

Jungkook's smirk is evident against your lips, but he doesn't comment on your sudden eagerness, if anything, he seems to like it as he lets you take off his slacks. He helps you take them fully, meanwhile your fingers work on his shirt. You've never hated buttons before. Just like with the slacks, he helps you take off his shirt too and slides it off his arms exposing his abs and buffed chest.

If you were turned on before, you're completely salivated over him now. He tosses it behind him, hitting the desk in the corner of his room making you giggle. He chuckles, hovering over you again before he's kissing you. You take that chance to feel his muscular back, nails gently scratching his soft skin as he grunts into your mouth.

"I want to—" he kisses you again, "fuck me." you finish, hands slowly sliding down his perky ass.

"Are you sure you're ready?" he asks, and you cock your head in confusion.

He's asking you that now? Again? You thought you're pretty clear that you want him. But once he sees your confusion and that cute frown you're about to sport, he explains himself.

"No, I meant— shouldn't I stretch you out more?"

Ah, he means that. 

"Don't flatter yourself, Jeon. You're not that big."

Oh, yeah he is. Definitely bigger than your ex. But who would you be if you didn't take the opportunity to bruise his male ego.

"Really?" he asks, his brows mockingly shooting up. "Weren't you choking on my cock just a few days ago?" he cocks his head innocently, but you see his fake facade.

He's enjoying this, even when you open your mouth and dryly swallow the lump in your throat.

"Fuck, you're so cute when you're getting flustered." he comments, laughing while he scrunches his nose.

Rolling your eyes, you decide it's better not to argue with him. You know he's right about you choking on his cock, you're not stupid. "Whatever," you murmur.

"And to answer your question, no. Just fuck me, I'm ready." you assure him, licking your lips while he eyes you.

He nods, reaching towards the nightstand before he opens the first drawer. He pulls out the foil package and rips it open. Since you're feeling bold tonight, you reach for his length, hand disappearing in his boxers where you finally feel him. He bites onto his lower lip, taking them off while you start to pump him. He's hardening with each pump, kissing you as your hands work their magic on him.

He pulls away and you watch him putting on a condom.

The sight of him doing something so intimate feels exactly that. Intimate, close and exhibit. You've never thought nor imagined you'd ever get this close to him. This is so new to you, just thinking that he's about to have sex with you drives you crazy. You've never thought you'd crave for him this certain way.

Of course, there were many times when your heart was craving for him. In a friendly way when you were in desperate need of a friend. But it wasn't just that. You needed him, Jungkook. No matter how many girl friends you've or can have, nothing ever compares to him. There were times when you felt like you're the one who needs your friendship more than him. You don't doubt Jungkook's friendship, of course not. It just often felt like it's you who values your friendship in more ways than Jungkook could ever imagine. Maybe that's why it hurt when he moved on with Kiko and barely got the time to text you, or even spend time with you.

Jungkook's fingers trail to your exposed legs, snapping you out of your thoughts. It's unreal how he brings you back to reality with a single touch, those soft but dark eyes of his dancing on your face.

"It's still not too late to back out," he tells you softly, caressing your skin like he's not talking about the possibility of ending this. "If you've got any doubts, maybe this isn't what we should do."

"Are you regretting getting this far, Jeon?" you ask, your voice neutral, yet the use of his surname  comes out almost cold.

His eyes flicker to yours right away and he quickly shakes his head, before he allows himself to talk. "No, of course not. I want this, if you couldn't tell." he snorts at the end, looking down to his hard length that's pressing against his stomach.

Focus, Y/N!

You look back at him, poking your inner cheek with a tongue before you sigh. "We both already did some intimate things. Don't you think that if I wanted to back out, I wouldn't allow all those things to happen?" you ask him softly, eyes filled with curiosity and a small frown settling on your brows.

"I'm just making sure," he mumbles, dropping those dark eyes for a moment while you're met with Jungkook that looks completely innocent. "I don't want you to regret anything. This is our friendship we're talking about. That's the most important thing."

If you weren't so freaking horny, you'd probably tear up from the honesty and softness of his words. He really is thoughtful.

"I want this, Kook. I don't think this will change our friendship. If me sucking you off and you eating me out hasn't, I don't think us having sex will. We're just young adults who need to blow some steam off, let's not overthink it too much."

He nods, agreeing with you as he bites his lower lip in thought. "Okay, because you're my best friend but you're fucking attractive and hot. And all I can think about is fucking you." he admits bluntly, causing you to gasp at his sudden words but you giggle.

You trace your hand down his chest, appreciating how firm it feels. "Good," you gulp, "Because that's all I'm thinking about right now."

Jungkook grunts, hovering over you before he kisses you again. His mouth works quick and needy, nibbling on your bottom lip to show you his desire while you're trying not to moan. It's almost pathetic how quick he makes you be so responsive and loud.

"Ready?" he asks between the kisses, his hand going between his legs as he pumps himself.

You can feel your heart in the throat, this feeling awfully similar to your first sex. That excitement and the feeling of experiencing something new, even though it's just sex. Minus the awkwardness and nervousness, of course. You really wonder how he's going to feel. Something tells you he's perfect in bed, no doubts. Just him eating you out made you see stars and brought one of the best orgasms you've ever experienced.

"Ready." you tell him, breath hitching in your throat as soon as you feel his tip parting your folds.

He takes his time, not entering you right away but making sure he smears the wetness between your legs to your clit and his tip. He stares down, brows pinched together and bottom lip tucked between his teeth, looking focused and almost as if he's savoring every moment.

Eyes flickering to yours, he releases his bottom lip as he spreads your legs wider. Giving him a soft smile, hand placed over his beating hard, you're surprised how fast it beats. It matches your own heartbeat, but somehow it leaves a peaceful feeling inside your heart. It's nice to know he's affected as much as you are.

With a careful and slow push, he enters you for the first time, taking into account that it's been awhile since you've had sex. The last thing he wants is to rush and possibly hurt you, just because he's impatient and horny.

Swallowing down the gasp that wants to escape from the back of your throat, you close your eyes and try to relax as much as possible. Luckily, Jungkook seems to be patient and he's still trying to fill you up at an incredibly slow pace. He even stops, checking your reactions with each push and inch he makes.

"Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you." he groans, but still manages to sound soft and genuine. It takes a lot for him not to thrust into you.

Jungkook hasn't been sexually active with anyone, the last person he had sex with was Kiko, his ex-girlfriend. That means you're not the only one who's been without sex for quite some time, even though Jungkook wasn't left high and dry for that long.

"I know." you breathe out, reacting to Jungkook's words. You know all of that, but the sudden stretch and slight burn you feel is unavoidable. There's nothing you can do and your body just has to get used to it.

Although, it seems like Jungkook wants to help when he starts to circle your clit. You suck in breath, your walls relaxing and taking more of him almost immediately.

"That's it," he praises you, continuing with it until he's all nestled inside of you.

He holds himself, still careful not to crash you underneath his weight as he lets you get used to him inside of you. It feels weirdly new, almost as if you forgot how dick inside of you feels like.

"You took me so well." he grunts, his length twitching inside of you before he gives you a sheepish look, like he's apologizing for being so needy and greedy.

"Fuck me, Kook." you murmur, your walls clenching around his thick length as he opens his mouth at the feeling. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer as you feel the ends of his soft yet thick hair.

"I'm gonna go slow at first, okay?" he asks, although you both know he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if you tried to argue with him, you don't because his reason and decision is understandable and all about you, he'd still do it his way to make sure you're comfortable.

Nodding, he's pulling out of you, a soft breathes leaving his mouth before he slowly pushes his cock inside you. He's restraining himself so much, his face twisted in almost painful expression. Legs wrapped around his frame, heels digging into his lower back, you pull him even closer causing him to get even deeper inside of you.

"You're not making this any easier, you know that?" he chuckles, shaking his head as he still continues with his soft and slow thrusts.

Your giggle is short-lived, especially when his length rubs around a very sensitive spot inside of you, a moan rippling out of your mouth. He stops, adjusting himself before he does it again.

"Stop," you gasp, causing him to freeze and look at you. "I don't wanna cum yet."

"Would you cum right away if I continued?" he asks curiously.

In other situations, you'd probably cackle at the fact you're having a full conversation during your sex. But all you can do is nod in embarrassment.

"Well, maybe not right away but I was getting there." you point out, causing him to chuckle amusingly at you. It causes you to slap his back but he doesn't seem to be too phased, your weak attempt to scold him doing no harm.

"Do you want me to stay still like this or...?" he trails off, causing you to snort at the absurd situation.

You can't believe you're about to laugh in the middle of sex, but Jungkook's distressed expression is priceless.

"No," you laugh, "just fuck me already."

He relaxes, even though he tries to hide it, before he gives you one of his famous grins. "Your wish is my command."

Before you can snort or react in any way at his funny words and the teasing tone, he's already pulling out before he smacks his hips back. It leaves you breathless, almost knock all the oxygen out of your lungs as he repeats the same process over and over again. Your heated skin meets his with each thrust, creating swift and rhythmic melody and just when you think it can't get better, he lifts your legs up and places them over his shoulders.

"Fuck," you breathe out, ignoring the cocky smirk he tries to hide again by staring at your connected bodies.

He fucks you like no one ever has, bringing you an euphoric feeling that you can't seem to get enough of. It feels too good to be real and embarrassingly enough, you've never known that sex could feel this amazing. Jungkook's skills are over the top, triumphing over your ex in all ways. However, with Jungkook's unstoppable thrusts there is no time to think about your ex or anyone else.

"Fuck, you're taking me so well, baby." Jungkook groans above you, head falling between your shoulder and neck, burying his face there.

You shiver, feeling his body pressed against you, his hot skin against your makes the whole atmosphere even more intimate. Years of knowing him, you've never felt this close to him.

"Jungkook," you moan, eyes rolling back when he purposely rub his length against that one sensitive spot he found minutes ago.

He knows what he's doing, and you can perfectly feel that little smirk he always has on his lips but surprisingly, he gives a peck to your neck before he pulls away.

"Can you get on all fours?" he asks, halting his thrusts as you whine.

You were just getting there.

But Jungkook isn't planning on ending anytime soon and when he sees your disappointment, he laughs at you. "Come on, on all fours and ass up." he tells you, your cheeks heating up at the demanding tone he sets.

He pulls out, leaving you empty and greedy for him. Obeying him quickly, you get on all fours as he requested and you yelp when he presses your back down. It causes your cheek to be pressed against his mattress again, his palm staying on your back for a couple of more seconds before he grabs your hips. He lifts your ass even more, your spine and back arched all for him. He palms your ass, grabbing the flesh into his huge hands before he's entering you all over again.

You gasp, clutching the sheets in small fists and when Jungkook notices this, he reaches for them and interweaves his fingers with yours. His chest is pressed against your back while he starts pounding into you at a completely new pace.

"Jungkook, ah—" you whine, your voice awfully whiny and soft to the point you can't recognize it.

"I know, I know." he grunts, tightening his hold on your fingers as you can feel your walls tightening around his thick and throbbing length.

"Fuck—so good." you moan out, shutting your eyes because you can feel them watering.

"You're gripping me so well," he rasps out, not halting his movements even a bit. "Gonna make you cum so hard." he promises, his small dirty talk causing you to moan again.

His balls slapping against your ass feels euphoric, just like everything right now, and it leaves you breathless and wanting to reach your end. Couple of more thrusts, Jungkook's soft grunts and his length brushing against your g-spot brings you the most incredible orgasm.

Mouth agape, Jungkook's unstoppable thrusts make you cry out his name as you're cumming around him. He fucks you through it, continuing even when you're growing sensitive and you whine at the overstimulation.

"I know, I know. I'm getting there." he grunts, hands grabbing your hips so tight that you're guessing they'll probably bruise later but you don't seem to care.

Clenching around him, it takes a few more pumps before Jungkook suddenly halts his movements and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. He's cumming, filling the condom with his seed and you wish you could feel him more.

And fuck, if Jungkook's low groan of pleasure isn't the hottest thing you've ever heard, you don't know what is.

And even though you've just come down off your high, the sound is enough to shoot a little bit lust straight to your core. Enough to leave you clench around him again, causing him to grunt in response.

His sweaty forehead drops against your naked shoulder, a shallow and quick breaths meeting your skin as he tries to calm himself down. It takes him a few more seconds of breathing in and out at a rapid pace, before his breathing comes back to normal and he slowly lifts his head off you.

"You good?" he asks, holding himself up with his hands when he realizes he almost crushed you with his heavy body.

You don't see him, but he scrunches his nose when he pulls out of you, overstimulation getting overwhelming for the both of you. When he manages to fully pull out, he quickly gets off you and plops himself next to you. You flip yourself on your back, eyes focused on the white ceiling as your chest heaves with almost identical heavy breaths like he did just seconds ago.

"I'm perfect," you answer breathlessly, stealing a glance at your best friend who happily lays down next to you, discarding the used condom. "Are you good?" you ask him in return, watching him grin as he ties the used condom full of his sperm.

"Oh, I'm ecstatic." he beams, standing up and throwing the condom in the bin near his desk.

"Are you always this ecstatic when you get laid?" you chuckle, trying not to let your eyes drop to his crotch that he doesn't even cover. He's shameless, walking completely naked to you while he doesn't even try to cover himself. It's not like you want him to anyway, but he clearly doesn't have any issue with nudity.

"It's been a long time, okay?" he jokes, tossing his body next to you without care, causing the mattress to jiggle under his weight. "Don't tell me you don't think the sex was mind blowing."

He looks at you, eyes dropping to your perked nipples before he looks back into your eyes.

"It was." you shrug, admitting it.

He chuckles, turning onto his side as he traces your lips. It catches you off guard, but you don't even blink while you try to look as natural as possible. You look at him, his hand dropping next to his body.

"This doesn't change anything, right? Our friendship, I mean."

You've to ask him, just to be sure. At first, you were the one who tried to convince him that none of this would affect your friendship.

His brows scrunch together for a short moment before he shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. Do you feel like something changed?" he asks back.

"I don't, but what if I will?" you ask, probably more yourself than Jungkook.

What if everything seems just the same right now but yesterday or in a few weeks, you'll feel like you shouldn't have done that? There's no turning back and you really don't want to regret anything. It's just your mind playing tricks on you. This is your friendship that could possibly be on the line after all.

"Then you'll tell me. I don't think there's nothing we can do. We both agreed to it and it doesn't have to be such a big deal." he shrugs, his voice putting at least some kind of ease to your nerves.

"I know that, I know that we both agreed to it. I really don't wanna sound like I'm already regretting it, because I don't. I don't want you to think that it's your fault or make you feel guilty. That's not my intention at all. It's just... I can't help but wonder if we did the right thing. What if this will fire back in a few weeks, months or years even?"

Your eyes are focused on the ceiling, despite feeling Jungkook's doe eyes silently watching you.

"I think you're overthinking this a lot. Let's just focus on the present. We don't have to have sex anymore. I told you, anything that makes you comfortable." he tells you honestly and softly, causing you to feel like a jerk for some reason.

You're stressing over something nonexistent while Jungkook is there for you and your crazy mind.

"I didn't say that. I still wanna have sex." you point out, causing him to snicker.

When you look at him, you can see the confident and cocky glint in his eyes. That's why you nudge his shoulder, snorting. "Shut up."

He laughs, slowly shaking his head. "Just don't fall in love with me. I know that I can be very irresistible but—"

"Oh, get over yourself, Jeon." you scoff, sitting up as you give him a perfect view of your rolling eyes.

He grins at you, hand touching your exposed back as he caresses your skin. "Never." he jokes, causing you to shake your head at his absurdity.

You just hope the next morning will be just as relaxed like this very moment is. You don't want your friendship to be ruined by lust.

But you'll have to wait until the morning comes.

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Pairing: idol!jaehyun x idol!f. reader

Special appearances: members of Itzy, members of 127

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: angry sex (jaehyun is a bit of an ass, sorry), unprotected sex, rough sex, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple positions, overstimulation, spanking, choking

Word count: 3k

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77 @mrg-jjh @keeach @the-universe-in-you-jjh @nootnoot-yoonoh @winniet @jaejoongiewifey-blog @iknowyuno​ @10chitaphrr @tamakikaname​ @ellethereal00 @michplusb​ (send me a message/ask if you want to be tagged in future fics)

A/N: this was a request sent by a lovely anon, i’m so sorry that i got carried away with this lol (and i hope it was what you wanted! apologies to members of itzy :)

“Jaehyun, could you take a picture of us?”

You handed your phone to him, smiling sweetly as you took up position with your members in front of the heritage building. Both of your groups were on tour together, which you were elated about because you and Jaehyun were secretly dating, only that Jaehyun insisted on pretending to be mortal enemies whenever a camera was around. It was a good ploy, he had explained to you, it would throw people off and make them think that you hated each other.

Except that sometimes it worked too well.

He took your phone from you, smirking the entire time, an evil glint in his eye. You knew that look, but you could only smile woodenly as cameras were filming all around you. He took a few steps back, raised your phone up, and you and your members posed as you waited for him to take a picture.

“Smile!” he said, clicking away, but you noticed that two of his members had joined him, standing beside him and making funny faces. When he was done he showed the phone to them and they all laughed hysterically, before walking away to join the rest of the group. Jaehyun handed your phone back to you, a wide grin on his face, a camera trailing him.

“Hope you like them,” he shrugged, “they’re not my best work.”

You took your phone from him, scrolling through the pictures, your members crowding around you to see.

“Hey, those aren’t of us!” Lia pouted, as you scrolled through picture after picture of Jaehyun, Mark, and Winwin. He’d obviously taken selfies while pretending to take pictures of you and your members. You looked up at Jaehyun, his eyes practically dancing with mischief.

“Jaehyun,” you sighed exasperatedly, and it wasn’t for show. “I asked you to take pictures of us.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he jabbed you lightly in the shoulder, “it was just a joke.”

“Well it’s not funny! I wanted pictures with my friends!” you fought to keep your tone level, keenly aware of the staff holding up cameras to your faces.

“What’s the big deal, it’s just a picture,” he said lazily, “I’m sure you have a billion pictures of yourselves.”

