#also i never know how to end these things they’re always so lame lol

[struniolos]

lovesick.

“in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.”

nick sturniolo x masc! reader.

synopsis: the one time you and your boyfriend decided to go all the way. (this is very awkward and soft, so if you were expecting something filthy, i’m sorry!)

warnings: smut! minors do not interact.

based on this request! also dedicated to @sturnmad who inspired me to write nick!! xx

your lips danced in tandem with nicks, as you desperately clutched at each other in the darkness of your car. clinging to his shirt, his hair. nick was leaned over the centre console to reach you, as you sat in the drivers seat. it was in the early hours of the morning now, 1am when you last checked. you were pulled up in front of his apartment building, ready to say your goodbyes, but it had quickly turned into one of your regular hot and heavy make-out sessions.

“mmph! i have to go!” nick protested against your lips, pulling away from you. he looked gorgeous, his blue eyes glistening and reflecting the lights from your car’s interior lights.

“not yet.” you begged, looking at him through lidded eyes and pulling his plush lips in for another kiss.

nick sighed into your mouth, letting your mouths dance once more. you could feel the blood rushing to your crotch, your boxers suddenly becoming all the more tight. you palmed nick through his jeans, which earned a pained moan from him, but also a slap on your arm.

“matt and chris are going to be wondering where the fuck i am!” nick continued to argue, but you didn’t care. you grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him into you again, continuing to to squeeze his bulge. nick pulled away from you though, his cheeks flushed and hair slightly mussed.

“you’re insane.” he tells you, pulling away and trying to hide his smirk by crossing his arms and looking out the window.

“you’re worse.” you counter, watching his cheeks dimple as he turns back to face you.

“fuck you.” nick chuckles in defeat, biting his cheek.

“i want you to.” you whisper mischievously, leaning back into your seat and widening your legs, releasing the strain. you loved the way nick was so expressive, how you could say things that you knew would set him off and wait for his reaction.

“you’re not ready.” he told you, his smile now fading. “besides, i don’t even know what the fuck i’m doing so how am i supposed to teach you?”

“i’ve been with other guys, nick.” you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“yeah but not…” he waves his hands, widening his eyes. “you know, like, fully.”

“i’m ready nick, i’ve been telling you for weeks. i want to do this with you.” you push, the humour that was once in the air no longer present. it was silent for a while, as you watched nicks mind churn.

eventually, he spoke up. “well, if we do, i’m not doing it in your car in front of my house.”

you laughed, rolling your eyes. the quiet hum of your car engine caught your attention in the silence, which made you notice that you were in fact still sitting outside his apartment.

you rubbed his thigh, looking at him with a pout. “well, are you going to invite me in, nicolas?”

he looks at you, his foot tapping as he thought. he looked out the window, then back at you, sighing.

“fine.” he said, as if it was a warning. yet, he still had a devilish smirk plastered on his face.

the apartment was dead silent once nick had snuck you in, all of the lights were off and the only noise was the faint hum of the washing machine softly tumbling in the background. you were happy his brothers were asleep- as the last time you had come in while they were home, you were caught in an onslaught of questions. this time, there were no questions asked. you and nick could just be.

you were lead up two flights of stairs in order to finally arrive at nicks room, which every time seemed to knock the wind out of you. once he lead you inside, locking the door behind him, you found your breath again. he was only a touch taller than you, your nose just at his lips. he held your waist, looking at you with somber eyes.

“i’m sorry if i don’t…if i’m not very good. i don’t really know what i’m doing.” he confesses, “i guess that’s why i’ve been stalling for so long.”

“all that matters is that i trust you.” you tell him, cupping his cheeks in your palms. you get a little giddy at the fact they’re so warm.

you both make your way to his bed, collapsing onto his plush assortment of pillows as you continue to kiss passionately. you sling a leg over him, grinding your hardness onto his thigh. nick grabs your hips, assisting your movements. you couldn’t get enough of him, inhaling his scent, biting at his lips, rubbing your body up against his broader frame.

nick broke his lips apart from yours, looking into your eyes. “are we really doing this?”

“yes, i love you. i want to do this with you.” you tell him earnestly, spilling your heart out into the open air.

“i love you too.” he reassures you. “we’ll just…we’ll try. if it doesn’t work out, we can try again another time.”

you smile at this, his words of affirmation something you found extreme comfort in. you both began to slowly undress each other, his hands never left you- jabbing his finger into your hip, tickling you, running a hand up your chest. once you were both only in your underwear, the sheets slightly mussed from all of the shimmying and moving around, nick hovered above you. the only light source was his bedside lamp, which illuminated a condom and a bottle of lube, which made your stomach drop. this was really happening.

nick bit his lip, eyeing your body. he palmed your bulge, eliciting a pathetic moan from you. “this okay?”

“always.” you hum, as he pulls your jocks down.

you throw your head back against the pillows, as nick begins lazily stroking your throbbing length. he licked a stripe up the underside, and your mind went fuzzy, your only thoughts being nick, nick, nick. he took you in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked, something you would never get tired of. you ran a hand through his blonde locks, the dark roots showing as you tugged.

he took his mouth off you with a pop, laying his hands on your thighs. “i’m going to try something, but you have to tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

you nodded eagerly, as you watched a tattooed arm come over you to reach for the lube. he put some on his fingers, smoothing it over your hole. this caused your body to jump a little by the intrusion, but you definitely didn’t mind the sensation. you ran your hands down his biceps, as you admired him.

his eyes flicked up to yours, a knowing grin on his face as he slowly inserted a finger. you gasped, moaning at the stretch. it didn’t matter how many times you had danced this dance, it would always end up with you a panting, desperate mess- but that’s where it would end. it would never go beyond this, and your mind buzzed imagining what would come next.

once he could tell you were comfortable, nick began to stroke your cock as he pumped his finger into you. you groaned, your breathing heavy and laboured. it was too much, your body beginning to coat itself in sweat.

“i’m not going to last long, fuck!” you moaned, your stomach flexing as your hips began to jerk.

“i have to get you ready.” nick protested, his finger deep inside you.

“i am ready! just hurry up and fuck me.” you scolded, the desperation leaking from within you.

nick rolled his eyes, slowly pulling his finger out and stopping his strokes on your cock. “so impatient.”

you grabbed his face as he crawled up to hover over you once more, crashing your lips together. you didn’t waste any time, reaching down his boxers to begin stroking his solid, leaking cock. he moaned hotly into your mouth, a string of saliva between you. nick was big, not ridiculously- but it was the girth that scared you. you knew it would be a tight stretch, but your brain was so fogged with lust you didn’t care.

“i’m going to be really, really slow. i wont lie to you, it hurts like a bitch the first few times.” nick told you, looking into your eyes sternly.

you raised an eyebrow. “the first few?”

“mhm.” he hummed, “so you need to tell me if it’s too unbearable.”

you nod, desperately just wanting him inside of you, your cock leaking and your heart thudding in your throat. he reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the condom and ripping it open with his teeth. you were completely enamoured with him, his broad shoulders, the veins in his arms as he rolled it onto himself, his hair falling over his eyes, his wet lips. it was all so painfully erotic.

he motioned you to roll over to your stomach, and the weight of the situation finally hit you. this was really happening. yet, you found yourself comforted by the fact it was your boyfriend, and that you loved and trusted him more than anyone.

nick put his weight on you, kissing behind your ear. “i’m going to go really slow, okay? and i’ll stop whenever you want, no questions asked.”

“i know you will.” you whisper, craning your neck to turn around and kiss him full on the lips.

he rubbed the cold lube over your hole, and pushed it in with his finger. he toyed with you, spreading you open to prepare you. finally, you felt the tip of his cock linger at your entrance, as you latched your teeth into your fist in anticipation. incredibly slow, nick began to push himself inside of you. you bit down on your knuckles, the intrusion burning more than you had imagined. nick stopped once he was halfway, bending down so that his chest was flush with your back.

“wait, just-just stay like that for a bit.” you breathe, trying to adjust to the stretch.

“okay.” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “you feel fucking amazing, though.”

you chuckled, slowly beginning to forget about the pain. it took you a few moments to gain your composure before you urged him on.“okay, you can keep going.”

nick pushed himself further into you, your mouth falling open and a guttural moan tumbling out. it burned, but it felt so good. that was until, he started thrusting. his thrusts were slow and cautious, but you yelped in pain. “fuck, i’m sorry. it hurts.”

“i’m sorry, i probably shouldn’t have done it in this position.” nick sighs, stroking your hair and kissing your cheek. “this is new for me too, i’m just copying what other guys have done to me.”

you found the strength to smile at this. nick, always the people pleaser. “well, what if we try, like…we can try a different position?”

“yeah, let’s try that.” he agrees.

you take a little bit of fiddling and shuffling around, but eventually find yourself on your back, with nick still hovering over you. he pushed back inside of you, but this time it feels different. this time, you couldn’t describe the feeling. it was euphoric. you loved that you could see his face, too, his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink.

“better?” he asked, coyly.

“yes.” you moaned, “now move, please.”

nick began to thrust into you once more, this time more comfortably. you whimpered as the burning sensation began to fade and be overtaken by a pleasure you’d never felt. nick was huffing and breathing heavy, his arms flexing as he held his weight up above you. your hands found purchase on his biceps, as your legs came to fold at your stomach.

“oh god.” nick moaned, feeling his cock deep inside of you, hitting your prostate.

you felt pathetic, slightly embarrassed by the moans and cries coming from you. nicks thrusts began to get more aggressive, his hips snapping at the back of your thighs, reaching over to start stroking your cock. this almost send you over the edge, your entire body building with pleasure.

“you feel so good.” you moaned, watching him at work, thrusting into you deep and hard, knocking the wind from you. you truly didn’t know he had it in him.

“fuck, i’m-“ nick’s hips began to stutter, his thrusts loosing their rhythm and becoming more sporadic and his hand leaving your cock as he had to hold himself up, his arms starting to buckle.

you were a mess- your bodies slapping together, lewd sounds echoing his bedroom. you pulled him closer to you, so could feel the weight of him on top of you. you reached to your front to tug yourself, feeling the build of an orgasm in your stomach and bubbling to your throat, about to burst.

“fuck! oh my god!” you cried, as the feeling of nick pounding into you combined with his heavy moans in your ear sent you over the edge.

you came all over your stomach, your hole pulsating and body shuddering as the wave of pleasure that overcame you washed you out. nick wasn’t far behind, chasing his release as you held him close, your bodies clutching each other in desperation. nick groaned heavily, his mouth agape and eyes rolling into the back of his head as he came inside you. the feeling was odd, his condom catching his release but you could still feel the warmth.

he collapsed on top of you, and you both stayed there like that- with nick still inside of you and your bodies pressed against each other, basking in the aftermath. the room fell silent now, the only noise being your combined heavy breathing. you absent mindedly stroked his back, your fingers running up and down his spine.

“sorry, i didn’t last very long.” nick finally spoke up with a chuckle. “i definitely do not have the stamina for that.”

“stamina for what?“ you questioned, pulling away so you could see his face.

he bit his lip to hide his smile. “being a top. like, it’s so tiring.”

you perk up now, laughing. “so what you’re saying is you like being the one fucked?”

“yes, the fuck-ee not the fuck-er.” he explained, as if it made perfect sense.

you couldn’t contain your laughter, shaking your head. “jesus christ, nick. sometimes you say things and i just…”

“i’d be careful with what you’re about to say, i’m still inside you.” he tsked, wagging his finger in your face.

you slapped his hand away, “well then, i suppose you’d better pull out. wouldn’t want me to get pregnant.”

nick covered his mouth and widened his eyes. “literally stop talking.”

“wanna go have a shower?” you asked, wiggling your brows.

“absolutely.” nick said enthusiastically, giving you a firm kiss.

as you watched nick get off the bed and disappear into the ensuite bathroom attached to his room, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging, like you truly felt complete now.

“hey nick?” you called out.

“yeah?” he answered, poking his head around the corner.

you gaze at him lovingly, in his full naked form, all broad and flushed. “i’m glad we did that.”

“me too, but next time, you’re fucking me.” he laughs, putting a hand up into the air before disappearing back into the bathroom.

now that, that was an idea you could work with.

[maoam]

Ramblings stemming from frustration with this fandom sometimes. ( Naruto. )

I know Naruto fandom has always been a tad toxic ever since it started becoming popular and such, but something about these newer fans who are so comfortable with d3ath threats, body shaming, sa threats, and d0xxing other people for the sake of a character. Fandom discourse is truly never that serious and the fact that they’ve become so obsessed with “ratioing” or “owning” other people that they’re willing to say absolutely vile things all for what… some likes? Validation from other gross people?

And then for these people to still say they’re the “good part of the fandom” or “the sane part”. It’s almost narcissistic for lack of a better word at the moment. ( not diagnosing anyone or speaking as if I’m some sort of mental health expert. Just can’t think of another word right now because of the headache this phenomenon is causing me as it is becoming much too common. )

They have this obsession with demonizing “the other side.” To the point of making false claims, which is insane. Or maybe they actually believe them? I can’t tell. They just spread whatever makes them feel good about what they like and don’t care about the source.

This is mainly a lame annoyed rant about the Hinata fanbase which have become somehow even worse within the past few days with their weird obsession with trying to get the Boruto artist (I think he works for sp? Unsure as he says most of his art is fanart but he made a like two or three official pieces that were on the official boruto/naruto page.) fired and sending him death threats for I guess just not drawing Hinata as much as they want? Like to the point where they were literally saying she was being “oppressed and bullied” by this artists. It was insane to see in person because you really would like to believe people WOULDNT compare a character not being drawn in a way they approve of to the oppression the people of Palestine are facing but hey, I suppose it’s a competition now to see how much of a bad person you can be for the sake of a character.

Also I know this is not just an issue in the hinata fandom, although the recent need to fetishize how “Asian Hinata is compared to that white girl sakura.” Is irking me a lot more than what other fandoms have done as of recent that I’m aware of. The Sakus seem to be their usual level of delusion and crappy attitude. Which is easy to ignore for me.

Does it sound like I’m making stuff up at this point? Because as I’m writing this I’m seeing just how insane this really is. This *shouldn’t* be real. This *shouldn’t* be things people say without shame. And yet, people just throw their morals for… what, internet points? The self validation that they defended to their favorite character? Who knows.

You might not even read this, I wouldn’t blame you lol. Just me being annoyed with how comfortable people within the naruto fandom have become so comfortable with being bad people.

My only real question is have you noticed an increase of toxicity within the fandom? Do you think this behavior has gotten worse with the ending of Naruto and beginning of Boruto?

I kinda get what you mean. I remember even before the manga ended there was apparently aggressive fights between Narusaku/Naruhina shippers, like the body shaming towards the other ship's girl and so on. And SS also were aggressive. But nowadays it indeed seems worse. I'm not sure if it's because we have new big platforms? Twitter and Tiktok I mean, both have really cancerous fandom spaces.

