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rambling-at-midnight · 2 days ago

Text

When the Truth Comes Out

Request: Reader asks, "So, when are you going to ask me to marry you?" I hope I did your prompt justice!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: It’s been three and a half years since Jason asked you out, and he knows you’re the one. He knows every part of you, the good and bad, and loves it all. The problem is that you don’t know everything about him… and his secrets may ruin everything.

Word count: 3.5k

Jason’s never been one to window shop, but lately he’s been noticing the glint of jewelry.

You give him a weird look when he stumbles in the middle of the department store. It’s because a ring display caught him off guard like a punch to the gut, but he can’t explain that, so Jason waves off your concerned questioning.

You give him a weird look before turning back to the toy aisle. The two of you spent the morning bickering over what present to give Damian for Christmasukkah. You want to give him a keyboard to learn piano, but Jason’s sure that Damian would be happier receiving an art kit. He knows violin, which is a strings instrument, not whatever the piano is. Besides, the kid’s a brat. He’d want a full-size grand piano that originally belonged to Mozart or some shit and costs a hundred thousand dollars, which isn’t exactly pocket cash for the two of you.

And, sure, Jason’s got one of Bruce’s credit cards in his wallet—Bruce offered to give him one in Jason’s name, but it was the principle of using the stolen card, so Jason turned him down—but he’d be damned before he spoiled the kid any more than he already is.

He keeps his eyes firmly on you after that. It’s where they’re supposed to be, anyway.

You end up getting the keyboard after surreptitiously checking your bank account against your projected budget several times. It’s funny. After three years, you still think you can hide stuff like that from Jason. Probably because he pretends not to notice. He makes a mental note to stop by your landlord’s and see if the Red Hood can make any suggestions about lowering rent for your building.

As the two of you walk out of the store, a cold gust of wind tries to steal your breath away. You step closer to Jason, cold fingers twining with his, and he easily drapes an arm over your shoulders to keep you close. “Was that the last one?”

“I think so,” you reply, checking your list again. “The keyboard for Damian, massage gun for Dick, matching pajamas for Cass and Steph, Pokemon expansion pack for Duke, and the fuzzy socks for Tim.”

The socks are decorated with the words ‘I BREACHED CONTAINMENT’ in black stitching. Jason saw them in a tourist trap he saved from a D-list rogue and remembered how Tim looked like the bog monster after falling into the sewers the day before. They’ve been sitting in his closet since the end of August.

“I have too many siblings,” Jason sighs.

“Have you figured out what you’re giving Bruce?”

Jason bites his lip.

You say, “Ah. Well, you still have a couple days.”

Yeah. Jason has two. He’d been supposed to look out for anything to catch his eye in the store, but all he noticed was the stupid ring display.

He opens the car door for you, then shoves the keyboard in its box into the backseat and starts the engine. Jason drives home one-handed. The other holds yours loosely over the console. You’re checking your bank account again on your phone, frowning slightly, thumb brushing up and down Jason’s palm. He keeps an eye on you as he drives, playing idly by squeezing your fingers one by one until you have to try to hide a smile by looking out the window.

He doesn’t let go of your third finger. Something nags at the back of his mind, like—

Jason realizes that he’s trying to find a ring, and his heart stops. The car jumps forward when he slams on the gas, and he drops your hand to put both of his on the wheel as he swerves around a minivan. You let out a startled yelp, hands flying out for something to grab onto. The stupid keyboard slides off the back seat and into the footwell.

Two cars lay on their horns when he nearly sideswipes them. Jason responds with an emphatic middle finger and cuts across three lanes to get away. The poor car doesn’t respond as well to his driving as his motorcycle does, and the engine whines as he leaves the other cars in the dust until he eases off.

As soon as the car reaches a relatively normal speed, you say, “Jay! What just happened?”

“Sorry,” is all he can say, keeping both arms stiff on the wheel. “Sorry, honey.”

“You okay?”

“‘M good. You good?”

“I’m okay, I was just…” You keep looking at him, and Jason’s skin prickles. Do you know? Can you tell?

Jason creaks like old wood, but he pulls back his right arm and puts his hand on the console, palm up. After a moment, you put your left overtop it. He can feel your pulse racing through the thin skin of your wrist.

He squeezes.

You squeeze back.

The day before Christmas, Jason still doesn’t know what to give Bruce. He’d hoped that baking would fix the block, but as he abuses the poor sopapilla dough, he’s no further to any answers.

You’re at the counter, offering moral support but not physical help. Jason’s a bit of a control freak in the kitchen when he’s anxious.

He’s not anxious. He’s not! It doesn’t matter if he gives Bruce something for Chrismukkah. Bruce doesn’t even celebrate Christmas. ‘Not trying to kill him’ is probably a good enough present.

Or the sopapillas. Sure, everyone’s bringing a dish, but no one said it couldn’t also be Jason’s present. But if he goes that route, then the pastries have to be perfect, and the last batch didn’t fluff up the way they did when Catherine made them.

“Jay,” you say after another five minutes of Jason punching dough that is already thoroughly kneaded.

“Yes, love?”

“I think the oil might be ready.”

Judging by the hiss and pops behind him, it is, and has been for several minutes.

Jason tries his best to follow his mother’s actions through his memory, but this batch doesn’t turn out right, either.

“Here,” he says wearily, placing the overflowing plate in front of you. “Let ‘em cool off.”

You wait as long as you can, fingers drumming on the counter as you watch tiny curls of steam drift up from the pile of pastries. Finally, you give in. “Oh my gosh,” you say around a mouthful that was a little too hot, judging by your wince. “Jay, these are amazing.”

“It’s not right, though,” he argues.

“Jay, I didn’t even think it was possible, but these are better than your last batch.”

He shakes his head stubbornly.

“Well, we’ll keep working on it,” you decide. “But really, if you bring these tomorrow, no one will complain. If they do…” You hold up a fist and shake it, mustering up (what you think is) a ferocious scowl.

Jason’s lips twitch. “What if Damian complains? Are you prepared to hit a child?”

“I can’t believe you would even ask me that,” you say. “I live in Gotham. I’ve been waiting for that moment my entire life.”

Despite himself, Jason laughs. He picks up one of the pastries from the dish and bites into it. They could have used more honey. Maybe that was the problem. But you’re right. These are good, and if they’re not, so what? It’s not like Bruce expects much from him anyway.

Jason’s chest squeezes.

Bruce should just be grateful that Jason is there at all.

Fuck.

It’s getting too hard to deny. Despite all his best efforts, Jason has to admit… maybe he does love his family.

It’s the first holiday season where he hasn’t been incandescent with rage toward one of them or another, and he’d underestimated just how nervous he would be. Despite everything that happened between them, he wants tomorrow to go well. The first night of Hanukkah is the same day as Christmas this year, which hasn’t happened for about twenty years. It’ll be Damian’s third Chrismukkah and the first where everyone is in attendance—Jason wasn’t on speaking terms with the family his first year, and Bruce was in the time stream and Tim was across the world last year.

“Hey, Jay.”

“Hmm.”

You swallow without making eye contact, and if he was paying even a little bit more attention, he would have known to prepare himself for what you said next.

“When are you gonna ask me to marry you?”

Jason is a selfish asshole. It’s a miracle that you haven’t figured that out yet after three years of dating him. He half-expects to come back to the apartment to find his stuff in bags. That’s the main reason he’s still out in the cold.

He’s in the middle of another drag when a teasing voice says from behind, “Ooh, must have been a rough day.”

Jason’s hand twitches for his gun, but he recognizes the voice. So he only rolls his eyes and says around the cigarette, “What do you want?”

“Your partner asked me to check up on you. Apparently you looked pretty freaked when you took off.”

Fuck. Jason groans. “How worried did they seem?”

“Ummm….”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, you kind of messed up.” Spoiler sits next to him, dangles her legs over the side of the roof, and lets them swing idly. “Or they messed up. I thought you quit smoking?”

He exhales a thick plume of smoke. “I did,” Jason says. Dying from smoke inhalation was bad once, but a habit is a habit.

“If it makes you feel any better, they seemed more concerned about you. Not, like, mad or anything.”

Well, that’s something.

“So what happened?”

Jason grunts. Maybe if he stares into the horizon long enough, Spoiler will give up. That was the technique Batman always used when Robin asked the tough questions like, ‘Why am I going home early so you can interrogate Catwoman on your own?’

It only worked sometimes.

Unfortunately, Spoiler seems immune.

Jason grunts and drops the butt of his cigarette. He itches for another, but you’ll already wrinkle up your nose at the smell of one. And, shit, what are you even going to think about him high-tailing it out after that question, leaving for hours, and coming back stinking of smoke?

“I’m a fucking idiot. And an asshole.”

Spoiler huffs. “Everyone already knows that, dumbass. They certainly do.”

“Thanks,” Jason says drily.

“Anytime!” she chirps.

Her heels beat against the side of the building.

She’s not leaving anytime soon, so Jason sighs and gives in. “They asked when I was planning on proposing.”

Spoiler gasps and jumps to her feet. “Oh my God!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yep.”

“So you’re engaged?”

“What? No.”

“What?”

“They asked when I would propose. That wasn’t a proposal… I don’t think so. I mean, there wasn’t a ring,” Jason says helplessly.

Spoiler socks him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Damn, but the girl can pack a punch. He rubs at the sore spot, scowling.

“You stupid idiot!”

“I know.”

“And you just ran away?”

Jason cringes and admits to his lap, “Yes.”

Spoiler hits him in the exact same spot on his shoulder.

“Goddamn it, stop that!”

“I’m going to kill you, Jason Peter Todd.”

“You could certainly try, Stephanie… Brown,” he shoots back.

“You don’t even know my middle name?”

“I don’t care about you.”

She lifts her fist again, but Jason twists out of the way before she can hit him a third time in the same shoulder. It’ll be bruised tomorrow.

“You don’t get it,” he says, balancing on the edge of the roof and feeling exceptionally unstable, even though he’s walked across ledges like this since he was twelve.

“What don’t I get? That you have an awesome partner waiting for you at home? One that wants to get married? One that—”

“One that has no idea who I am,” Jason hisses. He brandishes his helmet at the girl. “We’ve been together for three years. They have no idea that I’m the Red Hood. It made sense, at first; I can’t go around telling everyone I kiss what my identity is—”

“Right,” she scoffs sarcastically, “like you’re some kind of serial kisser, Todd. Half the city would know your identity if you did that.”

“Shut up,” Jason half-says, half-groans, and by some miracle, she does. “At first, obviously I couldn’t tell them. Then I wanted to keep waiting. I wanted to know that they were, you know, the one and everything.”

Spoiler fake-gags. Jason ignores her.

“And after that it was just too late. I waited too long. I can’t marry them unless they know about the mask, but who would agree to marry someone that’s been lying to them for three years? The entire time they’ve known me?”

“Huh,” says Spoiler.

‘Huh’ indeed.

“So I ran,” Jason says. “I don’t even know if I said anything. The next thing I knew, I was in the street with a pack of cigs and a lighter in my pocket. I came up here to smoke a couple before going back and ending things.”

“You—wait, ‘ending things?’” Spoiler’s head whips around, the white lenses of her domino widening. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t lie to them,” says Jason. “When I go back, I’ll tell them the truth. And they’ll break up with me for lying for years. I was just trying to put it off.”