“That’s not the point!” you shot back, and you could feel Yeji tugging at your arm. “I wanted a picture in front of this building!”

“Fine! Give me your phone back and I’ll take it!” he yelled back.

“I don’t trust you anymore! You’ll probably take more selfies of your pompous ass!”

Ryujin suddenly jumped in front of the cameras. “Okay, cut!” she yelled, waving her hands in front of the cameras nervously. The staff just chuckled, and as they walked away you could hear them saying the footage was perfect. Jaehyun smiled.

“Good job,” he leaned in and whispered to you, before he walked away to find his members.

You were left seething, your anger very real. Yeji patted you on the shoulder.

“Don’t let him get to you,” she said soothingly, “he’s obviously doing it to rile you up, and it’s working. Either that, or he has a crush on you.”

She winked at you and walked away, and suddenly you had a pang of guilt that you were keeping your relationship a secret from her. Lia was the only one who knew, as your roommate she had to keep your secrets.

“That worked well,” she said, coming up to you and putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Too well,” you grumbled.

---

“And this is where we get ready for the concert.”

You were filming with a staff member, showing them around the concert hall backstage. As you walked by a doorway, you saw Jaehyun standing in the room, talking to another member. But as soon as he noticed you, a camera trailing behind you, he suddenly grabbed a towel that was draped over a nearby chair and pulled it in front of him.

“What are you doing, Y/N?!” he feigned shock, “some of us aren’t decent!”

You panicked for a second, but you saw that he was fully clothed behind the towel. “Very funny, Jaehyun.” You rolled your eyes at him.

He just snickered, and you were about to walk away but the staff member lingered in the doorway, pointing the camera at Jaehyun, hinting to you to continue your conversation. You sighed and entered the room.

“So are you ready for the concert tonight?” you asked Jaehyun, putting on your best interviewer voice.

“I’m always ready, Y/N,” he said with ease, smiling sweetly at the camera so that his dimples came out. “How about you, hm? I heard an awful lot of noise coming from your hotel rooms last night, hope you weren’t up too late partying.” He furrowed his brows at you, feigning concern.

You felt the blood rising to your face. “We were not partying.” Again you tried to control your tone, remembering Yeji’s words, but he was really pushing your buttons.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” he said, putting a finger to his lips and winking at the camera.

“Jaehyun, I told you, we were not partying!” you knew you were raising your voice, but you really couldn’t help it. Behind the camera, you saw the staff member smiling.

“Whatever you were doing, I just hope it doesn’t compromise your performance, that’s all.” He shrugged, putting his in-ears in and adjusting his mic, as the staff signaled for his group to head up to the stage.

You wanted to scream but he just walked by you, saying some last words to the camera before he headed up to the stage.

---

You hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together as you had wanted, most of your time spent in practice and preparation for the concerts. Your free time never seemed to match up with his, and whenever you could see him there always seemed to be cameras around filming everything. It made you annoyed and frustrated, and by the time the tour was winding down your mood was downright foul.

It was the last night of the tour and you were in your room resting, when Lia burst in.

“I just saw Jaehyun downstairs in the cafe, and he was alone!” she pulled you by the arm, and you barely had a moment to put your shoes on. “Go!” she yelled, pushing you out the door.

You made your way down to the cafe, excited that you would be able to have some alone time with him, but then you wondered why he hadn’t told you he had some free time, so you could spend it together. You figured he must’ve had a good reason, and just shrugged it off. When you caught sight of him, sitting alone in a corner of the cafe, your heart did a flip. Excitedly you ran up to him and slipped into the seat opposite him. He looked up in surprise.

“Y/N?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” you scolded him playfully, reaching to grab a piece of the croissant on his plate. He slapped your hand away.

“Because then you’d steal my food like that!” He looked at you with a stern face, and you thought he was joking, but his face didn’t change. 

You rubbed your hand where he’d slapped it. “Jaehyun?”

“I didn’t invite you here, Y/N, don’t you have some partying to do or something?”

You were blindsided. Tears sprang to your eyes, your face feeling hot. “What- what are you talking about?”

He suddenly started motioning with eyes, looking to his right side repeatedly, and when you finally got the hint you looked over. There was a staff member at the next table, a camera pointed at the two of you. You had completely missed them when you first walked into the room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” You slammed your hands down on the table. Jaehyun’s eyes widened, looking at the staff member out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t care, you’d had it.

“You can’t keep acting like a shithead just because there are cameras around!”

He looked affronted. “Me? Are you calling me a shithead?”

“You’re rude, and you’re mean, and you’re full of yourself!”

“Oh yeah? Well you’re a goddamn princess, and you need to learn how to take a joke!”

“I can take a joke, if it’s funny! And you’re not funny!”

“Well you’re not as hot as you think you are!”

You suddenly stood, your face burning up. “Why you-”

Jaehyun stood up too, signaling to the staff member to cut the camera. He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you out of the cafe. “Come with me.”

---

The ride up the elevator was silent, Jaehyun never letting go of your arm. You were still seething, and once you got to your floor you tried to wrench your arm out of his grasp, but he held fast.

“Stop fighting,” he snarled, gripping your arm harder. You winced at the tightness of his grip, but could barely do anything about it with the way he was pulling you along.

“Let go of me!” you seethed, but you could barely catch your breath keeping up with his long strides. He didn’t answer you, just swiped his card to open the door to his room, dragging you in. Once the door closed behind you, you finally succeeded in pulling your arm free, giving him a hard shove.

“How dare you!” you started, your voice dripping with anger, “I’ve had it with you embarrassing me in front of the cameras!”

He towered over you, getting in your face, his eyes hard. “You need to get a sense of humor, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that!” you were furious, unable to think straight, “Don’t ever call me that again!”

“Or what?” he suddenly got closer, his nose almost touching yours, the faint scent of coffee on his breath. His body was almost right against yours so you involuntarily took a step back, right into the wall. He had you trapped, his arms coming up to cage you in. “What are you going to do about it?”

You wanted to shove him, kick him in the groin, run out of there, but instead you fisted your hands in his shirt and crashed your lips against his.

He kissed you hard, his lips unrelenting, your tongues and teeth clashing. You kissed him just as hard, channeling all of your anger and making him feel it. You pulled and grabbed at his shirt, and he pressed his body harder against you, shoving his knee between your legs.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he said, breaking the kiss to suck harshly on your neck.

“Fuck you,” was all you were able to get out, because he was rubbing his knee against your core, your panties getting wetter the more he moved.

“You’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you,” he growled, his hands going to your hips, fingers digging in.

“You wish,” you responded sarcastically, tugging at his shirt to get him to take it off. Once he pulled it off you rubbed your hands all over his chest and abs, but he suddenly grabbed your wrists, pinning your arms to the wall.

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head at you, “I don’t think so, sweetheart. You need to take your punishment.” He leaned forward to kiss you but you turned your head, anger bubbling up inside of you at the pet name. He just attacked your neck instead, sucking so hard on your skin it took your breath away, and you were instantly glad you didn’t have any more concerts because the make-up artists would have had a hell of a time trying to cover up the marks he was giving you.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” you said, trying not to moan but he’d gone back to rubbing your crotch with his knee. You bit your lip as he kept at it, but then he suddenly picked you up and carried you to the bed, dropping you on it before he stepped back and started taking off his pants.

“Take off your clothes,” his voice was low, commanding, leaving no room for debate. You decided not to make it easy for him.

“Fuck you.”

His eyes narrowed, his upper lip twitching. You smiled, but it was the wrong thing to do. Suddenly he was on top of you, his full weight pushing you down onto the bed. His hands seemed to be everywhere, under your shirt, over your bra, down your pants. The rough way he was handling you was so arousing that your breath was coming in short gasps, heat rising through your body.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he growled, leaving a trail of marks down your chest as he rubbed a nipple over the fabric of your bra. You were panting so hard you could barely breathe, but you knew exactly how you wanted this to go.

“Hard.”

He barely reacted to your answer, but you thought you could see a hint of a smirk on his face. He paused only briefly, catching your eye as if to say you could still stop this if you wanted to, but you didn’t move, just stared him down. In a flurry your clothes were practically being ripped off your body, and when he got to your panties, he actually did rip them, taking a hold of them and tearing them at the seam. When you were finally naked on the bed he pushed your knees apart and settled his face between your legs.

You couldn’t help but cry out, because he didn’t start off gentle, not that you were expecting him to. You were expecting him to be rough, but you got a lot more than you bargained for. He’d never eaten you out like this, like a crazed man, his tongue harsh against your folds, sucking and licking until you were a thrashing mess. You tugged at his hair but he still wouldn’t let up, adding his fingers and ramming them deep inside you while sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Oh god, oh Jae,” you moaned, delirious with arousal, your body tensing as your orgasm hit. He didn’t stop, overstimulating you until tears pricked your eyes and your knees wanted to close around him.

“Jae,” you whined, “fuck…” you didn’t know whether to beg him to stop or keep going, your fingers still entangled in his hair. Finally he pulled back, lips flushed, chin shiny with your juices. His eyes were hooded, hair mussed, and he was so unbelievably sexy in that moment you would’ve let him do anything he wanted with you. Yet you still didn’t want to make it easy for him.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips.

“I’ve had better,” you replied in a bored tone. It was a lie, but it produced the desired effect. The look on his face darkened and he leaned over you menacingly.

“On your hands and knees.”

When you didn’t comply, just stared at him defiantly, he flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your ass up until you were on your hands and knees. He entered you without warning, but you were already so wet that he slid in easily. You whimpered at the stretch, your body still getting used to his size.

“I know you like this, sweetheart,” he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “I can hear it in your voice.”

Indeed you hadn’t stopped moaning since he’d started pounding into you, this position one of your favorites since he could hit so much deeper in it.

“Fuck…. you….” you could barely breathe, only managing to get out the words between his harsh thrusts.

Suddenly his hand landed on your ass with a resounding smack, and the impact of it went straight to your core, making your pussy clench.

“Hmm, you like that too I see,” he commented, and you could hear the astonished delight in his voice.

“Not at all,” you replied, fighting for a nonchalant tone, which was almost impossible with the way he was drilling his cock so deep and so hard into you. Another slap landed on your ass, followed by another, and another, and soon you were moaning so loud he had to stop for fear of getting a noise complaint.

“You’re a really bad liar, sweetheart,” he said, and you could hear the sly grin in his tone.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” you panted, but suddenly he grabbed your arms and pulled you up to him. Impossibly he quickened his pace, slamming into you so hard the room was filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping on skin.

“Don’t fucking test me,” he growled into your ear, and then he slid one hand up to your throat, the other one down to your clit.

You came with a scream stuck in your throat, as he constricted his hand around your neck, his fingers rubbing furiously at your clit. He fucked you through your orgasm, letting you go so that your upper body flopped back onto the bed. He pulled out, flipping you onto your back and throwing your legs over his shoulders as he entered you again. You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying out, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, seeing as he already had a smug look on his face. All you wanted was to wipe that self-satisfied look off his face so you pulled him down and kissed him, sticking your tongue down his throat until he was moaning into your mouth.

He came with a deep, guttural groan, the sound of it reverberating through you, triggering your own orgasm as he thrust deeply inside you one last time before his hips finally stilled. His lips never left yours, but the kiss softened, turned less heated, more tender, until he finally pulled away. He rested his forehead against yours, as you trailed your fingers up and down his back.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, running his finger along your jaw.

“Fuck you,” you said, smiling.

The corners of his lips tugged up into a smile. “Watch it, sweetheart.”

[costellos]

❥ ┋ ❝ nanami & where he’d take you on your first date together!

@densecloud​​ said: aaaa new ask game!!! can i request for 'court' & nanami? thank you so much toya!! ٩(♡ε♡ )۶

a/n: YES U CAN LESLIE!!! I had so much fun thinking of all the dates Nanamin would take you that I had a hard time narrowing down one... so I wrote for all of them! I think it gives a neat, interactive twist to your original request. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. <33

tw: none.

ask game: 💌 15 valentine’s day questions (closed!)

disclaimer: I’m anime-only outside of the prequel, so apologies if my character interpretations aren’t accurate.

Nanami is a planner. he doesn’t like going about things on a whim. that applies for work, his days off, and most notably, his first date with you. 

that isn’t to say he wouldn’t let you plan the date. no, Nanami just gets a certain pride taking you out. after all, he wouldn’t be courting you unless he had some sort of background with you. in this case, being jujutsu sorcerers has made you uncomfortably close. that just comes with working in a profession with so few colleagues. and with it being a horribly draining job, you’ve seen each other at your best and worse.

hence, Nanami lets you pick what kind of vibe you’d like for the date. he’d like to think he knows you well enough to plan something himself. but letting you have some agency allows him to gauge what to do. plus, the fact you’re not a Tokyo native lets him narrow down where in the city would be the best place to take you.

if you tell him you want something laidback, Nanami interprets that as a typical, casual date. nothing too strenuous. that doesn’t mean they have to be boring, though. he takes you to a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in Musashino. it’s tucked away in some alley, and despite its sketchy location, the interior is surprisingly cozy. locals chat quietly while university students scribble notes in tattered workbooks. it isn’t much, you’ll admit. it’s not much different from any other coffee shop. but the moment your mocha hits your tongue, you immediately understand why Nanami likes this place so much. it’s sweet without being overly sweet, chocolately and warm. like a hug from your best friend: familiar and comforting. Nanami tells you how he met Gojo while you’re here. it’s casual conversation. you learn that despite their contrasting personalities, there are few people that Nanami trusts more. maybe one day he’ll trust you as much as he does your shared colleague. it’s a thought that makes your heart as warm as your mocha does for your hands. (and while you may not know it now, Nanami already trusts you with everything.) you find yourselves at Inokashira Park shortly afterwards. it’s a surprisingly warm day in March -- why not enjoy the weather while you can? he comments on the history about the park. something about how it was privately owned by the emperor until the twentieth century. when you ask when the cherry blossoms will bloom, he tells you not until the end of March. you click your tongue. “hm. guess we’ll have to plan another date for then, huh?” “...I suppose we do.” he wouldn’t admit how warm his ears felt in that moment.

if you tell him you want something fun, Nanami will take you to the Edo-Tokyo Museum. he honestly doesn’t know how you’ve lived in the city for this long without visiting it yet. there’s something exciting about it, though; to be the person you share this experience with. he’s thankful for that much. to say the museum is huge would be an understatement. the building is massive. there are tons of exhibits to explore and even more sections to learn from. it’s... well... it’s a little overwhelming. yet Nanami is patient with exploring the whole thing. he doesn’t yank you from display to display. he lets you take it at your own pace, following you wherever you want to go, adding his own quips of information he’d learned from the several field trips he’s taken here as a child. after all, the museum is a staple. it’s one of his favorite places in the city. that’s half of the reason why he brought you here. the other half is because he loves that look of bewilderment you get on your face. the museum features an interactive exhibit of Old Tokyo, with employees strolling the streets in traditional garb. they chat with visitors and offer small gifts, and boy. your face just lights up every time they give you some dumb knick knack. when you smile at him, showing him the pencil you got labeled EDO-TOKYO MUSEUM in red lettering, he can’t help but feel the corners of his mouth twitch just the slightest bit upwards, too. such a small thing to be excited about. that’s why he’s so enamored by you, though. he feels a sense of pride when you ask if he can bring you back to the museum sometime soon. he just guides you by the small of your back as you exit the front doors, his lips with another hint of a smile, before saying, “there are plenty of other places we can visit together. let’s plan for it.”

if you tell him you want something different, Nanami finds himself stumped. there are lots of “different” places in Tokyo. Asakusa has the traditional temples, Harajuku has the wild street fashion, and Roppongi has the wilder night life. “something different” doesn’t give Nanami a lot to go off of. but he’ll digress. none of those places would be appropriate for a first date. so he opts for a great hot pot restaurant in Shibuya. Shibuya itself is a great date location. it’s what most foreigners think when they hear “Tokyo.” bright lights, edgy streetwear, huge crowds of people -- all mushed together in one district. it makes your head spin as he guides you through the streets. but where he takes you takes the best parts of Shibuya and puts it in one, little eatery. string lights dangle across the ceiling, twinkling as if it it was the night sky. it’s such a nice contrast from the neon lights outside. teenagers in streetwear morph into dapper, young professionals laughing amongst themselves. and while it’s still a little cramped, it’s not the kind that makes you overwhelmed. it’s cozy. people maintain their space. the hot pot itself is delicious. Nanami orders a little of everything -- some seafood, some fancy meats, a variety of vegetables, and two noodle options -- and God. the moment you take your food from that broth and put it in your damn mouth? ugh. heaven. it’s so savory, perfectly seasoned and just the right texture. the saltiness from the broth brings all the right flavors out of your food. you might have burned your tongue but it’s so good you don’t even care. Nanami laughs when he sees your eyes widen. he carries the conversation while you stuff yourself with noodles and other foods. just some stories about his life before sorcery, about his time as a stockbroker and how much he hated it. although sorcerery isn’t much better, he can at least help the people around him. it’s not much, but it’s better than helping some rich asshole get richer. “you know,” you tell him in between bites, “you’re a better person than you give yourself credit for.” “maybe,” he responds. “or maybe it’s just basic human decency.” he didn’t mean it to come out that harsh. and judging by your expression, you don’t take offense to it. or maybe you just didn’t notice. either way, he hopes you also don’t notice how quickly he turns away. there are much less obvious ways to hide his blush, he can acknowledge that. yet in this moment, all he can think of is all the goddamn hoops you put his mind through.

[mirrorforevers]

the wrong side of the bed • damon albarn/reader

smut with feelings, i guess. sorry if is this is too long – this prompt excited me too much. i hope you guys like daft punk - though this is not a songfic, but you’ll get why - and i promise i’ll write something not involving sadness and alcohol someday. this is unbeta’ed, and english is not my first language, so have mercy

thank you so much for the music teacher prompt, anon! hope you enjoy it x also, just in case you haven’t read my graham/reader fic yet, here it is too.

tw: unprotected drunk sex

word count: 4.477

Music has been a very important escape mechanism for you recently. Your job has been hellish, and getting your degree has also been a chore - in the midst of so many deadlines and professional disappointments what has been a light for you is Damon Albarn, your newly divorced music teacher who is old enough to be your dad.