SS/NH harass official staff all the time, as well as other parts of the fandom. And then they act like victims because some people think Sakura and Hinata are shitty characters lol. Meanwhile they treat real people like shit. I think it might be because everyone makes fun of their ships/girls all the time, because it's so easy, so they become even crazier in trying to compensate, they try to harass the staff for more content for their ship, to get back at the people who say their ships suck. Also because so many popular content creators keep making content on Naruto and Sasuke being gay and Sakura/Hinata being their beards it's also humiliating to them.

Of course, they also need to fight which girl is the best girl. Which girl is less of a single mother for example. XD

"Or maybe they actually believe them?" Considering how many SS have convinced themselves that some moments that happened between Naruto and Sasuke actually happened between Sasuke and Sakura, I can believe them being that delusional.

"Does it sound like I’m making stuff up at this point?" No because I have witnessed it myself, plenty Sakura and Hinata stans on twitter have that toxic "bad bitch" attitude that they think makes them queens or whatever, they harass people and are extremely aggressive and think female character doing the bare minimun = queen behaviour. It comes off as very childish and narcissistic. No wonder Sakura and Hinata as characters appeal to them.

[cxhleel108]

S7 Thots for this week: Why is everyone here actually delusional asf???

(Apologies for posting this late guys I was very tired when I started writing this…I was also high asf so be mindful of that while you read lol.)

• Oh great now #Raphne is going through shit and everyone’s gonna have to dedicate their whole life to fixing it!

• Bryson laying it on THICC this morning I know dats rightttt😛😛😛

• No seriously why ze fook are we helping them with their issues? I need these people to go back to university or wherever and take a communication course cuz y’all are clearly lacking.

• Tanya so messy for asking that. Girl you know exactly who tf it is why you lowkey telling on yourself like that?😭😭😭

• #Raphne is 100% completely done y’all omg! (Bullshit)

• NO YOU WILL NOT!

• Willow is STILL talking as if anybody give af about what she got to say. Someone get this woman a hobby I’m begginggggg.

• I love having bathing suits worth mentioning now😍

• Ain’t no way they tryna force a argument between me and my partner over this Raf and Daphne mess…bitch.

• WE DONT HAVE TO AGREE ON EVERY SINGLE THING TO BE IN SYNC THATS NOT HOW COUPLES OR HUMANS WORK!

• Talk less sir.

• Why is there always some of the girls trading jealous looks when it comes to this challenge. The point is to literally kiss everyone and y’all still be getting salty, get over it??? Maybe I’m just crazy but I would literally not care.

• Once again Willow is putting on a show for her imaginary friends and nobody in the real world is gagging.

• Wow, now all of a sudden we don’t know how to kiss each other properly because we couldn’t help another couple stop arguing over fucking sheets😕

• How am I having more chemistry with Raf than my own man? God help us.

• Omg Evan came back for me y'all😍😍😍😍😍

• Paying gems magically brings back chemistry to our couple I guess.

• Girl you deserve a 10 backwards.

• That joke bullshit…BOO! CORNY! LAME! 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅

• Bryson real lucky he’s cute or I wouldn’t allow him to be acting like a 12 year old about his feelings.

• #Raphne is back together woohoo! (They’re literally gonna break it off again as soon as Daphne founds out bout Raf’s crush)

• Don't force me to have a moment with her ew! That ho is NOT my friend.

• There’s quite literally no reason to speak to everyone about the recoupling. NO REASON!

• Outfit time!🤩

• Eat! Eat! Eat!

• Thought Bryson was finna ask us to be his girlfriend right then and there ugh I need him to hurry up.

• CAN YOU ALL LEAVE US THE ABSOLUTE FUCK ALONE LIKE GODDAMN????

• Vicky if you can see how close me and Bryson are then why would you…never mind why even ask at this point.

• Bonnie has been trying to get with Tanya since the beginning of time. Girl just give up PLEASE.

• Girl who tf is you-

• Why did we get dressed up just to go speak to 3 people???????????? Chile anyways it’s outfit time AGAIN✨

• EAT! EAT! EAT!

• LMAOOOO she's such a loser I almost feel bad...almost.

• Uma you know good and well you meant to record them boys fighting. Fuck outta here with that excuse💀

• Y'all will not let Jake REST oh my goodness.

• Oooo y’all the way Bryson is fighting for us…kinda feeling butterflies in my stomach and elsewhere🤭🤭🤭

• Everyone here is so delusional when it comes to Tanya holy fuck. Actually no, this happens every season. Why do some of these people think that just because THEY feel a good connection with MC that automatically means she wants them? Like baby that’s not how this works…

• Oh Bryson don't end half of the villa like that-

• Daphne don’t ask me if I think you and yo man gon make it niece you don’t want my answer to that lmao.

• 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

• Why y’all ain’t make us do a surprise dumping so we could get Willow out? WHY IS SHE STILL HERE SHE LITERALLY HAS NOTHING TO CONTRIBUTE NOW????

• Oh I can tell you how! First, we're gonna walk in there and start marveling at every single thing in the room, specifically the bed, even though we've already been in there. Then, bet y'all won't see this coming, we're gonna find a box filled with naughty things😱😱😱 After that, we get to work and all that can be registered is the feeling of our partner's soft lips and how their hands caress our body in every place possible and then after a while we both reach our climax at the same time. Then our partner says they love us blah blah blah, we get some text about what's happening tomorrow and it's prolly the baby challenge or something equally stupid and ridiculous, and then we cuddle up and go to bed.

• If everything I just said is in next week's hideaway scene, everyone who likes this post owes me $10. I'm just playing, we all know everything I said is definitely happening. Keep your money💖

[auradons-trash-heap]

What are your honest thoughts on:

Harriet Hook

Li'l (Lonnie's brother)

Claudine Frollo

Anthony Tremaine

Based on what you read about them?

1) Harriet Hook was barely mentioned at all in the books from what I remember, but I do like all the fanon about her being one of the oldest VKs & sort of a universal mom-friend on the Isle. I also love the HC that she’s taller than Harry & I like to picture her ragging him about it a little lol. I see her as being a tough sort of figure that demands respect but does genuinely look out for especially the younger kids on the Isle & is thus widely known & loved by VKs; she may have only played a small role in most of their lives but it was a good one. She can & will take on physical challenges on the behalf of others, altho most would step down if this happens. She’d never admit out loud how much she cares about people. She’ll tease her siblings & basically lives on her ship as soon as she’s old enough, but she is always there for them when they need her & anyone who talks shit about them where she can hear about it isn’t walking away without a bruise (or a talking to, when they’re too young to fight). However, she also knows enough to know when to let people handle their own battles, her siblings included. She knows how things work on the Isle all too well.

2. I know absolutely nothing about Li’l, if he was mentioned in canon I don’t remember where. I’ve seen some posts by @lilikohirukoma talk about him & I’m gonna default to those bc tbh for a while I thought he was somebody’s OC. I picture him being a lot younger than Lonnie, in the age where he still thinks his older sister is super cool (inevitably he will go thru the phase of thinking she’s too lame to be associated with before realizing she’s actually cool when they’re both older) & idk if that’s accurate to either canon or common fanon

3. Claudine Frollo shouldn’t exist I feel so bad for her. Who gave the disney villain who comes closest to being a s*x offender a daughter. Oh no. I really really hope she’s okay & Frollo just is strict with her upbringing in terms of moral righteousness & he never did anything worse to her than he already did to Quasimodo. If I’m being generous I can imagine Disney Frollo having some of the good characteristics of Victor Hugo’s Frollo & thus the potential to be a good parent but Disney Frollo is genuinely so much worse & less complex than OG Novel Frollo. All of the bad things without the compassion to have adopted Quasimodo willingly. Anyway this ended up being not as much about Claudine but basically if Frollo was a not-as-bad-as-he-could’ve-been parent I can see Claudine being quiet & largely isolated but kind of haughty & internally judgmental of her peers with a sense of moral superiority, and if Frollo was Irredeemably Bad I still seeing her being quiet & externally the same but coming more from a place of protecting herself, esp if she grew up being indoctrinated not to trust anyone but Frollo. Bc that’s exactly how he raised Quasi. Quasi did turn out well after all, so I have hope that she could have an abundant inner world and a lot to offer anyone who can get thru her shell & connect with her.

I don’t remember Claudine appearing much in canon but I had a very strong HOND phase so a lot of this is mostly based on that

4) Anthony Tremaine seems like a fun character from what I remember—cocky enough to ask Mal for a dance when everyone else in their class is afraid of her. I think he knows what he’s good at and knew in that moment he caught her off balance, but would also know enough to stay out of her way in a different situation. Raised by a family with a strong sense of Manners in the traditional sense, he’s good at subterfuge but bad in a physical fight. He would do well in a royal court. I imagine he’s a bit vain & prefers standing back & listening to all the gossip at school to participating in the gang fights. He probably thinks highly of himself for acquiring the “real power” of knowing things about people to use for blackmail but if someone threatened him with physical violence & he couldn’t talk his way out of it he’d go down immediately

[toournextadventure]

since this blog has lost all rules and 🕷️ got some advice here, hopefully i could too?

so basically i’m in a trio (ik- first red flag) and it’s me, S and Z in this gc. i started noticing in the past few months that S and Z have gotten closer and started sharing more stuff privately but then they’ll bring it up in our gc and when i go to ask about the info or joke, they shut me down, ignore me, or outright say it’s not my business.

(before anyone suggests they’re together, S is a girl and Z is a guy and Z is sooooo gay. he’s not out but it’s super obvious so it’s just me and him being homiesexuals while S is straight- just some context lol)

so with that being said, i’m not at all saying they can’t have their own friendship and they’re not allowed to talk privately, however, when they bring their private tea, jokes, and plans into our gc and then act like it fine with 3rd wheeling, i’m sure you can see how this would get tiring, which it has.

so i just was wondering what advice you could give for this situation- and i also just kinda wanted to vent lolll

thanks for reading and thanks in advance for any advice :)

-🎸

Y'all can always ask for advice! I'm all of y'all's older sibling now, remember? I've adopted y'all. But I promise I wasn't ignoring you! Yesterday got hella crazy and I had to have a good think about this one since I've never been in this kind of situation (I've never had a gc with friends, does that make me sound lame? 😭). So that being said PLEASE take this with a grain of salt, yeah?

First, I don't think being in a trio is necessarily an immediate red flag. I don't think I've ever been in one, but I would imagine it's not necessarily a bad thing. And branching off happens sometimes, and like you even said, it's not even necessarily a bad thing or an issue. Like, it happens, you know?

But, that being said and as you mentioned, it's not that they're having their own convo it's just that they're bringing it into the gc and, lowkey, turning the gc into their private chat but with an audience. And, understandably, it's not fun to be the audience when the purpose is to be a gc.

SO I'll tell you what I personally would do. Again, take it with a grain of salt, I've never been in this situation, I don't know much background, and in the end it's up to you! But I personally would try and have a chat with whichever person you're closest too because they would be the least likely to try and turn it into A Thing when it doesn't have to be. It can be over text, a call, in person, whatever you're most comfortable with. But you can essentially just say you have no issue with them talking, but the gc should function as a trio gc, where it's an equal space and everyone is on equal ground.

I guarantee it won't go that smoothly, because it never does with real people and real talks. But end of the day, whichever one you're closest too, just try and talk to them and let them know how it feels. They might get defensive (most do, it's natural), but make sure you say how it appears/feels to you. All you can try to do is get them to at least see it from your perspective. I can't say if it'll make a turn for better or worse, but I'd bet you'll feel at least a bit better getting it out.

End of the day, if you ever wanna come rant, feel free! I promise it's a safe space, rant just to get it off your chest or advice, or even just to yell into the void. Love ya, smooches 🫶

[castlebyersafterdark]

That recent ask about anon’s cousins liking m/leven is so interesting! The cousin always roots for the main couple? Maybe she will switch to byler if it’s revealed THEY were the main ones all along, then? Upon watching s4 I felt that byler were magic and that the duffers WANTED me to feel like they’re magic - Vinny I believe you had a similar experience? But people who still like m/leven, yet want Will to be happy, could be ideal viewers, too. After all, byler wouldn’t be half as dramatic without a sense that mike and el COULD still work through their problems in s5. 

As for your cousins liking Mike’s monologue, I think it all depends how you perceive love and romance irl. The monologue was big, loud, and public, and some people live for grand gestures like this. They want the wedding but not the marriage, ya know? Lol. But I can also picture a bold and declarative love confession for byler in the midst of a battle - yet, tonally, everything about it feels different to mike’s speech to El! There wouldn’t be an undeniable undercurrent of doom rippling beneath the surface, for one thing. But lots of people either don’t pick up on, or ignore, anything non-verbal in the show. 

Viewers who stick stubbornly to their static opinions of certain characters or pairings are the anomaly, not the ideal, because they remove all of the writer’s power to manipulate the viewers’ emotions and move the story onward. Hardcore m/levens, for example, have an agenda. (As do many hardcore bylers who grapple with flimsy evidence rather than letting the storylines unfold over time. Oof!)

But what of the byler-ignorants, lol? The people anon fears will think byler came out of nowhere? Well… the horror and gore of s4 was pretty out of the blue for many people. Did they stop watching? Maybe. Many didn’t, though. Because it made for fantastic entertainment. So the issue is instead HOW viewers will respond to such a twist. And because I’m lame, I’m going to do a full breakdown. 

Plot twists and surprises aren’t intrinsically bad. In fact, they’re a storytelling institution and an aspirational feat of engineering for many writers, especially in the thriller and mystery genre! The ideal audience response would be:  ‘Ohhhhhhhhhh!’ And will byler be any more left-field than the sudden visceral horror-gore of s4? This show takes no prisoners, and never has when it comes to shock factor. 

But sadly, sometimes the response to a plot twist is WTF?!??!! or even I HATE THIS!!!1. Oh dear. 

Byler coming out of nowhere would only be bad if 1) it’s an unpleasant surprise or 2) it is a plot point that hasn’t earned its own payoff. These two results are usually linked by… bad storytelling. 

Now, bad storytelling is not a subjective thing. There are rules and formulas in how to tell stories on screen. Not that everyone is well-versed in these, so you end up with people who say something is ‘bad’ when what they actually mean is ‘I didn’t enjoy that.’ You will always end up with viewers like this, and they’ll usually complain loudest. But you also don’t HAVE to like a story that is objectively well-written and employs storytelling devices successfully! Personal taste, y’all. I’m sure the Duffers are well aware of the possibility for negative feedback and will either accept it with grace (if it’s reasonable critique) or ignore it (if it’s unintelligent waffle), as should any artist who shares their work with the world. 

So… the Venn diagram of people that could think byler came out of nowhere are most likely:

1) people not paying full attention

2) homophobic folk, internalised or not

3) people who will never budge from loving mileven no matter what is presented to them

4) people who genuinely did not pick up on byler’s chemistry  

No.1 camp is filled primarily with reasonable, modern GA. They shouldn’t mind byler endgame, even if it means they feel compelled to rewatch the show to make it make sense. In fact, if they enjoyed the show, they should be excited to! Who wouldn’t love a clever rug-pull that weaves lots of plot points together, even if they somehow don’t care too much for Will specifically?