The worst thing was, he wasn’t even trying to lie for most of it. You took his excuses easily, believed him about a boxing gym membership to explain away the bruises, and never uttered a complaint about the odd hours he worked. Every time he was late to a date or canceled, you understood. Every time he forgot something important, odds were that you’d forgotten, too, without him to remind you.

All things considered, Jason might have found the single least curious person in all of Gotham, if you hadn’t figured it out after three years. But he’d gotten so comfortable that he’d forgotten that it was a secret, really. It had all rushed back in when he heard your words like a smack to the face, and he’d panicked.

“You don’t know that,” Spoiler says softly.

“Could you forgive someone for something like this?”

She stays silent, and that’s answer enough.

Jason huffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the pack of cigarettes and lighter, and considers them. Then he sighs and drops both on the ground. “Might as well get this over with.”

The cold Gotham air whips away the reek of smoke by the time he’s back at your apartment. Jason looks at the door like a condemned man looks at the gallows. He could sneak in through the window like he usually does, but he selfishly wants you to open the door for him. Show that he’s welcome now, even though he won’t be for long.

Seconds drag on like torturous minutes until he hears the familiar click of the lock. The door inches open with a screech.

Jason’s mouth goes dry at the sight of your wide eyes. “Hey, darling.”

Wordlessly, you open the door further and step aside to let him in.

Funny how a place he’s practically lived in can feel so unfamiliar. Jason shifts between feet as you re-lock your door.

The moment you turn around, he blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

You say the same thing.

“What?” Jason asks.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you say.

“No, I was an ass,” he insists. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“I didn’t mean to push you. I just saw you looking at rings, and we’ve talked about it, but still, marriage is a big step, so I wanted to be prepared,” you ramble. “I mean, we said that we could get married, but we never discussed when, or when the proposal would be—”

“Honey!”

You fall silent.

“Just wait,” Jason begs. He can’t stand any more of your endless understanding. You’ve only ever understood him, no matter what, and he’s going to miss it so much. He’s going to miss you so much. “Wait one second.” He retreats to the bedroom and returns a moment later with something clutched behind his back. Your eyes dart to the awkward way he’s contorted his arm.

Your face goes blank when he pulls out the spare helmet he keeps below your bed. He’d only used a domino when out with Spoiler, but that wouldn’t do for the grand reveal.

“I’m the Red Hood,” he says in a rush, then braces for your judgment.

You don’t react except to say, “Jason.”

He doesn’t understand. You’re not scared of the killer in your apartment. You’re not furious at the man that’s lied to you for three years. Obviously you don’t understand what he’s saying. “Honey, I’m the Red Hood. The vigilante.”

“Jay—”

You’re still just standing with no reaction. Jason holds the mask up so you’re making eye contact with it.

You push it out of the way and cradle his face with both your hands. “Jason Peter Todd, look at me,” you command.

Jason holds your gaze. It’s the last time he’ll ever be so close to you, and he never wants to forget what your presence feels like.

“Jay, I’ve known basically the whole time.”

What.

Jason blinks.

“What?”

“I already knew.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. I’m the—”

“Red Hood, yes, I know.” You muster up a tremulous smile. “And Bruce is Batman. Dick is Nightwing. Steph is Spoiler, Damian is Robin, Tim is—”

“Oh my God, you knew? How did you know?”

“Jason. My love. My darling. My honey bunchkin.” You give him a mildly scolding look. “I’m not an idiot.”

Jason’s ears heat. “And you’re not… mad?”

“That you’re the Red Hood?” You cock your head. “Of course not. I worry about you, of course. But you have to do it. I know that. Or am I mad that you tried to keep it a secret for three years?” You press your lips together to hide a growing smile. “No. I’m not mad about that either. You can’t exactly go around telling your secret identity to everyone you kiss. It’s just something I had to figure out on my own.”

“You knew,” Jason marvels. “You knew this whole time.”

“Most of the whole time,” you say. “But yes.”

“Oh my God.” Jason’s moving before he can stop himself, and he wraps you up in his arms and spins you around. “I thought you would hate me,” he confesses, still clutching you like his life depends on it. “When I finally told you.”

A soft hand runs through his hair. “Is that why you ran?” you ask softly.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, honey, I just—”

“I get it,” you interrupt.

“You were scared.”

A thought occurs to Jason with such clarity he nearly drops you. “Wait, so you were going to marry me even after you knew about the mask?”

“Of course,” you say. “I love you, Jay. Mask and all.”

“I don’t have a ring.”

“I don’t need one. Don’t you get it? I only need you.”

“I only need you, too.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Jason agrees, and he probably looks like a fool with his wide grin, but you can’t stop smiling either. He dips his head, and you rise up to press your lips to his, even though with both your grins you end up clicking teeth.

“Good,” you repeat.

“Good,” Jason says, just for good measure, and this time he makes sure the kiss is better. Lightning shoots up his spine and he pulls back to ask, “Wait, are we engaged now?”

“Um… yes?”

“That’s awesome.”

Your smile is so wide that your eyes nearly close. Jason’s pretty sure he looks the same as he sweeps you up and spins you around. You fit perfectly into his arms. He’s never going to let you go.

“My fianceé,” he says fondly. “I’m never going to get tired of saying that.”

“I’m marrying you,” you marvel, sweeping your thumb over his mouth. “I have the prettiest husband-to-be in the whole world.”

“I love you,” Jason confesses. “So much.”

“I love you, too.”

Seconds before your mouths meet for another kiss, Jason’s phone buzzes. On the off-chance it’s an important alert, he pulls it out, but it’s just Spoiler asking for an update.

Jason stows the device. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I know how to make the sopapillas the right way.”

“Oh? And how’s that?”

It turns out that Jason’s right.

Making them with your help turns out to be what was missing the whole time.

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keferon · 2 days ago

Note

Part 3! Ratchet and Deadlock time.

The ray of sunshine has left, leaving us in the cold dark of the angst.

Ratchet works through some stuff.

———————————————————————

Ratchet hadn’t actually meant for the conversation to start with Roddy.

The medic had wanted to fully explain why he’d left the Mecha Program for awhile. His outburst earlier cementing the fact he needed to get it off his chest, or he’d start lashing out at the wrong people.

Again.

The Kid deserved to know what staying with him could drag him into. Ratchet kept his hands busy cleaning his bowl in the shop sink.

Hot Rod, Ratchet realized, was a good enough bridge into the topic. Someone Deadlock could put a face to. Not just nameless pilots upon pilots.

“There’s a condition called Congenital Insensitivity to Pain. CIP for short. The abbreviated explanation is sometimes humans can be born without the ability to feel pain or that the sensation of pain doesn’t translate correctly to the brain. It’s a very dangerous condition to have since it means that the person doesn’t get the usual warning signs that’s something’s wrong.”

The bowl was completely clean but so long as Ratchet didn’t turn around, he could pretend he was just training a med student.

“So that question about “weird pressures”. You were checking for damage Hot Rod doesn’t know he’s sustained due this CIP condition?”

Kid was smarter than he gave himself credit for. Ratchet thought for not the first time. He almost got it right.

“Hot Rod doesn’t have CIP. Not actual CIP.”

Ratchet put the bowl down, his hand not moving from the faucet after turning it off.

“He wasn’t born with it. Because I caused it.”

—————————

“I was so damn proud.” Said Ratchet.

At the time, he was. The integration process for recruits to become pilots was horrific. Excruciatingly painful. And something out of a science fiction movie.

In order to condition the human nervous system to work with the mecha neural interface, it necessitated mapping out every nerve and neuron in the pilots body.

While conscious.

Orion came up with the best analogy for it once: You could create a perfect 3 dimensional map of an entire ant colony’s nest. Provided you poured enough molten lead down the hole.

Ratchet wasn’t one to standby watching friends or strangers suffer, so he rolled up his sleeves and set his mind to fixing the whole damn thing.

On the line between man and machine, Ratchets role in the mecha program was right on the fence.

Specifically, he’d started very close to the fence on the side of the machines, and during the course of the program, picked up enough extra PHD’s to hook a leg over said fence to reach across and start smacking the shit out of some particularly stupid doctors handling the men.

Ratchet worked for years along side Pharma and Shockwave to make the integration process less permanently damaging.

Common long term side effects were: Blurry Vision Jazz, Disassociation Swoop, Memory Loss Sludge, Paralysis Snarl, Nerve Damge Slag, Internal Hemorrhaging Grimlock, Altered Personality Shockwave, and Brain Death Orion.

There were dozens more faces Ratchet could pair with any given symptom.

Eventually, Ratchet got his lucky break. A fresh batch of recruits to try his tweaked integration process on. Hot Rod was one of them.

Ratchet had thought he’d hit a breakthrough. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t publish it yet. Not until he was sure.

Hot Rod aced the physical and mental exam. The rest of his test group did pretty well too. They weren’t cream of the crop. The higher ups didn’t want to risk loosing more valuable pilots to an experiment. When Pharma had already established an “acceptable level of care” that nicely suited them.

Ratchet personally watched the lot of them like a hawk. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It didn’t come. Hot Rod was fine. The whole group was fine.

He was so damn proud.

The pilots went straight into mecha training and then-

They dropped like flies.

It was on the bad end of the bell curve for pilot fatalities. Ratchet thought it had to be the new series of mecha that had been built at the same time. He’d switched into engineering mode to rectify that. They had glaring safety issues where the flamethrowers and thrusters intersected. Plus, it wasn’t unusual for the mecha program to just have particularly rough seasons. The tentacled fucks were out in swarms. And by god was that a bloody summer for everyone.

It happened three days after the last big fight. Pretty much everyone who came back alive came back with some sort of injury. Except for Hot Rod, who Pharma gave a clean bill of health.

Ratchet was in his corner of the medical wing, looking over his proposal for the new integration method when Jazz dragged Hot Rod into his office.

Red flag number one: Jazz was a nightmare patient who avoided the med wing like a bear trap.

He tried. Goddamn it if Jazz didn’t try, but he was physically incapable of getting through medical procedures without being heavily sedated. The last time Ratchet tried to do minor stitches with only a local anesthetic, Jazz panicked and damn near broke his arm.

Jazz and Hot Rod were both wearing shorts, t-shirts and sneakers. Judging from the smell, they had just gotten here from the rec room. Probably basketball or maybe dodgeball.

Ratchet had gone through a full medical checklist before they finished coming through the door. Neither looked sick or injured. Nothing was obviously wrong beyond the clear look on Jazz’s face that said “Something is actually very wrong.”

Jazz wheeled Hot Rod in front of Ratchet.

“Show him.”

Hot Rod looked more embarrassed than in desperate need of medical attention.

“I’m fine Jazz, I probably just need to stretch.”

Jazz waved his hand cutting him off. Ratchet would usually start telling them off by now but something stopped him.

“Hot Rod raise your arms above your head. Both of them.”

The red headed pilot reluctantly obeyed. His right arm lifted straight up above his body. His left. Hot Rod made a face of concentration, as his left arm refused to go any higher than his head.

Three days.

Hot Rods shoulder had been dislocated for three days and no one fucking noticed.

Ratchet chewed out Jazz at first thinking he’d caused it. Then he chewed out Hot Rod for not coming to medical as soon as he knew about the injury.

And then, something very cold settled into his stomach the more and more Hot Rod swore he didn’t notice. That it didn’t even hurt.

“Ratchet, I’m fine!”