You detail these little “buts” as a mantra whenever the subject is him, whether in internal monologues or when you talk about him with your close friends. You never really believed in relationships between two people of very different ages, and you felt like you needed to remember those details whenever you could to keep that completely carefree crush from becoming something you couldn't control.

You started taking classes with him every Saturday after you were cast on your city’s production of a musical. You knew it was a very small step for a career in the industry, but it was very significant for you. You were exhausted from any activity that involved learning given how tired you were from college, but learning music with Damon was definitely something that you didn't even place in the same mental category. It was with him that you vented about how your week was, how you missed your parents who lived absurdly far away from you, it was with him that you shared the small victories of the day-to-day that were too insignificant even to share with your longtime friends. Which is funny, since this symbolic relationship was built in a matter of 2 months. Damon, in the beginning, was very reserved and “gray”, and it was amazing how in a matter of such a short time he shown himself to be someone so energetic, observant and empathetic; although a little bit of a control freak sometimes. When the wild waves of life seemed to take you everywhere at the same time and left you lost, despite so little time in your life, Damon became a constant.

And it worries you.

What are you going to do when the money to pay for his classes runs out? Certainly, although significant, what you had seemed to be was, above all, a friendship of convenience. You were very different people, with very different aspirations, and especially at very different points in life. As much as you liked each other *as friends* and considered yourselves people you wanted close by, Damon had a well-lived life to sustain. He would not have time much less willpower to listen to your complaints and insecurities in a context that did not involve an exchange relationship. At least, that's what you thought.

Saturday was also one of the two days you could wake up late, so in addition to having a rare time for your leisure, you were able to rest at least a little more than normal. That particular morning, you noticed that there were two missed calls from Maggie on your cell phone. Maggie was one of the producers of the musical. She used to bring you very decisive and very good news. If she called you, you did whatever it took to answer her right away. An unbelievable wave of anxiety takes over you. “Hello, Mags, you called?” You say, excited, but very nervous. Dealing with people who have your dreams constantly in their hands is somewhat stressful. You bite your nails.

“Hey, Y/N, yes. Um. You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks for asking. What happened?” You notice that Maggie's tone is different. The funny thing is that everyone is always so apathetic in the artistic world, and Maggie was the only person you knew so far that showed any kind emotion.

“So… you were dropped.”

Ah.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“You… were dropped. We made some changes here and there and you won’t be on our show anymore. If anything changes again, we’ll call. I promise.”

“Thank you. Bye.”

“Good luck, kid.”

Um.

Your stomach drops, and for a moment you feel like you've been punched. Maybe you've been wrong all along.

My God. My God. My God.

You feel like your entire world has collapsed around you. There aren't even reasons for you to keep going to class. All that effort and money spent... are now in the trash.

Artists spend a lot of time investing in themselves. You always have to become better. Faster. Learn techniques. Reinvent yourself. Stay beautiful. And you don't believe that in your first real experience in this world... that happened. Most likely a friend of the director took your place.

My God.

You swallow the tears, after all, you told everyone you knew that you knew how this world worked and you wouldn't be shaken if something like this happened. No one is watching you right now - but you still feel that you would disappoint them if you cried.

But you couldn’t smile anymore. Nothing could take away your expression of shock and uncertainty.

Not even funny posts on Reddit. Not even funny memes sent by your friends in the morning.

Nor the message from Damon confirming the class of the day.

I won't be able to go today ☹, you type, and you erase it.

Hey, I got dropped from the musical. you type, and you erase it.

How are you doing? Definitely not.

I’ll be there! 😅 You hit send.

Hope we finally figure out that bloody solo, he replies.

You do not answer.

You change your clothes, without your motivational playlist playing in the background this time. The beginning of a great plan going on in your life was no longer there. You didn't even pick up your headphones and the subway ride was completely silent, except for the ambient sound.

You arrive at school, and Damon welcomes you with the usual tight hug, and wide smile. You give a yellow smile in response, and he immediately realizes that something is out of place. “Is everything okay?” His expression quickly changes to one of concern. Your stomach drops even lower. Maybe it hit the ground by now.

“I…”

You don't want it to end. Your dream ended, but not this, too. This cannot end. “Can we try another song today? One not from the musical?” You ask, exasperated.

“Uh… I mean-”

“Please?”

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" He laughs nervously. “But... the musical’s why you’re here. I’m confused--”

“I know, but pretty please?” You insist, cringing by now to keep from crying.

“Um. Sure – but did something happen? Tell me. I’m-I’m here to help.”

“I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Please.” You feel your voice weaken more and more. You don’t wanna cry, though your eyes are already burning. “Please, Damon.”

“Right. Okay.” He says, raising his hands in defeat. He starts collecting his material.

“What are you doing?”

“No class today. Something clearly happened and we need to talk it out.”

“I-I got sacked. But there’s no need to…”

“I got it. C’mon. I’m not a monster, I won’t charge you for talking it out. All we’ve worked for… fucking cunts.” There’s the visceral side of him. “You gotta tell me how it happened.”

“Okay.”

He only leaves your two chairs in place.

After you two sit, he starts. “This happens quite a lot in this world. And every student reacts the same.” Though this sounds a little too insensitive, you imagine it’s the truth, and his tone does the job of conveying his compassion. “Did they call you? Or did you find out through somewhere else, like Patti LuPone?”

“Huh. At least they called me. They just straight up told me I’m no longer in the cast.” You say, totally not comforted by that. But it would be even worse if you found out by other means. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Don’t let your spirit be broken by that – you’re really talented, and I don’t like paying compliments. You know that.”

“Talent is not enough sometimes. That’s also something you’ve said to me before.”

He goes silent, and you start apologizing in the same instant.

“No, no, you didn’t hurt my feelings.” He interrupts you. “That’s true. But you’re really young, I shouldn’t have said that to you. Shit like that happens all the time. We learn a lot from it and you have your entire life ahead of you. That was… limited of me.”

“I know I’m almost getting my degree, and there’s other things for me to do… but fuck. I-- I really wanted that. You know how much.”

“I do. I also know exactly how you’re feeling now. We’re always so excited when this kind of thing happens. We plan our entire lives based on that one fragile and uncertain plan, and then boom, it’s gone. We always count on the fact that we’ll eventually have to decide between our career and something else when the choice comes, but what do we do when it doesn’t come? I know how that feels. Also--”

He grabs his guitar. You roll your eyes. “Don’t tell me you have a song for that.”

“I don’t.” he answers. “But I do have a story to tell you.”

For the next two hours, he tells you all about a very ambitious audiovisual plan that he tried to engage in his early 30s. Among countless questions and answers, Damon Albarn showed you through his history how very determined he really was. He goes into the most minute details about the ideas he had for a film and several concept albums for a virtual band that, in your opinion, sounds like something very innovative and, at the same time, incredibly palatable to the mainstream. You thought that the band he was part of when he was even younger was already very wronged because, from what you heard from the demos, they were really incredible, but the fact that such a project didn't go ahead ... just proved to you more and more that talent sometimes really wasn’t enough. Just when you thought you couldn't admire that man more.

“So, believe me when I say I know how that feels.” Goddamn. He looks at his clock, and almost jumps at how the time flied. “Bloody hell, I have another student in like, 5 minutes.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is a tale very few people know about. I’m glad I shared it with you.”

“…That had potential. Don’t give up on it.”

“Don’t give up on your plans either. I really mean it when I say you’re talented as fuck.”

You couldn’t help but smile through the dried tears and puffy eyes. You say your rushed goodbyes. But before can you leave the room, he holds your arm. “Wait. I know it’s hard, but don’t spend the rest of the day thinking about it. Do you want to do something tonight?”

“Uhhh—what you have in mind?” You can’t believe your ears.

“I don’t know. Do you drink?”

“More than I should.”

“Perfect. So I know a place we can go. Any preference of hours?”

“After 7 pm, I guess?”

“Works for me. I’ll send you the address soon then.” He says. You stand still, frozen, still processing what just happened. He’s blinking as if he just told you how’s the weather outside. “Now you can go.”

“O-kay. See you in a few hours then, Damon.”

“See you in a few hours, Y/N.”

You tried to hide your excitement, in vain. You smiled like an idiot.

This was one of the scenarios of your daydreams when you were walking around, talking quietly to yourself. Damon Albarn, your newly divorced music teacher who is old enough to be your father, just asked you out. You don't care if it was pity. After such disappointment, you allow yourself to create a little more of that stupid, inconsequential hope that your life would take an exciting turn for the first time.

He sends you the address a few hours after your class/conversation, when you were starting to get ready to meet him. It was a pub that you already knew well, and had visited with some friends in the past. You choose a dress that has become your “uniform” recently, for valuing your body type well and for translating your style in a way that is both stylish and very comfortable. When you finish getting ready, you take a deep breath. There is a world of difference between what you wanted to happen and what you think will happen. But you do not care.

The tragic call you received in the morning barely crosses your mind on your way to the pub.

Upon arriving, you find Damon - always so punctual - sitting in the corner of the lounge fiddling with his cell phone while he takes a few sips of a drink that you have no idea what it is made of. You never took him for a complex drink guy. He is really full of surprises. You feel slightly self-conscious out of a sudden, stomach churning in anticipation. He raises his eyes, and his gaze meets yours. His usual welcoming smile makes all your worries go away. You couldn’t help but smile wide too.

“Hello there. A stark contrast to this morning’s Y/N.” He notes, looking you up and down after you two share a tight hug, that smile still there.

“My plan tonight is to forget everything that happened before we talked, okay? Just let me forget about the call!” You answer, playfully, trying to pretend you weren't in the least ... affected ... by the way he received you.

And the time you spend together goes as usual. It’s amazing how there’s no space for awkward silences between you two. To one thing you tell him, he brings you three more things to tell, and vice-versa. You two just… click. You make each other laugh, and even if things don’t go the way you daydream about, which is totally okay, given that he’s twice your age and you’re not sure if you can handle the implications that age difference has, you’re glad to call him a good friend. He’s amazing, and you’re having a great time with him.

By your fourth beer and his fifth fancy drink, your conversation enters a territory that hasn’t been truly explored by you two yet. His romantic past. You only knew he was divorced because he mentioned it very vaguely one day, nothing else. You didn’t know why, who was her, or when. But apparently, he was about to tell you.

“We were both really… young… and didn’t have a clue of what we were doing with our lives. She was a musician too, Justine. Not anymore.”

“Because of what happened between you two?” You ask, the beers gradually taking the indiscretion filters out of you.

“Maybe. I don’t know. She seemed tired of everything. She wanted a life I’m not sure I would be able to live. I also pressured her a lot, I tried to create a version of her that somehow fitted all my expectations and, long story short, we weren’t right for each other. But I still think she’s incredible. I still admire her a lot. Not sure how she feels about me though.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“Oh, no. There’s a big difference in admiring someone and being in love with them, kid.”

After that sentence of his, for the first time that night, an uncomfortable silence hangs between you - Instant Crush, by Daft Punk, almost ironically, starts playing on the pub's speakers. You feel like you're in a movie.

You're still a kid, aren't you?

“Definitely.” You finally answer him, finishing 70% of the bottle in a few gulps. You become a bit more lightheaded after that, and your eyes start to struggle to focus. You try to hide how slurred your voice wants to sound. “I confess I still don’t know how to really differentiate between the two.”

“Oh yeah?” His wistful tone gives place to one of amusement. “You never told me about your exes. Feel free to.”

“This is not about them.”

He turns to you, after a one-sided staring competition with his own cup. His voice is calm, and somehow even deeper, when he asks you: “Then who is this about?”

You gulp. The cramped space you were sitting on somehow feels even smaller. And hotter. You feel drops of sweat sliding on your belly. You’re sitting by his side, not in front of him, and that interaction feels almost… primal. You two are trapped by a huge table in a corner very few people can see.

“I think I need to go to the loo.”

He lets you, and you feel his eyes following you to the restroom.

My God. My God. My God.

You take a much longer time to do everything than you really need while reflecting on the dialogue you just had. You feel the ground is starting to spin, and the desire to sleep on literally any place grow. You’re drunk. And confused. And anxious.

You spend some good minutes staring at your own face in the mirror before you return to your table. He’s still in the moment, judging by the contemplative look on his face. This is the point of no return.

This is no movie – this is a fucking RPG.

“It was full,” you justify.

“Yeah, it’s always pretty crowded in there.”

That goddamn awkward silence again. You try to talk at the same time, but he wins.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “It’s… about a guy. He’s a…current… thing. Not from the past.”

“Right.” His tone is serious, more teacher-like than he has even acted while actually teaching you.

“I met him through an ad. I was looking for music teachers in my area and I found him. He had a fair price.” He was now smiling in disbelief, shaking his head. You’re both tipsy and you don’t care if your words are slurred anymore.

“And?”

“I have classes with him every Saturday. It’s the event of the bloody week for me. I can’t believe I’m saying that now because at first he seemed quite intimidating and not open to any meaningful interaction. Like, all frowns and monosyllabic answers and all.” You steal his drink, and he’s not even bothered. “We talk a lot, and even though we talk every day I somehow always thought he didn’t give a fuck about me when we were out of class. That he only saw me as a student, not as a friend, you know? I think about that chap every single day too. He’s handsome--like. Fuck. And he pays attention to everything I say. He’s always so nice to me, he makes me feel welcome. A part of… something.” You take a few more sips, and he gently takes the drink out of your hand, mouthing an ‘enough’. “He’s old enough to be my dad and I feel guilty for thinking of him that way. He invited me for drinks when my world fell so I could get my mind out of the shambles my life’s in and I almost died because I’m madly in love with him for a while now, but I don’t want to ruin everything. I don’t know what to do now. People shouldn’t start things thinking of how they’re going to end, but, you know?”

“They should, though. He’s indeed too old for you. And your life isn’t in shambles.”

“But…”

“Everything sounds pretty lovely in theory, but, he’s probably thinking that he’s going to slow you down in a way. You’ve got too much life to live. He’s probably really tired of everything he’s already lived.”

“But I love him. He makes me laugh! I don’t wanna have children.” You whine.

He muffles a laugh. “It’s not that-“

”Please take me home tonight.” You plead; your tone more serious now. “I know what I’m doing, I know where I am. Just please take me home.”

“Y/N…”

“Please, Damon. If you don’t feel the same then fine, call me an Uber and I’ll get over it.”

That triggers something in him, apparently, and he kisses you deeply and intensely. His hands caress your back and the whole kiss, though a little disjointed because of the state you’re both in, is full of affection and love. His lips taste of strawberry vodka, and your mind is spinning.

When your lips part, you stare at each other for a while, thousands upon thousands of thoughts per second, unsaid. “Are you sure you wanna come with me?” He asks, kissing your hand.

“Yes. I am.”

-

After he fumbles with his keys, you’re finally in his apartment – it’s surprisingly nice and tidy. Judging by how carefree he’s with his looks, you imagined that characteristic would overflow to other aspects of his life.

From the Uber drive home to his door, his hand never left yours.

He locks the door, and you stand staring intently at each other, sizing each other up like men before a fight. This time, you start the kiss, with a little less hurry than before. But the desire is still burning hot on both of you.

“Do you have any idea of what you’re doing to me?”, he murmurs, discarding his jacket while he does his best to not break the kiss. You take this as a signal to start taking off your clothes too, starting by kicking off your shoes. It has become a choreography of sorts - his hands grasp your buttocks and pulls you closer after you’re done with them, drawing a gasp from you.

“I wanted you for so long.” You reply, your hands exploring his body below the fine fabric of his shirt. You motion to take it away from him, and he lets you, completely entranced by how red your lips look from everything it went through. He guides you to his sofa, quickly adjusting it so it’s comfortable enough and serves as a bed for both of you.

He lies down first, eagerly waiting for you to stay on top of him. You finally do, and you feel like a goddess from the way he looks at your body. You take off your dress, and now you’re almost fully exposed to him. You have no bra on, and his hands immediately travel to your breasts, fingers running tantalizingly over your nipples to get them stiff and erect before he pinches them between his fingers, smiling at the whimper his actions elicit. You start bucking your hips on the rough fabric of his trousers, and you feel him harden below you. “God, you’re… something else.” he whispers, and you respond with another whimper, biting back a full on moan when your clit hits the perfect spot. You separate your legs a little further so you can feel him better, drawing a groan from him. He takes this a signal to take his jeans off, eyes not leaving your hips.

Now that a distance of an entire layer is shortened between you, the contact is even more intimate, and the bulge of his cock straining against his underwear is driving you mad. You’re aching for him. He brushes against you and your moan is higher than you expected, and you immediately cover your mouth in order not to wake up his neighbors. As he feels the wet heat of you around his painfully hard cock, he takes your hand out of your lips, grip then tightening on your hips as he pushes you down right on to him. Your moan is even louder. “Let them hear.”

“Fuck-Damon-I’m getting so close--” As if you just gave him a command, his hands now grab the flesh of your inner thighs, massaging them further and further up until he reaches the center of your arousal, and the sound you make when he pulls your panties to the side and runs his finger between your folds while still grinding against you is somewhere between a whine and a whimper. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, voice rough from how excruciatingly aroused he is. “Come for me, baby.” Your clit was more exposed now, pressed more tightly against him and you whine in relief when your orgasm finally floods through your body.  

Before you could fully recover, he finally frees himself from his underwear and, with your help, effortlessly aligns himself with your (quite ready) entrance. You bury your head in his neck the moment he enters you in one swift motion and your moans are almost like cries by now - the overstimulation is driving you insane. You take his face on your hands and give him a passionate kiss while he gradually picks up a merciless pace inside of you, the more heated the kiss becomes the more shamelessly you ride his cock. “Shit,” he mutters, massaging your breasts in an almost desperate way. It’s too much - you’re almost becoming one.

You could tell by how frantically he fucked you now that he wasn’t going to last much longer. His thrusts were becoming irregular and you were so close once again. His head falls forward, buried in between your neck and shoulder - his cock twitches inside of you and his movements become staccato, his mouth curving into a beautiful ‘o’ shape as he comes inside of you. His movements stop before you could reach your second one, but the entire situation you were on was so arousing to you that just by touching yourself while still feeling him inside was enough. Not letting you alone in this, one of his hands focus on one of your nipples while the other one is below yours, providing pressure above your clit. And like that, you come undone a second time, head above his shoulders.