Now… folk from camp no.2. Homophobic folk. The internalised ones… hey, maybe they’ll grow from the watching experience. Art is always gorgeous when it can help people do this. The outright bigots, though? What the heckins are they doing watching this show, anyway? Something went over their heads, and that can’t be blamed on the Duffers. Chuck ‘em straight into the ‘irrelevant babble’ bin. 

Then we have no.3 camp: adamant m/leven fans. They can range from terrifying and harmful to romantic and misguided, but at the end of the day, ST is a work of art that owes nothing to anyone except being as good a piece of storytelling as it can be. It’s actually laughable to me that rude m/levens on twitter think that the writers will care what they think. They won’t. This doesnt mean the duffers don’t care about their fans in general - it just means they’re normal human beings who have a larger perspective about what truly matters. 

And lastly, I'd say no.4 camp are mostly GA too, especially folk who genuinely aren’t very good at reading subtext, non-verbal cues, or picking up on emotional nuance (perhaps in real life too). This isn’t objectively a bad thing - it just means they might not have the same experience of the show as was intended by the artist. Which makes me wonder….

… whose duty it is to make a work of art clear in meaning and intention? I went to art school, and we were certainly critiqued if our work didnt manage to do what it set out to do. But then again art is so subjective, and a viewer taking something else away from my work, finding a meaning I hadn’t, was rarely a bad thing. But most m/levens aren't doing this, are they? They're not full of possibility or imaginative explanations. They're just full of denial, and are often rude. Just as long as you can provide your ‘working out’ - a.k.a show the intention behind your art even if it falls flat in the landing, then the work will have worth to someone. And considering the overwhelming fanbase for byler, + the positive response to Will’s heartbreaking storyline in s4 from regular viewers, PLUS the cast member’s excitement to portray the final chapter of this story, I would say the Duffs are very much on the right track re: Mike and Will falling, on-screen and rather unambiguously, in love. 

Or maybe cousin anon worries that their experience of the show will be ruined if s5 byler receives a lot of negative feedback. That one is out of your control, I’m afraid - and the Duffers’, too. All you can do is try to enjoy what you love and not let anyone ruin it for you. 

First, before I proceed - HOW ARE YOU DOING THE COLORS what in the world. I am so distracted hahahah

Anyway... yes, I had a similar experience! The vibes were subtly there but I wasn't super invested, but season 4 really conjured that magical ohhhh moment that made everything else make sense. I think a lot more people will feel that in five, just for the more casual or non-fandom minded person in all honesty.

But lots of people either don’t pick up on, or ignore, anything non-verbal in the show. 

Ain't that the whole truth...

people who say something is ‘bad’ when what they actually mean is ‘I didn’t enjoy that.’ You will always end up with viewers like this, and they’ll usually complain loudest. But you also don’t HAVE to like a story that is objectively well-written and employs storytelling devices successfully! Personal taste, y’all. I’m sure the Duffers are well aware of the possibility for negative feedback and will either accept it with grace (if it’s reasonable critique) or ignore it (if it’s unintelligent waffle), as should any artist who shares their work with the world. 

Loving your whole breakdown analysis, but that point in particular was great. Very, very true. Important to keep in mind.

ST is a work of art that owes nothing to anyone except being as good a piece of storytelling as it can be.

👏👏👏👏

This was an amazing breakdown of the show and a very stunning read on the perception of media in general, thank you for laying all that out!!! Ending with this one because it's the most important mantra to follow if you consider yourself a big fan:

All you can do is try to enjoy what you love and not let anyone ruin it for you. 

❤️

[hannahhasafact]

Kumoricon 2023 recap for myself just because (yes I know it’s been a week now):

Barely finished my Imelda cosplay in time (like think the day of) which felt wild because I spent so much goddamn time on it and truly thought I was going to finish it earlier 😭

This was the first time I can remember that I’ve ever had a cosplay where I was told I looked beautiful? Like I’ve gotten “Oh you’re adorable!” a lot but I got a few “You look beautiful” and that’s just wild

Like a lot of people didn’t know what my cosplay was and I still got compliments, which never happens if they don’t know what my cosplay is. So that’s wild!

Also people were just super nice??? And that was nice

I am frustrated with myself though because I got superglue on the middle of the dress coat towards the end of the day (a fellow ballroom staff person stepped on my skirt when I went to the bathroom and I tried to quick fix it… superglue never works for me I s2g it doesn’t matter how long I hold the thing on for) Also the escalator scratched a big ol scratch in my heels which sucks but like ¯\_(ツ)_/��

I was so worn down by ballroom staff stuff??? Which feels weird because a lot of it was not physical (for me) but I still got tired? Which feels lame on my part because like I know I helped in ways but I feel like I wasn’t helpful enough 🫠 but who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (I helped by having a baby look at a picture of a cat on my phone lol)

I absolutely could not wear my heels on day two oh my GOD I forgot how much my Handler/Sophie Bikes shoes hurt. I wore flats p much all day on day two which doesn’t fit the cosplay but listen I am old and a lot of those floors are cement and terrible in the convention center

People were also very nice about my Sylvia cosplay (but also seemed nervous to interact with me? lol)

I’m annoyed with myself because I didn’t look at the schedule at ALL and I ended up not planning my time well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the only two panels I wanted to go to clashed with work/having to be a responsible adult and take care of my kitty 😭 and look obviously Bijou above me having a silly time at a con but also man what a bummer. Next year gotta actually take a look at the schedule and plan. (Though tbh I’m annoyed that the panels I wanted to go to were all in the evening like wtf man who starts a panel at 5:30PM)

Having my bike this year was a godsend oh my GOD it was so nice to be able to bike to the convention center and back most of the weekend 🚲 like obviously I couldn’t bike in my Imelda cosplay but the rest of the weekend? Easy to bike back and forth. So extremely helpful. I’m sure it was very funny to see me in a SpyXFamily cosplay biking to the convention center (a parking guy said he liked my hat as I biked by lol)

Wore my Yuuri Katsuki cosplay for the last day of con which always makes me laugh because I just look like… a kind of sloppy guy but clearly SOMETHING is going on because it’s very obvious I’m wearing a wig 😆 but holy heck I swear this is the most recognition I’ve gotten for my Yuuri cosplay ever???

For reference: a very tired nerd lol

I spent way more at con than I was expecting? But then again I did buy two manga which definitely upped my “money spent at con” amount and I had a little bit of money saved up specifically for con. Also I’m so obsessed with the fact that more and more cons/markets are selling wax melts???? I use wax melts a lot and I got some from Mizu Crafts that smell SO GOOD. I’ve been melting the Kiss Kiss Fall in Love one and my apartment smells like a bouquet of roses it’s so nice (also if they’re on tumblr and see this for some reason I’m so sorry I was kind of a mess and knocked something over I was really tired and I know you were nice about it but I still felt bad)

Right after con I had to go home and get ready for a murder mystery dinner party wedding reception for my cousin and proceeded to drink too much wine and eat really good food (I’m sure the exhaustion did not help)

I didn’t catch covid but oof I think I did get some con crud for sure. I would also say it was probably the combo of not sleeping enough/not eating well/wearing bad support and carrying stuff all weekend but oh my god my body has been recuperating this week. All I did on Thursday was play video games and yesterday I cleaned my apartment and wow wow wow did I need that. (Though playing video games all day Thursday did not help my sore back lol)

I’m probably going to move out of this apartment this year because reasons but like… god it’s so convenient to be so close to the convention center. (And no way will I be able to afford a place in such a good location if I move but here we are). It’s just like… I wish I was rich so I didn’t have to worry about my housing stuff all the time.

But yeah! That was con. I’m still tired but that’s more because last night I went to bed after midnight and still woke up at 7:30AM lol

[demigod-shenanigans]

Actual lengthy reply time finally (sorry this took me literally forever)

Yeah I did not want Leo to be alone right after this, and I didn’t want Piper to be alone with it either. Canon may refuse to let them go to Jason’s funeral, but I will let them grieve together, damn it!

The backstory/pre-plot part actually ended up being quite a bit more than just a prologue, it’s the first few chapters, but I hope it’ll still feel well-paced and fitting when we get around to the rest of them! I wanted to take the time to get into all the feelings and set up/resolve some stuff, plus sticking to the ToA timeline I had to get to the point where Apollo is back on Mount Olympus, which takes a minute. Most of it is relevant and will be back to haunt Leo later!

Responding to the bullet points by putting the relevant numbers in front (not sure why it apparently changed all of yours to 1. in this reblog, they’re correct if I look at your post?? Very strange)

2. Yep! Leo not feeling loved/worthy of love was a huge deal in HoO, and all canon did was put a girlfriend on it and pretend we’re good now, but we will not be doing that here! Leo will learn to recognize that he’s loved, and if it’s the last thing he does :)

4. This bugged me so much in HoO you have no idea. I actually kind of prefer HoO to pjo just because I adore all the characters, but plot wise it’s all over the place and we really miss out on a bunch of friendship stuff because it’s so focused on all the love triangles. I need more platonic Argo bonding!! Let them all be buddies!!

5. This is partially me being demiromantic but many if not all my favorite ships are characters that have strong platonic bonds first. Something something marrying your best friend. I also feel like Leo and Jason both took forever to realize they were into each other (Leo grumbling about Jason constantly being hot in his general vicinity being the reason why he doesn’t have a girlfriend will always crack me up, lol, and Jason spent so long doing what he thought he was supposed to/what was expected of him, including his relationship with Piper, that he didn’t really get to stop and properly have a sexuality crisis for ages) so I wanted to re-establish that for the fic, especially since valgrace fics are kind of split on whether they have jiper happen and break up like they did in canon or just never have them date at all

6. I couldn’t resist sneaking that one in. Insert lame Apollo dodgeball Leo Valdez joke LMAO

7. <3

That’s such a smart way to put it!! Leo is dealing with a lottt and we’re going to get into it a bit more in future chapters but yeah he’s definitely avoiding talking about some of it (in both the way that we the audience don’t see all of it and in him and Piper actively coping via distracting themselves and not talking about some of it)

Honest confession: I really struggle with Shel. I’m glad she exists, but she’s basically an OC when you try to work with her in fanon, because she really only exists to confirm Piper is sapphic and canon gives us absolutely no information on her. I know she’s Cherokee, I know she’s sapphic, I know she likes hiking and I think she has a piercing? That’s it. She’s just kind of a nothing character, which is fine in the books but makes it very hard to work with her in fanon content. Can we have at least a little additional input on her please? 🤲

Glad you think that works well!! Especially because I actually don’t find myself that funny? Though I think it probably helps that I’ve got a general tendency to get attached to traumatized joke coping characters, so I’m pretty familiar with it conceptually. The last book series I fixated on also did this a lot (intense explorations of grief briefly interrupted by memes LOL)

The audience knows stuff!! But Leo was not around for that! And he’s processing a lot at the moment but that just really makes it sink in how much he missed, both because he was gone for so long and also when he was there but so caught up in his own problems (and especially in seeing how “happy” Piper and Jason were apparently without him, because again Leo doesn’t feel worthy of love and has spent a lot of time in foster families who weren’t that great and made him feel like they’d eventually decide they didn’t want him anymore) that he didn’t see the cracks that Piper now tells him were there basically for the whole relationship. So yeah it’s a shock. On a lot of levels. But it’s a lot less earthshaking than the shock of Jason being gone, and therefore easier to focus on. The Piper related changes may or may not also hit him sometime in the near future ;)

Quotes section (please just in general know I’m delighted you did this it brings me suchhh joy to see what bits touched my readers the most):

-No spoilers, but I will say there’s a reason the fic starts out with memories of Esperanza. And yeah, the whole Jason situation is tearing open a lot of old wounds, specifically because of how similar it is: a situation Leo was unable to do anything to change that he feels responsible for (even though, realistically speaking, he isn’t). A loved one that got ripped away from him far too soon that he never got the chance to say goodbye to. A kind of desperate ache that nothing is ever going to fix.

I have a couple of grievances with ToA, and the way none of Jason’s loved ones are allowed to stay mad at Apollo is definitely one of them. Like, it’s established Jason died because of Apollo’s broken Styx prophecy! We’re told that’s the reason it happens!! Piper is the only one who gets to be mad at him at all, and even then she’s only upset for a single scene and has forgiven Apollo the next time they meet. Grief can be messy and nasty and people lash out sometimes! Not everyone needed to immediately be totally fine with the fact that Apollo got Jason killed!

-Glad you enjoyed that joke! I’m not super good with machinery so I worried I’d struggle with working that part into his narration but there’s some references to it I’m actually really happen with, and this is one of them :)

-Something something Leo is of the opinion that Piper should hate him how he hates himself! Also in this context, feeling a little evil about the fact that one of the reasons Leo doesn’t go to the Camp Jupiter funeral is that he thinks everyone would blame him for Jason’s death. The reality of it is that they wouldn’t! But when his mom died his aunt did blame him and so he automatically assumes that this time everyone will look at him and see that same blame written all over his face.

-English being my third language (technically second language going off of how well I actually speak it, I learnt French first but my French is shit lol), I’m really glad to hear it haha

-All of their lives are fucking weird, it’s a demigod thing, but Leo’s almost got everyone beat just based on the fact that the Queen of the Gods went out of her way to come babysit him. It’s even funnier because I’m pretty sure none of the others know this except for Piper and Jason. I wish we’d seen him tell Percy and Annabeth, I feel like that would have been a very funny interaction.

-There is something related to Leo in that box, which may or may not be something I’ve mentioned on this blog before ;)

-Unfortunately for Leo, there’s a bit more stuff he has to deal with before the Plot can start. For instance, the fact that he is (theoretically) in a relationship right now.

I’m so so glad you enjoyed this!! I’ve read and reread your comment a whole bunch of times now, and every time I do I get this huge grin on my face. This is the kind of comment i don’t get a lot but that when I do get it I’ll treasure literally forever. You made my whole month with this and it’s made me very excited to get back to the fic (which between exam phase and hospital stuff I haven’t gotten to work on nearly as much as I hoped lately)

The choiceless hope in grief

Summary: Leo Valdez has lived and died for the gods. Their war has shaped his life since he was a baby. With Gaia defeated, he sort of hopes he can finally rest. He has friends and some semblance of home to return to for the first time since he was eight years old. Just this once, he allows himself to hope the good things might stick.

But the gods aren’t done with them just yet, by the time Leo finds his way back, Jason is gone.

This time, Leo decides he’s done just taking the Fates’ bullshit lying down. If getting his best friend back means striking a deal with the gods and venturing into the Underworld… well, it’s probably not even the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

The caveat of said deal? He has to trust Jason will follow him, or his self-doubt will doom them both.

And after the life he’s lived, Leo is so intricately familiar with self-doubt that he could probably trademark the word.

Or: The only possible way for Orpheus to succeed is if he learns to think of himself as a person worth loving.