He should have been in pain. In agony after three days.

Later, Ratchet would go through each medical file of every pilot he had been responsible for. They had all had ailments in their files. Minor visible injuries that were all taken care of. Major ones went surprisingly smoothly. Patient notes praising the med staff for keeping them so comfortable. Praising him. Not one pilot had made a single pain med request since going through the integration process. On his files, there was one surviving active duty pilot from the same integration process.

Ratchet’s integration process.

————————

“Hot Rod said he forgave me.” Ratchet laughed. A little too wet and little too rough.

“Just like that.”

When’d he start shaking?

Ratchet still didn’t, couldn’t look the Kid in the eyes. “I left, not long after. There’s so much fucking more that was happening. That was the last straw, because when I told Shockwave and Pharma, those heartless fucks wanted to make it standard across the board. Soldiers that can’t feel pain? Of fucking course they wanted that. Didn’t matter the fatality rate was nine times as high.”

Ratchets voice was getting worse. But he couldn’t stop. “I thought I could fix it all from the inside. I thought as long as I stayed I could be some, fucking moral compass to a bunch of greedy, prideful, fucking deranged people. I was an egotistical IDIOT that thought I could somehow save every doomed kid tricked into walking into that “necessary evil.” I actually believed I could-”

Ratchet was abruptly cut off from his ranting as two massive hands grabbed him around the waist and deposited him on a ledge, at eye level.

“Kid, what-“ Deadlocks eyes looked shiny.

“I-I can’t keep looking down at you.”

The two of them sat in silence.

Neither seemed to know or want to start talking again right away. Ratchet was used to stewing in regrets on occasion. That had felt more like putting those regrets into a blender and then forgetting the lid.

Deadlocks plating was pulled tight. Ratchet had almost forgotten what he looked like when he was stressed. He wanted immediately to take it all back. Make it better. See him laugh drunk and cozy again like yesterday.

“Kid, I’m sorry. That- that was too much to put on you.” Deadlocks hands weren’t gripping him anymore but resting on either side of the ledge. Ratchet pet small circles on a thumb that twitched slightly under his hand.

Deadlock straightened and looked at him with a steely expression, mouth tense, eyes determined.

“You are one of the most intelligent, stubborn, and caring people I’ve ever met. Nope.” Deadlock corrected himself, lifting a hand. “THE most intelligent, stubborn and caring person that exists.” He dragged out the syllables of that last word.

“You!” He poked Ratchet in the chest. “Saved me. And I’m fragging terrible.”

Ratchet took offense to that, “You’re not terrible and you’re worth saving!”

Deadlock grinned, “The worst thing you can possibly say about yourself is that you care too much to put up with some kind of slagged up torture facility. Which, by the way, I am still fully offering to blown up.”

“Still full of innocent people kid.”

“Okay kidnapping then. I say we nab Hot Rod first.”

Ratchet leaned back against the wall and made one of those desperate chuckles you only hear when someone has their face buried in their hands. “Kid. The quintessons.”

That took a little wind out of his sails.

“The system is fucking broken and trust me I want to see it all burn someday. But we’re in a goddamn war. And as much as I hate the mecha program, it’s the best shot at survival we have.” Ratchet watched Deadlocks finales pin back again.

He offered a palm to Ratchet, who after a moment’s consideration, not very gracefully scooted on. Instead of lowering him to the floor, Deadlock brought him to his face. His eyes closed and he gently bumped his medic with his forehelm.

“Whatever you need. Just ask. Please.”

Ratchet sighed and rested his own forehead against the cybertronian. “I want you take care of yourself. I told you all that stuff so you understand why I’m fighting giants here and you can decide to back out. They can hurt you kid. Kill you. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if Shockwave found you instead of me.”

Deadlock snorted, “Please, do you think any of those suits could handle me?”

Ratchet tapped his hand to put him down, which Deadlock obliged. He hummed.

“Well I can think of three candidates off the top of my head, but one got lost in space and the other might technically be a zombie.”

“What’s the third?”

Ratchet started shrugging on a coat, “Hot Rod.”

He smirked a bit as Deadlocks finales snapped up in offense. “What? Absolutely not. No fragging way that little rust spot can beat me in a fight.”

Ratchet began packing a go bag of medical supplies, “Well I was going to keep it to myself, but part of the reason I brought him in was because I asked Hot Rod to look out for you where I can’t.”

He slung the heavy bag over one shoulder. “Plus, I knew Hot Rod was going to love you. He sees the best in people. And kid?” Ratchet paused at the door.

“You’re someone special.”

———————————————————————

It’s always darkest before the dawn. This…has become a four parter. Dang. Good news is the ray of sunshine will return in style next time.

Some extra tid-bits, I got a head canon that the main side effect Jazz got from the integration process (other than PTSD) is blurry vision. He can see fine while hooked into a mech but can’t get his eyes to focus properly as a human. So Ratchet whipped up a visor that tricks his eyes into thinking he’s still looking through a mecha so he can see normally.

Also, a lot of you guys guessed correctly what was going on with Roddy! Good job everyone!

Lastly I have nothing personal against the dinobots if you love them I’m very sorry.

The next (last?) part will be much brighter. Because the suns coming back.

- SSTP

Oh.....oh fuck....wait WAIT THIS HAS SO MUCH MORE LAYERS THAN I WAS EXPECTING OH MY GOD

I was like. Okay huh. So Roddy can't feel pain right? He must be having this rare condition and? I don't really see where this is going? Huh. Guess it's time to find ouUUUUUH FUCK.

Please. Oh my god. The fact that Ratchet was the one who made him to be like that??? This gives both of them and their dynamic more layers than in a freaking onion. And Roddy didn't just suffer from Ratchets actions. He forgave him. Because OF COURSE he did, he's always giving everyone a second chance I LOVE THIS CONCEPT SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA

#maccadam #transformers #tf mecha universe #mecha writing #mecha rl writing #mecha dr writing #mecha art #mecha rl art #ratchlock #Hot rod #deadlock #ratchet #Pharma and Shockwave continue to be evil

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multipleoccupancy · 2 days ago

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Theo was not convinced. He was worried about so many things at once that it was easiest to focus on Violet. She was the entity that was technically out of place. The monster mutant too of course but was Violet not the bigger anomaly? At least she was on their side and while he would try to focus on the mission his 'duty' to Delta Green was still going to gnaw away at him all the same. In some ways he felt terrible for hoping she never did come back to their timeline, it would eliminate the moral dilemma he was facing that night. Samantha had tried though and he was sure to offer her a short nod of acceptance. "You're more important tonight anyway." He pointed out.

Samantha had a point about the crossbow though, it wasn't like it would be easy to hide in the trailer! She couldn't know about that detail but it did help him to revaluate in any case. "Well, you can't hide it in your room either," he countered a little defensively nonetheless but he also didn't have a car to hide it in and even if he did he would have no chance of explaining it if he was caught with it.

"I have many uniforms to use but I do not always keep them just in a box," Sloane laughed, "some are better than others though." Some were more complex, like the astronaut outfit! "I do enjoy Halloween though," he confirmed, "I go big in my house for the occasion. Cardboard ghosts, black cats and pumpkins are hardly scary after doing this job for a while." It was almost a treat to see people were scared of the mundane though he would admit that some props were starting to get more convincing.

She answered about Samantha and Sloane felt a weight lifting from his chest. He hadn't realised just how worried he had been until the worry was gone. He smiled a genuine smile to himself that they were still close and that she had found a new career. "Is she really?" He hummed with obvious pride that Samantha had got herself a HR role in Delta Green, having no idea what that would actually look like. "That suits her very much. And I am glad they are still close, I can't really imagine them not being so."

He stopped outside of the door for the admin's office, checked no one was about and then looked to her, "Remind me of your pretend name?" He checked with her, "I am professor Parry, remember but I suppose 'Dad' if needs be in there or elsewhere on campus."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"It's an unusual situation," she admitted, "but it doesn't mean it's going to be bad. No matter how she arrived here, we know her intentions are good." She would have put her hand on his shoulder if they weren't carrying a heavy net. "I know it's not easy, and I can tell you like her. She likes you too. I think all we can do for now is focus on the plan, and not worry too much about the rest. She might go back to her timeline tonight, she might never come back here."

Samantha chuckled when Killian confirmed that Violet would have never agreed to stay behind -perhaps because the two of them were so similar. "Yes, she seems to be a bit reckless. I bet her dad worries about her a lot." She looked at him with a little smile.

"Do you, now?" She laughed again. "You can have the crossbow. But Odyssey and I were thinking that it might be easier to store it in my car. It'll be yours to use whenever we're on a mission! But I don't think your parents will let you keep a crossbow in your room." And if he refused, she could always tell him about the bears.

Violet attempted a smile and failed. Luckily Sloane was looking around the office, and wouldn't notice it. "Yes, they are," she confirmed, before taking the key he was handing her -and thanking him for it.

"You must have a big disguise box," she said, managing a smile this time, "is Halloween your favorite holiday?" It was the perfect holiday for disguises, after all.

She raised her eyebrows, surprised by the question. "I've met her. I met her in my timeline, and I met her as a cowboy, too. But I guess I've only seen her twice in my timeline." Unlike Sloane, she didn't try to kidnap her every few months! Not that could tell him that. "She lives in a different town, and... well, she doesn't work on the field anymore. She's an HR representative for Delta Green. But my dad and her as still really close."

#hvbris #killian #violet #asoue au

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sxorpiomooon · 2 days ago

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How do men view you? A pac reading

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Pile 1-

They see you as a damsel in distress also this pile is too smooth with their words and I wanted to say that it's almost as if they lure men in and that was the exact moment this whimsical siren tuning started playing somewhere and this is the vibe that I'm getting. Almost all of the time you are telling men something they know it's bullshit and you are manipulating them but they just let it be😭😭 I see them just sort of not caring. This pile might also be very good with their mouth. LMAOOOO pile one let me tell you, alot of your male friends are only your friends because you do not want anything more or have not indicated anything more yet. None of these guys want to be your friend and I see them waiting for their chance and the moment they get the opportunity they are going to grab it. For some of you, these men might be trying to manipulate you if you are going through a hard time by portraying as they are supporting you but they just have ulterior motives so be careful of those men who support you too much even when you are wrong they just want to go to bed with you the exact words I'm hearing

Pile 2-

ooooo you challenge them and piss them off. This is mainly through word exchange and debating. You challenge men alot and they find you mentally stimulating this pile might have or will have rivals to lovers/ enemies to lovers with someone. Men find you complex and appealing and find themselves drawn to you even when they despise you. You might at times find men starting debates with you over the most silly reasons but it'll just be their own way to talk to you. It's almost as if they are doing all that because they know they won't be able to get you to talk to them normally in other ways. They think you are very high standards too men might restraint themselves from directly confessing to you bc men are scared by women like this usually. They are very attracted to you tho pile two trust me perhaps some of you might have never been in a relationship before it's not because men don't like you it's because they know they can't handle all that

Pile 3-

Alot of men that seemed to or are supposed to have given up on you HAVE not. It's surprising to me to see how men are just waiting for their chance. Alot of men are not your boyfriend simply because you've not yet given them the chance to it's like everyone's waiting for their turn. Are you someone who believes in concepts like fate karma or soulmates alot? I think if yes men might even try to manipulate you into thinking that they are the "one" for you. Men think of you as someone who's cold and sexy I'm also hearing intimidating. Some of you do that latina makeup or that tiktok makeup and they find it very sexy I'm seeing boys teasing each other over your names. You might have alot of rumors about you or misconceptions but girl it's jus bc ur pretty and everyone's talking about you always. Idk if you know this or not but men fight for you alot too or might want to show themselves as heroes in order to get your attention. Men from the same friend group might like you.