For a few minutes, your panting was the only thing that could be heard inside of the apartment.

“Thank you. You were amazing. ’s been quite a long time.” He notes with a tender kiss on your forehead. After a while, and with much reluctance, he slides out of you, and gets up to fetch a warm, wet cloth and carefully clean you both, finally collapsing next to you with a groan.

“It was everything I expected.” You confess, smiling.

“Did you… think about me like that when you…?”

“Of course. But let’s save this talk for another Saturday.”

[magdaclaire]

don’t ask me 

read it on ao3

“What about you, Rhodes? You got a lady back home?” 

The question is met with silence as James Rhodes stands in the barrack, just offering a salute and a laugh in response. The asking officer snorts, turning and moving on with his day, but James Rhodes does not move on. He pulls a photograph out of his breast pocket, examining it with eyes that have seen it a thousand times, but still not enough times to get him through the harsh desert without looking at it again. It pulls at his heartstrings the same every single time, making him want to walk back across the sea and wrap his arms around the focal point of the photo and never let him go. His chest aches with missing his best friend, but the look of him still brings a smile to Rhodey’s face. 

His best friend, of course, is Anthony Edward Stark. 

The picture is one of their most innocuous photographs, just two best friends standing together, you can hardly tell that James Rhodes is ass over tea kettle in love with a boy he met when that boy was fifteen and he was damn near nineteen - he had no business - 

“No.” The brokenness of it startles even himself. 

He tucks the photo back into his jacket roughly, stands up and leaves Jones and Ortega in the Barracks, finds himself somewhere else to be. He and Tony have never been romantic. He and Tony will never be romantic. He’s Tony’s first friend, and was Tony’s only friend for a long, long time, such a terrifyingly long time, so long that James was scared that he would never be able to leave for the military at all. God, he hates himself every time he thinks about how much he fucking loves Tony. He didn’t love him, not like that, not when they met. He didn’t realise he did for the longest time, and maybe that was a shame. He didn’t realise he was hip deep in love with Tony Stark until the boy was nineteen and a cocaine nightmare that James had to scrape off of the floor. He didn’t pick up the cocaine until James was already signed up to be shipped off, until he was already committed. 

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself for that. 

He knows, logically, that it’s not his fault if Tony goes off the deep end. That Tony is a grown man now and certainly was never James’s responsibility in the first place, not legally nor morally, just emotionally and by love and by family, goddamn it. Tony is family. James’s family is the only family that Tony has, too, because Tony’s dad did a number on him that James can’t undo, but maybe they can help, maybe a three year old’s birthday party, and a five year old that loves to make him come paint with her, and a family is enough. That’s one of the many, many reasons why James can’t afford to jeopardize what they’ve got. He’s the best friend he’s ever had. 

He put Tony in rehab before he shipped off. He made Stane promise to keep him in there until he was better. As much as he doesn’t like Obadiah Stane, they’ve always agreed on Tony. 

He writes a lot of letters to Tony, to his Mama, to his sisters, to anyone he can think about writing them for. He sends most of them. He sends all of the ones he writes for his Mama, most of the ones he writes for his sisters. He only sends about half the ones he writes for Tony; half of them are written for Tony, his best friend. The other half are written for Tony, the man he’s in love with. Those letters get burned in the barrels that Jones and Ortega light up with some of the other troops when the nights get cold and they have free time and a village close, otherwise they stay tucked in his jacket. Can’t risk anyone reading them. 

Can’t risk them getting mixed in with the other mail and actually getting sent. Because he does address them. He does put them in envelopes. It helps, sometimes, to pretend he’ll actually tell Tony someday. To pretend Tony might want that too. He doesn’t realise that he’s wandered until he hears someone calling his name, and then he’s hitting the ground because something is exploding. Gunfire. He doesn’t have a fucking gun with him. He’s going to fucking die, and he’s not going to see Tony again.

“Rhodes, get the fuck back to camp! Head west and stay low. Do not get hit or I swear to God, I will kill you myself. I’ll cover you,” Williams barks at him, the M4 in his hand glinting as he pushes Rhodey against the wall of a building. Cover. Fuck. Okay. Cover. “Don’t go toward town, we’ve got guns in town. Just toward camp. Keep your head on your shoulders, Rhodes. And fucking run.” 

So, James runs. He hauls ass more than he has ever fucking hauled ass before in his life, even if they weren’t supposed to be in combat today. Fuck, he wasn’t supposed to see combat today. He runs anyway, runs west, and there’s gunfire above his head and he feels like a fucking coward and he pushes that down because he was told to run. He’s not gonna ruin whatever Williams wants him to be doing because he feels like a goddamn coward. He’s a good soldier. He’s a good soldier. He’s gonna stay alive. He has to. He has to see Tony again. God, Tony. He pushes the thought of Tony out of his head too because he has to, he runs west, and he hits camp. 

Jones is dead. 

It was a raid, something about how they’re lucky it wasn’t more of them, the way they’ve been goofing off and burning shit and they need to tighten up, but all James can see for a second is the way that he walked away from Jones what seems like minutes ago. He just saw him. 

For some reason, he’s a little less scared after that. Scared to die, sure. If he thinks about Tony, thinks about him for even a second, he’ll send himself into that desperate panicky space that he just can’t touch, so he doesn’t. He sends Tony letters, but he doesn’t write the letters to not-Tony anymore. But the thing is, he’s not scared of rising anymore. He’s not scared to be something. Frank Jones, of the the guys he joined up with, one of the guys he met at the fucking registration office, is dead, and he’ll never get to do it. James shuts up and does his job, takes ranks and takes praises and takes it politely and quietly and doesn’t scream when the nightmares come even when Tony comes knocking in his dreams and when it comes his turn to go home, they have to tell him three times before he agrees. 

By the end of his first tour, he’s a Master Sergeant. It’s still not where he wants to be. 

The entire flight home, he’s trying not to think about Tony. God, Tony. God. He’s flying coach (because he wouldn’t let Tony pay) from London to Boston when it all hits him. God, he almost hadn’t come home. God, he could have died so many times. And he never would have told Tony. God, he almost didn’t come home. And he’s so, so in love with Tony Stark it’s fucking embarrassing and he’s never fucking told him and he’s going to land in Boston in less than an hour and he’s gonna have to look at him after pressing this down for months and it’s gonna be ugly. God, his mama is gonna be there. He’s gotta get home to Tony. To his mom. To Tony. To Tony. 

He’s been promising himself that he wasn’t coming home to that boy, but God. James pulls himself together in an airplane bathroom just in time for the seatbelt light to come on. Get home to Tony. No more words unsaid. 

He has to get off of the plane in an orderly fashion and find his bag, but then it’s just looking for Tony and what’s gonna be a ridiculous sign. 

He’s not wrong. 

HONEYBEAR <3 

God, if James wasn’t in love with him, he’d fuckin’ kill him. 

He’s in army fatigues, and it’s a really, really bad idea, but God help him, he kisses Tony anyway. He almost didn’t come home. He kisses Tony and God help him, Tony kisses him back, Tony drops the sign on the ground and kisses him back. Vaguely, he feels his Mama pat him on the back and hears her say something about welcoming him home, but he’s kissing Tony Stark and he’s not paying his Mama nearly enough of his attention to know what she’s saying. He doesn’t pull away until Tony does, his hands on Tony’s lower back, towering five inches over Tony like he always has (used to be even more, Tony was only 5’4 when he got him, and James has been 6’2 since he was 17), and God, he loves Tony so goddamn much. A cleared throat damn near scares James enough to crush Tony against his chest, but he recognises the voice before he can. 

“Guess you don’t have a lady at home, huh, Rhodes?” Ortega asks, throwing a wink his way. James flips him off. Ortega walks away, doesn’t even kick up a fuss about it, and James really thought if anybody saw this, it would be a bigger deal. Instead, Tony 

“Come on, Rhodey, lemme take you to dinner. We have reservations,” Tony says, grabbing at Rhodey’s hands. His Mama reminds them there by stepping closer, pulling both of them into a group side-hug. 

“I’m gonna let you boys go by yourselves, if that’s alright. A lady can do a lot of things, but third wheel on her son’s long overdue first date? Not something she’s willing to do. Take him to a movie or something afterwards, won’t you, Tony? Must be boring over there with all that sand. You boys have fun,” Mama says, kissing both of them on the head before leaving, taking James’s suitcase with her without a moment of negotiation. James looks at Tony for a moment, their eyes meeting only briefly before they’re both bursting with laughter, leaning against each other in the middle of the airport. 

“Wanna come to the apartment to shower and change? I still have lots of your clothes,” Tony says, looking up at him with big brown eyes all shy like James wouldn’t follow him any fucking where, and James kisses him again, real brief this time, and picks up the sign from the floor. 

“Lead the way.” 

[havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong]

An Interlude — Warmth Under the Covers

The Master of Chaldea — Ritsuka Fujimaru — checks in on his allies, only to find them slacking off yet again.

What’s a Guda to do?

[POV-Ritsuka]

—

I am a Master of Chaldea.

That is what I am — nothing more, nothing less.

The guy operating the summoning system most of the time — one of the two guys who keeps the contracts between the Servants that Chaldea summons.

Mash’s Senpai.

I’m a Cause, and so is my coworker.

“...That’s right. That makes me a badass now, sort of!”

I can feel my fingers run through my hair as I wink at the mirror before me. Comparing my two options to figure out which one I preferred in the Combat Uniform, I ran over my daily routine.

Step one, of course, was figuring out how much I wanted to do myself up in the morning. The Chaldea bathrooms had the perfect lighting to check my face and skin, ensuring my skincare routine was up to snuff. Making sure my eyes weren’t bloodshot from the two hours’ sleep — making sure the bags under my eyes were concealed with a little bit of makeup.

“It’s like every day, Suzie’s training becomes a little more useful.”

That’s right — a closer look, and my cheeks were smooth as a baby’s bottom — my eyes as normal as they could get, considering their bright orange shade. At least the curtains matched the windows — always something that did bother me about my other look, that my hair wasn’t blue.

“...Then again, that would look awful with the uniform.”

The thought made my spine shiver. Like a genderswapped Rei — not bad, but not exactly the visual I liked seeing.

Truly, it was preferable to have that set form — anything else would be nauseating to even think about.

“...That should do it.”

Yes, truly — I looked perfectly fine, now. Care had to be taken to ensure I looked like my best.

That, of course, was easier than worrying the others.

...

...The bathrooms led to the Chaldea halls, just as well as they led to my quarters. Why the creators did this always confused me — even moreso, that the doors were one-sided, and were flush with the wall, so you couldn’t even get back in.

“Goddamned mages and their one-way bathroom door magic.”

Adjusting the plugsuit that never failed to get bunched up near my arm, and trying to imagine the map of Chaldea in my head, I put one foot in front of the other and started course to the cafeteria. Simply a hop, skip, and approximately twenty-five different hallways that look exactly the same away — my only saving grace being how many times I’ve made this journey before.

That, and the burning Olive Garden due east of the Cafeteria, whose smoke signalled the food area from a mile away.

And for much of the trip, it was the same as it always was — simply my footsteps echoing in an empty hallway, the only accompaniment being the odd intercom message from Da Vinci letting the staff know of a Singularity that had only recently cropped up.

“Just calling to let you all know that we will begin our scheduled Rayshift in four days~! Prepare yourselves for it!”

...We never really had a break. Even walking down these empty, empty halls, my footsteps served only to momentarily break up the endless thoughts of what came next.

‘A mystery Singularity. Is that what it is? I’ve never heard of it. We had the four Pseudo-Singularities handled already. There shouldn’t be any Pillars left! On top of that, we still don’t know the first thing about its location, and even if we did...’

Tap.

‘...It’s not like we can do anything to stop it. All my research, and nothing about this makes any sense at all. Maybe a Foreigner could do it, but—‘

Tap.

‘—Why? There’s no reason to make a Singularity anymore. No Demon Pillars left. The Lostbelts are already destroying mankind. There’s nothing left to do. And—‘

Tap.

‘...We need a break. We need a break from this — from ALL of this. Cadence needs a break, and that’s to say nothing of myself. Can’t we have a moment to sleep..?! Can’t we have even a second to rest our eyes, snooze, and..?!’

The smoke overwhelmed my thought. Against the harsh fumes of a burning building, and the strange smell of spice, rational thought was impossible to maintain — and the growing headache of a nightmare-riddled sleep wasn’t exactly helping matters.

Tap.

It wasn’t far now, surely. Another step forward, and —

...

...Between the tables of the cafeteria, there lay a kotatsu.

I made it with Da Vinci’s help just a few days before. A little wooden table, at least compared to the surrounding cafeteria tables — a red blanket sort of thing, and a heater underneath that Da Vinci cleverly placed carefully to avoid burning oneself. It could sit, I reckoned, four people on a good day —

—I didn’t account for Gorgon, clearly.

Finally directing my gaze to what was coming out of the blanket of the kotatsu — and moving forward as to get the damned Olive Garden smoke out of my eyes — I was met first with the ever-clear figure of Gorgon. Eyes just barely shut, a hand positioned to form a makeshift pillow, and a tail surrounding something out of view, she drew a figure much unlike what I’d previously seen — only made a little more curious with the resting Lobo just behind her, which made its resting spot close to her in order to be as warm as possible. Hessian, for what it was worth, was still awake, sitting at a table nearby — offering me a wave of recognition as I returned my gaze to the table.

Jeanne Alter lay — more accurately, sat — at the kotatsu, almost as if she were awake, her hand still gently grasping a bag of chips that had by now spilled across the oak surface of the table. If it weren’t for her loud snoring, and her face smushed against the table, she would’ve had me convinced she was still awake.

Circling around, I found an Artoria that seemed quite familiar — Lancer, clad in a black turtleneck sweater, dark grey jeans, and her esteemed headpiece, resting her head on her hand and looking almost wistfully at whatever Gorgon had wrapped up in her tail. Even as I approached, she didn’t even look back in recognition — as if I never existed at all, or as if she were staring through a window that wouldn’t accommodate for anything Ritsuka-shaped.

And as I followed her unshifting gaze, I found —

—Wrapped in Gorgon’s tail, a young lady, sharp black hair tied up in an impressive style I couldn’t quite describe. Her face, uncovered by a mask I’d grown accustomed to seeing, seemed at peace — eyes gently shut, arms wrapped around...

“...Cadence, you motherfucker.”

The careful, wistful gaze of Lancer Alter, the comically tight squeeze of a sleeping Gorgon, and the gentle hold of Ushiwaka, all contained a cowardly Master that somehow bonded with the most hateful, evil beings alive.

In a sense, it would bring about the ultimate safety, being around those that would always fight to protect that which they care of — even if their ultimate fate is to burn all that lives, surely some safety remained in keeping close to those who would protect you from anything they hated most.

“...This guy claims he’s a one-on-one sort of guy, yet he ends up like this.”

...It wasn’t like I had any right to complain — I did have Mash, and that was utter perfection, so I supposed he had the right to find a portion of that.

“...I’m never letting him live this down.”

“...Ritsuka.”

...I glanced over to Lancer Alter, who seemingly only now clued into my existence — her almost hazy eyes, as if overlaid with a world both like and unlike reality, gazed both at me — and through me.

“What is it?”

“...Rest well. Your journey will not end so easily — you would do well to follow his lead.”

...Her gaze moved back to Cadence, who hadn’t moved a muscle. If not for the subtle sound of his breath, I’d have presumed him dead — though he wouldn’t have much room to move, the way he was.

“...I don’t think I can rest that well, Lancer. He’s got two ladies keeping him warm, and a third keeping an eye on him. Can’t tell me I’ll ever rest like that.”

...At that, the Lancer only smirked.

“...It shocks me as much as any other, Ritsuka, that this has happened. But... You have your own who would be all too willing to provide, no?”

I could hear myself let out a snort in a desperate attempt not to laugh.

“Only one with Ritsuka cuddle privileges is Mash. Serenity gets a pass, but the others terrify me.”

“...So be it. Find those two, and rest. If that is how you rest best, then so be it.”

...Keeping a close look at her eyes, the fog faded ever-so-slightly as she kept watch over the other Master. I reckoned it was probably due to the contract being transferred to him — though Cadence did always have the strange habit of bringing Alters down to earth. If he weren’t so scared of the others...

“...You do the same, Lancer. Don’t watch over the guy forever. If you wanna get in there, Gorgon could probably fit you, too.”

As I briefly procured me phone to snap a picture of the scene before me, to tease Cadence with later, Lancer only laughed back.

“I am already dreaming, Ritsuka. I have no need to rest.”

“Right, right.”

Even as I turned around, and began setting foot outside the cafeteria with a wave Lancer’s way, my eyes remained on the photo of Cadence.

A lot had changed — a lot would still yet change.

Friends had been made in unlikely places, enemies made of friends, and friends of enemies.

But in all this, even a guy as paranoid as Cadence found time to rest — he found company with Avengers, and those more evil than he could even hope to be, and he found safety in their loyalty and affection, so it seemed.

...

“...I guess I don’t need to worry about him, hm?”

...It was best to listen to that Lancer while I still had time —

—while, instead of the ceaseless nightmares, I would dream instead about teasing the coward that remained so affectionately in such a silly place.

...Perhaps it was time to dream.

[nautilusopus]

do you have any favorite books?

Coraline by Neil Gaiman is the obvious answer lol. Still my favourite book to this day, obviously hugely influential in my own bullshit. Seriously check it out if you can find a copy, it’s pretty short and absolutely worth your time.