Word Count for chapter 1: ~5k

Rating: Teen and Up

So! *claps hands together* I’ve been threatening you guys with my Orpheus Eurydice valgrace fic for a while! Technically I wanted to wait to post this until I’m completely done writing the fic, and I mostly intend to stick to that! I’m only posting this now because I have a minor surgery tomorrow and I’d rather be anxious about fic related things than about the surgery in question. So, take this chapter as a preview of sorts, more to come soon-ish but probably not immediately!

A couple of important notes before we start:

-TW for suicidal ideation. It’s less Leo actually wanting to die and more his canon behavior of “I’m doing something extremely reckless that might succeed but if it doesn’t, my death is an acceptable consequence”, paired with general grief related self-loathing, but if you think you’re not in the right headspace to read about that, come back when you are or at least tread carefully. This fic pics up at the end of The Burning Maze, so especially the beginning is pretty heavy on the grief stuff.

-Since ToA is vaguely canon to this fic, Leo and Calypso are technically dating in the beginning, but they don’t really interact positively as a couple (honestly they don’t interact that much in general) and break up pretty early on. Just be aware in advance that they’re still together for a little bit.

-Fic title is from Talk by Hozier which is maybe a painfully obvious pick but it was too perfect for me not to use it.

Chapter 1: Leo and Piper have an extended sleepover

It wasn’t a discussion between Leo and Piper whether or not to go to Jason’s funeral. They came to the decision that they wouldn’t silently—or as silently as one could come to an agreement when all parties involved were sobbing.

Maybe it should have been a discussion. There was a part of Leo that worried he’d regret this later—his refusal to take this chance to say goodbye and let himself grieve.

But Leo remembered his mother’s funeral. Remembered the way his aunt Rosa had looked at him like she knew his mother’s death had been his fault. Leo couldn’t stand the thought of people looking at him like that again.

He also didn’t remember his mother’s funeral bringing him any sense of closure or comfort. He’d stood at her grave, afterwards, just as desperate and afraid and utterly inconsolable as he’d been before the funeral, except it had suddenly felt sickeningly final. The wound it had torn in his soul had kept bleeding for years, and the scars would stay forever. He didn’t need any of Apollo’s shitty oracles to know Jason’s death would be exactly the same.

At this point, Leo was pretty sure his sanity was being held together by a combination of jokes and a truly questionable amount of duct tape.

Beyond all that, though, Camp Jupiter was a battlefield right now. It would continue to be a battlefield for the foreseeable future.

Leo wasn’t a coward. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back and help. But one of his best friends was already in a box, and there was no way in hell he’d risk the other.

With how tightly Piper was clinging to him, maybe she was thinking the same thing. 

For all his big talk about dragon escorts, Festus did most of the actual escorting on his own, occasionally torching what Leo hoped were monsters and not random public monuments. Leo, for his part, spent most of the journey crammed into the backseat of the car next to Piper, sandwiched between her and a bunch of moving boxes that seemed determined to flatten him into a Leo-shaped pancake whenever they took a sharp turn.

He’d spent so long thinking about seeing her and Jason again. 

He’d talked Calypso’s ear off about them the whole journey, to the point where it had clearly started to annoy her. He’d thought about various ridiculous entrances he could make, and the fact that he’d probably get yelled at, but he’d also thought about sitting together by the campfire, sharing nachos. He’d thought about Jason hugging him so fiercely that he couldn’t breathe, and Piper cussing him out while she held him, making him promise never to do anything that reckless again.

Now Piper was actually holding him, and Leo couldn’t feel anything. There was a numbness in his chest. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to ever feel happiness again. Hell, even if he did, what was the fucking point? Every time anything even remotely good happened in his life, it got ripped away from him again.

They didn’t talk a whole lot for most of the drive. They cried until it felt like they couldn’t anymore, clinging to each other like desperate children.

Even if they’d wanted to talk about what had happened, Piper’s dad was right there, and despite the Mist usually working overtime for them, having him overhear seemed like a gamble. Or, well, maybe that was what Leo told himself. Maybe he just wasn't sure he was ready to hear it all. He still felt like he couldn’t think. He was overwhelmed to hell and couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Several hours into the trip, his stomach started grumbling. Piper dug through the bag at her feet and offered him one of her PB&J sandwiches, but Leo couldn’t eat. He hadn’t skipped a meal in forever—he’d been homeless and unsure when he’d even get access to the next meal enough times that it had been all but tattooed into his skull that he couldn’t afford to—but he couldn’t even think about eating without feeling sick. He thought about Jason. He thought about the state he’d left Camp Jupiter in and the fact that they hadn’t even been able to give the dead their proper funeral rites.

Had Leo’s help made any difference at all? Had anything he’d done in his life changed things even slightly?

Leo knew the Fates had intended for it to be fire that fell—for him to burn in a bright, hot blaze and turn himself to charcoal. But he’d refused to stay dead like a good little pawn, and now Jason was gone, and it was all his fault.

He wasn’t sure how Piper could even look at him right now, but he was beyond grateful that she was holding onto him as tightly as she did. It was the only reason he didn’t fall to pieces completely. The cog at the heart of Leo’s machine had broken in a way that made it utterly beyond repair, and now it felt like a matter of time before the whole thing came apart. Piper holding him was the only reason his remaining pieces were still functioning. 

It should have been impossible for Leo to fall asleep under these circumstances, but he’d been traveling for hours and fighting before then and he’d cried out his remaining energy, so eventually, the world started to fade around him, reduced to just the sound of Piper’s breaths, until finally, those went, too.

~~~~

It would have been kinder, maybe, if Leo had dreamed up some shitty visions promising violent death and/or the end of the world. That would have been business as usual. 

Instead, he dreamed of his time on the Argo II—of one of those early nights when the different groups were still getting to know each other, having a brief moment to breathe between their ridiculous tasks and saving the world. 

It had seemed reasonable to catch each other up on what had happened on their end. Percy, Hazel and Frank had talked about rescuing Thanatos, and Piper, Jason and Leo had told them what had happened with Hera in turn. 

This would have been a boring intel conversation at best, seeing as Leo had been there for all of their part, but they’d grabbed snacks and sat on cushions on the floor and made it a whole bonding activity. Jason had been wedged between Piper and Leo, and they’d taken turns storytelling. 

And Jason had bragged. So much. But he hadn’t even had the decency to brag about himself like a normal human being. Instead, he’d talked about how capable Piper and Leo had been, somehow managing to make Leo sound like the coolest person he’d ever met. Which was ridiculous, considering he’d met everyone else on their team.

And sure, Leo made it sound like he thought he was amazing all the time, but he was exaggerating, which everyone, himself included, knew. 

Jason didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, though. He had one arm wrapped around Leo the whole evening, and he got all starry-eyed when he talked. 

“Leo took on three Cyclopes by himself. Three!”

“Dude, stop!” Leo had laughed, shaking his head. “I know I’m incredible and you’re blessed to be friends with me and stuff, but you weren’t even conscious for that part.”

“Still happened, though.” Jason had beamed at him. “You’re amazing, dude. I would have died about fifteen times on that mission if it hadn’t been for you. You guys should’ve seen him.”

It would have been easier if Leo had thought Jason was just trying to talk him up to the others to make them more willing to trust him after how badly he’d messed up in New Rome, but Jason wasn’t the type. He’d looked like he honestly believed every single word he was saying.

So, of course, Leo had refused to seriously deal with any of the things that made him feel.

“Sorry, Pipes, but I’m pretty sure your boyfriend is in love with me. It’s the fire powers, I’m afraid. I’m just too hot to resist,” Leo had joked instead, and Piper had untangled herself from Jason’s other side to throw Doritos at Leo, and everything had been right in the universe.

~~~~

Waking up from that, blearily blinking himself awake in the car full of moving boxes and remembering… that was a worse punch in the gut than waking up from most nightmares had been. And Leo should know. He’d had so many of those over the years that he was basically a certified nightmare expert at this point.

Leo wanted to go back in time and spend forever in that one evening, living it over and over and over again until the Fates or a temporal paradox or something eventually killed him. He wanted to hold on to what they’d been back then—the three of them together and happy and whole,back before they’d realized what the prophecy really meant. 

He wanted to stay wrapped in Jason’s arm and hear him laugh at whatever stupid joke Leo came up with while he and Piper threw snacks at each other like ten year olds. He wanted to believe he could actually be the person Jason was bragging about—this invincible hero that could do just about anything and saved people’s lives.

But Leo had never been that hero. Even his sacrifice had been the selfish decision of a coward who wasn’t ready to die just yet. Jason had been their Superman. The guy who could fly and threw lightning and saved people from falling to their deaths. Jason had been the hero. And ultimately, that had been what killed him.

Leo wasn’t exactly sure what he planned to do once they got to Oklahoma. He should have been heading back to the Waystation, to give Calypso the normal life he’d promised. But he wasn’t thinking about Calypso, or the Waystation, and the thought of a normal life had gone out of the window the second he’d seen the coffin. Besides, the Waystation would mean people asking questions, wanting to know about his mission and asking him to talk about his feelings, and he didn’t want that.

The only thing Leo really wanted to do right now was not think. 

By the time they got to the house, it was so late that cross-country dragon flight seemed inadvisable for visibility reasons alone, so Leo agreed to stay the night. Festus nuzzled him for a bit, got a fuel snack from the canister Leo had brought and then folded down into his million pound suitcase form for the night.

It took a little under two hours to carry all the boxes inside, which was an annoying amount of time to be carrying boxes but seemed like an absurdly short amount to move the contents of an entire life.

They spent some time in search of the necessities that needed to be unpacked, but the house was still furnished and also had running water and electricity as of a few days ago, so it wasn’t that bad.

While Piper went in search of some ancient camping gear so Leo wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor—this seemed silly to him, the floor was far from the worst place he’d ever slept—Leo asked Piper’s dad if he could help with dinner. 

Tristan looked relieved at his offer, actually. He’d been staring at the assorted vegetables with a slightly lost expression, trying to hack at one of the zucchinis with a butter knife. It seemed like he was trying to remember how cooking worked and had just discovered he had absolutely no idea. 

Considering how long he’d been an insanely rich guy with a personal cook, Leo guessed that actually might have been a pretty accurate read on the situation. 

“You might want to try a sharper knife,” Leo suggested, which made Piper’s dad look absolutely mortified. “Try not to chop off any of your fingers, though. I think Piper’s been traumatized enough for one week.”

The words were out of his mouth before Leo could think to stop them. Tristan didn’t laugh, but at least it didn’t seem like he’d be tossing Leo out of the house over this. Maybe he realized people sometimes said stupid shit when they were grieving. Maybe Piper had just warned him in advance that Leo was like this sometimes.

Tristan just went to find a different knife, which would have maybe been concerning if he hadn’t gone back to hacking at the vegetables a moment later.

“Well, at least this one is actually cutting through the zucchinis. That’s already an improvement.”

“Yeah, I’m basically a cooking expert,” Leo said with a grin, only half-joking. He went to peel and chop up the carrots, and was done with those and about half the mushrooms by the time the poor zucchini had been hacked to bits.

“You and Piper went to school together, right?” Tristan asked after a while of them quietly chopping vegetables for the casserole, trying to make sense of things with information he didn’t have and that, judging from past evidence, probably would have made his skull crack. “You and her and Jason.”

“Yeah. We went to Wilderness school together.” Leo winced, trying not to think too hard of Jason while also trying to remember the lies they’d already told Piper’s dad. At this rate, he was pretty worried his own skull would crack, too. “Then all three of us switched to a different school. Then I was gone for a while.”

Tristan nodded like this made perfect sense, though he mostly seemed lost in thought. That was a little rude, in Leo’s opinion. If he went through all that effort to remember their elaborate setup of lies, the least Piper’s dad could do was appreciate it!

“I’m glad you’re here now, with everything that’s happened. Piper was really upset when you left,” Tristan said, still with that faraway look in his eyes. “The last few months were hard for her. Between the move and the breakup, she really could have used a friend.”

Leo promptly lost all rights to make fun of Piper’s dad and his vegetable chopping skills because at the word ‘breakup’, the knife slipped and he nearly sliced off two of his fingers.

“Fuck! Ow!” he said eloquently, trying to avoid bleeding all over the cutting board in his attempt to get to the sink. “Jason and Piper broke up?”

The question sounded absurd even to his own ears. Why would Jason and Piper break up? They’d been happy together.

Surely, Piper’s dad had to be talking about something else.

To Leo’s shock, Tristan nodded.

“A while ago, yes,” he said, but he didn’t go into details—possibly because Leo was bleeding all over the sink. “We should bandage that. Do you think you need stitches?”

“No, the cuts aren’t that deep,” Leo decided, turning on the faucet and holding his bleeding hand under the stream of cold water. Maybe he should have been more concerned about the injury, but his mind was still whirring at the thought of his best friends breaking up. Unfortunately, the cold water stung like hell. He hissed with pain. “Sorry for making your kitchen look like a crime scene right after moving in. Usually, I at least have the decency to wait a day or two.”

Because the house was a small, cozy place and Leo had not had the decency to curse quietly, Piper appeared in the doorway a moment later, an alarmed expression on her face.

“What happened?”

“I’ve been bested by a stupid potato,” Leo cursed, holding up his bleeding hand and wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He figured out immediately that this was a mistake. “Ow.”

“Stop that, dumbass!” Piper cursed, moving to stand beside him. “Sink was the right call, but you need to use soap or the cuts could get infected. Dad, any chance we have gauze lying around somewhere?”

Tristan didn’t seem to question why his daughter had immediately jumped into emergency medical treatment mode. He just abandoned the cutting board and headed for the front door.

“Not exactly sure what box our regular medical supplies are in, but I’ll get the first aid kit from the car. I’ll be right back.”

“Do we have to do the soap?” Leo whined, because fuck, that stung, but Piper nodded with a scary expression on her face, so he complied. “How do you even know this stuff? Are we sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

“I know this stuff because I’m friends with a bunch of morons who have zero sense of self-preservation,” Piper cursed, gritting her teeth. “You shouldn’t be around knives when you’re this distracted.”

“I can usually cook just fine when I’m distracted. Your dad was the one who told me you and Jason broke up in the middle of this stupid potato,” Leo said defensively. “Is that the Mist messing with him?”

That was the only explanation his mind had supplied so far that made any sense to him.

Piper shook her head. “We really did break up. That was a few months ago.”

Leo felt his jaw hit the floor. 

“What the hell happened? You were together for ages. I thought- you always seemed so happy.”

“I know, but-” Piper broke off abruptly when her dad came back inside with the first aid kit. Demigod stuff, then?

Leo’s mind was racing. The breakup was a completely stupid thing to focus on, considering everything that had happened in the last few days. He knew that.

But it was easier to try and make sense of this than it was to try and make sense of the fact that Jason was gone and he’d never get to see him again.

“Is it alright if we do this somewhere else?” Piper asked her dad, taking the first aid kit from him.

“Of course. It might be easier to patch him up when you’re both sitting down, anyway.” He turned towards Leo. “Thank you for your help, but I think I can take it from here.”