Pile 4-

Extremely feminine, if you don't dress extreme feminine and by extreme I mean quite literally extreme you act like it alot. I'm seeing bows, coquette etc anyways men might see you as someone who's very very divine feminine therefore very attracted towards you. They might constantly want to surrender themselves to you oooo this pile is good. You know the game pile 4🙏. Men also see you as someone who is very innocent dainty and deer like. They might also get the illusion that you'll save them this pile has pisces cancer placements I'm also having visions from the love witch it's something similar to that and I keep seeing lana del rey again and again I'm also seeing a deer. Men want to surrender and sacrifice themselves to you completely and might be ready to do alot of things for you😭 you also attract alot of crybabys who might want you to nurture them.

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hello-from-nrc-infirmary · 2 days ago

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Vern's Hometown: Centennial Celebration

Book 5: Finale

Chapter 3: Sunset

Formal is irrelevant. The firelight gains prominence as daylight fades. More logs are added, allowing smoke to fill the air. The younger children slowly leave for their beds. Others stay, laughing with friends. Their joyful cacophony is almost drowned out by the rambunctious music.

Smoke and ash wisp into shadows. The kaleidoscope of prancing images twirl around them. An illusion of flowers dance underfoot. If any attempted to touch them, they would vanish.

Soot is kicked up with every step. Vern's stained skirts flare out on another spin. It's strange and comforting to have a partner. A familiar dance he can do in the deepest of sleeps now flutters anew with every beat. A few steps bring them back.

Sweat shimmers across their foreheads. The minutes and hours bleed together. One melody into another. An iridescent fish ballet weaves around the dancers. A bubbling laughter spills from Vern. Steel smiles, his own airy laugh joins in.

"What's... so funny?"

The sprite meets his gaze breathlessly, "I'm... really happy."

"Eh?"

Joined hands lift above to spin around. The area around them is barely a blurr. Focus returning to Steel, the sprite tries to calm himself. "I-is he still umm..."

"Yeah, on my six."

"... let's um... not think about him," Vern tries. His head feels light, a mild dizziness buzzes down from it.

".. okay."

He welcomes night's breath cooling his skin like autumn rain. Vern can tell when some musicians would take a break and join back in. A simple rotation, yet easy to get lost in. Forgetting the world is hard, yet indulging in a moment is effortless.

For this bubble in time, emotion vibrates the air. Colorful shapes morph to each beat. It has been too long since his muscles felt like a newborn foal finding it's footing. Who is keeping who from collapsing is unclear. The firm earth underfoot is the only certainty.

A gasp from the onlookers is nearly drowned by the rhythm. A string pulls at his mind. His eyes want to follow, yet a turn blocks his view. His brow creases as he attempts to see behind Steel. "Ver.."

Pink dusts the sprites cheeks. It's only one word, a fraction of his name. The syllables spoken softly warms him. Tearing his focus back to his friend, he tries to stay on his toes.

"Almost," Steel winks, "we have to finish this one."

"Y-yeah," Vern manages a dizzy nod. His amber eyes sting, but not from the smoke. A soothing wave rolls through his veins, easing his tension. He almost misses a familiar, icy crack.

Chapter 4: Dusk

A tight spin jostles his focus. Flashes of magic collide. The music falters as smoke billows through the remaining crowd. Vern squeezes his eyes shut against it. Tucking himself against Steel, he waits for the air to settle. He flinches, as a drop hits his cheek.

"Er.. sorry."

The sprite swears the liquid away. Checking his bandages, he finds an inky substance he's well acquainted with.

"It's alright, I um..." he pauses, ducking as Steel casts another counter spell, "don't mind."

Sparkling green mist flares from Vern's hands. Vines burst from the ground to restrain Victor. "Enough!"

Snowflakes drift around them. Citizens that stayed murmur in uneasy awe. The spring sprite trembles slightly, his muscles begging for rest. "Do you forfeit the challenge?"

There's a rumble underfoot. Stumbling, Vern's spell loosens as spikes of ice shoot out of the dirt. He's tackled. Air is knocked from his lungs despite the cushioned fall.

"You alright? Any injuries?"

Vern slowly blinks up at Steel, gasping while registering the questions. "U-umm... I'm fine... I think..."

"Why," Victor's voice rings out above the chaos, icicles forming in the air around him. "Why do you reject everything I do for you?!"

Ooc// Welcome to the final boss fight.

Tag List: @nrcbookclub @castaway-achlys @nightonthemountain

Songs for the dance:

There's Nothing Holding Me Back by Shawn Mendes

A Bar Song (Tipsy) by Shaboozey

I Don't Wanna Wait by David Guetta & OneRepublic

Roundtable Rival by Lindsey Stirling

Élan by Nightwish

Songs for Everyone vs. Victor:

It Ends Tonight by All-American Rejects

Liar by Jelly Roll

Ready For This by All Good Things

Trophy Hunter by Within Temptation

#Vern's hometown #Centennial Celebration #stealing steel #ooc// finally...

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cometconmain · 19 hours ago

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I have someone who comes to groom my dog because I physically can't keep up with it. He's extremely good at his job.

He also thinks Trump isn't all that bad a guy, the Democrats are the anti-human rights party, had no idea the Supreme Court was a thing/is controlled by Republicans and that's why so many human rights are being rolled back in America, refuses to actually use his privilege of having a preferential voting system to not have to vote for the two major shitty parties because he insists on believing nothing good has been done despite numerous proving points to the contrary in his own life let alone others' lives, thinks climate change is a hoax and can't wrap his head around why university studies need to be checked for a donor list and a fossil fuel company supported 'study' isn't reliable actually, hasn't even learned the most basic empathy concept of "you not suffering from a problem other people suffer from doesn't make that problem less important/you should care about people whose lives you don't experience", outright said with his full chest that maybe we should racially segregate the Olympics again actually, and a number of other toxic to downright rancid things I would have just written him off and slammed the door in his face for last year let alone a few years ago.

Don't get me wrong. Talking to him is fucking EXHAUSTING and I feel physically disgusting afterward having to just calmly listen to all these things he spouts which have historically resulted in entire groups of people being targeted for genocide and numerous other human rights abuses when left unchecked and allowed to fester at the societal level.

BUT HE LISTENS WHEN I CHALLENGE HIM.

I can see him actually seeing me as a human being worth listening to. He's older than me and definitely been down way too many right-wing rabbit holes for me to pull him onto the surface any time soon. But I'm giving him things to chew on and hopefully if we're lucky I've planted some seeds which will eventually grow into some semi decent human being plants one day. He's really ignorant and clearly under-educated and that itself isn't his fault and biting his head off isn't remotely going to make up for that gap and is only going to drive him further into the arms of whatever fucked up extremist conservative groups he's been listening to.

He is reachable. He's just also a very long project I only get to work on for an hour at a time every 6 weeks.

And some of the things I've said which I think were part of what got through to him involved showing empathy for him being a single father(? I may have mixed that up with someone else but I think he is) with a disabled kid. He shows empathy for disabled people because he's the father of one (and probably is neurodivergent himself I believe but unsupported and doing his best to give his son the support he didn't get from the sounds of it).

But yeah.

Listen: you don't have to take shit to the face if the person is solely malicious and trying to hurt you. No one is obligated to meet that with kindness and anyone saying otherwise can get fucked. There is a limit to how much bullshit someone can cop while the bullshitter acts like any emotional response to their bullshit is unreasonable/out of nowhere and that is valid on the part of the person copping the crap.

However, if you a) can handle coping long enough to break down those walls with unexpected kindness/it isn't dangerous for you to try that method (VERY IMPORTANT. PAY ATTENTION TO THOSE DETAILS. DON'T TRY THAT ON SOMEONE WHO IS ACTIVELY THREATENING/DANGEROUS TO YOU), or b) can tell it's soft bigotry/general ignorance driving the otherwise yuck things being said, do give the compassion and patient education route a try.

I've had numerous instances of me holding shitty ignorant beliefs I had no idea were actually harmful. The people biting my head off didn't get to me. The people who took the time to see I was just ignorant and under-educated on the matter (and hadn't yet developed the empathy for a group I didn't belong to) taking me aside and patiently dealing with my idiocy long enough to explain things to me in a way that got through my skull (and eventually into my heart as well) were the ones who fundamentally improved me as a person. I still have plenty of things I always have to work on. But I can tell you now I would be much MUCH worse without those patient, kind, educational interventions by people who could tell the difference between malice and ignorance.

The same applies to everyone else.

Human beings are human beings. All of us. Re-humanising each other is the last thing any of the politicians and extremist groups want us to do BECAUSE IT WORKS. IT BREAKS THE WARPED MODEL OF THE WORLD THEY PORTRAY AS REALITY TO DIVIDE US AND KEEP US ALL AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS INSTEAD OF CUTTING OFF THE FOOD SOURCE FOR THEIR WEEDS AT THE ROOT.

When we remind a hurting person that we are a person too, not the bogeyman the extremist groups paint us as, it shakes their warped worldview to the core. It makes them think. It makes them QUESTION. It makes them look at the flower the 'evil' Pride-pin wearer gave them because no one gave them flowers when their mother died and their hate begins to crack at the seams.

The things the world teaches men hurts men too. Teaching them they DON'T have to subscribe to that mentality all the way down to the roots of the patriarchy weed is the best and most effective way of cutting that mentality off at the source. Even if you struggle to empathise with men because you've been hurt; ok, valid. But it is demonstrably more effective, sustainable and long term changing to just get rid of all of it by addressing their pain and showing them how much healthier and happier they can be just in their own life let alone others' lives by casting off the system that hurts them too.

I'm pretty sure I'm just rehashing the same points here, sorry, but the concept of deradicalisation as a healing and long term change tool has been my social justice special interest this year so talking it out helps it solidify in my own head too. (And gives me strength to deal with bullshit because it reminds me it's worth copping what I can personally handle in order to get someone to think, change and grow, one exhausting person at a time).

part of the reason i love how bell hooks talks about masculinity is that she shows real compassion towards men suffering from the effects of toxic masculinity. she was conscious of how we need to unlearn the ways we talk about men + masculinity just as much as we need to unlearn the same for women + femininity. so many times ill see someone talking about toxic masculinity like (hyperbolizing here but only slightly) “these FUCKING STUPID BABY BITCHES won’t MAN UP and go to a therapist!!!” and like. i get the anger. but you see feminists recreating patriarchal manhood by only promoting good behaviors through patriarchal frameworks. any use of the term “real men” is bad because it reifies the idea that manhood is a special title you must earn, and it is something possible to fail and fake. & as important as it is to promote sexual equality + the pleasure of non-cis-men, lots of people are essentially still working with the idea that men need sexual prowess to have worth but just shifting it slightly so there is more emphasis on women’s pleasure. but I want cis men to think about their partners’ pleasure because they care about their partners, not because they need to check a box in order to keep their man card. and don’t get me started on small dick jokes– and the absolutely pitiful excuse people will use that “well, I don’t believe it, but misogynistic men get upset when I say it, so it’s okay!”

basically bell hooks is so fucking right. in order to create loving men we need to love men, simply for being alive, whether or not they are performing. as much as we need to actively unlearn misogyny (and we do), it’s equally vital we unlearn patriarchal ways of seeing manhood. we can’t just assume that taking a feminist perspective automatically means there is no work to be done there.