The Devil’s Storybook by Natalie Babbitt and its sequel (The Devil’s Other Storybook) are more of an anthology of short stories starring the Devil, who occupies every role from vague background presence to put-upon protagonist that are funny and thought-provoking and genuinely clever and that pissed enough people off that it was a banned book for a while. “The Imp in the Basket” is the kind of short story I wish more people knew about and wanted to sincerely discuss what actually happened at the end.

ugh i haven’t read a book i actually enjoyed in over ten years at this point uhhhhhh

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I think potentially the only classic I had to read in school that I genuinely liked and actually finished in one sitting on my own time. And I think the first time any themes a book had for me actually clicked and I was able to do any kind of meta analysis of it completely unprompted. Baby’s first literary comprehension. Slaughterhouse-Five is a semi-autobiographical piece set during the bombing of Dresden in WWII, and also some period in the “future” (the 80s lol), and ALSO on an alien planet as the protagonist is abducted and taken to a human zoo. The story is told achronologically, and I feel is hugely influential to my own shit where it skips around, building a narrative almost entirely by juxtaposing specific moments in time against one another. It's surreal and thought-provoking, and if you only ever make yourself read one classic, it should be this one. *

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien. Bear in mind this thing has fuck-all to do with the movie, and while in retrospect I now am able to enjoy the Don Bluth movie as its own thing, I remember being fucking furious when they busted out a goddamn magical amulet. It’s a different kind of story, but is more magic realism than outright fantasy, and the titular rats get a lot more backstory, as does the late Mr. Frisby iirc.

The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo. God that book fucked me up. It is about a snotty porcelain toy rabbit that gets dropped overboard a ship into the ocean one day, and the various owners he has over the years as he changes hands, and the impacts they have on him, and it makes me fucking cry every time and is to date the only book to ever do so so fairly warned be ye. Fucking shit I wish I could dish out gut-punches half as good as that book could.

The His Dark Materials trilogy by Phillip Pullman, which in and of itself is an angry rebuttal against everything the Chronicles of Narnia has to say, as well as Christianity in general. You’ve probably seen shit floating around about the HBO series, which I have not watched. Lyra is a horrible gremlin child running wild around a parallel universe Oxford until she accidentally stumbles onto a conspiracy that goes all the way to the Church which unofficially runs the government and eventually starts an interdimensional war against God. The first two books I think are better than the last one, which really drags in spots (and in a twist of irony had Lyra’s sexual awakening censored from the North American release which like... come on man). Absolutely worth checking out though, especially if you’re an angry pedant like I am.

Tales from the House of Bunnicula, by James Howe. Honestly the entire "Bunnicula Expanded Universe"(???) is great, but in particular I'm mentioning this sub-series because I think it actually kind of taught me to write. The framing device used is that they're being written by Howe's pet dog and sent in to him to publish by proxy. On top of having just a lot of good storytelling tips for beginners (how to create a plot! how to create character motivations! how to write female characters like actual people!), they're also fun little satire pieces of various kinds of genre fiction. Like, the third book is a riff on Harry Potter and making fun of all of JKR's worst writing tendencies, like her compulsion to phonetically write out everyone's fucking accent.

these days i'm just too picky to enjoy books anymore idfk. you have no idea how fucking disheartening it was growing up with actual taste (snooty snooty snoot) and watching everyone go nuts over stuff like divergent and eragon and maximum ride and fuckmothering twilight and shit. like, yeah misogyny absolutely played into why people shat on it because teenage girls aren't allowed to like anything, but lest we forget they were still shitty books guys. that never stopped being true or anything. and you were a social pariah if you didn't like them and that sucked. and then a couple ostensibly good series, like harry potter and artemis fowl and hunger games just dropped the fucking ball for one reason or another as they went on and never picked it back up. i think the mid 2000s almost singlehandedly just killed any real enthusiasm i had for reading altogether (this is not even getting into the fact a lot of really fucking bad "grown-up" novels came out around that period too. whole era was a baaaad time for books). so here i am writing, i guess, because i've decided you fuckers can't be trusted to make anything good yourselves. if you want something done right...

(*I like to think if Cloud wrote a book he’d write something like Slaughterhouse-Five. I think at one point I was even working on a fic along those lines -- a fictional story vaguely based off the burning of Nibelheim and the fall of Shinra that was written, in-universe, by Cloud several years later. Abandoned it just because of how fucking complicated it would be to do. Might come back to it one day.)

[azenkii]

Sokka Headcanons

because he is CRIMINALLY underappreciated

he taught Katara to swim (which might be weird, seeing as she's the waterbender, but it's how things turned out)

his boomerang is his father's (actually canon)

he made his necklace himself, with whale bone from the first hunt he ever went on. as he grows, he adds more pieces of bone to it from various different hunts

as we all know, his art skills could use a little work. BUT he’s freakishly good at drawing things like schematics and blueprints and plans? he draws perfect circles and straight lines like it’s nothing and everyone is a little bit terrified of him

he's also good at face paint. he's not good at normal paint, but he's a goddamn master with face paint. it's weird

really good at math (also pretty much canon)

his favourite colour is not, surprisingly, blue. it’s white. he is locked in an endless debate with zuko over whether or not white counts as a colour

accidentally invents things on the daily

he's scarily good at rote memorization

can crack his knuckles really loudly

he has opinions on things that shouldn't be opinionated. for instance: he has a favourite cardinal direction (surprisingly, it's not south. it's north) and a favourite kind of cloud (cirrus)

he has really long fingers. they're long and thin and spindly and sokka no stop sokka stop making the spider hands–

Because of the aforementioned long fingers, he's the best at making shadow puppets

he's good at recognising faces, but not names

he dreams a lot but he never remembers it

he can whistle. when he left the south pole, he wasn't very good at it, but by the time he was made southern water tribe ambassador he could whistle like a bird

when the war was over, the first thing he bought was a thick leather journal and a ton of ink. while everyone recovered, he went off into the wilderness surrounding the fire nation capital and documented every animal and plant he thought looked cool

he went back to look for his boomerang and space sword in the forest. he found them!

he visits and trains with master piandao regularly, and is now considered a swordfighting master

he does actually know how to sew. his mother taught him. he just doesn't like doing it because he always pricks himself with the needle, and after his mother died it felt a bit like sacrilege

whenever he goes out on a trip with someone from the original gaang, and they end up on the road, he insists on stopping so he can go hunt something. It's become a tradition by now

when he was eight, he got a fishhook stuck in his hand. it was Not Fun

when he's nervous or stressed, he bites his nails. if he's really nervous or stressed, he taps out rhythms against his necklace

he can keep up a beat pretty well, but dont try giving him an actual instrument to play. It doesn't matter what instrument it is, he will break it somehow

the first time he grew a beard, he grew it all the way out until it looked exactly like his wang fire beard. Zuko threatened to burn it off. Katara threatened to freeze it until it got so heavy his head fell off his neck. Sokka kept it for a grand total of one week before he caved and shaved it

he has a surprisingly high heat tolerance (as opposed to katara, who only ever visits the fire nation in winter)

he can jump really high. actually, in most cases, it's easier for him to jump than to climb

he can cook, but he's not very good. He can make something edible, but not tasty

he holds the record in the southern water tribe for most sea prunes held in mouth at one time

he snuck into ba sing se university for a day and taught nonsense history under the guise of being a guest professor. when he was discovered, he simply bowed and announced, "and that's why you always check your facts for yourselves, kids!"

similarly, he once posed as a philosopher named Wan Fai-Ah. he had almost two hundred people listening rapturously to one of his spiels when katara climbed onto a nearby roof and yelled "SOKKA STOP MANIPULATING THE PUBLIC"

he once went searching for wan shi tong's library again. He didn't find it.

he's bisexual and i'm not saying jet was his sexual awakening but jet was his sexual awakening

(psst his taste in men is just as bad as his sister's)

suki's the only person in their group who likes men and has decent taste, because zuko's got garbage taste in men too and aang likes everyone

he gets really bad morning breath

he shaves his own hair (also canon!)

despite his best efforts, he never develops anything more than an average tolerance for spicy food

he and zuko constantly compare their height. when sokka grows taller, he doesn't stop gloating for three days

he's really good at braiding hair

he can't sing or dance to save his life

he decided to get into poetry after the war. it didn't work out. At all.

he once worked at the jasmine dragon for a month, just to unwind. it was mostly relaxing, except for the entitled upper-class customers who came in every now and again. Sokka may or may not have 'accidentally' dumped a cup of tea over Lady Huamei's dress.

he regularly takes zuko to the theatre for no reason other than to force him to watch horrible, terrible plays. Sometimes toph tags along too. Zuko's suffering is the best entertainment they've got.

He and katara have a running Sibling Thing™ where, instead of greeting each other like normal people, they step on each other's toes. this sometimes results in a five-minute long tussle as they fight to be the first one to step. yes, they once did this in front of a delegation of national officials. yes, sokka ended up on the floor with katara standing over him triumphantly.

after the war, he learned how to use every weapon he could get his hands on. He also learned that he's terrible at scythes and war hammers.

he prefers night to day. Especially when there's a full moon out.

In conclusion, stan sokka

[aboyandhisstarship]

Kindergarten AU: car crash

Thanks to @dysphoric-artist for the prompt and proof reading

still written in a diary style  and () are still kid adding his thoughts in after the fact 

anyway without further ado lets hop into it 

Ok now, you may not unreasonably say something along the lines of “Mike, you have literally died, hundreds of times. A good chuck of which happened when you were just a kid…how are you not 8 different kinds of traumatized.” And I thank you for your concern (weird guy who is reading my diary…really who does that you would have to broke into my room and stole this thing…which is uncool in every state) to be frank, I am traumatized…but I can’t really tell anyone why, what am I going to tell a headshrinker?

 Headshrinker: so Mike…why don’t you talk to me about the tragic events at your kindergarten….”

Me:  *bursts out laughing* which one…the time I got killed by the principle…or bugs, or monty, or Cindy…or the janitor…or those weird monster things (this would go on for some time)

Headshrinker: uhhh, I think you’re crazy…off to the crazy house!  (ok in fairness I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work this way…but I’m not exactly keen to find out.)

“Ok Mike” you may retort, “They might think you’re crazy…but you could be a superhero! Like the Flash, or Batman! They could call you….Reapto!”  (First off Random guy, Reapto? that’s the best you can come up with?) I tried that once to be the big hero…it can be rather hit or miss.

 High school parking lot:

Nugget said with a smile “if friend Mike, Friend Carla and the Pretty Lilly would be willing to accompany Nugget, we will indulge in some super…”

Nugget was interrupted by the loudest car screech I ever heard, my eyes went wide as felt massive pain and the air forced out of my chest.

I shoot up hyperventling as my alarm went off screaming a little bit too loudly “FUCK!”

My mother bless her soul, responded with an “I know you don’t want to go to school today young man but I will not tolerant such language.” (yea that was embarrassing)

I shook my self-off, and considered putting on a tally before deciding that it was a one off death adding to my journal *Don’t go to the parking lot after school Dummy* (normally I leave myself notes like this…and normally they are a lot more helpful, like don’t mix the red and green flowers it blows up the room you know useful stuff)

 Hallway, My high school:

I had been glancing at my watch about 4 times and Carla (Perceptive as she is) finally snapped “goddamn it Mike you got a date or something?”

I smiled awkwardly “what me no!?”

Lillie frowned “alright you are sketchy…”

Nugget nodded “friend Mike is definitely hiding something.”

A second later a car came crashing into the school slamming through several walls, nailing all 3 of us I paused briefly musing  “man I didn’t think the school was this badly built,” Before hitting the ground hard.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm and groaned grabbing my pillow throwing my face into it saying “not again!”

Before throwing himself out of bed grabbing his marker he added two marks onto my skin

5 loops later:

Ok I didn’t know the school was this badly built, guess what no matter where I was I got taken out by that car, the bathroom, Boom, the library, boom…I even skipped school once…I may have gotten grounded but I laughed thinking I had in fact won, only to get hit by a different car crossing the road, and looping. (I sometimes wonder if the universe hates me…)

But before I died I did get some valuable intel, I saw the death count (the entire school by the way…yea after this I wrote a strongly worded letter to the school board…again) but also the names of the folks in the car, two high school seniors…(now for the sake of timelines I can’t tell you who they are, but mike they didn’t die! Yea yea…just trust me the less anyone knows about the other timelines the better off we all are, tried that once when I first started looping…the planet literally exploded, so no names) so these teens who I dub….Bob and Bertha  crash and kill the whole school…and I need to find out why.

 So I approached the gang saying “alright sit down.”

Monty asked “what this about mike.” His voice clearly impaintent

so I lifted my arm showing the tally’s, that was it they were all ears as I explained “alright in exactly.” I glanced at my watch “4 and half hours, a car comes crashing into school and kill literally everyone, we need to stop that so ideas?”

Jerome proposed “maybe tell them?”

Buggs shook his head “real high and mighty types won’t listen to us.”

Lilly sighed “well they crashed into the building…so they clearly were not leaving it…”

Billy nodded “that’s right, that means they left are coming back for someone or something…we figure out what and bing bang boom.”

I pointed out “has it literally ever been that easy?”

Ted smiled “me and penny can think about cars, figure out what caused it.” Quickly blushing

Penny also blushed “I would love to Teddy…”

Felix cleared his throat “perhaps me and Cindy can get close to them ?”

Cindy smiled brightly (she had grown out of her bitchiness, but she was natural born queen bee, even if she was cool with us all the snobs and assholes in school love her.) “I can reach out…maybe find out what they have going on and more intel.”

I nodded “right find out what we can but tell me before it happens, so I can write it down.”

Everyone responded “right!”

I spent most of the loop with Monty and Carla using their connections to figure out if they were getting any drugs or other fun stuff to explain there “Skillful” driving (got em….yea ok not the best burn)

 Loop 12th:

I woke up with another groan “If I have to read another book about cars I am going to lose it!”

He glanced at his notes the car (a 66 Camaro…I swear those two are like a couple form the 60’s) and the other intel he had gathered from the others (they had indeed been indulging in drugs those bad bad boys and girls…ok I’m not one to talk, seeing  the number of crimes I have technically committed…but those were other timelines…and you know what let’s not go down that rabbit hole)  but the issue was simple, they had indeed nought some weed from Carla and monty’s secretive network (I never asked) but had not in fact gotten it yet, so the question still stood as to what exactly caused it.

 Nugget hole:

The Lair  (Ozzy wanted to call it that)  is what we call our base of operation’s,  I have been spending my time shooting down ideas that we already tried and smiling with evil glee whenever I  make ted and penny work together (honestly I want to yell make out already whenever I see them) but then it hit us, instead of stopping the car crash maybe we should stop them leaving.

 Now mike, you are likely saying, I literally thought of that after like the third loop, first off no you didn’t you liar, (seeing as we didn’t even know who they were then) also, this loop was different normally there are multiple things that need doing to affect a change in the timeline, so it is almost never that easy (ohh jee mister principle, the star athlete and his girl are going to skip class and kill us all ohh geee, yea real convincing huh?)  there was of course the factor, that our group (ok just me) were not exactly popular around school or town, they called us the kinder busters (pretty badass name right?...yea I don’t dig it either) so people consider us bad luck (to be fair…we did end up at two schools run by crazy kidnappers in a row…if that is not unlucky I don’t know what is.)so we needed a couple of people that will actually be believed, now 3 guesses of who my friends who Is the most likely to believed about that kind of thing?

Cindy? Well no seeing as she has her queen bee rep they may think that she is “fronting” (there words not mine…I shuddered just thinking about them trying to street)

Bugs? (HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHA *snort* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA…wait your serious… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA)

Carla or Monty (better, but no joy they are bit to up to something…we need purist faces.)

Ok by now you have either guess correctly (good job!) or are yelling at the page, “stop teasing me mike and tell me!”

And naturally the answer is Ted and Penny, (I mean have you seen those faces! Who could say no to them?!)

Of course I had to convince them to do it.

 Nugget hole:

Ted asked “are you sure about this?”

I smiled “of course I am…ninty percent sure this will work.”

Penny smiled “relax Teddy this will be fine.”

I pulled out 5 dollars “here you go get yourselves some ice cream afterwards.”

Ted pointed out “you know I’m a billionaire right…”

Penny took the five dollars saying “deal! Come on Teddy.”

Now you dear reader may be sitting there thinking “that was easy, that’s it, what no boss fight, no dramatic showdown, no sweet groundhog day style montage where you do whatever you want?” (that was happened…more on that later)

My rebuttal to that dear sir, is screw you  let me have this, alright most of time when I start looping I have to fight monsters and a whole thing so I think I earned a nice break, but you might be sitting thinking “that was anti-climactic! Did Ted and Penny at least go on a date!?”

My answer to that is a yes… and no, you see both told me (under the promise to never tell a soul after the loop) they also sadly made me promise not tell the other person, now you may say Mike…after the loop they would not remember, you can pull a sneaky and just tell them that they like each other, and while you are right I don’t for a couple of reasons, number one being I keep my promises, number 2 is they would think I am messing with them (I know right those oblivious idoits.)

But sadly this journal is not a relationship journal of ted and penny (sorry guys, but this supposed to be a record of loops) but I will quietly disclose that they may have been a kiss on the cheek (I screamed I tell you)  of course they are still claiming to be friends in front of us but I don’t buy it…anyway I should proably end this entry…

So thanks for reading? (I mean you are reading a private journal…so I don’t know why you are reading this)

Mike June 26 20XX

[themoonandotherslikeit]

What the Rain Can’t Wash Away - Chapter 19

*FINAL PIECE IN THE LOOK IN HER EYES TRILOGY*

Sixteen years after Lucifer rose and Dean lost his wife, he finds himself with a teenager, a Nephilim, an angel, and his brother living out a Full House rerun with some seriously dark undertones. How will he be able to raise his daughter, fight monsters, and deal with the loss of the love of his life? Sometimes moving on is the hardest part, but with the Winchester’s there’s always something harder around the corner. Isn’t there?

Chapter Nineteen, How will we survive this?

Ava

If I could’ve imagined the worst thing in the world, it would’ve been nothing compared to what was in front of me. Dean was a shell, at best. He winced at my touch, and I was trying with every piece of myself not to be angry with him or blame him. How could I? It wasn’t his fault, but fuck I needed him, too. Our daughter was dead, but the guilt was eating him alive. Probably because we all knew that there wasn’t a deal in the world that could get us out of this one. She was just gone. 

I didn’t know how we would make it through. The only upside to everything, was that Dean couldn’t see me watching him, and so that’s all I did. I watched him constantly, for any sign or spark that we would be okay, or that he had a plan. 

There was nothing. 