Leo sent a silent prayer to whichever deity was responsible for protecting vegetables—Demeter, probably?—and gave what he hoped was an encouraging thumbs up with his uninjured hand before he followed Piper into the hallway to presumably be reprimanded some more.

~~~~ They ended up sitting on an old bed that looked like it had lived a long, miserable life and was excited for retirement, but the wooden frame thankfully didn’t break down under the weight of the new mattress or the additional weight of them sitting on said mattress. Piper explained that this had been her dad’s room when he’d lived here as a child, and that it would probably become her room now. Then she went very quiet and focused on bandaging his hand, clearly avoiding looking at him.

“It wasn’t because of me, was it?” Leo asked. The thought made him feel ill. “Please tell me it wasn’t something like, I don’t know, you two being unable to stand being around each other after what happened to me. I think I’d actually have to blow myself up again if it was.”

He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it didn’t feel like one at all. The thought that he'd managed to ruin his best friends’ relationship on top of everything else made it hard to breathe.

When Piper shook her head, it felt like a whole boulder was lifted off his shoulders.

“I actually think we would have broken up sooner if you hadn’t gone missing. We leaned on each other a lot after you disappeared. It wasn’t until we realized we wouldn’t find you and things started to settle down a little that I had time to think. And when I did…” Her voice went very quiet, and she still didn’t look up at him. “I realized I wasn’t happy in the relationship. I don’t think I ever was.”

“How did I not know that?” Leo wondered quietly. “I just… you two seemed happy to me. What kind of garbage best friend am I?”

Piper shook her head. “It isn’t your fault. I was telling myself I was happy for a long time. It’s almost- sometimes I wonder if I was charmspeaking myself. That maybe I kept saying I was in love with Jason until I convinced myself I actually was. And with Hera and my mom setting it up… I love-” her voice caught in her throat, and Leo felt like maybe he needed to throw up, “-loved Jason, but not like that.”

“Pipes, I’m really sorry.” Leo squeezed her shoulder. “That sounds like it was super hard for both of you.” Leo felt awful about the fact that he hadn’t even been around to comfort either of them, but it wasn’t like he could fix it now. It was just another item on Leo’s unending list of epic screwups he’d never be able to make up for.

“Jason was… well, he took it exactly like I expected him to. He was surprised, but he didn’t get angry or anything. He mostly seemed okay. Part of me wonders if maybe…” But whatever Piper had been thinking about, she seemed to decide it wasn’t important. “It was hard to get a proper read on him, and as nice as he was about it, things were still super awkward after. I'm terrified he died thinking I didn’t care about him.”

And then she was tearing up again, and Leo thought he would shatter if she cried. 

“He knew you cared,” he said as earnestly as he could manage, pulling Piper to his chest again. “You love way too annoyingly for him not to have known. Hell, even I know you love me, and we both know I’m a fucking nightmare when it comes to this stuff.”

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his back like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Oh, I’m about to make you regret saying that,” Leo said, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll bring it up each and every time you say you find something I do annoying.”

“You’re annoying as hell, but you’re still my best friend.” He could feel her tears dripping onto his shoulder, and he knew that would make him start up again too. “I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”

And well, passing away from dehydration after crying too much would be a really lame way to die the second time, but everything was just too much right now, so if that was how he went, Leo wasn’t sure anyone could blame him.

~~~~

For the next couple of weeks, Leo stayed.

Helping Piper and her dad unpack was the perfect way to keep himself occupied and not have to think. Usually, a mundane task like this probably would have driven Leo nuts. But right now, it was a bit of a godsend—if not literally, at least figuratively. Being productive was always so much easier when it was done in order to avoid something you wanted to do even less. There was a reason his spaces in the foster homes had only ever been tidy when he had exams coming up.

He helped cook, too, and Piper’s dad became increasingly less garbage at it the longer this went on—like muscle memory was finally kicking in after years of disuse.

It was mostly good—listening to Piper reminisce about trips she’d taken with her dad and where she’d gotten the weird variety of items she kept in her room. When they weren’t unpacking, Leo and Piper played video games or watched movies or explored the area. Twice, during the night, they took Festus on a little flight to a nearby fast food place. Finding a parking spot was a bit of a nightmare, unfortunately. Leo would submit a complaint about their inability to accommodate celestial bronze dragons the first chance he got.

The first time they tried hiking—Leo didn’t even like hiking, he’d spent enough time outside for several lifetimes, why did he do this to himself—they got hopelessly lost in the woods, and of course, due to demigod bullshit, neither of them had brought a phone, so Google Maps wasn’t an option. It was probably for the better. The last thing that situation needed on top of them being lost was a monster attack. 

They were already jokingly planning out their new life in the woods when, thankfully, a girl their age came to their rescue.

“A human being! Thank the gods. The squirrels weren’t talking to us,” Leo greeted her, which had Piper shout “Please ignore Leo!” loudly from the branches of the tree she’d been climbing.

The girl lifted her head, spotted Piper and promptly burst out laughing.

“What in the world are you doing up there?” 

“Trying to get a better vantage point,” Piper sighed, making her way back down the tree. “We’re hopelessly lost.”

“Well, nice to meet you, hopelessly lost. I’m Shel,” the girl said, still grinning. Leo decided immediately that he liked her.

Piper had almost made it back down when she somehow missed a branch and fell the rest of the way. In comedic movie fashion, Shel moved before Leo had the chance to and caught her mid-tumble. “That was a bit of a dramatic way to get my attention, but you’re cute, so I’ll allow it.”

“Oh yeah, Piper’s got a bit of a thing with falling for people that way,” Leo commented, and Piper gave him her most murderous look while she got back on her feet.

“You guys need help getting back?”

“Please, yes,” Piper said immediately. “It turns out we’re both garbage with maps.”

“Maybe you just need a tour guide next time,” Shel suggested, winking at Piper, whose face turned scarlet. Leo wasn’t even mad about being the third wheel for once. He’d give her so much shit about this later.

And he did. And then Piper properly came out to him—no label or anything, mostly as extremely confused but sure she liked girls, which also made a few additional pieces click into place regarding her breakup with Jason. She ended her anxiety-riddled explanation by thanking Leo for being so normal and annoying about all this. 

Which was how Leo realized he’d apparently never told Piper he was bi.

Or maybe he had, and it had gotten lost along with their other memories of Wilderness. Stupid memory-stealing babysitters.