#not transformers

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talon-dragonbeast · 3 days ago

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okay, ive seen way too many posts on the community tags talking about the tiktok ban and saying stuff like "i hope tiktok therians dont come in here theyre so awful and i hate them lol". and... i dont know what to tell you guys, i think thats mean as hell.

imagine, just for a second, that youre a therian on tiktok. at 13 years old, youve found a friendly community where people express themselves with masks, tails, and a type of movement called quadrobics. they seem to be having fun, so you decide to join in. and for a while, youre having fun too! you start practicing quadrobics, which is tough at first but you work hard to get better. you ask your parents for some cat masks, which you decorate with paint and faux fur. you make videos of yourself and your friends, wearing cat masks and dancing on all fours to some bland indie song.

then, out of nowhere, one of your posts goes viral. and suddenly, youre not having fun anymore.

"therians are crazy", "if you identify as a dog you should be chained and made to sleep naked outside", "my little brother came out as a therian and i bullied him until he stopped lol", "if i see a therian in the woods im shooting them", "if you want to be an animal, ill treat you like one".

again, YOURE 13. so you get defensive, because people you dont know are attacking you online and as a young teen, you dont know what to do to make it stop. so instead of confronting them, you try to please them instead. "im not crazy, im just having fun" turns into "i dont identify as an animal, only crazy people do that!" and then to "therians dont actually think were animals; thats lycanthropy and its wrong". this is what others in your community are saying, so it must be true, right? it helps slow down the criticism at least, if only for a little while; even if it never fully goes away. so you keep saying it, even to others in your community, because if it protects you from judgment, why not?

but now youre dealing with the possibility of your platform disappearing. youll lose your friends, the community youve worked so hard to be a part of. you heard some friends say they might switch to instagram if tiktok gets banned, while others prefer reddit or tumblr. Feeling curious (you didnt realize there were therians on other sites!), you decide to check out tumblr to see what that community is like there. the first post you come across at the top of the tag? "i hope tiktok therians dont come here theyre so awful and i hate them lol".

so yeah. thats the problem with making blanket statements like these; it only pushes away members of our own community. shame is not a motivator, and your aggressiveness gets us nowhere. remember, one catches more flies with honey than with vinegar. so be kind.

#whispers of the dragon #otherkin #nonhuman #therian #alterhuman

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jk-kiwi · 2 days ago

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Snowbound

Snowbound (18+)

Characters - bf JK x gf reader (woman)

Genre - first love troupe, romance, fluff, smut, angst and jealousy, drama, first vacation away, THIS is fiction!

Summary - The emotional journey of a couple who face growing tensions in their relationship during their first winter vacation.

Warnings - jealousy, big arguments, kinda possessive JK, both are 18, first time away from parents, JK snowboarding (is this really a warning? After ‘Are you sure?’ probably yes), implied that reader is shorter than Jungkook, reader is kinda temperamental, fictional characters that might get on your nerves, misunderstandings and mixed feeling, the end might be a little rushed idk.

Warnings for the not so holy parts (18+) - both are pretty inexperienced!, first time, kissing/making out, use of protection!, description of male and female body parts, premature ejaculation, they are pretty clumsy, fingering and oral (f rec), brief bj (like 1 sec), some cockblocking, hickeys.

MINORS PLEASE STAY AWAY!

Author’s note - Pushed matchmaker pt2 away for this one, Christmas is here after all. Merry Christmas everyone! Enjoy!

Word count - 10.2k

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Warm clothes, checked. Toiletries, checked. Some good games to play with your boyfriend, also checked! “Hm, this should be everything!” you say, neatly wrapping the last few items you need, as well as your boyfriend's present, before zipping up your suitcase. “Darling! Are you ready, Jungkook is here!” your mom screams from downstairs making excitement bubble inside you. “Coming!” you exhale relieved looking at your baggage, a small smile drawn on your lips. It’s finally time. Your first vacation alone, only you and your boyfriend.

You grab your suitcase, dragging it behind as you go down the stairs. In front of your door, your mom and Jungkook casually chit chat. He looks up as you appear, his face lighting up, his hands immediately come in help as he picks up your suitcase with ease. “There you go. Are you sure you got everything?” he asks, knowing how clumsy you can be, especially while being so excited about this trip.

You nod enthusiastically, though a part of you can’t help mentally double-checking. “I think I got everything.” you say with a grin.

“Don’t whine later if you can find your socks, I won’t share.” your mom chuckles at you two, looking with so much love in her eyes. “My kids are all grown up. I still remember that one time you snuck out the window just to see your boy.” “Mom!” you whine while her and Jungkook just laugh. “It’s been four years already, you are 18 now, close to finishing highschool and taking a big step in your lives.” she says in a nostalgic but sad tone, adoringly admiring you two. “And now you are big enough to go somewhere alone.” You sigh slightly, taking your mom into a warm embrace. “It’s not like we will be gone forever, it’s just a 5 day getaway.” Your mom chuckles, her warmth lingering as you pull away. “Still, don’t forget to call everyday!” “And no funny business, understood!” she says with a stern voice, turning to face Jungkook who’s ears grow slightly red. “We will be good kids, don’t worry!” you say while urging the boy out the door. “Alright, go on, have fun! And send pictures!” she yells, her expression softening as she watches the two of you step outside. “When did they grow so much?” she mumbles from the doorway. The car is already warmed up, and you can see Jungkook’s snowboard strapped securely to the roof. “Got your board, huh?” “Well, I’m planning to impress a girl, how else should I do it?” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “You’re such a show off.” He laughs too, before opening the passenger door for you to enter, with quick steps he gets on the other side, entering the driver’s seat. “Alright, let’s go!” he says while taking over the road. The atmosphere was cozy, the radio played Christmas carols while you enjoyed how beautiful the snow was settling onto the ground. You look to your left, admiring Jungkook’s features. The way his voice softly hums along the songs, while focused eyes never break contact with the road ahead. Jungkook glances over at you briefly, catching your gaze for a moment. "What?" he asks with a small, teasing smile. “Nothing, just admiring you.” you laugh, a little embarrassed by being caught so fast.

"It’s perfect, isn’t it? Finally some time away, just the two of us.” The way he says it, so softly, makes your heart flutter a little. You nod, settling back into your seat. “It feels like a dream, to be honest. Never thought our parents would let us go like this.”

Jungkook chuckles softly, his fingers moving to gently rub your thigh. “I know, right? It feels like we’re breaking some rules.” he snickers. “Well, they probably expected this to happen sooner or later, we’ve been together for four years now. They can’t keep us apart anyway.” "But I guess they’ve been waiting for us to grow up too." you tone down your voice and Jungkook nods thoughtfully, his thumb gently brushing against your leg as he keeps his eyes on the road. “I think they trust us enough now.” he says quietly. The atmosphere around you two gets silent. You feel all grown up in a way. It kinda scares you, all these changes. You glance out the window, watching the snowflakes melt onto the glass. It feels like it’s been just yesterday, the day you fell in love with Jungkook. You were both young and stupid, not exactly knowing what love was about, but your friends started experimenting and you felt big enough to enter that path as well. You had rough patches, with ugly crying and fights, but somehow, you both always found a way back to each other. Sweet and memorable moments being much better remembered. Now, as you sit beside him, you realize how far you’ve come. How the kids who once thought that they had love came to the realisation that the meaning itself it’s much deeper. You’re no longer those two teenagers who snuck up every time they got just to share some secret kisses, or the naive couple that got so embarrassed when their parents caught them cuddling way too close on the couch. Now, you’re standing on the edge of adulthood, rushing to enter the last slope of school, and ready to take on what life has to further offer. “Have you got back any response?” “Huh?” you break out of your ‘down the memory lane’ haze, looking at Jungkook, who’s glancing at you with a curious expression. “The early college application?” “Oh, right…no, no answer yet.” you shut down the topic quickly. There’s a pause for a moment as you bite your lip in guilt. Both you and Jungkook were excellent students, because of this you decided to early apply for colleges. He got his response last week, his dream of going to one of the top universities in Korea coming true. He’s got into Yonsei. You, however…had a little secret. And you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. You had received a response for Yonsei as well, a day after his. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be accepted, the problem was that you both promised to go to the same uni, so it will be easy to move out and to look after eachother, and you were looking forward to that…until. You received a letter the day you were supposed to let your lover know about the thrilling news. One of your projects got recognition. Not just any recognition, but an offer to study abroad on a scholarship…at Harvard.

You were thrilled when the coordinating teacher pulled you into his office to give you the good news. It was an opportunity that could shape your entire future, the kind of chance people only dream of.

The excitement was overwhelming, but the timing was bad. So you got stuck with two options, either taking your way in life, an opportunity of a lifetime, but the price you had to pay put you away from family, friends and Jungkook, or being close to your lover, but possibly, regretting not taking the chance of something so big when you had to. So, you resumed not telling Jungkook, until now…when the place needs to be confirmed and the guilt of wanting to go to Harvard instead, taking over. You took a deep breath as the car bumps along the snowy road. Jungkook glanced over at you, sensing the sudden shift in your mood. “What’s wrong, love? We are almost there, do you want to make a stop? Are you not feeling good?” the boy asks, concerned.

You felt bad, you didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want him to feel betrayed or confused, and for sure you wanted this vacation to be perfect and memorable.

You shake your head softly, giving him a small smile. "No, it's nothing, might be just from the excitement.” You hope the lie sounds convincing, but deep down, you know it’s the last thing you should be doing, you’ve kept this secret and lied enough. It seemed to have worked though, he shrugged and continued on the road, taking a last turn before the view of the cabin in which you will remain for the next few days began to take shape.

The car pulls into the driveway and you eagerly jump out once the engine is silent. The crunch of the snow beneath your feet and the dancing snowflakes that were falling around you made the place seem magical. “I’ll get the bags!” Jungkook says as he lets you enjoy winter just a little more. He grins, clearly happy to see you so excited. It felt freeing, being away from everything, forgetting responsibilities for a brief second.

You get lost in the view, wandering around while your man carries everything inside. The place was beautiful, a lot of snow, and the trees were so tall you would think their peak could scrape the sky above.

The air felt fresh and crisp, your eyes taking in the beauty of the quiet wilderness when suddenly, your foot catches on something. “Oh!” you stumble forward, arms flailing to regain balance as you fall face down into the snow. “Omg, are you okay?” you hear a voice from behind, big hands wrapping around your arms to lift you back and onto the ground. You blink, still a bit flustered, the snow melting with the warmth of your face. The boy crouches down to pick your hat, shaking the remaining frozen fluff off.

“Uh, thank you…” you shyly whisper when his hands offer back the piece of clothing. “No problem.” he laughs lightly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I guess this place can be a bit tricky with all the snow and hidden rocks.”