I walked him in the room to see Nel, like I did when she was a baby, and he met her for the first time. He didn’t even cry, he just placed his hand on her arm and winced away, shaking his head. No. He turned and walked out without me, leaving me in the dust. 

Sam caught me outside of the bunker, sitting on the hood of the Impala with my knees pressed against my chest. A half empty bottle of vodka was placed between my feet. The sky seemed dull, like the stars had lost their sparkle, but maybe it was me. Maybe I had lost my sparkle. 

“Hey.” 

“Sam,” I exhaled his name in a fog of breath into the cold winter night. 

“How are you holding up?” 

“Not good.” I shook the bottle at him before taking a swig; it stung, but not as much as everything else did. I wiped a tear with the back of my hand. “I don’t know how we are going to survive this, Sam.” 

I glanced at him to catch him wince. He lowered himself next to me on the hood of the car, more leaning against it than sitting. “We’ve survived a lot of things that I never thought we would.” He was rubbing his chest with the heel of his hand and in the moonlight I could see a glisten of tears along his lash line. 

“But this? She’s our girl, Sam.” I could feel my voice breaking, a spider web crack across my soul. 

“I know.” He exhaled out of his nose sharply, with a small smile. “I remember the day she was born.” 

“A parent isn’t supposed to live without her child. She was supposed to outlive me… outlive us.” 

“We can’t give up,” Sam said intensely, turning to me. “Ave it isn’t over. It can’t be over. Nel and Jack… we will find them, and we will fix everything. I mean, fuck, you’re back after sixteen years. You don’t know what it was like losing you. That did something to Dean, to me… but we survived it, and now you’re back.” 

“I want to believe you, Sam, but at some point our luck has to run out. We got Dean back, me back… but you both said it yourselves. God isn’t listening anymore.”

“Just trust me. I believe in us.” 

“I want to… I really want to, but look at Dean. He’s gone, and I don’t think I can do this without him.” 

“Dean’s strong, Ave. You know that,” Sam began, taking my hand in his. “He just needs some hope. We all do.” 

Dean

  I hated funerals, from day one I hated them, but this, nothing had ever been as bad as this. I’d lost a lot of people over the years, but nothing could compare to the pain of losing my kid. I stood, leaning on a goddamn walking stick. Ava helped me get dressed like I was a child, and no one would leave me alone for a second, not a fucking second since I’d been home. Every time I thought I was alone, I’d hear the famous hello Dean, and I’d about jump out of my skin. I had no privacy, but more than anything, I had no more fucking time.

I could hear Ava sniffling next to me like it was a loud speaker. I’d already yelled at her once today, so I felt like a big enough dick. I didn’t have a right to reach out and take her hand for comfort, and if I was being honest, I didn’t want the comfort. It was my fault that Nel was dead. I didn’t deserve the relief.

I’d only been home for a few days before we decided we needed to do it. My baby girl had been wrapped in cloth for long enough.

I could smell the gasoline burning my nose, but all I could see was Nel at one year old, standing on two fat wobbly legs, her knees with those little dimples that I thought I could drown in. I could see her with a skinned knee and two big wet eyes, crocodile tears rolling down her freckled cheeks. I could see her hand brush my cheeks as she forgave me for everything I’d done and everything I ever could do. Even at such a young age, she possessed traits that I never could. She was my whole life. At least she should’ve been, but no, hunting was my whole life. Now I didn’t even have that. Everything was ripped from me.

Suddenly I wanted to vomit, but I held my ground, pressing my palms into the smooth, polished wood of my walking stick, and pressed it into the ground. I could feel the heat and hear the hiss of the fire as it gained life.

“Ella,” Claire said, with a shaking voice. She was probably reading from her page that she’d written. It’d become a tradition. Burn your feelings along with the body, let it out into the atmosphere, breathe it into your lungs, and then breathe it out and let it go. But I thought that maybe this time, just this once; I could breathe it in and suffocate.

“I’m not good at this shit, but you deserve it. You deserve a poem or a whole novel of reasons why I love you, but I’m a bad writer. I never know the right thing to say. I’m angry all of the time, but you taught me that even when life expects us to be unhappy, that it’s okay to be happy anyway. I don’t know what to say, so I thought I’d make a list.”

I never noticed when I could see, but the salt and burn funerals smelled kind of like a barbecue.

“I love you because you’re so smart. You can spend all day reading, and I could spend all day watching you read.”

I taught her how to read.

“I love you because your laugh lights up a room. You’ve got the best smile. You could move mountains with it, and you did. You manipulated all of us with your smile.”

“Dad, please?” How could I say no to a face like hers?

“I love you because you knew how to hold a grudge. Jesus, Ella you were so petty it was ridiculous. You brought home a cat to piss off your dad and make a point...” Claire’s voice trailed off, and I could hear her laughing, but it was laced with something else. It was laced with a dark hopelessness. I recognized the sound, because it sounded like my own.

“My two other dads said it was fine. You did say they’d be taking over the parenting when you were in the middle of the ocean, right?”

“But more than anything,” her voice broke and shook with sobs. “I love you, because you are love. Everyone that you meet loves you. You love with everything in your heart. I can see it in your eyes, your face, and your body. You made this weird group a family, and you continued to love all of us even when we couldn’t love ourselves. You loved us, and I will love you my whole life.”

It’s a myth that losing a sense heightens the rest of the four senses. I didn’t gain super smell, or super hearing, but in that moment, I could’ve sworn that I could hear the sound of my own heart breaking. It was loud, like shattering glass inside of my chest. It was too fucking much. “I can’t do this,” I found myself muttering. The walking stick dropped from my hands, and I was running. I could hear Ava calling for me, and fuck it was terrifying. I was running against the blackness, away from the heat and the smoke with my hands out in front of me so I hopefully wouldn’t run smack into a tree.

Nel died. Eleanor died. Jack killed her. He murdered her and sucked her life right out of her.

“I’m scared, Dad. I don’t think I can fight him off much longer. I’m not strong enough.”

I lied to her. I told her I’d be strong enough, and I wasn’t.

I was still running and then I wasn’t. My toe caught something, a hole, a rock; it didn’t matter, because I was falling on my fucking face. My cheek stung as something sliced it right open. So I just laid there, nose in the frozen grass, hot blood falling out of my cheek, and my sunglasses skewed on my face. I probably looked fucking ridiculous, but that didn’t matter, did it? My daughter was dead, nothing mattered. Not anymore.

“Dean,” Ava said, her hand touching between my shoulder blades.

“Just leave me alone,” I snapped. “Just let me fucking be, goddamnit.”

“Dean,” Sam warned in a very parental tone, a tone he learned from me. Serves me right. 

“Don’t.”

“I know you’re hurting,” Ava said, her voice breaking. “I am, too. She’s my daughter, too.”

“Not like she was mine.” It wasn’t fair. I was being a monster. Maybe I just needed her to hate me as much as I hated myself.

“You’re right, you stubborn fuck. You got sixteen years with her. I didn’t even get one.” I heard the sound of her stand up and storm away, the soft thuds of her shoes against the grass.

I sighed into the blood that was pooling into my mouth. Maybe Sammy would just let me drown there. I had no such luck, though. He reached around me and rolled me over. “You’re such an asshole,” he complained. “Claire’s gonna kick your ass for ruining Ella’s funeral.”

“Not helping, man,” I grumbled.

“You’re not helping either, Dean. We all love her. Not just you.”

I pulled away from Sam’s grip, and he forced my walking stick back into my hand. 

“So fucking make it right with Ava,” he demanded. “She didn’t deserve that.”

He was right. 

“I need some time,” I said weakly. 

I heard Sam groan and suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder, I recognized the warmth of the palm that grazed over an old scar that had healed. “Cas,” I said with a sigh. 

“I’ll come with you, Dean. You shouldn’t be alone.” 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I complained. 

“We don’t care,” Sam added. “I’m going to check on Ave.” 

I nodded in the general direction of my brother’s voice, then turned toward where Cas’ arm was coming from. “I can’t do this, Cas.” 

“You’re strong, Dean.” 

“No, I’m not. Not strong enough.” 

“There’s nothing more difficult than losing a child…” 

“We didn’t lose her,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “She was murdered.” 

“Dean,” Cas warned.

“Why haven’t you found anything?” I asked, shrugging out of his grip, holding onto the fucking walking stick for dear life. 

“I've been searching, but Jack… Jack doesn’t want to be found.” 

“What about Heaven?” 

I could hear the familiar hesitation in Cas’ breathing that always came when Dean mentioned Heaven. 

“You wouldn’t let me lock myself in that fucking box and now my kid is dead. I don’t give a shit if you don’t want to go to Heaven, Cas. Get your ass up there and bring her back,” I demanded with a force that I hadn’t used with Cas before. We were family, who the fuck do I think I am?

“Dean…” 

“Don’t Dean me, damn it! Just do it!” 

There was a woosh of air, and even though I didn’t see it, I knew that I was alone. For the first fucking time since I’d been blinded, I was completely alone. 

Ella

I’d talked Dad into it. Sam thought it was a good idea, and so did Cas, but that didn’t stop Dad’s annoying insistence that I didn’t need an anti-possession tattoo. 

“You won’t be anywhere near demons, so it’s a non-issue.” 

“You don’t know that!”

We didn’t fight about a lot of things, but hunting was the one exception to the rule. 

“You sure you don’t want to get a flower or something?” Dad asked anxiously, scratching the back of his head as the artist shaved the inside of my arm and prepped the area.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I laughed, shaking my head. “Come on and hold my hand, Dad.”  

He made an annoyed face at me, sitting in the chair next to me. He took my hand, curling his fingers around mine. 

It was a rite of passage, like I was officially a Winchester. So I put on a brave face, but as the stinging started I sucked in my breath. 

“Hey kid, you have to remember to breathe.” 

“Right,” I said through gritted teeth. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on my breathing. My god, I’m a huge baby! 

“You remember Kevin?” 

What? “Y-yeah I do.” 

“He cried like a baby when he got his,” Dad said gently, stroking the back of my hand. “And his mom, Mrs. Tran, took it like a badass. Didn’t even wince.” 

I let out a pained laugh and opened my eyes to meet my father’s concerned gaze. It was the same look he gave me when I had appendicitis when I was eight, or when I fell of my bike. I smiled at him tenderly. I knew my whole life that he would never let anything happen to me if he could help it. It was never a question on if I was safe with him. The life didn’t scare me, but I think that’s part of being a Winchester, too. It’s in my blood. The responsibility of knowledge. “You knew a lot of badass women, Dad.” 

“I still do,” he said softly, pushing a hair off my forehead. 

He was going to teach me how to drive when we left here, officially. I’d gotten my learners permit, and I was dying to learn. He’d been dragging his feet, but he knew I was growing up. 

The artist’s gun went back over the same space to thicken the line, and I tensed up, squeezing his hand tighter. “Hey, you’ve got it,” Dad murmured, leaning closer to me. “You’re a fighter, kid. You can get through anything.” He was petting my hair and humming to me softly. 

I knew he was feared from other hunters and monsters, but sometimes it was hard to see him for anything other than what he was to me. 

There was a loud sound outside of the shop, shouting and something else that I didn’t recognize. The artist let up on the gun, and I sat up, turning toward the front door just in time to see Castiel push through the blacked out glass door. “Cas?” I asked, confused. “What’re you doing here? Is everything okay?”

He looked around confused, his eyebrows together, and his blue eyes scanning the area. “This is your Heaven? Getting a tattoo?” 

“Heaven?” I turned to where Dad was sitting to find him gone. It was just Cas, and I alone in the shop. “Shit,” I murmured as everything flowed back to me. Michael. “He killed me, didn’t he?”

“It’s complicated,” Cas said with a sigh. He walked up to me and sat in Dad’s empty seat. 

“Cas what happened? What aren’t you telling me?” 

He took my hands in his, which made me immediately feel sick to my stomach. He wasn’t known to lie to me, if anything he was the most truthful of the three. He was an angel, and he believed in honesty. In most instances, he believed that we deserved the whole truth. “I will tell you everything,” he agreed, but before he began speaking he pulled me into a tight hug. It was unexpected, and I was stiff at first, but I quickly redirected and wrapped my arms around him. “It is good to see you, Eleanor. It is very good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you, too, Cas,” I whispered into his shoulder. 

Castiel was emotional for an angel, sure, but for a person he’d never been much of a hugger. Every time I would try to hug him, he felt stiff and awkward, which was part of his charm nonetheless. But the tightness of his hug told me almost everything that I needed to know. Things were really bad, and as far as solutions go, they sent him to me… which meant that they had none. 

—————

Chapter Twenty, A Little Piece of Heaven

Get caught up!

Tag list:

@deans-baby-momma

@xjamiedennettx​

@linki-locks11​

@sonnierae26​

@ricky-666s-blog

@akshi8278​

[surflove808]

On Destiel and endgame hysteria

Sometimes I get fired up about some of the BS I see in this fandom and this is one of those moments.  This post will be a layercake of sentimentality, disappointment, anger and maybe a wee bit (a lot) of profanity.  So, you know. Back on my bullshit.

The show that we love, love to hate or hate to love, for better or worse, will see it's final curtain call at the S15 finale.  You don't need me to tell you how impactful it's been and how much it means to so many people for a variety of reasons that extend well beyond it's entertainment value.  All it takes is one scroll through social media to get a sampling of the reach of this little-show-that-could and by extension (and because of) it's cast, to see that it's beloved by so many.  And it deserves the praise, and the end deserves to be lamented - but like TFW has said over and over, and to paraphrase Frank Sinatra, they're doing it their way.  For that?  I'm happy.

The show has been described as a "juggernaut" and an "institution", and it is.  We all know the themes:  Finding *your* family, struggle, perseverance, dedication, making mistakes and not always learning from them (but trying), acceptance, the beauty in humanity even when all hope seems lost, redemption, and love... to name the big ones. Now about Love.  "Love" is not threatening to burn down houses if your ship isn't made canon.  "Acceptance" isn't threatening the cast, crew, producers and network with lawsuits if your ship isn't made endgame.  I saw a few posts like that today that had a very disappointing number of likes and reblogs and I'm kinda furious, to be honest.  You fucking twits.

As someone who enjoys the show, and respects the determination, sacrifice, hard work, creativity, and yes - Love -  that has been poured into this endeavor, I don't think I'm alone when I say -  JUST. STOP.  You whining, tantrum throwing, self-important, "wouldn't catch a social cue if it had a $100 bill attached to it and was tossed to you from 3 feet away", obnoxious, divisive children.  

Accept what the cast, the writers and Eric Freaking Kripke have told you?  No... can't do that.  Must hop from one lily pad of delusion to the next and have the gall to be self righteous about it.  And then pat yourselves on the back for being alternately clever, threatening and obtuse.  You're like the Donald Trumps of the SPN fandom.  You're not disliked because of your ship.  You're disliked because of your personalities.  Let that sink in.  No one is marginalizing you.  You chose to do this to yourselves AND your beloved ship via your words and actions.  You sunk your own battleship and now you’re pissed.  

I don't affiliate myself with any ship or the other factions of this fandom.... I don't get it.  I'm just a fan.  A fan of the story, the acting, the tragedy, the comedy, the characters and the character of the actors involved.  I don't know what a good "fan" is... don't care.  But I know what a bad one is.  A bad one thinks that they can take ownership of someone else's art just because they've "invested" in it. 

And I apply it to my own life in this way - Here I am doing my thing, putting my creativity out into the world... and what I create matters to me.  Every little bit.  I throw myself into the things I'm passionate about.  And not everyone is going to be thrilled with what I produce.  Some people will never see what I put out there, but word travels fast when you genuinely care about your craft.  I do what I do because it drives me, and always has.  And I do my best to stay true to MY story.  And the thought of someone trying to insert themselves into my story because they think they know my creations better than I do, makes me want to punch throats.  

And the thought of a group of people actually threatening me and the people I collaborate with because I'm not making their fantasy a reality??  Hey - get fucked sideways without lube, and throw some sand in there for extra discomfort.

I want you (and you know who you are) to have some accountability.  Please tell me in what scenario is your behavior warranted or appropriate.  Feel free to DM me.  I won't "out" you, and I'll never be abusive - I just need to know why.  (bullet pointing this because... reading comprehension)

1.  WHY is Destiel is the only representation you'll accept.  

2.  WHY do you think it's funny or "OK" to harass the creatives on this show constantly when you have absolutely no right to their story?  

3.  WHY do you think that pushing something so hard will get you what you want? 

4,   And lastly.... WHY is this so important to you? 

Can you possibly survive if Destiel isn't made canon?  Do you have other hobbies and interests that can fill your time?  Because some of ya'll are acting like this is the Be All End All of your existence and I'm here to tell you - it's really not.  If it DOES happen, it will be at the discretion of the showrunner and creatives, and I promise you it won’t be because they caved to the small, yet omnipresent faction of Destiehellers that have annoyed the ever-living fuck out of everyone attached to this show.  It’ll be on their terms.

The tantrum strategy stops working after age 4, usually....it just seems some of you are late getting the memo.  Thanks to your folks.  Well done.

Try to appreciate the show for what it is and always has been.  If your expectations are unreasonable and are buoyed by years of manips, misquotes and over-analyzation of brief "moments" between ANY characters, and you feel emotional enough about it to behave badly - it's time for a factory reset.  This show has never mislead you - you’ve bought into delusion and over-analysis and straight-up fiction pimped to you by fellow “fans” probably before you even watched your first episode.  It’s the weirdest thing I’ve seen.  And I’ve seen some shit. 

If you’re going to be angry... be angry at your friendly neighborhood Destiel dealer.  They chumped you to get more *buy* for their *supply*.  Them’s the facts.

That being said.... Can We Just Appreciate The Final Moments That This Amazing Cast And Crew Are Going To Give Us (and you know they will), And Let It The Fuck GO?  

You're welcome to block me (you probably should).  But before you do that, could you let this sink in a bit?  And if you see a fellow shipper being an entitled  douche - maybe hold yourself to a higher standard than they do themselves and don't perpetuate it/like/reblog it?  Because this behavior is well and truly a shitty way to treat the legacy of this groundbreaking show, and all those that are responsible for bringing it to life. 