Well, at least they got to hug about it now. 

~~~~

It was strange how normal some days felt when nothing would ever truly be normal again. When in every moment Leo and Piper spent together, the gaping hole that had been ripped into their trio was so blatantly obvious.

The benefit and problem of this friendship was that Leo and Piper were both experts at not talking about things they were struggling with. 

This wasn’t exactly news. From what little Leo did remember of Wilderness School, they’d spent months not talking about his mom, or about the fact that Piper’s dad kept canceling their weekend plans. They’d both known there were things left unsaid, but as long as they’d been able to cheer each other up, that hadn’t really mattered. It made sense, honestly. Put two people who hadn’t had a shoulder to cry on for ages in a room together and see what happens!

Right now, this meant they were expertly ignoring the box of belongings Piper had picked up from Jason’s school. It had been pushed so far under the bed during that first night that it was no longer visible, and neither of them made any effort to move it out of its new home since. They ignored the topic of Jason, period, until it inevitably hit them in the face again. 

It was mostly dumb shit that set them off. Piper automatically reaching for vanilla ice cream at the grocery store because it was Jason’s favorite—seriously, who in their right mind even liked vanilla ice cream?

Sometimes, Leo would make a joke and burst into tears instead of laughing because he knew it would have cracked Jason up. They found old photos unpacking. One time, Piper’s dad suggested they make tacos and they started simultaneously bawling their eyes out.

Leo had spent a long time exactly like this—pretending everything was normal and okay when it wasn’t either of those things until he inevitably broke down. Then he’d started to actually feel sort of okay whenever he was with Jason and Piper. Now, he was sure he would spend the rest of his life pretending.

His appetite was too used to being stuck in survival mode for him to bow to nausea for long, so he went back to eating properly after a few days. He still cried himself to sleep most nights. He kept dreaming about Jason. The memories wrapped themselves around him like a safety blanket that he knew would get ripped away again in the morning. He always woke up feeling empty. Sometimes, he wished he could just go to sleep and never wake up again.

But other than that, it was mostly good.

Then demigod communications went back up, and everything went to hell.

———

Chapter notes:

Fun fact! I originally planned for this chapter (as well as the next few chapters) to just be backstory in my head and for me to maybe do a flashback or two. Unfortunately for me, Piper McLean waltzed into the room and refused to leave.

I do actually think the fic works better this way, but it will take a second to get to the plot! Hopefully you’ll enjoy the whole journey :)

I may not be able to have Leo and Piper go to Jason’s funeral without seriously messing with the plot of Tyrant’s Tomb, but I could at least pick the most evil reason possible for them not to go!

Side note: I sort of forgot that Hedge and Mellie were supposed to be here according to TBM, but by the time I remembered I already had this chapter written out and, as someone who cannot be bothered to figure out how to write them, I decided to just leave it. ToA is vaguely canon to this universe, but only for the most part. Some details are inaccurate, and I think that’s okay.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs super, super appreciated as always!!

List of people that at some point asked to be tagged when I post this: @poppitron360 @ginnyluna @keefessketchbook (feel free to comment if you want to get taken off or be put on the tag list for future chapters!)

[tarysande]

Oh no, I've been thinking.

Okay, I can't stop thinking about something ending-related. I don't know this for certain, but based on previous statements and such, it feels like the writers were always aiming for a bittersweet ending. Like, no matter what else happened or how the story evolved, come hell (lol) or high water, that ending couldn't just be happy. For reasons. I guess.

Now, I don't mind a bittersweet ending ... if it makes sense for the ending to be bittersweet.

I critique stories for a living. I'm literally taking a break from the developmental edit of someone's novel to write this post. And the persistent thought that bugs me about the Rory setup is that it is so artificial. Time travel is a pain in the narrative ass. Time travel suddenly introduced in the sixth season of a show that has never touched on time travel? As an editor, I probably would've pointed out that time travel for the purpose of angst, especially time travel without rules that make sense ("I don't know anything about time travel! Except I do know you have to take the most painful path!"), seemingly introduced as a final ploy to make that bittersweet ending work ... well, to me, it breaks the narrative contract they established with the audience. Your audience is going to be confused. An editor's job is to alert the writer to any potential confusion so it can be fixed before the story goes to print, etc. Confused audiences get mad, annoyed, frustrated. They feel hurt. They put down the book and don't pick it up again. Usually, writers don't want that. But they're so close to their work that they need a completely outside perspective to say, "Hey, I'm not sure you realize this, but..."

I mean, I keep referring to Rory as "deus ex daughter" because in literary terms, she is a blatant deus ex machina. Rory is the god in the machine of the Bittersweet Ending.

Now, I loved a lot of S6. I did. My overall feeling about the season is not negative. But ... I can't stop thinking about why the things I didn't like REALLY didn't work for me.

I loved the emotional growth we saw in Lucifer and Chloe facilitated by the question of parenting and parental love. I did. And I would have loved to see a lot of those notes hit not with an angel kid out of nowhere ... but with the daughter already in the picture. Especially because it would have circumvented the icky idea that a child has to be one's flesh and blood to induce such feelings. I also understand that coronavirus and Scarlett's age and schedule made this difficult. But I just can't swallow that the only way to wrap up the story of this show--a show about found family, non-traditional family, friendship, connection, FREE WILL, love in all its many shapes and forms and colors ... was to introduce a brand new character via a device (time travel) that fails to make sense almost every time it's used, no matter the medium. (And then had only that brand new character be there when her mother died. Don't even get me started. Ugh.)

If time travel was always going to be on the table, couldn't we have found a more plausible way to use it with the characters we already knew, loved, and had spent four or five seasons with? A time-travelling older Trixie, say? If you're going to use the impossible device, just ... twist it another way to make it work.

Okay. Okay. So, leaving Trixie aside for now just like the show did, let's say we leave everything about the season the same, even Rory. Do you know what ending makes more narrative sense?

Future Rory sacrificing herself by NOT forcing Lucifer to make a cruel and impossible "choice" so the baby that might have been her grows up with a family that loves her. Chloe's already pregnant. That's not going to be undone. And this nonsense of a "closed time loop" falls apart if you side-eye it for even a few seconds. The Rory who came from the future never exists except in the memories of those she met when she came back from that future. Chloe and Lucifer lose that daughter even as they gain the new one whose existence is not a tool of unrelenting fate because wow this show has always been about free will what the heck happened there yikes. And a choice made under the duress Chloe and Lucifer were under, forced out of them, and forcing them to "choose" a life apart for *handwave* Reasons has nothing to do with free will. A "choice" made at gunpoint is not a real choice. Future Rory basically bullied them into ensuring she got to exist--something, quite frankly, neither her parents would have done.

Instead, how much more appropriately bittersweet is it if Chloe and Lucifer lose that child while gaining one who, because of that angry time-travelling version, will never suffer as she did.

Also as an editor: the groundwork for my version is already laid, by the way. It should have been Rory learning about the importance of free will over fate. The importance of personal sacrifice. The importance of not thinking your young self knows best ... because experience and therapy will help rid you of that self-centered world view. That's the contract the writers made with us with this show. And Chloe and Lucifer have already BEEN THERE AND DONE THAT. (See: the end of S4.)

Furthermore, this season finally HAD Chloe and Lucifer DEAL WITH the only thing that actually would have contributed to a narrative, characterization-based reason for Lucifer to disappear: His history of running and his putting Chloe on a pedestal. Once they really talked that out, his "disappearance" became a Rory-induced trauma of inexplicable fate that flies in the face of all the progress Lucifer made over six seasons. (I would rather have had more of that and less of mysterious disappearing oh no plot.)

And I'm sorry, the "Once you get to Hell you're going to work 24/7" excuse given for why Lucifer won't be around and why he can't make time for Chloe until she's DEAD(????!???) is ... it's lame. If AMENADIEL AS GOD can make time for his kid's birthday party, I refuse to believe Lucifer can't work out some Hell/Earth-work/life balance. Never mind that in the show about partnerships, the Bittersweet Ending just ... destroyed it. Chloe was planning on being God's consultant; she could have helped Lucifer solve Hell's Trauma Mysteries (it's what she did with Jimmy, setting up that yeah, Lucifer could do it alone like he accidentally did with Lee, but doing it with HIS TRUTHSEEKING PARTNER would be more effective). Just as Lucifer could have continued helping HER solve some of the problems within "that corrupt little organization" of hers.

tl;dr: I think the writers fixated so completely on their version of Bittersweet that they missed all the foreshadowing, groundwork, and clues that were right there, already built into the story, poised for a different kind of ending than the one they once imagined. That's why so many parts of it feel almost-but-not-quite right and why these aspects are so off-putting. That's why it's just not ... organic. It's something squeezed into a box it grew out of ages ago.

Ironically, certain elements of this season involved the writers insisting on the FATE they decided long ago instead of letting the story and the characters have the FREE WILL to choose a different, more fitting, more organic ending--one that had long-since evolved past that original flavor of Bittersweet.

[jooniesbubbie]

*taps mic* is this thang on?? haha anyways I’m lame but I wanted to talk about some thangs. I’ve only been reading BTS fanfics on tumblr for a year and I’ve only been actively staning the boys for 2.

I have read a bunch of bts fanfics of every genre and with every member and I’ve recently started reading ot7 x readers and as someone who’s poly I see a lot of... cracks

1. JIN AND HOBI ARE NOT BACKGROUND CHARACTERS.

in some fics hobi barely gets half a chapter let alone a chapter at all. i know and understand that writing a 8 person relationship is not easy. i dip my toes in writing so again I understand but It’s not a 8 person relationship if you exclude people that dynamic

giving Hobi a line or two and a smut scene isn’t good enough. making Jin pop up out of no where and cook y/n a feast and never be heard again is not good enough. if you’re going to make a OT7 fic make it OT7 lovelies. Hobi and Jin deserve more love ☹️☹️

2. SEX

losing your virginity to idk namjoons monster cock then getting railed by yoongi long slong is not gonna cut it. GIVE Y/N A BREAK!!! sex is not always a key to a polyamory relationship. Most ppl think that being poly means more sex no no no, what other connections do they have other than mind blowing sex? Why are these 8 people okay with being in a relationship? How do they settle with their dynamic? Who fell for who first? How do they express themselves without sex?

I don’t necessarily like slow burns fic but at least give it some time before the sexy time. 

I think I’m done? Lol please don’t get mad at me i I’ll literally cry I love every fanfic writer for sharing their beautiful brain with tons of people (beautiful brain?)

Anyways I’m rambling Here’s some OT7 fics I like a lot. I suck at words and reviews but here I go.

@hollyhomburg OMG DONT GET ME STARTED WITH BILY!! i love their fic it breaks down their dynamic and relationships with mc perfectly. It’s the perfect type of slow burn and everyone is relatable in some way. I love liv they’re a cutie and as soon as I’m done writing I’m heading right over to spam like and read the new chapter 🥺💗💗💗

@jellifysh LOVE LOVE LOVE Getting back Into the swing of things!!! Again the right amount of slow burn and the smooth way that OT6 includes mc into their cute dynamic. The boys slowly fall in love with mc for all the right reasons. And I’m sad that’s it’s ending soon but still Absolutely love Jelli and their story 💗

@borathae okay ALLL of sibi fics are AMAZING and sibi is lovely🥰 and technically Sanguis Alpha isn’t a ot7 fic really but still i love it!! I don’t wanna say too much to spoil anything but I wanna hug yoongi and jungkook and never let go (and curb stomp namjoon) also her friends with Hobi and Jin gives me life. I sit waiting every Thursday and Saturday for their updates 💗💗.

Okay bye xxx 🤓

[blainehasregrets]

Just know if I didn’t respond to something specifically it’s because I read it like this: 🙂‍↕️ even if I don’t totally agree (like the engagement but we kinda talked about that), I get what you mean and where you’re coming from.

I agree that Santana’s rant had no basis and in a weird sort of way, I’m glad? Because if she had been accurately picking him apart (the way I think Brittany did a scene later) and I saw people going YASSS SANTANA END THAT TWINK I’d be mad but since her rant literally stems from something that’s quite literally not even true, when I see people say she ended him I can simply go

HAHA (but that also doesn’t take away it was kinda of a generally fucked up speech in general (esp bc of the real world reasons it was even added) and, imo, it sadly left the kurtana friendship on a pretty sour note even though it’s heavily implied they made up at the end of the episode)

And YES I agree so strongly about how they both feel about their own feelings especially this:

I feel the difference between how they treat their own feelings is that for Kurt, he views them inconvenient and something private. He does not want to open up because then he may have to let go of total control over the situation but he is also not devoid of emotion enough to be able to bottle it up forever, so he just lets resentment build

And re: Kurt feeling like a man is a veryyy interesting topic to me. To me, I always felt as if, unlike the other men in his life like people like Finn, Puck, or even Blaine and Karofsky, they never had to question growing up if they are a man, they simply Are in the most cis default way possible (which is why they had to have that what is a man lesson a hundred times as teens), but as Kurt is someone who was way more free with his expression, who’s had to face harassment for the way he presents himself or for things that are outside of his control, he’s someone who’s had to think about it more.

Like;

Someone like Finn: is born -> I am a man

Kurt is born -> 〰️➰➿〰️➰-> I am a man

^ imagine those are like loopy arrows that go all over the place but do eventually point to “I am a man”

So like imo, he IS a cis man and that’s actually quite a big part of his character and he says several times he is a man, he’s quite secure in this fact, but he had a much more complicated thought process to get to that conclusion, compared to most other guys who probably never had to think twice about it. You might find this analysis of Kurt’s hat in Grilled Cheesus interesting.

And I think you’re right, he’s not insecure in a way that would make him think he’s Finally a man or whatever after Bash, and I do tend to think it’s lame he serenaded the guys lol it felt a bit unearned ig

I also love the Kurt as an honorary girl thing and I sorta can’t stand when people say it’s him being a gay stereotype because…Kurt is friends with the girls because they’re nice to him the way the boys aren’t! Of COURSE he’d feel more comfortable around them! And I also even think it’s kind of exaggerated HOW often Kurt was even allowed to be with the girls! 😭 like there are soo many times the boys do something together, the girls do something together, and Kurt’s. No where to be found. (Yes/No comes to mind) and Chris had to tell the writers Kurt would rather be with the girls during Summer Nights because they were originally going to have him with the boys (and that’s why it’s doubly annoying when people say that that was an example of the show trying to Make Kurt a girl or equate him to one because it was literally a decision that came from Chris, who obviously understands Kurt)

Blaine’s Transfer To McKinley

One of the more disliked? plot points in Glee is Blaine’s transfer to McKinley. However, it’s always been silly to me that people think this plot made “no sense”, especially from Blaine fans who think Blaine transferring to McKinley meant Blaine was constantly having to relive the trauma from his previous experience in public school and Kurt was inconsiderate for making him transfer.

Don’t get me wrong: He definitely transferred to be with Kurt, and I have no doubt in my mind Kurt was being annoying as hell about it all summer given the scene of him being (playfully) passive aggressive over Blaine still going to Dalton (which makes his whole “pls don’t tell me you transferred for me because what if u resent me 🥺” even funnier lmao oh Kurt). And I also think him transferring in the middle of the episode aka nearly a week into the school year was supposed to show that Kurt was pressuring him. But I also do kind of chalk that up to the fact that The Purple Piano Project was incredibly badly written and they chose the worst possible ways to deliver information, like setting up Juilliard for Hummelberry just to explain to us NYADA a scene later like…! IMO, they could have kept that scene of Klaine in the Lima Bean, like I’m not saying they should take Kurt’s involvement in the decision completely away, but it should have been one of the very first scenes so Blaine could have been there from day 1. But omg all of this is besides the point let me move on…

However! To act as if it was not ultimately Blaine’s decision, and one he’s wanted to make for a while, is missing a huge part of his character. Not only that, I don’t understand how so many people miss this when it’s quite literally one of the very first things Blaine ever says in the show.

In Never Been Kissed, Blaine tells Kurt “I ran, Kurt. I didn’t stand up. I let bullies chase me away and it’s something I really, really regret.”

It’s literally the main thing we are introduced to his character with. Blaine is someone who wants to face his fears, in this case public school, he just hasn’t had an opportunity to do so.

The entire Dalton arc is symbolized by Pavarotti’s cage which comes up several times during season 2, and in Special Education the show frames Dalton as a place that doesn’t foster individuality (even though I think that plot point was uhh badly written because it was as if the writers seemed to forget why Kurt left McKinley in the first place…all of Kurt’s complaints about Dalton applied to McKinley too, but were supposed to forget about it because over on the McKinley side, Mr. Schue chose Fabrevans and Santana for the competition for once. but also all of this is besides the point too!), and the reason why Blaine falls in love with Kurt in the first place is because of Kurt’s independence and need for freedom despite the difficulties he faced, symbolized by him sing Black Bird. Despite the fact that I don’t particularly agree with this sentiment that a safe place like Dalton is “running away”, I think most people know going from a rich private school with no bullying to a shitty public school with tons of it is a massive downgrade, the show makes it abundantly clear that Dalton is not a place where Kurt or Blaine are meant to stay.

So, even logistics aside (because obviously as he was upgraded to a main character, he had to be with the rest of the characters more often which means he had to go to the same school, it’s really not much deeper than that), the show already set up that Blaine wanted to be free from a place like Dalton. Even in Original Song, we get the hint that Blaine is tired of his easy life in the Warblers where he gets all the solos and in Silly Love Songs he compares them to privileged, porcelain birds. To make it seem as if Blaine being at McKinley was traumatic for him or he had 0 choice in the matter and was doing it solely for Kurt is, imo, disingenuous and misses part of his character that gives him his own agency.

And yes I’m saying all of this acknowledging Blaine’s whole “I changed SCHOOLS FOR YOU 😫” thing, because I think it all can be true at once:

Blaine transferred to be with Kurt.

Blaine transferred because it’s something he’s wanted to do.

Blaine had no problem holding it over Kurt’s head when he wanted to.

I feel like none of that is contradictory to each other (or, even if it is hypocritical, it’s hypocritical in a way real people are). People are messy! They can have multiple reasons for doing what they do, and sometimes even when it’s their decision to make, they can still blame another other person for them. (And I say this with love but I mean…Blaine isn’t a stranger to blaming Kurt for something he chose to do, right? Moving out…cheating…Perfectly in character if you ask me!)

I feel like this decision doesn’t require that much suspension of disbelief either, Jesse transfers in season 1 for a couple episodes just to mess with Rachel. Yes it’s not realistic, but many aspects of glee are not and this is one of the ones I think was set up before the decision was even made.

And to be honest, I always thought the whole “Blaine should have stayed at Dalton” to be a pretty boring opinion, but when I was rewatching Purple Piano Project recently, Blaine said Kurt was just scared the Warblers were going to beat the New Directions, I couldn’t help but think that would have been soo interesting to see. The mess and drama that would come out of Klaine having to see each other as rivals…especially when you throw Sebastian into the mix…Blaine, who already couldn’t cope with the distance, having to see his boyfriend as the enemy? I would love to visit an alternate universe where that’s the route glee decided to go with.

But I’m sorry I love “I changed SCHOOLS FOR YOU 😫” and, regardless of all the reasons I’ve listed above, the general craziness it spells for Blaine that he’d transfer to a shitty public school to spend one year with his lazy fucking boyfriend (said affectionately) too much to wish it was changed. I love you canon Klaine!

[mostlymaudlin]

I don't remember the numbers lmao. Teacher AU + Interrupted Declaration of Love. Maybe also Locked in a room 👀

YESSS THESE ARE SO GOOD. i accidentally went off so I’ll put a cut in lol.

okay so. they work at a middle school, so you already know it’s gonna be trouble. baz teaches the language arts intervention classes, meaning he works with kids who need extra reading & writing support. simon is the school social worker. they’ve been working together all year because let’s be honest a lot of their students overlap! and there’s like a weird undertone between them that they can never address because they’re always surrounded by kids and idk just take it from me it’s hard to flirt around middle schoolers they see everything and they’re merciless. and neither of them rly partake in staff bonding events bc that shits lame.

now theyre both working summer school — so take all the chaos already here and multiply it by 10. the thing about summer school is that it’s four weeks of hell and the trauma bonding amongst staff is intense. after the first week, the administrator takes everyone out for drinks after work. simon and baz stay out after everyone leaves because they’re having so much fun and it gets flirtier and flirtier until… simon invites baz to go home with him! and they fuck but they kind of decide it’s not a good time for them to start dating (even tho they’ve both got crushes). so now they’re doing this weird friends w benefits thing “to ease the stress” as summer school goes on.

cue the last day of summer school, after the kids go home. everyone is cleaning up camp and putting stuff away and simon and baz end up getting asked to go put something in the basement, which is really spooky and kind of gross. neither of them realized the door locks automatically so they get stuck in the basement (obviously). and now they’re alone and there’s like 45 minutes until they’re not in summer school anymore and what does that mean for them? and they’re being so awkward and self-sabotaging and baz just looks rly pretty and kind of sad in the shitty pale yellow basement light, and simons internally like, FUCK IT, we are basically dating right now and it would be worse to work with him this fall and wonder than it would be to work with an ex in the future (but honestly, he can’t imagine why he would ever break up with baz) and he crowds up into bazs space and he’s gonna TELL HIM HOW HE FEELS AND THEN… someone comes looking for them and opens the door.

and then they’re around people finishing up the work day. and then they’re in the parking lot and then they’re both saying their too tired to do a last round of drinks with the rest of the staff. and then simons watching baz drive out of the parking lot in his stupid pretty vintage mustang. simon just sits there in the parking lot ruminating. five minutes later, he still hasn’t left, and bazs car peels back into the parking lot. he parks so crooked and doesn’t turn the engine off and storms toward simons toyota corolla.

simon gets out of the car, confusesd. he’s like, “what’s wrong?” because baz looks fucking livid, but baz doesn’t answer — he pushes simon against the car and winds his fingers into his hair and kisses the shit out of him. simon pulls away after a few seconds, because he needs baz to know.

“it wasn’t just for fun,” he says, breath ragged. “it wasn’t just stress-relief. i don’t want us to be over.”

and baz leans his forehead against simons, eyes squeeze shut, and nods.

“it wasn’t that for me, either,” baz murmurs. “it was always more than that.”

the words send a shiver down simons spine. his hands are on bazs shoulders, but he moves them up to cup bazs cheeks, pulling his face forward to brush their mouths together.

“i want you to be my boyfriend,” simon breathes against bazs lips. he feels baz inhale sharply, feels his fingers tighten in simons hair.

baz kisses simon instead of answering, to which simon pushes him away and demands assurances. and ofc baz is like duh ive been yearning for so long please don’t make me talk abt it it’s embarrassing. and then they’re like omg this one kid who always tells them that she “ships” them is gonna be absolutely demonic if the kids figure out they’re dating in the fall. but like they’re in LOVE it’s worth it to be taunted by middle schoolers if they get to have each other 🥰

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. ��I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[shepherds-of-haven]

;;; so like if clubs were Hypothetically a Thing in the SHOH universe, would the gang ever go to one for a night out??? What would that look like???

Oh ABSOLUTELY!!! They'd be hitting up the club a lot, I feel like, given their penchants for madness and chaos! I feel like they'd go as one big group semi-frequently, and the girls would probably go out more regularly (once or twice a month), and the boys would either catch wind of it and show up too or coincidentally bump into them on the street and get roped into it!

Blade: he would probably despise a club and all of its loud lights and sounds, but he would tolerate being there for the sake of being with his friends and would sullenly nurse a drink in the corner while Trouble and Chase yelled in his ears about how lame he is for just sitting there and refusing to dance

Trouble: he'd be LIT and would be one of the lives of the party! For some reason I think he'd be all enthusiasm and elbows while dancing, kind of like Mac from It's Always Sunny...

Tallys: she'd probably not be too lively at first, nursing a couple drinks herself and just enjoying the conversation and everyone else having a good time, before she suddenly hit a threshold of being well and drunk and would get up and dance to everyone's wild catcalls, and she'd be very sensual and in-tune with herself and kind of hypnotizing to watch!

Shery: she'd be a bit too shy to dance at first and would preoccupy herself with getting people drinks or something to sort of duck out of people pleading with her to dance, but once she got a few drinks in her, she'd try hopping around in a little dance circle with everybody! I kind of picture her dancing like Pam from the Office does!

I think it'd be rare for her to get all-out blasted with alcohol; she'd have enough to loosen up and have fun, but not enough to get totally wasted and would mostly keep her wits and faculties about her!

Riel: he will stay for like a half hour before the music, sweat, and drunk people interacting with him gets to be too much. He's usually the first to tap out, but it always means a lot for everyone to see him and for him to be there, so he makes the effort to show his face and then immediately leave lol. He does participate in a betting pool with Red about how the night is going to unfold based on the varying levels of sobriety at the point that he arrives and exits, though, lol!

Chase: he's never like sloppy drunk, but he is letting loose and having a great time! He might be dancing, but a lot of his interactions at the club are talking to people (his friends or random strangers), buying people drinks, and either trying to incite chaos ("here Shery drink this REALLLLLY strong drink and then tell us who you hate most in this circle!!") or just looking out for his friends as they have a good time; he's more chill than you might expect, and is hanging out with Blade in the corner or getting drinks with Red or Trouble at the bar more than he is on the dance floor! He is absolutely doing his best to annoy stick-in-the-muds like Blade or Riel, though! He nudges people to have fun and do the whole "you only live once" thing, but he also respects their limits and never pressures them: it's his goal to make sure everyone is at ease and comfortable!

Red: he might dance a little bit and drink some, but mostly he's just there to have a fun time and blow off some steam, not want to die from the hangover in the morning! He's more vigilant at clubs and tends to be the one randomly put in charge of watching the purses or keeping an eye on coats, and in big group dance circles, he's always on the edge of the circle using his arms to politely but firmly prevent creeps or overly-aggressive strangers from grinding up on his girl friends when they're just trying to have a good time! (If you don't have a guy friend who does that, get one: everyone is quietly a little bit more in love with him in a drunken way by the end of the night!) He's almost always the one on scene trying to diffuse a fight first, along with Blade (who has to make it all the way over from his corner table) and Chase!

Ayla: if both Briony and Ayla are in the club and they are both really drunk, there is a 50% chance that one or both of them will start a fight with the first creep who gets a little too handsy or disrespectful, even if it's not directly with them and it's directed at a stranger. The other one will instantly jump in, the friends of the creep will jump in, and it will almost always turn into an all-out brawl. Strangely, this doesn't usually happen if it's JUST Ayla or JUST Briony; something about the two of them being there together empowers each to just grab a guy by the collar, lift him into the air with one hand, and start drunkenly yelling, "listen, you son of a bitch, you lay a hand on her again and i'll tear it off and feed it to you!!" and the other one will just take that as a signal to start throwing punches. It usually takes the guys to either haul them off or break up the fight, but there have been times where they just beat the crap out of everybody who came near and got thrown out of the club, lol...

If that doesn't happen, Ayla is just spectacularly wasted and dancing her ass off! She doesn't have, like, amazing dance skills, but she's got a good sense of rhythm and isn't afraid to let loose! She's not super sloppy, just fight-y in the right mood!

Briony: see above: she is either strangling a man with one hand and punching a hole in the wall close enough to his face to make him pee, or she is dancing the night away and having the time of her life! She's actually a pretty bad dancer, basically just contorting wildly and with no sense of rhythm, but she has energy and bounce, so it's always a fun time with her! She has a bad habit of getting very affectionate (physically) with her friends and then dropping absolute bombs in them in the middle of the club, like, "Redddd, you're so mean!! Why'd you accept chocolate from that recruit when everyone knows that other recruit is in love with you!! you're playing with their feelings!!" Red: "wait, who??" She's almost among the most chaotic of drunks in that she'll just start sprinting down the street while everyone is waiting for the taxi/Uber (AKA Blade, Red, Tallys, and Chase are pouring people into their proper rides), decide it's a good idea to take off her shoes because her feet hurt, and then jump into a fountain so that Trouble or something has to go fish her out, only he's drunk too, so he falls in and thinks he's drowning while she laughs thinking he's playing around before panicking and screaming that he's going to die

Lavinet: she is a DRAMA QUEEN at the club, especially while drunk! She says she just wants to dance, but she's always noticing people checking her or her friends out and pointing them out slyly, or nudging people towards attractive prospects, or she's INTERROGATING her victim of choice for the night! She is perfectly capable of dancing (flawlessly) for like an hour, then suddenly parking herself in a chair next to Trouble or someone and absolutely G R I L L I N G them about their deepest, darkest secrets without even batting an eye. It's very unnerving! Just picture her dancing on the dance floor, making her way back to the group table and gulping down cold water, fanning herself and swaying a little bit on her heels, and then just turning smartly to Trouble and being like, "So when are you going to tell MC you're in love with them?" Cue Trouble spitting out his drink! She's also the one in the club bathroom encouraging completely random strangers on how beautiful they look, consoling them if they're having the drunken meltdown common to club bathrooms, and screaming at them to not text their exes and taking their phones away if they try. Camaraderie!!!

[girlindelusionn]

finally finished himym!! hated the finale (of course) so here's another "most likely to" but much longer to help me cope (negate, why lie to you) with how the most awesome couple ended

(also this probably has a million mistakes but im too lazy to do something about it, having to write in english is hard man, so please ignore it:D)

most likely to: swarkles version :)

Who spends almost all their money on the other?

barney, definitely. he's not exactly the best at actually coming up with gifts so sometimes for birthdays or stuff like that he just takes her to the mall and lets her pick whatever she wants (he also makes fun of her the whole time, but i don't think it's necessary to clarify that)

Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

barney doesn't know how to drive and is generally better with technology, so robin drives and he gives directions and prevents her fights with the gps to get really violent

also robin is a REALLY violent driver, she doesn't go really fast but if anyone has the audacity to get in her way shes going to definitely roast the fuck out of them

"oh i know you're not honking at me… LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT, IM GOING TO MAKE THE TURN WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? YOU WANT ME TO FLY OVER YOU? GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND LET ME GET IN THE FUCKING L– there you go, thanks!..."

Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they're tired?

barney to robin, one of the "corny couple" million things he swore he wasn't going to do. but then robin simply looks at him with a sad face, explaining how much her feet hurt and he can't say no

Who is the most affectionate?

barney, actually

it's surprising, cause he's always been someone who likes his space but there's times, mostly in private, when he just can't keep his hands to himself. and you would think it's purely sexual but no, in the contrary, most times it's just a hand in her hair or her back, or demanding hugs and cuddles

Who falls asleep in the other's lap and who carries them to bed?

trick question! barney is who carries robin to bed, but she falls asleep in his shoulder

and he is the one who falls asleep in robin's lap, with her running her hands through his hair

Who wakes up first?

neither of them is a morning person, but usually robin works out in mornings so her. on weekends they stay in bed as long as they can

Who apologizes first after an argument?

they're both stubborn as hell so they schedule apologizes and take turns on doing it

Who is the nerd?

both of them, in different aspects. like robin likes math to the point of doing problems and equations for fun ??? and well, barney is a huge star wars, lord of the rings, that kinda books, nerd

i like to think that they have harry potter in common, they've read all the books, make marathons with the movies, they even went to the universal park! and had a lot of fun there (of course they've never told the guys that)

Who makes the other one laugh the most?

barney, he knows robin cant be mad and laughing at the same time and he uses it as an advantage

Who sleep talks?

robin 🥺

Who hogs the blankets at night?

also robin, but barney doesn't care

Who is the neat freak?

neither of them, but they manage to keep the place decent

Who likes to surprise the other with random gifts?

barney! single flowers, tiny chocolates, etc

Who buys the healthy food in the house?

robin, but it's mostly barney who does the actual cooking

Who has better music taste?

robin 😎

Who takes care of the spiders?

they do it together as a team, and if that doesn't work (aka if the spider is slightly bigger than average) they just go whining to marshall and he fixes it

Who uses more nicknames?

barney is mostly sweetie but after the wedding robin is kinda obsessed with the word husband

"so how's the most handsome husband, huh?"

"did you buyed the milk I texted you for, husband?"

"hi, husband!!"

robin is babe or sometimes honey, and after the wedding barney keeps calling her his "ex-girlfriend" (don't tell anyone, but he also LOVES the term wife, he can't comprehend how is he so lucky to have her as his wife)

(update after actually finishing the show: r-train and b-nasty!!!)

Who's the little spoon?

first year of dating? robin

after that is barney, you can't change my mind

Who suggests scary movies for film night?

robin!! but they both like them

Who gets jealous more often?

both, barney is less dissimulated about it

Who brings up kids first?

no of them, lol

Who borrows who's clothes more?

robin, she has stole the few hoodies he had and sometimes for sexy times likes using his ties

barney secretly uses some of her giganteus t shirts (he makes fun of her for buying them but he's actually glad she does) for sleep when she's away for the night

...they smell like her, okay? leave him alone

(also he loves when she uses his underwear and sometimes the only way to convince her to do it is doing the same himself, so he has wore panties)

(don't tell ted)

(please)

Who cries more during sad movies?

barney, is hard for robin to cry for movies, also he loves villains and they hardly have a happy ending so...

Who falls asleep on the other more?

robin, she falls asleep very easily

Who says I love you more?

barney :)

Who initiates kisses more?

also blondie, again he's a little obsessed with his wife

Who initiates hugs more?

robin this time

Who takes more pictures of the other?

robin, for sure. at first it was cause she wanted that bad picture of him, but then his husband is really cute with his sleepy eyes and the sun on his face, or looks so excited to watch the next episode of some lame show, or he's bringing her breakfast at bed with a big smile or looks a little too good with his new suit and she can't help but take her phone out and snap a pic of him

Who leaves notes for the other one around the house?

barney, at first it was to annoy her, like writing "you lost the game!!" at random places (i'm sorry lmao, i just realized i made you lose too, lol) or "sorry, babe! i ate it all last night" at the empty wrappers of candy in the fridge

but then one day barney found one in a coffee mug:

"wow, you didn't put much imagination in hiding this one, didn't you?" he said, his girlfriend was in the bedroom finishing to get ready for work.

"read it!!" she shot back, a little… nervous?

"i love you", the note said.

"scherbatsky?"

"yeah...?"

"come here"

"what's up?" she finally showed up to the living room, looking all tiny and scared

"love you too, loser"

Who gets drunk faster?

barney? i don't know, they both handle scotch pretty well, so i'm guessing it takes a while for them to get drunk

Who gets hit on more by strangers?

robin, but she couldn't care less

Who makes food for the house more often?

barney, he's a surprisingly good cook

[tsumusamu]

nice receive [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: fluff and (once again, a sad attempt at) humor

word count: 3.8k

summary: eight months into your relationship, atsumu takes you to meet his family. things don't go as planned, but of course, everything ends up alright in the end anyway. alternatively, miya atsumu adores you and his family thinks it's easy to see why.

warnings: uhhh implied sexual content at the end but it is like barely there ok

commission for @ muppetz (it wont let me tag for some reason ugh) thank you so much for commissioning me!