“One minute you're admiring the view, next thing you know you’re stumbling over something. You should be more careful.” the boy beams a breathtaking smile your way making you blush in embarrassment. “I’ll keep that in mind.” you softly respond trying to get away from such awkward situation. “I’m Yohan, by the way.” You nod, taking in the casual, confident vibe he gives off. “I’m Y/N.” You glance up at him, he was good looking, not better than your Jungkook, but still eye- catching. His hair was a chocolate brown color, a little messy, with bangs almost covering his eyes, and even though he was taller than your lover, his body was not as shaped. Yohan nods “Nice meeting you Y/N.” he smiles once more “If you need any tips about the area, feel free to ask. I come here at least three times a year, I know the area like the back of my hand.” You give him a polite smile before letting him lead the way back to the cabins. Once there you wave before rushing inside, your head coming in contact with Jungkook’s firm chest right before entering.

"Everything okay?" he asks, his gaze a little more focused than usual. Your cheeks burn up, but you can’t hide the fact that you are wet, cold and still full of snow. Jungkook raises an eyebrow as he looks over your frame, taking in Yohan’s back as he fades in the distance. “Did that guy do something to you?” You quickly shake your head, trying to brush off the uncomfortable tension that builds in the air. "No, no! I stumbled and fell, he only helped me up and back to this place.” you explain, forcing a smile. "That's all."

Jungkook's gaze lingers on you for a moment before pulling your frame into the house, the warmth of the cabin wrapping around you. He unzips his suitcase, putting out the first towel he sees and wrapping you in it. “You need to change, you’ll catch a cold at this rate.” You look at him throughout your lashes, looking like a wet puppy that follows his owner’s instructions after they get scolded.

"Thanks." you mutter, touched by the way he’s looking after you. You make your way toward the small bathroom to change and wash up. Jungkook watches you for a moment, still concerned over what happened.

“Take your time love, I’ll start the fire in the meantime!” he calls out as you close the bathroom door. You breathe in deeply before getting rid of your cold clothes and stepping inside the steamy shower.

As you step out of the bathroom, fully dressed in warm attire, you see Jungkook kneeling by the fireplace, his hands warming up in front of it. You come closer, keeling and wrapping your arms around him, from behind. Your head rests on his back while his fingers gently caress yours.

"Feel better?" he asks without turning, making you hum, nuzzling your nose on the nape of his neck. "Much better," you reply while raising up, walking over to sit on the couch, curling your feet underneath you.

The boy watches you, before rising to his feet, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow on his features. He walks over and sits beside you, pulling you into his lap. You comply and sit in his warm arms.

You smile when he rubs his cheek on the side of your head, his muscles flexing tighter around you. “It’s getting late.” You glance at the clock on the wall, noticing that the evening has settled in.

Jungkook gently runs his fingers through your hair, his lips brushing lightly against your neck. "Do you want to go to bed, or stay up for a bit longer?" he asks in a low tone, arms loosened up to rest on your thighs.

You close your eyes, leaning back onto him, enjoying the slight intimacy you share. “How about we stay up a little longer.” you say once his fingers start to play with the hem of your pants. “And what do you plan on doing?” he asks, lips curving into a small grin against your neck. One of his hands slowly makes its way inside your pants, playing over the wet patch you developed on your underwear. You halt in his lap when his middle finger starts to rub little circles over your clothed clit. “Jungkook…” you whimper, making the boy shush you with a slow and tangy kiss. His two fingers dragging your wet underwear to the side to play with your slick folds. He manages to break a gasp from you when one of his digits rubs at your entrance. He slowly enters with one, ripping a loud moan from you. “Is this okay?” he manages to ask, sweat building on his forehead and the tent in his pants growing. “Y-yeah.” you manage to mutter between your moans. And as his second starts to make its way in, he knows he’s got you exactly where he wanted.

His lips move back to your neck to suck a small, purple spot, marking what’s his. “You’re so hot, baby.” his fingers start moving faster and faster, his other hands pulling your pants down enough to access with ease. In a blink, his other fingers begin to gently rub your bundle of nerves, making you lose yourself to the feeling. Your vision clouds and a bunch of pretty stars start to appear as you let yourself go on your lover’s fingers. He drags them through your orgasm before stopping, letting you catch your breath in bliss. “You did so good, my love.” he coos, kissing your lips gently before taking his fingers out, bringing them to his lips to taste you. “Eww, Jungkook!” you both laugh as you get up from his lap, putting your underwear in place and your pants back on. You look towards your boy, his eyes praying over your figure, hard on sitting neatly on the side of his leg, the outline very visible. It’s not the first time you two do stuff like this, toying with each other. In four years you experimented when you got the chance and as puberty was also taking a toll on your hormones, you started to go even deeper down the path. From boring days at his place, when his parents were away, ending with him sloppily eating you out on the couch, to the late nights when you snuck up for a ride, after he’s got his license, just to messily blow his mind away in the back seat.

You were getting good at these things, and well, fingering, this was a newer one. Starting with him just slowly rubbing your sweet pussy to bring you to orgasm and advancing to plucking a finger or two into your tight wetness. The two of you were no strangers to intimacy, but somehow you still haven’t taken that big, big, step. You never had real sex. And deep down the both of you wanted to change that, wanting to feel the connections brew and tie you closer. You kneel down in front of him, taking the opportunity to maybe, just maybe take things a notch further. The boy licks his lips looking down at you with clouded eyes. You look up as well, asking for permission which you gladly get.

“Go on, baby.” his raspy voice makes your downstairs throb further, especially when he’s manspreading so deliciously to give you access.

Your fingers untie the strings of his sweatpants, hand breaking in to pull out his hot cock. Tip red and leaking with fluid. You gulp stroking him a little, smearing his precum for some better lubrication. You lick your lips and bring yourself closer to his aching tip, but before you can wrap your mouth around him, a loud knock interrupts. You turn around, looking towards the door, silence. You huff thinking it was just some random noise. But when you turn back you only manage to touch his manhood with your lips before another knock, louder than the one before, stops you. You rise from the ground whining in annoyance alongside your boy. “Is this serious?! I’ll go and get it.”. Tucking a few strands of hair you make your way towards the door, while Jungkook goes to the bathroom to quickly solve his problem. “Yes?” you ask while only creaking the door slightly. You find Yohan and a random stranger at your door. “Hello, we are…oh Y/N!” his eyes sparkle when he takes a hold of your frame. “Yohan, what are you doing here? Especially this late?” you ask concerned, fully opening the door, glancing at the other man from time to time. “Well I told you I come here often. I work as a ranger, and we got notice of a blizzard so we came to announce and give supplies.”

“The blizzard might be worse than we expect.” the ranger hops on the conversation, his voice calm but firm. “It’s not safe to be out, especially at night, and since we don’t know how long it will last, we need to be prepared.” “We’ll be fine, right?” you ask quietly. Yohan gives you a reassuring smile. “For sure, worst case you’ll have to stay in tomorrow, but other than that it’s not a major threat.” His hand comes closer to pat you on your shoulder in reassurance, but before he can reach you he stops.

You look behind, finally taking in your boyfriend’s presence, chest puffing up and down, cheeks flustered and his hair messy wet. He looks over at you while wrapping an arm around your waist. “Everything okay?” “Yeah, the rangers brought supplies just in case, there will be a blizzard tonight. You might not snowboard tomorrow.” His expression hardens slightly, his eyes flicking outside to see the wind blowing quicker and quicker. “There are your supplies.” Yohan abruptly interrupts, his face cold all of a sudden. He lands Jungkook an emergency bag. “Thanks, Yohan.” you say softly, making the man smile brightly at you. “Of course. Just wanted to make sure you’re prepared!” his voice is professional, but the way he was absolutely trying to ignore your boyfriend was not.

Jungkook must have noticed too, the way his arm brings you behind him, trying to guard you. “We’ll be fine, thank you for your service.” he harshly says before shutting the door in their face.

He exhales annoyed, his jaw tightening. “Is that the guy who helped you earlier?” His voice is steady, but there’s something behind his tone that tells you he’s not entirely fine with how things went down.

“You mean Yohan, yes, he helped me...” You take a step toward him, latching your arm on his biceps, feeling how he relaxes under your touch. “I don’t like him. The way he was looking at you was weird.” You sigh, safe to say your man was jealous and pretty possessive over things that are ‘his’, you being at the top of the list.

You stare at him before rolling his eyes. “He was just being polite…” you mumble, making the man shake his head in disapproval “Just stay away from him.”

Frustration bubbles under your skin, but you keep quiet. This is supposed to be a nice and calm vacation, arguments and jealousies should be put aside. Not wanting to pick up a fight, you just sigh and head for the bed. After a few moments of silence, you hear Jungkook’s footsteps come into the room, his body crawling next to yours. “Tell me if you feel cold, we can notch up the fire.” you hum nesting your body into his arms.

“Tomorrow.” Jungkook starts, his head resting gently on yours, “We’ll forget about all of this and just have fun, okay? This is our vacation.” he gently kisses your head before closing his eyes, you following right after.

The next day came in quite with a halt, waking up with your man behind the sheets and between your legs. Easy to say, he knew how to make you forget about the jealousy he had the other day, having you wrapped around his finger, a little too good.

And after a quick shower and the very blissful morning you had, you felt ready to take on the day, finding out from the radio post that the blizzard got ‘postponed’ since the weather ‘magically’ got better overnight. Jungkook had already packed up his board, his enthusiasm contagious as he looked at you with a mischievous grin. “Are you that happy to go snowboarding?” you teasingly ask, making the man nod vigorously. You chuckle at his cuteness, grabbing his hand and going towards the slopes. Gearing you up as well since you didn’t have neither the equipment nor the experience in snowboarding. “I can’t wait to get up there!” Jungkook exclaimed, practically bouncing on his toes, waiting for the lift to ascend up the mountain. “It’s going to be so much fun!” he says, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. On the other hand, you felt worried. The idea of heading up the mountain with Jungkook, who was so confident and pretty skilled, only made your nerves worse.

Lost in your thought you almost don’t feel the warm glove that wraps around yours. “I’m going to help you, so don’t be nervous on me, pretty.” His words made you feel a little better, he always knows how to comfort you. Once on the lift and up the mountain you actually started to feel really scared. All the confidence he gave you peeling away at instant. “Take a deep breath, and slowly go down, I will catch you if anything happens.” And you do, the speed taking over making you fall on your bum. Jungkook urged you to get up and try again, and again…and again…until you got really bored and upset about not catching up to at least 10% of his skills. But the man was unstoppable, the energy he was putting into this could be far more effective in other places. Taking your helmet on, blowing the few strands that got stuck to your forehead you are finally at the bottom of the trail, exhausted and sweaty.

Your boy pulls next to you with a little show, stopping so abruptly the snow flies in the air. “Up for another round?” hell no! It took you more than two hours to go down this damn slope once, all while Jungkook did at least seven runs. “Don’t even think about it, I’d rather get hot cocoa than spend another two hours breaking my bones.” he laughs loudly, coming over to pat you on the head. “I will ride some more then, stay close so I can at least keep an eye if something happens.” he pecks your red nose taking over to the lift. You shake your head in disapproval, unbuckling from the board and moving towards the nice cafe situated over so conveniently in front of the trail.