In other words....Behave.  And have some goddamn dignity.

I’m not sure if I’m doing this right, but my response was so long.  Eh...whatever.  @jessiegail   I understand, and please allow me to elaborate. When I was scrolling through the Jensen tags (because the Dean and SPN tags have been overrun by a lot of people with zero respect for the character/show canon, so I stay away anymore.  That in and of itself should tell you something)... I was also sharing in the moment, and the news and wanted to see some SPN love and positivity. What I ran into almost immediately was, and I quote: "If they don't make destiel cannon (sic) for the series finale, I'll set their houses on fire. You've been warned." 87 people agreed with @moosewncstr on this sentiment.  Now... if it was one shitty person and people steered clear of any affiliation with them for threatening arson because they're completely off their fucking rocker.... that would be easy to ignore.  But 87 people??  That’s really, really bad. What I'm seeing and have been seeing, is a hive-mind mentality that doesn't care for acceptance. Doesn't care if it’s abusive. Doesn't care if someone gets their “feelings” hurt. And they absolutely Do Not Care if what they say incites the potential reality of violence, as long as they can force their ship down the throats of as many people as possible and Make It Canon.  

And by hive-mind, I mean - NO ONE in the Destiel camp seems to have the degree of autonomy (AKA:  Balls) required to rein in the bad apples in their bunch.  They either agree or stay silent.  So, because you can’t self-regulate, people like me with no concern or desire for your approval have to come in and tell you to knock your shit off.  You won’t.  But I feel better.  And maybe others will feel more comfortable to express their disapproval when shit like this rears its ugly head. Anyone who would think threats (just a joke...hahaha), are acceptable, and those who are in agreement can suck it. And i will not roll over and sing kumbaya with anyone who thinks this is ok. I'm generally careful with the headers and lead-in paragraphs to posts that are potentially inflammatory. A courtesy that is not extended by your brethren. You had ample warning that this post would not be kind to asshole shippers. I don’t think you are one of those people - but, if you’re defending this behavior, I can’t really empathize with you.  I also don’t want you to feel targeted.  This isn’t about YOU.  This is about endemic behavior that has become so toxic, it pretty much can’t be undone. As for paying anything forward, I do not owe people who act like this the time of day, much less a kind word. I have 2 choices:  I can stand by and pretend I don't see these things and block, block, block so that I can stay in my bubble. Or, I can take my own little stand on my own little blog and address genuinely disturbing behavior using language of my choice. What I will never do is threaten or abuse any individuals who question my logic. Downside is... you'll get a very long winded explanation. Go, be happy. Enjoy your ship. No one is telling you not to. I'm telling you right now, though - I can't and won't tolerate the bad apples. Best to block me if you're sensitive to the way I word my posts, but understand - I'm not promoting hate or abusive behavior - I'm fighting it. And I will continue to do so as long as I'm on this dumpster fire of a website, because I love this show and I believe all of the creative's, crew and fans deserve some fucking respect.

[writingsofspn]

Desire - Sam Winchester x Reader

Loosely based on 5x14, ‘My Bloody Valentine.’ Sam and Y/N are cursed with a desire so strong, they might just kill each other.

Warnings: scenes of a sexual nature, Cas being adorable

Y/N = Your Name

this fic is gender neutral:)

——————————

“They ate each other?” Dean asked in absolute disgust. He wrinkled his nose as the coroner told him what had happened the night before. Sam looked equally disturbed as he glanced at the pile of flesh that sat before you guys on the table. You pulled your brows together and turned away from it, feeling slightly sick. You’d seen a lot of things, but this was gross.

“Well, thank you doctor. We’ll contact you if we need anything.” Sam said, folding up the notes and opening the door for you to walk through. You guys headed out of the morgue and made your way to the nearest bar, wanting to forget the pile of flesh you’d just seen.

When you got there, the whole place was decked out in Valentine’s Day decorations. You smiled and looked at Sam.

“Ah, is that today? Happy Valentine’s Day.” You stopped and kissed him quickly, wanting to show him at least some affection because of the day. He smiled at you, chuckling as you guys sat at the bar. You guys had been seated for a while, talking about the case and possible reasons behind it, when a cold gust of wind blew through the bar; making you shiver. You looked around to see who had opened the door. It was shut. You shrugged and turned back to the boys.

Something was wrong. You felt‍...odd. You looked at Sam and an overwhelming sense of desire overcame you. You crossed your legs tight and swallowed hard. Sam seemed to have the same idea, his jaw clenching as he looked at you. Your mind was foggy and all you could think about was Sam, and how that suit was covering far too much and…

“Yo? You guys okay?” Dean snapped his fingers in front of you guys.

“Uh, yeah. We’re fine. You know what Dean? Is it okay if Y/N and I head back to motel room and have some...um...alone time. You know, as it’s Valentine’s Day.” Sam said quickly, barely able to string his sentences together, fidgeting on the bar stool. Dean looked between the two of you.

“Ew. Gross. Just don’t do it on my bed.” Dean grumbled, tossing Sam the keys and heading over to talk to some busty blonde at the other end of the bar.

You guys could barely control yourselves as you entered the motel room. Sam slammed you roughly against the back of the door, bringing your thigh around his waist and gripping it so tightly that there’d probably be a bruise there later. He kissed your lips, your neck, your chest. He sucked along your shoulder as he ripped your shirt, buttons flying everywhere, throwing it to the floor. You guys were ravenous for each other. You knotted your hands in his hair and pulled hard and he moaned in response. He pulled your other leg up around his waist and he gripped the backs of your thighs as you felt his teeth graze your neck.

Suddenly, a moment of clarity seemed to appear.

You’d been ‘infected’, both of you.

It made sense, the sudden feeling of lust and desire. If you didn’t stop this now, you’d end up like the couple who was now a pile of flesh sitting in the coroner’s office. You pulled away quickly, running to the bathroom and locking the door behind you. You heard Sam shout from the other side, his fists banging hard on the door.

“Y/N! What are you doing?” He yelled, still banging against the door. You knew he’d break it down in a few seconds if you didn’t knock some sense into him. Your mind was still filled with desire, and it was taking every ounce of strength you had to not unlock that door and be with Sam. Your mind was hazy as you sat on the floor and leant against the door. You were breathing deeply, your legs crossed tightly as you sat down.

“Sam, don’t...don’t you see? We’ve been infected by whatever that...that couple had last night. If we don’t stop, we’re…we’re going to kill each other.” You breathed, struggling to get the words out. Sam’s fists stopped on the door, and you heard his footsteps back away.

“You’re right. I’ll...I’ll call…” Sam stopped, and you couldn’t hear anything from behind the door. Your head fell forward and you tried to think of anyone or anything other than Sam. The desire was so strong, your cheeks were flushed and you were sweating. You wanted nothing more than to unlock that door, so much so that it felt like you could barely breathe from the thought. Your skin burned at the thought of Sam and you knew you had to do something. You felt as if you were vibrating as you sat in the corner of the bathroom, trying to get as far away from Sam as possible. You pushed your clenched fists to your head and shut your eyes tight. It was almost as if you could smell him, and it was driving you nuts.

————————-

You didn’t know how long you waited, maybe 10 minutes more? It felt like hours, but it wasn’t. You heard Dean bust through the door and haul Sam’s ass out to the car. He came back in and gently knocked on the door, telling you to let him in. You got up, and pulled the lock. He opened the door and sighed at your state. No shirt, hands bound, hair a complete mess. You strained a smile and he told you he’d fix it.

————————

You were staying at a motel on the other side of town, Cas watching over you as Dean was sorting everything out. He watched you fidget on the bed, attempting to focus on what was on the TV.

“What is desire, Y/N?” Cas tilted his head to the side, hands clasped in his lap. You smiled.

“Desire is the...the attraction between two people, Cas. It’s what draws them to one another. Desire can...can come up in all different forms. You can have a sexual desire for someone, or you can just crave to be in someone’s company all the time. Desire is what holds two people together. It’s what keeps people in love and in relationships. It’s so important but….what’s happening right now between Sam and I, it’s too much. Desire can be overwhelming, and Sam and I nearly killed each other last night. Our desire to be with each other just took over and I guess, in theory, the only way to be together forever is to...to die. Whoever is behind this ‘love’ infection is wanting couples to die together, almost sacrifice themselves in the name of love and desire. It’s...it’s disgusting.” You looked at the patterns on the comforter while you spoke. Cas pulled his brows together and breathed in.

“So, desire can be interpreted as a form of love?” He asked curiously, pursing his lips. You swallowed thickly, quite glad for the distraction that Cas was causing. Your mind was still focused on well...doing things. But Cas’s questions seemed to keep your mind at bay for the moment.

“Yeah I guess so. I mean, I think desire is something that leads on from love. Think of love as the roots of a tree, and desire just one of the branches. That’s the best way I can put it.” You shrugged, looking at Cas and smiling. He was silent for a few minutes, tilting his head and thinking about what you said.

“I like your tree metaphors.” Cas said simply.

You grinned and put your head down. Only Cas would have that sort of response to what you just said.

————————

You must have fallen asleep, because you woke up with a start as you heard the door to the motel room close softly.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I thought you might be hungry when you woke up so I went to get some food. I’m sorry I woke you.” Cas said apologetically, handing you the paper bag with some food inside. You looked down and your heart swelled. Cas had obviously placed a blanket on you whilst you were sleeping, and taken your shoes off. You thought about how far he’d come from being that heartless angel to what he was now.

“I thought you might get cold.” He said quietly, sitting down on the bed next to yours.

“Thank you.” You said, gratefully. You began to open the bag of takeout when you suddenly felt something...or more a lack of something.

“Hey Cas? It’s gone. I don’t feel...feel like I did earlier. I feel normal, like I don’t want to...eat my boyfriend.” You laughed, shutting your eyes and throwing your head back; saying a silent thank you to Dean, who must’ve sorted it out.

Before Cas had the chance to reply, Dean opened the door with Sam behind him; arms folded. He strutted into the room, his lips pouting. He had a large gash on his head and a bruised eye.

You rolled your eyes. Drama queen.

“Well. I did it. I sorted the nymphomaniacs out. And I’ll tell ya, it wasn’t easy. The bitch threw me about like a goddamn ragdoll, but you know what? I did it, that’s what matters.” He said triumphantly, hands on hips. You didn’t really listen, getting up off the bed and walking up to Sam, putting your hands to his face and pressing your lips to his. It felt nice to be able to kiss your boyfriend without the urge to tear him to shreds, you had to admit.

“It’s okay, I didn’t want a thank you anyway. It’s not like it wasn’t any trouble, it’s fine. You guys make out, don’t worry.” Dean mocked, folding his arms and rolling his eyes. You and Sam stopped, and both turned.

“Thank you Dean.” You said in unison, going back to what you were doing. You heard Dean mutter something about no gratitude, grab his jacket and head off to the other motel; Cas in tow.

“So how about we pick up where we left off? You know, without wanting to eat each other and stuff.” Sam smirked, his arms pulling tight around your waist.

“Mmhh, maybe I still wanna eat you.” You fake growled, going to bite his neck. He laughed and pulled you guys back towards the bed. You landed with a thud and you stopped for a moment.

“I love you, you know.” You said quietly, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah. I love you too.” He replied, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

———————-

[pastelwitchling]

Malex one-shot Angst/Fluff Prompt List #9 (Prompt #7)

7. “You’re a terrible liar.”

***

Alex had been up for days, and was starting to forget what having coherent thoughts felt like. Since Michael had said those dreaded words, since he’d so enthusiastically confessed to Alex that he was trying to leave the planet, Alex had found it impossible to sleep. So, he did what he could; he focused on Jim Valenti and Project Shepherd. He went over Jim’s records, as well as his father’s files over and over again, his and Kyle’s only lead having been Caulfield, an old state prison.

“This guy sounds like he was off his rocker,” Michael said as he searched the halls with them, his hands in his pockets, his eyes glancing at Alex and Kyle every so often.

Alex’s migraines, which had started off as simple stings a few days ago, were now violently throbbing, and with Michael chirping in every few seconds, for seemingly no other reason than to piss Kyle off, Alex was struggling to remember why he had asked for his help with this investigation.

Because you need him, the small part of Alex’s brain, that was usually fighting for sleep, reminded him. Alex had recently discovered that Caulfield was somehow linked to Project Shepherd, and he knew that whatever his father and Jim Valenti had been doing, they had been doing it together, and the answers were most likely to be here.

And I need Guerin here with me, he silently confessed. It’s ridiculous, and childish, and if I managed to survive a decade as an airman, this shouldn’t be so hard.

“But it is,” he muttered loudly, unaware of himself.

“You say something, Alex?” Kyle asked, and Alex could hear the barely constrained irritation in his voice as he glanced at Michael. Apparently, he thought, Michael’s tactics to upset Kyle were working.

Alex shook his head slightly. “Nothing. No, nothing.”

“Alex,” Michael said, his voice closer now, softer, “are you okay?”

No, he wanted to say. You’re leaving, and I’m so sleep deprived because of it that I don’t think I can spell my own name right now.

But Alex only ran a hand over his face, and said, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“I don’t get it,” Kyle said. “What would our dads be doing in this place?”

Michael shrugged. “Any number of things. They could’ve been called in to separate a jail fight, going over security protocol, overseeing a transfer.”

               Kyle scoffed, and Michael eyed him darkly. “You got something to say?” And Alex closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, because he already knew where this was going.

               “You just seem to know a lot about what happens in prisons.”

               “It’s cause I’m smart, Valenti. I know you must wonder what that’s like—”

               “I’m a doctor!”

               “Great, if someone gets a papercut, your expertise will come in handy.”

               “Stop it!” Alex snapped, and it nearly lost him his balance. There was a buzzing in his ear, and he caught himself just before asking if anyone else heard it. I need to sleep. He pinched the bridge of his noise, his eyes shut tight.

When he opened them again, both Kyle and Michael were eying him with concern.

“Alex,” this time Kyle asked, his eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you slept?”

Alex sighed, irritated. They didn’t have time for this. “They had to do it together?” Alex said. “A sergeant and a small-town cop?”

Kyle looked like he wanted to keep pushing, but eventually he said, “Jesse Manes wasn’t always a sergeant.”

“Yes,” Alex said. “He was.” Kyle looked at him like he understood what he meant, which Alex appreciated, while Michael’s look was unreadable. Alex couldn’t take the pressure of it, and he turned away. “Whatever they were doing here, it wasn’t under any official orders. They had their own agenda.”

“Which was what?” Kyle shook his head, looking around as if still trying to understand how they ended up here. Alex couldn’t really blame him. It was hard to believe his father would associate himself with anyone from a jail, as self-righteous as he always thought himself to be. “My god, Alex, what were they doing?”

Alex put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. It was more than the two of them were used to, or had been used to in a long time, and Alex was fully aware of Michael’s eyes on him, burning a hole into his hand, but he knew that Kyle needed some comfort now, and his thoughts were too loud to think of anything else. He really needed to sleep.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? Do you plan on tapping out anytime soon? Because I don’t.”

Kyle looked at him for a long time, then said, “You mean that, right? Cause all of this, it’s – it’s too much. I can’t take it by myself, I don’t know how –”

“You won’t have to,” he said with as much certainty as he could muster in his half-dazed state. “This is just as much for me as it is for you. We’re in this together, okay?” He dropped his hand, glancing at Michael who was looking to the side, his jaw clenched. Alex knew he should’ve talked to him, but the ache in his head and his muscles were urging him to stay focused on the mission at hand.

“Let’s split up,” Alex said. “Cover more ground.”

Right away, Kyle and Michael’s faces turned to surprise, then to objection as they both talked at the same time.

“Are you out of your mind?” Kyle said.

“We don’t know what’s hiding here, what to expect,” Michael claimed.

“And look at you, you’re obviously not okay!”

“I’m confused,” Alex said, trying to rest his weight on his left leg. “Are you guys just afraid of going by yourselves, or are you worried for me? Which one is it? Because if you’re worried about yourselves, you could always pair up together. If it’s for me –”

“It’s for you,” they both said at once.

Alex rubbed his face. “If it’s for me, I should remind you that I’m the only one here equipped to carry a gun, and have dealt with life-threatening injuries on multiple occasions in the past.”

Michael raised a brow. “Well, I feel better.”

“It means that if, for whatever reason, I do get seriously hurt, I’m the only one of us that’ll be able to take it. At least, until one of you gets to me. Okay? Okay.”

“Keep your phone on you!” he heard Kyle call out before they split down three separate corridors, each with dim lighting, though not completely dark because of the barred windows at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t until Alex neared the end that he could hear footsteps behind him, and he slowed his steps. He’d been trained to focus in the harshest of conditions, and knew that, if he really needed to, he’d be able to afford himself a few moments of adrenaline, no matter the lack of rest.

               In his condition, he knew he would only have about thirty seconds of sheer stamina, which, as he was taught, was more than enough, but he had to make the best of it.

               He felt the presence approaching, reaching out towards him, the slight shift in wind around him an indicator of that much, and with a sharp inhale, he turned around, caught the culprits arm that had been stretched towards him by the wrist, and turned it so that the culprit was against the wall, Alex’s hand keeping one arm twisted backwards, his other on the man’s back, forcing him still.

               “Ow, Alex!”

               Alex blinked, and instantly let Michael go, stepping back. “What’re you doing, following me?”

               Michael huffed, dusting off his shirt. “I had to make sure you were okay – man, you really were in the army.”

               Alex frowned as Michael rubbed his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… no, wait a minute, I’m not sorry, you’re supposed to be off on your own!”

               “And you’re supposed to be more than half-asleep, so I guess we’re all doing things we’re not supposed to be doing.”

               “I am awake,” Alex said, rubbing his eyes. His lids were getting heavier, but he wasn’t going to let Michael see that. “Does that mean Kyle’s by himself?”

               Michael huffed, dusting his shirt particularly roughly, his eyes on Alex. “Forget Kyle for a goddamn second, and tell me why I’m here. Why’d you ask for my help, Alex? Half dead, and you can still easily defend yourself –”

               “I said I’m fine,” Alex said sharply, the noise from his own lips worsening the throbbing in his head.