a/n: this ended up being way longer than the word count requested but that’s no one’s fault but my own because i dont know when to shut the FUCK up anyways i hope this one shot is enjoyable lol

content under the cut!

You literally never thought that you would ever end up in this situation.

"C'mon babe, why the long face? Ya nervous or somethin'?"

"No." You purse your lips, huffily averting your gaze from your boyfriend's smirking face.

"Ya don't needa be like that." Atsumu drapes an arm across your shoulder, pecking your forehead as a sort of reassurance. "No one could ever hate this cute face, after all." He accentuates his words by squishing your cheeks, drawing out a yelp of protest from you.

"If you keep talking like this, you're gonna jinx it, you know." Your words come out softer and more hesitant than intended, and you startled even yourself at how utterly anxious you sound.

"Yer gonna be fine. Trust me, I wouldn’t take just any random girl to meet my folks, and they’re well aware of that." Atsumu ruffles your hair.

"I just... I hope they're not..." You pause for a moment, trying to find the right word. "...Disappointed?" You grimace when your boyfriend suddenly throws his head back in such voracious laughter, that you swear you saw a few hysterical tears.

"Are ya jokin'?" he all but wheezes. "Yer the libero for the national volleyball team, for God's sake. If anythin', I'd be the disappointment here."

"'Tsumu — " you start, but he interrupts you by pulling you in for a comforting hug.

"Don't worry yer pretty head anymore, got it?" he murmurs into your ear. "Yer wonderful, and I couldn't be luckier to have ya. My parents are gonna love ya. Honest."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you reach around his back to hug him back. "I hope so."

A year ago, if someone had told you that you would end up having Miya Atsumu introduce you to his family as his girlfriend, you would've laughed until your ass fell off and your stomach ached like no tomorrow.

You had been absolutely overjoyed when you were chosen for the women's national volleyball team, and you were so eager to start playing with your new teammates that you had decided to attend the national team's training camp without hesitation despite your recent knee injury at the time. However, you completely overlooked the fact that you would be working with the men's team as well, which would've been completely fine... if not for Miya Atsumu.

When you first met Atsumu, he was the cocky, annoying little shit of a setter for the Japanese men's national volleyball team, someone who you were stuck training with for the next two weeks.

You still remember the first words he ever spoke to you.

"The hell are ya doin' there, lil libero? If yer not gonna be able to save the easiest ones, then ya might as well sub out."

You also remember the first thought you had about him.

'Prick.'

And the first words you spoke to him.

"Can't you look at this — " You had gestured angrily to the knee brace supporting you. "And take a fucking hint, or what?"

He had sent some unapologetic, biting words right back at you and that marked the beginning of the time you have had the utmost pleasure of knowing Miya Atsumu. The two of you had bickered rather relentlessly (not too unlike literal children, despite the both of you being well into your twenties) throughout the rest of the camp, and by the end, for some unknown reason through some unknown method, he ended up with your number.

He started texting you constantly, and as much as you tried to convince your foolish self that he was just a nuisance, you found yourself responding to his messages like an idiot anyway. Throughout the next few months, you learned that Atsumu was far more than just his overly confident demeanor; he's genuinely kind-hearted, down-to-earth, and actually kinda hilarious. And eventually — neither of you quite knew how — the two of you were staring across a table at each other in a fancy restaurant as if daring the other to blink and lose an unspoken game, on a first date that neither of you thought would go as well as it did.

A little over eight months into your happy and committed relationship, Atsumu suggested that the two of you go to his hometown in Hyogo for a weekend to visit his family. You had immediately agreed with his idea, excited to meet his parents and twin brother in person, but now that he's leading you out of your shared hotel room to go do just that, your stomach's knotting uncomfortably.

Atsumu's been nothing but supportive and comforting ever since you started showing that you're nervous to meet his family. He was always happy to provide a never-ending flow of cheesy words and warm hugs, but you're genuinely afraid of embarrassing yourself. You want to impress his family and not have them see you as undeserving of their son, who you truly care for from the bottom of your heart. Atsumu is your first long-term boyfriend, and you would jump off your roof if you managed to mess anything up during the visit to his folks.

The taxi ride to Atsumu's childhood home doesn't do much to soothe your nerves either, with you fiddling with your fingers the entire way through while Atsumu makes small talk with the driver. As the cab pulls up to the address that your boyfriend had provided earlier, you instinctively clench your fists so hard that you think you might bleed.

A look of alarm crosses Atsumu's face as he notices that you're still just as anxious as you were when you left the hotel earlier. He thought that the ride to his parents' house would give you some time to cool down, but that had clearly not been the case. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he reaches over to grab one of your hands in his, giving you a comforting squeeze.

"Just breathe, darlin'." He runs his thumb over the shallow nail marks embedded in your skin. "If it means anything to ya, my mom's a huge fan of yers. For real. I didn't tell ya this before, but she's especially excited to meet ya. Keeps yappin' to me askin' how I pulled ya." You flush.

"R-Really?" you stammer, wide-eyed.

"Really. Who wouldn't be a fan yers?" Atsumu grins, pecking your nose. "See, ya got nothin' to be worried about. Just chill out and be yerself, 'kay?" You nod, some of the tension releasing from your shoulders as Atsumu leads you out of the cab, hand still clutching yours.

You're feeling a little better now, though your thoughts are still running through your head at the pace of a mile a minute as you watch Atsumu pay the taxi driver and thank him for the ride. Atsumu's mother is my fan? Your ears start to heat up. I hope I can somehow live up to her expectations of me…

“Ma! We’re here!” Atsumu shouts at the top of lungs approximately one second after simultaneously ringing the doorbell and obnoxiously pounding on the door.

“Comin’, comin’, ya brat!” A feminine, yet strong voice hollers in return. You freeze on the spot, your mind going blank once again. It’s happening. It’s finally happening.

The door aggressively swings open, revealing a middle-aged woman wearing a pink apron and carrying a wooden spatula in her hand. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun away from her face and her eyes, the same chocolate brown as Atsumu’s, are gleaming with annoyance. She briefly glares at Atsumu for his rowdy entrance before her gaze catches onto you, and her entire face lights up with excitement.

“(L/N) (Y/N)! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“M-Mrs. Miya,” you stammer out, trying your best to smile but you’re sure it looked more like a wince. “It’s good to m-meet you t-too.”

"Aw, hey now. What happened to my feisty girl? It's not like ya to be so lame.” Atsumu lays his forearm on your head, effectively using you as an armrest. You jerk away, scowling.

“Shut the hell up, asshat,” you snap without thinking. About half a second later, regret slams into your body like a truck. Oh, shit. I just called my boyfriend an asshat in front of his mother. You were about to run off into the streets in utter embarrassment if not for Mrs. Miya letting out a hearty laugh way too similar to her son’s and linking arms with you.

“No need to look so scared, dear. I don’t bite. And it’s good to see that yer willin’ to put this brat in his place.”

“Ma!” Atsumu whines, pouting petulantly.

“Yer really losin’ out with him though, y’know,” Mrs. Miya whispers to you as she leads you into the house by your arm. “I’ve got another son; Atsumu’s twin. Osamu’s quite well-behaved. If yer just likin’ the looks, he would be the better option.” You can tell she’s joking by the merry twinkle in her eyes, but instead of humoring her you end up shaking your head with a quiet chuckle.

“I think Atsumu’s perfectly good for me.” The two of you pause to watch Atsumu practically sprint into the kitchen, and a few moments later there’s an agitated yell as proof that he was on his way to annoy his brother. You smile. “He makes me really happy, Mrs. Miya. You raised him well.”

“Aren’t ya just the sweetest thing?” Mrs. Miya coos at you, pinching your left cheek. “And so pretty too. I swear ya could probably clobber my brat at volleyball as well. You and yer teammate… ah, Miss Amanai? The two of you always caught my eye while I watched yer matches. Make sure ya let her know.”

You blush a little and thank her, making a mental note to tell Kanoka that. She’d probably find it extremely amusing, especially since she was the one who had given Atsumu your number in the first place (which, as you had found out months later, was because he had practically groveled at her feet multiple times. Dumbass.)

“Come meet my husband, (Y/N).” Mrs. Miya leads you into the living room, where an older, balding man with rimmed glasses is quietly flipping through a book. He gives a start upon hearing your entrance, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.

“Ah, hello!” Mr. Miya greets you. “I’ve heard a lot about you! From both Atsumu and the missus.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miya.” You nod once in a respectful manner.

“It’s about time that he settled down with a nice girl. Make sure ya keep him in line though, got it, missy?”

“Of course I w — “ you start, but Mrs. Miya is already dragging you towards the kitchen. You smile apologetically at Mr. Miya, and he just laughs and waves.

“Osamu’s makin’ dinner right now. He is such a hardworkin’ and dedicated boy. Both of them are, really,” she rambles. “But Osamu sure can cook a mean meal. He and his twin always used to fight over who’s the better cook. But I betcha Atsumu hasn’t touched the stove since he left for university years ago.”

You debate telling her that Atsumu had made quite a decent meal for the two of you just last week to celebrate your eight-month anniversary (which you hadn’t even known he remembered), but before you can formulate the right words in your head you’re suddenly shoved in the path of an unfamiliar man. Well, not really unfamiliar. He has the same face as the boyfriend who you see every day, after all.

Miya Osamu is (as expected) the literal carbon copy of Atsumu; same strong eyebrows, same hooded eyes, same angular jawline. The only thing that easily sets them apart is his black, ruffled mess of hair in stark contrast with your boyfriend’s bleached blonde.

Mrs. Miya pulls Atsumu away from the two of you, demanding that he help her with some mundane task, leaving you and Osamu by yourselves in the kitchen.

An easy smile graces his lips as he sticks out his hand. “Hey, I’m Osamu. Honored to finally meet the famous (L/N) (Y/N).” You smile back, gripping his hand firmly and shaking.

“And I’m honored to meet the famous ‘Samu.” At your words, Osamu bursts out laughing.

“Man, I don’t really let a lot of people call me that, y’know? But if yer gonna be part of the family, you could be an exception.”

“F-Family?” You pause, your sudden confidence dissipating as fast as it had come.

“Naw, no pressure. Just sayin’.” Osamu casually continues with his task of shaping onigiri. “I can tell he really likes ya.” You raise your eyebrows in curiosity without entirely meaning to. “I mean, we’re twins, it’s like a sixth sense. And also he never shuts up about ya when we text or call.”

“I hope you’re hearing all good things?” you quip jokingly.

“Oh, for sure. If I didn’t know who you were I’d think that he’s talkin’ about the reincarnation of a goddess with the way he talks.”

“Seriously?” You snort, and Osamu just laughs.

“So I’d like to ask ya the favor of continuin’ to take care of him. Guy’s just a huge ass baby. I can obviously see that yer good for him, though. He wouldn’t have stayed for so long if he wasn’t serious.”

The two of you briefly glance at Atsumu helping his mother set the table. They’re currently debating over whether Atsumu should go back to his natural hair color and “Stop makin’ yer hair look like fuckin’ straw!”

“He is a huge ass baby,” you start seriously, causing Osamu to smirk. “But he’s an honest and good person, so I’m not too bothered. I’ll take care of him, promise.”

“Thanks.” Osamu sighs, glancing rather fondly in his brother’s direction. “He’s an asshole, but at least he’s a redeemable asshole. I’m glad he’s finally got someone around to take care of him. Makes us all feel a little more relieved since he’s away from home.”

You suddenly feel warm inside.

Atsumu had been right; you truly didn’t have anything to be afraid of. The Miyas have been nothing but kind and welcoming so far, and they even seem to already have a positive opinion of you.

“Can ya help me carry these to the table?” Osamu holds out a plate of freshly-made onigiri.

“Ah, sure!” you accept hurriedly, taking the plate from him with careful hands. You take slow, calculated steps towards the dining room; the last thing you want is to accidentally drop any of the food.

Atsumu and his parents are already waiting in the dining room, and they all look up at you expectantly as you approach them with the onigiri plate in hand.

“Why, thank you, dear!” Mrs. Miya chirps. “Helpin’ Osamu out! How sweet of ya — “

She’s cut off as disaster strikes.

You trip on your last step to the table, causing a single onigiri to tumble off the plate and towards the floor. Your mouth drops open wide as you practically slam the plate down on the table and in practical slow-motion, watch the onigiri plummet down, down, down —

Then you dive.

You dive towards the floor, in the same manner as you do when you’re digging for a volleyball.

And you catch the rice ball in one hand, laying flat on your stomach. You have a moment of mental celebration; yes, you caught the onigiri! Then you realize that you look like a fucking idiot as you lay face down with one hand extended and clutching a rice ball like it’s your lifeline.

There’s a few seconds of agonizing silence.

You want the earth to swallow you whole.

There’s no way that you could ever show your face in front of Atsumu’s family or even Atsumu himself now; God you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life, and over an onigiri too —

“Nice receive!” Atsumu suddenly bellows, clapping his hands boisterously. “(L/N) does it again!”

His brother, who’s standing a few feet behind you with a platter of chicken skewers, pumps his free fist into the air and joins in with a “Hell yeah!”

Mr. Miya starts laughing the same loud Miya laugh that you’ve heard way too many times today, and his sons soon follow suit. Shame is still flooding your body, but now you’re realizing just how ridiculous the whole situation is and you resist the urge to smile at your own stupidity. As soon as Mrs. Miya recovers from her initial surprise, she comes to help you up, and you can tell that she’s doing her best not to laugh as well.

“Are ya okay, dear?” she briefly inspects you for any sign of injury.

“All good here, Mrs. Miya.” You smile, genuinely and comfortably, as Atsumu comes behind you to wrap his arms around you and peck your cheek, still chuckling with a small note of pride. “All good.”

-

“See?” Atsumu’s smug as hell as the two of you enter the hotel elevator on your way up to your room. Osamu had dropped you off so there would be no need for another cab. “I told ya that they’d fuckin’ love ya.”

“Why’re you rubbing in something like this?” You scoff, dodging when he tries to pull you into a crushing hug.

“Because I was right.” He smirks. You roll your eyes to heaven.

“Well, you can’t blame me for being nervous! I still can’t believe that none of them got upset at me for diving for a rice ball at the dinner table.” You groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Nah, why the hell would they? It was cool. Yer cool, Miss National Team Libero.” He laughs, reaching for you again and this time you let him bring you close to him. “Besides, like I said before, who could ever resist yer pretty lil face?”

“You’re a hopeless asshole.” You sigh, and Atsumu of course just chuckles, his laughter vibrating against your ear as you press yourself into his chest.

“I’m yer hopeless asshole.” He pecks the top of your head. “C’mon, babe. It’s our floor.”

You hadn’t realized how tired you are until the two of you enter your hotel room and you see the large, inviting bed. You practically jump onto it, burying your face into a pillow. “Goodnight…” you mumble sleepily.

“Ya gotta go shower and brush yer teeth first, idiot.” A pillow smacks you in the side of the head, and you leap up with a cry of surprise. “Damn, don’t be so loud, sweetheart. It’s late, y’know. Don’t wanna get a noise complaint like last night.” You turn bright red at the reminder.

“Shut u-up,” you retort. “I told you that we shouldn’t have tried to do it on the balcony.”

“It was fun, though, y’know! An experience. And ya sounded like you were enjoyin’ it, anyway.” He chucks another pillow at you, and you yelp as it nails you in the face. “Now get yer cute ass over here, we’re gonna shower.”

“You can’t make me.” You stubbornly lay back down and close your eyes, and you had peace for all but ten seconds before Atsumu’s plucking you off the bed and settling you into his arms bridal-style. Your eyes shoot open in shock and you flail desperately. “Put me down!”

“No can do. I’m not sleepin’ next to yer stinky self tonight, darlin’.” Atsumu laughs as you scowl.

“The floor’s always open for you,” you snap.

“Aw, yer no fun.” He steals a kiss from you in the blink of an eye; the only evidence of there being contact at all is a tingling feeling on your lips. You feel your heart melt just a little more.

“Fine. After we shower, we go straight to bed. Got it?”

“ And brush our teeth. Yer mornin’ breath is bad enough.” He lets out quite an unpleasant squawk when you smack him lightly in the shoulder. “Alright, sorry, sorry.”

“Is this just your excuse to see me naked?” you tease him as he sets you down on the bathroom counter before immediately removing his shirt to reveal his muscled torso. He grins wolfishly at you and shrugs.

“And if it is?” Atsumu’s eyes are zeroed in on the small hickey he had left right below your collarbone last night, which is now visible thanks to the way your shirt had rumpled after he had practically manhandled you into the bathroom.

“Well, I won’t complain.” You follow his gaze down to your neck, before glancing back up to meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow at him. “If you’re going to make it worth my time.”

About an hour later, the two of you are lying in bed together, effectively tuckered out and finally ready to sleep. Atsumu’s strong arms are wrapped tightly around you like a protective cocoon as you snuggle your face against his chest. The slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat rocks you towards dreamland, and all the worries from the past day are slipping away.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” you mumble against his chest. He grunts tiredly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a small silence.

“...Thanks,” you finally say after a beat.

“Huh? For what?” he quips.

“For being patient with me today, even though I was so nervous. And for taking me to meet your family.” You crane your head to look up at him, contentment adorning your features. “I had a good time. I hope they don’t hate the idea of me coming around again sometime.”

Atsumu smiles that familiar smile, the smile filled with affection that others rarely get to see. His eyes are almost half-mooned with joy, his lips are curved up in genuine adoration, and his cheeks are flushed with color. You saw this smile for the first time when he set an incredibly low ball at training camp, earning the awe of everyone in the room, including yourself. Never did you think that you would ever have this expression of pure love aimed at you, nor did you think it would fill you with so much happiness every time you had the blessing of seeing it. He says nothing for a while, suddenly resorting to trailing kisses all over your face. You let him, closing your eyes peacefully as he showers you with his love, ending with one final peck to your nose.

“I'm sure they'd like to have you around again.”

And if Atsumu continues playing his cards right, he thinks there might be a possibility that in the next five or so years, you could truly become part of the family with a glittering ring on your finger.

Only time will tell if that possibility will ever come to fruition, but as you tilt your head up to give him one last kiss on the lips and whisper those three words to him, he knows for sure that he wants to continue building towards that future with you.

“I love you too.” He lets his eyes fall shut as well, before resting his chin atop your head and savoring the warmth of your body against his.

Only time will tell.

-

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