You push open the door, instantly greeted by the warmth and the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee and hot pastries. It’s cozy, with wooden beams lining the ceiling and a roaring fire crackling in the corner. “One hot cocoa please!” grabbing the warm drink, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows you go outside to sit on one of the beanbags. You glance upward to spot Jungkook gliding down the slope with effortless ease, his movements fluid like water. “Enjoying the view?” a familiar voice pulls you from admiring your boyfriend. “Yohan?!” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here?” “Just grabbing a quick coffee before heading out to check the trails. Everything’s looking good after last night’s false blizzard alarm.” he laughs heartily, shaking his head at how ridiculous it must have been to announce a blizzard that never came.

“Mind if I join you for a second?” he asks, his grin still in place. Before you can respond, he pulls the beanbag from across you and sits down. “So, no snowboarding for you today?” Yohan asks, signaling toward your boots, clearly unbuckled from the board. You smile softly, sipping from the hot drink. “I tried, but I’m nowhere as good as Jungkook, he’s the expert.” “Ah, I saw him earlier, the guy in full black. He’s good.” Yohan leans back, his eyes on you now. “Is he your man?” You pause mid-sip, his direct question catching you off guard. “Yes, he is.” “Seems like a real thrill seeker. How can you handle all that?” You bite your lip, unsure how to answer. "How can I handle all that?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "It's not really about handling it. I just let him be himself." You shrug, hoping to sound nonchalant. Was he only making conversation or was he trying to pick at your boyfriend?

"Looks like he's having fun." Yohan observes, his gaze following the boy. "Yeah." you say, bothered by the way his subject was Jungkook "He's good at what he does." you whisper under your breath. “I wish I could go like that too, but being a ranger takes way too much of my time.”

“Plus it’s hard to get in touch with people, this is a resort so everyone just comes and goes, maybe once in a while I see familiar faces.” He shrugs, slight disappointment leaching on his voice. "It must be tough, having to be away from family…” you stop for a second “and friends.” bitterness erupts in your chest, speaking so carefree about how hard it is to be away from everyone when you are about to do the same to the people you love. "Yeah, it can be. Sometimes I just wish I had a moment to kick back, you know?” He pauses, glancing over at you with a small smile. “But it’s also fun to meet the ones that come once in a lifetime.” You look at him with wide eyes, some blush creeping on your cheeks. You try to gather yourself, clearing your throat before taking a big gulp from your cup. "Sometimes it's the people you don’t expect that end up being the most memorable." he says looking over the slopes once again, seeing Jungkook rush down at full speed. “I think it’s time to go, your boyfriend is coming. Nice speaking with you, hope to see you later!” he says with a light grin and a wave, his eyes flicking to Jungkook, who’s now near the bottom of the hill.

As Yohan walks away, you can’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you. You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away, and focus on the sight of your boyfriend, taking off his goggles and helmet, looking seemingly pissed.

Jungkook stops just a few feet away, his gaze sharp, looking the way Yohan left. "Was that Yohan?" he asks, the words coming out in a low tone that sends unease through your spine. You blink, surprised at how quick he catches on. "Yeah, we were just chatting over some drinks.” His tongue pushes the inside of his cheek, and his hands drag furiously through his hair, clearly frustrated. "Jungkook, it’s nothing." you say in defence, trying to reassure him, seeing the jealousy spark up within, once again. "We were just talking, that’s all." He avoids your glance and exhales sharply. “I told you to stay away from that prick, he’s no good.” You have enough of his behavior. Pushing your feet on the ground you rise from your seat. “You’re just really jealous. He’s not doing anything to me other than chatting every now and then.” Sensing your anger Jungkook tones down "I don’t like it when other guys get too close to you." he admits through gritted teeth “Especially since I’m not around.”

You cross your arms over your chest, the drink you had long forgotten into the snow. “Forget it, it’s not like it will ever get through your thick skull.” you whisper the last part out of anger and frustration, but your actions only fire up the boy even more. “What did you say? Tell that to my face if you feel so bold.” His tone is low, dangerous, as he steps toward you. Tall frame towering over your much smaller one.

“I said it’s never going to get through to you.” you snap back, refusing to back down. You were temperamental, such an attitude and behaviour leading to many hurts along the way. “I’m not some helpless girl who needs to be guarded from every guy I talk to, Jungkook!” the boy flinches at your words, clearly taken aback from you being so forward and mean. You can tell he’s hurt, but the anger in him isn’t entirely gone either. “I’m not saying you’re helpless.” he huffs ”I care about you, I care about what’s mine an…” but you take it further, cutting his sentence without a care. “Yours? Me? Do I look like some possession to you?” It felt surreal, the way he can easily talk about you like you were some kind of object he owned.

Jungkook freezes, his expression dropping, the anger in his eyes faltering as well. His lips part, but no words come out at first, he must have realised the way his sentence came out.

“Wait.” he starts, his voice rushed, panic setting in. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it like that.” You take a step back, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “How can you say such absurd stuff?” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly fighting to say the right stuff. Silence takes over you two, you had nothing left to say while he had so much but didn’t know how to piece it together without starting a disaster.

In the end you sigh, wiping away a few tears that drop before turning your back saying “Do whatever you want.” and leaving.

Jungkook doesn’t call out, doesn’t try to stop you, fueled by so many emotions, he only kicks his board away in anger before collecting himself for a few more runs down the trail, he needs to take his mind away.

And there he goes, once more and once more, until the sun goes down and the only lights are the ones from the post lamps. He was exhausted, burning his body throughout the day as never before. “This is the last one.” he says to himself, ready to take over the much quiet and deserted trail. The events from today playing over and over in his head, not letting him enjoy one second of his time. In a way he thought this was the only way of punishing himself over how he reacted and acted towards you. He loves you dearly, years of getting to know each other and build trust making him never forget to cherish and desire you. But he also has his flaws, the jealousy his body conserves makes him petty, only wanting you for himself, sick to his stomach when he sees other men pray over your pretty figure. So he does stupid stuff, hurts you and then hurts himself so he can be selfish once again and drag you back with pity. The boy sighs, not wanting to go down knowing in the end he will have to face you. He can already picture your worried face and the way you start to cry and beat him over the fact that he’s let himself push the limits so hard. And then he will drag you into his arms and cuddle you close, reminding you that you’re everything he needs and no other thing, not even air, is necessary for him to survive. Your presence and worry blooming pride into his soul. With clouded thoughts he goes down the snowy terrain, the adrenaline rushing into his body when the picture of you, waiting in front of the door for him, runs in his mind. He’s so lost in the delusion that he barely takes hold of the person in front of him. Panic sets when he finally notices, he tries to turn himself or, at least, get slower, but in vain. With a grunt he runs over the person, falling on top. He scrambles to push himself off. “Are you really that blind? Or are you just dumb!” an irritated feminine voice breaks down from underneath. He quickly rolls over, detaching the board from his feet. “I, u-uh” the boy stammers when his eyes meet the fierce ones of a woman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run you over.” “What were you even doing, playing a game of human bowling?!” her words were piercing through him, making the heat rise to his cheeks. The man quickly apologizes once again, his hand extending to help the young girl out.

She huffs, getting up herself and dusting her clothes to get rid of the snow. “Such an idiot.” “I said I’m sorry, okay! Are you hurt, though?” The woman’s gaze softens slightly at his question, but she crosses her arms. “No, I’m fine. Just...maybe watch where you’re going next time.” she mutters, the silence taking over for a brief second before both of them begin to chuckle. “It was stupid of me to do this, I should’ve gone down earlier, I don’t think my body can handle another slope. Not my brightest moment.” Jungkook takes off his helmet as the tension melts away. The woman adjusts her jacket and laughs lightly. “I saw you today, you are pretty good.” “You think?” she quickly fixes her goggles before rolling her eyes at his cocky tone. “Yeah, I didn't think you’d run into someone the moment it turns dark. At least you owned up to it and apologised.” “How can I not, you were ready to chew me out.” the boy admits with a stupid grin and a teasing tone. “Very good one, I’m Naeun.” she adds, extending her hand. “Jungkook.” he clasps her hand, shaking it. “Should we go down together? It’s only a few meters and we are at the bottom.” Naeun questions, raising her brows while looking at Jungkook. “Sure, but only if you have some good tips for my next rides.” she laughs at his boldness. “I work here as a trainer, you could say I’m a pro rider.” she winks playfully, setting Jungkook’s body on fire, leaving him speechless. “Pro rider, huh?” he manages to say, clearing his throat, looking away in embarrassment. “You’ve got the speed, but your technique could use some work. I can teach you some tricks tomorrow, I’m free in the afternoon since the kids only come in the morning.” “I’ll give it a shot.” he confidently responds, the girl only hums. “Think you can handle taking lessons from me though? Pretty boy.” Jungkook chokes on his saliva, coughing as the girl bursts into laughter.

“See you tomorrow, pretty boy. Don’t run into others until we meet, it would not work to snowboard with a broken leg.” Naeun teases before waving her arm, her figure disappearing in the distance. Jungkook watches her walk away before muttering an “wow” in disbelief. His worries dissipate and reappear when he gets inside, and instead of facing you with a furious face, ready to strike him down, he meets silence.

“Y/N.” he quietly calls while looking for you. Not in the living room, bathroom or kitchen. So you must be in bed by now. Jungkook jumps over the stairs entering the room with quiet steps. Sighing when he sees you wrapped around in the blanket like a burrito. He gets closer to your face, looking at how puffy and tired your closed eyes were, guilt getting into him knowing he let you here cry instead of manning up, sorting things out. His chest tightens but as he leans closer, brushing some hairs out of your face. “I’m such an idiot.” he mutters under his breath when he gets into the bed, next to you. Even in your sleep, you seem to instinctively lean into his warmth, your body moving to stick to his side. Jungkook smiles, turning his body to hold you before drifting off to sleep. The morning air feels cold on his skin. He rustles around searching for your body heat, just to be met with emptiness.

His brows furrowed as he sat up, looking around for any trace of you. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his face before waddling out of the bedroom, the cabin met with silence.

He lazily gets dressed, his body aching from every spot after yesterday’s push over. Determined to make things right, he grabs his jacket and steps outside, eyes scrunching in displeasure when the white of the snow blinds him. The steps he takes feel heavy, legs unknowingly taking him somewhere through the thick fluff. Jungkook’s gaze darts around, scanning the territory for any sign of you, the heartfelt laughter of your voice being heard in the distance catching his attention.

He quickened his pace, body drawn to see you. As he rounds a small cluster of pine trees his gaze bores on your figure, small body trying to push a big ball of snow around.

Jungkook stops in his tracks, his breath clouding the air as he watches you, a mixture of amusement and relief on his features. He’s ready to take one step towards you, when Yohan erupts from behind a tree, his arms carrying another boulder of snow. Your laughter echoes again when your eyes meet him, surprise written all over when the man sets down the big globe.