               Michael stared, then, “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

               “Was I interrupting you or something?” Alex asked, and continued making his way through the prison, eyes looking everywhere but Michael, but not really taking anything in. “Your spaceship can wait a few hours, Guerin.”

               “Alright,” Michael said, “I get it, you’re pissed about me leaving, but that’s not why I’m here.”

               “Isn’t it?”

               “No, it’s not.”

               “Why are you so sure?” he snapped, halting in his steps. “How do you know that I’m not trying to keep you from finishing, that all of this isn’t just me stalling you because I really don’t want you to leave?”

               Michael’s eyes searched his face, and with his voice surprisingly quiet as if he himself didn’t really believe his next words, he said, “You wouldn’t do that.”

               Alex thought of the missing UFO piece in his backpack, the one he’d deliberately kept from Michael, and he stepped close enough that they were a mere few inches away from one another. “You don’t know what I’d do.”

               He stared, then, “You need me here, don’t you?”

               Alex swallowed, realized their proximity, and moved away. “Yeah, your powers are useful.”

               “No,” Michael said, and he smiled in that way he always smiled when he knew what Alex was thinking. “You may be right. I may not know everything about you, and what you’d do to keep me on this planet, but… there’s one thing I do know for sure.”

               “And what’s that?”

               “That between me, and the alien, you pick me. You pick me, Alex,” he said. “I was right, wasn’t I? I’m not here because you need my powers, I’m here because you need me. Because all of this Project Shepherd crap scares the hell out of you, and you want me to be here with you for it.”

               Alex stared. He was too tired to throw the ball back and forth anymore. “Would you have come? If that’s what I’d said?”

               Michael’s face fell. He obviously had not been expecting Alex to tell the truth. Then, his expression turned serious, and he stepped into Alex’s space. “Running.”

               Alex saw Michael’s eyes fall to his lips, and at that point, he wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them and kiss him. He inched closer, his lips barely brushing against Michael’s, when he suddenly heard a sound like the clashing of metal against metal. It was brief, but it woke Alex out of his haze, and he stepped back.

               “What was that?”

               Michael shook his head, also looking in the direction of the two long corridors that stretched out ahead of them. “I don’t know.”

               Alex closed his eyes, his brows furrowed. He listened for another sound, and while he doubted Michael may have heard it, he himself heard a soft rustling, like something metallic was being carefully dragged across the wall or floor.

               He opened his eyes. “There’s someone else here. You go that way,” he pointed at one of the corridors, “I’ll go this way, maybe we can catch whoever it is.”

               “Separate? Really?” Michael said incredulously.

               “Would you rather stand here?”

               “I’d rather I come with you.”

               “I’ll be fine, Guerin,” Alex said, clutching the straps of his backpack more firmly. “I always am.”

               This time, he didn’t wait for Michael’s response before he forged on ahead down one of the corridors. Behind him, he heard Michael faintly muttering, “You really are a terrible liar.”

***

The prompt is courtesy of @hellsdemonictrinity.

This is obviously not what happens in the upcoming episode, but I just really wanted Kyle and Michael protecting Alex. We all know fully well that he does not need any help, and is a total badass even on his worst day, but I wanted someone to worry about him.

I’m really annoyed with myself. I was falling asleep in front of the computer last night as I was finishing this, and I never managed to even write the second one, so now, I have two more prompts to write and publish today to catch up.

*sigh* I will work hard to have the next two up today. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed reading this ❤️

[jimlingss]

The Deli Diaries [8]

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 [Finale]

➜ Words: 1.5k

➜ Genres: Fluff & Cuteness, That good ol’ slow burn, Slice of Life

➜ Summary: Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

➜ Warnings: Mundane-ness that might make you bored to death

➜ Notes: prepare yourselves cause after this chapter, we’re going to see 2 whole inches of development......probably.

 Except, there’s something in the air today that tells you things are a bit different. And it’s not the little glances made by Jimin from across the produce floor that gives you that feeling. Rather, you notice another man who’s wheeling a shopping cart around and putting items into his reusable grocery bags. When he thinks no one is looking, he pockets a giant piece of brie cheese into his jacket pocket.

  If possible, you sigh even louder than before.   The debate inside your head begins…   Who even cares? You steal food too. Plus, what if this person needs it? You don’t give a shit about this store anyways. If anything, this is the perfect revenge. Management can suck it.   But — you do have a duty to at least report theft. They made it loud and clear that you have no responsibility to confront a possible shoplifter. The damn company is too afraid of liability issues and doesn’t want any employee risking their life, but you can always call the manager on duty to deal with it.   Plus, this guy was stealing a lot. If he was planning to walk out of this store with that entire cart like you think he is, then that’s three of the deli chickens off of the shelf and you’re going to have to make more.   God, you wish Amber wasn’t on her break right now. If she was here, she’d have to deal with this and not you.   With reluctant footsteps, you walk towards the phone and pick it up, pressing the button for the intercom. “Manager on duty to the deli….please. Manager on duty to the deli…?”   Your voice echoes throughout the entire store and you put down the handset while cringing.   The shoplifter is still a bit of a ways off, choosing what jar of pickles to take.   And you wait...patiently, you wait. But no manager ever comes into the deli.   “What’s wrong?” The brunette boy turns and gives you full immediate attention when you come strolling towards him from behind the deli cases. He stops piling oranges onto the display case and wipes his gloved hands onto his red apron without making the cotton fabric dirty. His rounded eyes stare back into yours and you don’t know where to begin with answering his question.   “Where are all the managers?” You’re pissed off and for good reason. They’re all probably chatting in the staff room and having a goddamn tea party while talking smack about Walmart and other more successful grocery stores. Where are they when you need them?!   “I haven’t seen them.” Jimin frowns in concern, searching your face as if he could detect what’s wrong. “Why?”   “They’re so useless,” you mutter more to yourself. “I think someone’s shoplifting.”   “What? Who?”   “That guy.” You turn and keep yourself close to Jimin. Your voice is lowered down and you whisper all your words. The innocent produce boy’s cheeks heat up at your close proximity, but he forces himself to keep focus. “The one walking back and forth and lurking in the corner.”   “The one with the baggy coat?”   “Yeah.” He’s a bad shoplifter, shoulders hunched, purposely avoiding eye contact, though you swear his pupils flicker over for a mere moment. “What is he even doing?”   “I don’t know, but is that all his stuff?” Jimin means the shopping cart that has things piled on like a mountain. Food and toiletries are overflowing from the reusable shopping bags, spilling out, and you can see three of your precious rotisserie chickens on there too.   “Yeah, I think so.” You sigh. “We can’t just ignore it.”   The boy smiles, stealing a glimpse of your profile. As much as you like to trot around and announce how much you hate this place and your job, Jimin knows you care a little, whether you want to admit it or not. “Is there no security guard walking the floor?”   “No.” Sometimes there are hired guards that walk around and wear the disguise of a normal customer, but they only work every other day at certain hours. Of course, today there was no one like that around. Just your fucking luck. “Why don’t they have any anti-theft beepers at the door? Or like the security scanners?”   “You tell me.”   But you know the exact reason. You asked your supervisor once and apparently it’s too expensive to get those machines at the door. Goddamn. You don’t understand the logic. The stupid ass company is not only dumb, but cheapskates. Maybe they deserve to be stolen from.   “Should we just ignore him?”   Jimin’s brows furrow and he considers all the options. Without saying anything, he takes a step forward, but is stopped when you grab onto his wrist. You latch onto him with a tight grip, fingers curling over his skin. “Wait. Don’t. What if he attacks you?”   Jimin looks at you. “He won’t attack me.”   “I’ve seen the security guard tackle people before and no offence, produce boy, but I think you’d get beaten into a pulp.”   The corner of his mouth tugs in amusement. Deep down, Jimin likes it when you worry about him. In a way, it expresses that you care for his well-being. Unless...you’re only apprehensive since you know that company policy wouldn’t pay his hospital bills and you’d feel obligated to fork over your paycheck and help him. “I work out at the gym, you know.”   “Uh-huh.” You’re fully aware that now’s not the time to bicker or banter with him. “What if he pulls out a weapon….like a knife or something.”   His smile grows wider. “I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”   “Oh my god.” You’re rolling your eyes to the back of your skull, but then your vision is stolen by something else. All at once you let Jimin go and a gasp falls from your parted lips. “Oh my god! He’s leaving!”   The pair of you run over on instinct and the shoplifter is prevented from moving when you block his way with your bodies. “Um, excuse me, sir.” You’re pleasantly surprised when you sound firmer than what you feel inside. “Could we see your receipt?”   “Why?”   The stranger’s eyes are big and full of fear. You can see the way sweat rolls from his hairline to his chin and thankfully he’s not violent, though it’s still too early to be at ease.   “We just need to make sure you made these purchases.” You force yourself not to waver, standing strong in your spot, but also wondering what the hell you would do if you died protecting a place you’ve always wanted to throw your shit at.   “But I paid for these already,” he defends himself.   You give an incredulous expression. Really? Does he think you’re blind or stupid? “We just need to see your receipt, sir. And then you can be on your way.”   “I….I think I lost it.” The rugged man begins to pat his pockets like he’s searching for it. “I think I already threw it away.”   “Oh. Then can you stay here for a moment, so we can check the purchase logs at the customer service counter? It’ll only take a second.”   “No—!” He shouts and his jaw ticks. “I paid for these! I want to go now. You’re being very rude to me.”   “Please cooperate,” Jimin pipes up beside you and you’re surprised at how harsh his tone is. All signs of the timid produce boy have disappeared and he doesn’t look so cute anymore. “It’ll only take a second.”   “I…” The man’s face goes pale and he books it to the left. At the sheer speed he whips himself, his body lurches forward and his feet slide. He nearly stumbles and falls, arms flailing out, but he catches himself before he can eat shit and he dashes through the door. The man runs for the hills while the sound of his voice is left behind. “I’m sorry!”   The full shopping cart is left abandoned in front of the two of you.   “Well….that went better than expected.”   “Told you I could protect you.”   You scoff and a moment later, someone else comes jogging from the left. He’s a taller dude, red apron tied around his body, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. The grocery manager looks frantic and catches his breath while trying to piece together what happened with the both of you standing there and a cart full of items in front of you. He’s late.   “You paged me? What happened?!”   You look at Jimin, gazing into his eyes with your dead ones, not impressed at all. The produce boy’s lips turn upright and expand into a smile, eyes crinkling, laughing at your expression.

[ofstagdreams]

flicker of the heart [5/?]

an not sure how much more of this there will be, I have a rough plan in my head for maybe another fivish chapters? But we shall see. Also tagging @myfavmarvel who asked to be tagged in all future parts. Previous parts can be found in the flickeroftheheartfic hashtag or on AO3.

AO3

The rain continues outside, cold wind blowing and making the whole cabin shake with the strength of it, but you feel nothing but warmth. Arthur’s lips are on yours, hands sliding down from your face to your hips pulling you flush against him.

It had taken you a second to react, but soon your hands were tangled in his hair and you’re pushing yourself up against him. You feel his tongue, begging for entry and you gladly give it to him. It was foreign almost, your kisses with George had been chaste, something of a gentle spark between you.

But Arthur, Arthur kisses like fire, like he is the flame itself burning so brightly in the middle of the darkness – and if Arthur is the fire, you want to be consumed by it.

Eventually, you have to come up for air and all you can do is stare at each other – the sinking weight of what just happened settling in. His arms are still encircling your waist and your hands are still tangled in his hair. You want to feel good because after all this time something had finally happened, but all you could feel was a pang of sinking guilt because this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be when you were both free, when you could give yourselves to each other completely, but now, the whole thing was complicated, and you had no idea what to do about it.

Arthur opens his mouth and looks like he was about to say something when you hear a crash coming from the other room and the two of you jump apart as if you’d been burned.

John comes tumbling through the doorway, his form barely visible in the dying light from the fire, half asleep and grumbling as he flops down on the bench by the fireplace, throwing a log onto it, casting light into the room once more.

“I’m sleeping here, the Calander boys won’t shut their mouths for five goddamn minutes to let me fall asleep.” You and Arthur both stand still, seemingly still in shock from the events that had passed between you two within the past several minutes.

You nod at John feeling stiff and awkward, “yeah, okay then.” You shuffle towards your bed, barely sparing a glance at Arthur as you lay down on your cot and, after a moment you hear him do the same.

The whole room is silent, save for the soft snores coming from John.

You barely sleep, tossing and turning all night as you try to process everything. On the one hand, you were happy, so happy that it felt like the joy could burst right out of your chest if you thought about it too much. But then thoughts of George would creep in and guilt would weigh you down, heavy like a stone as you thought of the look of betrayal on his face if he ever found out.

Your mind went in circles all night and a few times you turned your head to look at Arthur.

He was always looking back.

You honestly have no idea what you want him to say, too afraid that he just got his emotions confused, too afraid that he’ll write it off as nothing. At least for tonight, if you don’t talk to him, you can pretend it was something.

The dawn breaks and you wake to sunshine creeping in through the breaks in the wooden slats. Arthur and John have already disappeared, probably off to find something to eat.

The day is surprisingly warm for one so soon after a storm, you stretch aching limbs and being the tedious task of packing everything up – knowing that Dutch will want to be moving on sooner rather than later.

You nod a greeting at Mac and Davey as you walk outside to where Bessie loads goods onto the wagon with Annabelle’s help. You started helping immediately, thinking that you have enough snacks in your saddlebag to get you through the afternoon without having to scrounge up something for breakfast.

“Morning,” you greet them, picking up a box to be moved onto the wagon, “all the men up and disappeared and left us to do the dirty work?”

Annabelle’s laughs lightly at that, “Hosea caught a lead when he was in town today, and you know how that man gets when he finds an easy con – they’re all cooking up some plan. Were gonna wait on you for it – but you were sound asleep.”

You laugh a little at yourself at that – only feeling a little let down at the fact that you were being left out of a job, but perhaps it was for the better – you had a lot of things that you had to think through.

The men appear eventually, and you know its something exciting when he’s got that spring in his step and that smile on his face. You all gather around him automatically, Dutch always being able to pull all of you into his orbit.

“Right,” he says, clasping his hands together with excitement, “Hosea has lined us up something real good – should bring in a lot of money if we do this right. Annabelle, my dear, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me and John into town today to check a few things?”

Annabelle nods diligently, but you can tell how excited she is already. Dutch would most likely treat her in some way, a new gown or a piece of jewellery – something that made her feel special and wanted. It was sweet, in its own way you supposed but apart of you was waiting for the other shoe to drop, Dutch always tired of his conquests, eventually.

“The rest of you are going to go and set up our new camp, Hosea knows the way. It’s not too far away from here but far enough that we’ll be out of range from this town. We’ll regroup tomorrow evening and plan from there.”

As always, you all nod along with Dutch’s plan. At the mention of a new town, your mind momentarily drifted to George – you would have to speak to him and try sort it what it is you wanted and he was still close enough for that to be possible. Yet perhaps more pressing than that was a conversation with Arthur to work out what the hell happened last night.

You help load the final things into the wagon and Arthur barely spares a glance at you the entire time. You have no idea what to make of it, last night he had done nothing but stare and now he wouldn’t glance in your direction.

The best way to do this, you think, is to face this head on and so you decide to grab him quickly before everyone sets off.

“Arthur,” you say as you approach, and he turns around looking like a startled deer. He looks how you feel, confused and left out in the cold. Perhaps he doesn’t know what to make of last night any more than you do. “When we get to the new camp, we should talk.”

His only response was a grunt and a nod, knowing Arthur that was about as good as you were going to get.

With that, you get on your horse and begin the journey to the new camp. The day was hot, and you had to remove your hat several times to wipe sweat from your brow. The whole thing went a lot slower than it had to because Uncle couldn’t ride very fast, kept on blaming it on lumbago and keeping a steady pace on his horse – you just thought he wanted to go slow so he could ride and drink at the same time.

What was supposed to be a ride that took little over an hour, took almost two because of it. So, it was almost dark by the time everyone got to the new camp location, you still wanted to speak with Arthur, but everything still had to be set up and some sort of stew still had to be made for dinner. You were exhausted from the ride, but knew it wasn’t fair to sit back and let everyone else do the work when you’d all done the same amount of riding that day.

By the time you get a moment by yourself, it’s well after dark and most of the gang have crawled into bed, with you half a mind to follow their lead. But you thought you saw Arthur still hanging around and you really wanted to speak to him.

You were nervous about it, terrified that he really would chalk it up to heightened emotions or something and leave it at that, but you had to be brave. Besides, if he does crush all your hopes you reason that perhaps you’ll finally be able to put your feelings for him to bed once and for all.

He’s standing at the edge of camp when you approach, looking lost in thought about something. You take a moment and admire him, wondering at what a handsome man he really was, it was such a shame that he didn’t see it.

“Hey,” you say as you approach, and he turns around and gives you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. He takes a step towards you and stops himself, looking a little unsure before opening his mouth to speak, “I was hoping you and me would get a chance to talk today.”

Your heart leaps a little at that, but you will yourself to calm down – just because he wanted to talk to you didn’t mean that it would be a good outcome.

You consider what to say for a moment, before finally settling on, “you kissed me, Arthur.”

He looks almost startled at your straightforwardness and a hand comes up to rub the back of his neck as his eyes sweep over your form, “you ain’t playing around today, are you?”

You say nothing in response and instead cock an eyebrow, he takes another step towards you and reaches for your hand, taking it in his own and giving it a small squeeze.

“Listen, I know it was unexpected – hell, I wasn’t expecting it myself – but I’ve been thinking a lot about this and I know you have that other feller. But well, shit, I ain’t doing this right,” he mumbles, and you give his hand a small squeeze to encourage him to continue – it sounded like it might be going somewhere good but you were still too afraid to get your hopes up.

“The point I’m trying to make is – “he’s interrupted by loud footsteps and you turn to see John barrelling towards camp at lightning speed. You honestly could have killed him then, for interrupting such an important moment – but he gets closer and you can read fear written across his face.

“There was a run in with Colm,” he pants, and you now notice he looks like he’s had a bad beating, “he’s killed her, Arthur. Annabelle is dead.”

In the sky above, the clouds cover the stars – blocking their light from view.