“Perfect, right?” Yohan asks, dusting off his gloves and stepping back to admire his work, a triumphant smile on his face. “Don’t you think it’a a little too big? How will we lift this?” You beam at him, cheeks and nose flushed from the cold. “Teamwork.” Yohan says with a wink, clearly enjoying the playful banter. Jungkook only looks from afar, his heart burning worse than his body when he acknowledges how easy can Yohan make you smile with joy. He knows he should walk over and maybe beat him up real good, roll him into all the snow your little hands collected and make him the snowman instead. But he doesn’t. Instead he turns around with a shaky breath and tears blazing his eyes. “Hey! Pretty boy, whatcha doing there?” Naeun's voice beams from afar, her body agitating to make her presence noticed. Jungkook quickly wipes at his eyes trying to fight back the smile Naeun just put on his face. He walks over to her just to see a hoard of kids going down in a line. “Your students?” he raises a brow flashing her a smile. “Yea, good kids. Smart too.” she replies, a proud glint in her eyes. “They’ve been asking me for tips all day. Pretty sure I’ll have them doing jumps by the end of the week.” “I need to get my jumps sorted as well, I’ve only been falling until now.” the boy says, lighting up his mood, taking his head away from all the drama in his love life. “Don't worry, I'll whip you into shape soon.” she chuckles to herself “I’m done for today so if you want, grab your board and let’s hop on.” "Alright, let's do this," he says, his competitive side itching for the chance to show off, the frustration he had when he saw you with Yohan dissipating away in a blink. He grabs his gears and dresses up, and after 20 minutes he meets Naeun for the start of his training. And they have fun for like two hours on the slopes. Jungkook managed to land even some of the harder jumps, as well as actually teach Naeun a trick or two himself. “Man, you’re really good. A quick learner, I’m impressed.” the girl says breathless, letting her body fall into a pile of snow. Jungkook laughs trying to catch his breath as well. “You’re not bad yourself.” He says with tired but sparkling eyes. Naeun stares at him, her cheeks getting brighter and probably not from the cold or exercising. She opens her mouth to say something, but it’s interrupted by the loud growl of her stomach.

Now visibly flustered she dismounts from the boards, looking away embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to eat today, the kids came earlier than expected.” “I’m kinda hungry too, didn’t have breakfast either and it’s launch time already.” he motions to his belly, rubbing it. "How about we grab something to eat together? I think we’ve earned it after all that snowboarding." Naeun hesitates for a second before asking, afraid she’s going to get turned down. "You know what, I think that sounds great." Jungkook replies without a care, making her face light up with relief. "Really? Great!" she grabs his arm, dragging him to the nearby restaurant. "I could eat a whole mountain of food after today." Jungkook says with a chuckle, setting his snowboard beside him as he settles into the seat. Naeun rolls her eyes but grins. "I’m pretty sure I could too. Ramen? Or some Tteokbokki?” She flips through the menu, clearly eager for something hot.

"Definitely ramen for me." Jungkook responds quickly, his mind already set on it. The two of them sat in their order, chatting away happily, enjoying each other's presence.

On the other side, you recharge your battery after yesterday’s fight with some snowman building alongside Yohan. “It was really fun, I hope it will never melt away.” Yohan chuckles ruffling your hair. You two grew pretty close this morning. Apparently he is 22 years old, and only an assistant ranger. He comes from far away to spend his time around these places since he enjoys nature. You two were not similar, but your personalities did match pretty well, his presence being one big breath of fresh air. And after exhausting yourselves all morning with collecting and rolling snow, you two decided to walk back to the cabins and get back to your daily lives, actually wanting to set things right with your boyfriend.

As the cabins come into view, Yohan suddenly slows his pace, his gaze shifting toward the restaurant nearby. “Hey…” he says cautiously, pointing his finger toward the large glass windows. “Isn’t that Jungkook?” Following his finger you look towards the restaurant, your heart halting in your chest when you notice him smiling and listening with so much attention to the girl from across. “That’s him, right?” Yohan asks again, showing mild concern when your face drops.

“Yeah…” you reply quietly, your hands tightening around your gloves. Yohan studies your face some more, feeling sorry seeing you like this. “Who even is that girl?” you mutter. “Naeun.” the boy responds hesitantly. “She’s a worker here, teaching kids how to snowboard.”

You can’t help but have jealousy bloom inside of you, the way her bob sways when she laughs a little too much at whatever your boyfriend was saying, or how she offers a bite of her food for him to try with shimmering eyes. They looked at a real couple.

“You okay?” Yohan’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you were not okay, you were fuming.

So that’s what he’s been doing all along while you were consuming yourself in the cabin, flirting so carefree with other girls. “I’m going there.” you say through gritted teeth, your fingers suffocating the gloves with your clench. Yohan’s eyes widen and alarmed he tries to stop you from making a scene. But you’re too far gone, already half a meter away from him.

The door swings open with a soft jingle as you step inside and you don’t hesitate as you stride to their table, making your presence noticed in an instant. Your boyfriend jumps in his seat when he sees you cross your arms, glance throwing daggers his and Naeun’s way. “So this is your way of making up?” you ask repulsed. He only leans back, clicking with his tongue. “Ask yourself, or are you too caught up with Yohan?” Your jaw tightens at the mention of Yohan, anger flaring in your chest. “You’re just, absolutely the worst, trying to turn this shit on me when the only problem is you.” he raises from his seat, gaining the attention of the people around. “Hey, let’s not make a scene.” Naeun intervenes only to be immediately shut down. “I’m the problem now? Not you who’s been basically drooling over that Yohan guy.” you clench your fist on your sides, your body shaking with the anger he makes you feel. You bite your lips, wiping away your tears “I don’t even know what to do anymore.” you say in front of him. Jungkook’s expression softens in an instant, his heart skipping a beat. His own hands starting to shake thinking the worst all of a sudden. But you just shake your head, leaving him there in guilt and sorrow. For the next day you avoid each other, him sleeping on the couch while you drain yourself of tears in the bedroom. What a beautiful vacation.

The two of you took different paths all of a sudden, Jungkook spending his days on the hill with Naeun while you helped Yohan with everything you could. It was the recipe of a disaster, and it was clearly affecting your relationship. With now only 2 days to spare and a relationship that is about to collapse. It’s clear that something needs to change, but neither of you knows how to start fixing it.

As the snow began to gradually fall, Jungkook’s heavy steps could be heard. Another day on the slope for the snowboarder, now almost ending.

His body was a wreck, broken from a mixture of exhaustion, the leakage of your relationship and probably the discomfort of the couch, all piling up. He does not know if he can keep this up till the end of the getaway. His body might actually give up if he keeps this further.

With a sigh, he pushes himself forward again, carving through the snow, until he’s met with the body of another guy. “Are you planning on dying tonight?” the sarcastic voice of Yohan ruptures through Jungkook’s ears. “Only if you go first.” he responds with the same token. “I genuinely feel pity when I look at you.” the older male starts. The younger one just rolls his eyes, bumping him with his shoulder in order to continue on his road. “I genuinely don’t know what she sees in you.” “I don’t know either.” Jungkook mutters, more to himself than to Yohan. “No, Y/N deserves so much better than an idiot like you, but she’s crazy blind when it comes to you.” he starts, finally letting his own thoughts out. “I don’t need a lecture from you.” Jungkook bites, his back still turned to Yohan. “You do, because you have her, and if you don’t want me to steal her away, then maybe you can start fixing things and actually appreciating her.” “You know, Y/N is an amazing girl, she’s kind and very loyal to an idiot like you.” his hands raise to grab the bridge of his nose in frustration, not believing that instead of taking the chance he gives it back to the very undeserving owner. “And she likes to build snowmans, and drink hot cocoa. She’s also super smart, knows more about the forest than I do, and she’s about to go to Harvard for human’s sake. She’s absolutely perfect, why do you waste her time!” he shouts in anger, eyes almost popping off from rage. “She’s not going to Harvard, she’s going to Yonsei.” a very confused Jungkook turns around and says. “Oh.” it’s the only thing Yohan can spit out, he’s messed up…big time. “Why do you say she’s going to Harvard, we promised we will go to the same uni.” Yohan lets out a slow breath, realizing how serious and delicaye this is. “I guess she didn’t tell you then…” ashamed he bites his lips. Jungkook turns back and makes a run towards the cabin, dropping his board and other gear in the process. He shoves the door open, taking you by surprise. You just got out of the shower and ready for a cozy night in bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he questions failing to stop the tears falling from his eyes. “What?” you ask in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to Harvard!” he sobs. You freeze, the towel around your shoulders slipping and falling on the ground. “I-I can explain, it's not what you think.”

“This is selfish even for you, Y/N. You promised…”

You can’t mutter another word, tears burning into your eyes just as well and all you do is stay and stare at the man who’s going through the worst time of his life. “So this is really the end?” he asks, pleading for an answer, the raw pain in his eyes ripping your heart apart. His breath comes out shaky, his lips quivering.

Jungkook stands there for a long moment, his chest rising and falling, and without another word, he walks away from you and back outside, shutting the door close after him.

For him reality hits, a reality in which he couldn’t keep you close, managing to only push you away further and further. You also bite down on your feelings, mixed emotions running free in your body and head. He didn’t deserve all of this either. And your jealousies and misunderstandings only made you grow apart. Letting your body crumble on the ground sitting there for countless minutes, with tears running down your face, you look towards the door in hopes of his head peeking inside, and instead of the sorrowful eyes, a big and comforting smile to appear on his face. Suddenly, the sound of the wind howling outside cuts through the room, making your eyes avert to the window. It’s already dark outside and the snow starts thickening. You stand up slowly, grabbing your phone to text Yohan, but just as the thought crosses your mind, you receive a message from him. “Be careful. It’s turning into a blizzard out there. Stay inside, both you and Jungkook.” A big lump fills your throat, your body moving before your mind has a chance to fully process anything. You slip on your boots, grabbing your jacket as you rush out the door.

The wind hits you like a wall, your eyes scrunching in pain. You can barely see anything through the thick snow, but you push forward, your heart pounding in your chest, you need to find Jungkook. This has escalated to unimaginable proportions. The storm outside perfectly mirroring the way you both consumed yourself for the last few days. It doesn’t take long for you to find him. His body collapsed in the snow. “Jungkook!” you shout, but the wind nearly swallows your voice. You rush and kneel next to his body, shaking him in desperation. “You idiot!” you cry, pulling him closer, wrapping your arms around, trying to warm him up. With all the power you have, you pull him onto your back, dragging him back to the cabin.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, you make it to the door. You can barely catch your breath as you kick it open, throwing both your bodies inside.

With all your remaining strength, your lungs burning from inside out, you strip him of his wet clothes, placing your head over his chest. His heart was beating. A rush of peace washes over you, with shaky arms you grab him close, cuddling him close to your warmth. “It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be fine.” you keep whispering while gently stroking his hair, holding him like your life depends on it. After good minutes you let go when you feel him starting to stir and cough. His eyes barely opening. “Am I in heaven?” “Only if you still think I’m an angel.” you reply thick with emotion. He raises his hand, placing it on your cheek, wiping away the tears you didn’t even know were falling. “The prettiest angel I’ve ever seen.” You sigh relieved, sticking your forehead onto his. Both of you lay there for some good minutes, before managing to drag him to the room and changing into comforting clothes you hold him close as he sleeps, promising yourself to never do this again. Morning comes slowly, the raging blizzard still ongoing. You wake up first, feeling the weight of your man on top of you, his chest coming slowly up and down. You stare at the ceiling for a few moments, processing how close you were to losing him. “Morning.” he says softly, his voice rough making you look back at him. “My body aches.” he whispers with a smile. “I’m sure it does, you also burned yourself these days.” his hands cup your cheek, lips sweetly coming closer to peck yours. “We are dumb, and we made a mess out of something that was supposed to be memorable.” Jungkook's thumb brushes over the exposed skin on your chest, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m sorry for everything, baby.” “You don’t need to apologize. It’s also my fault. so sorry as well.” you whisper back to him. “Harvard huh?” he raises a brow questioning you with a tease. You laugh and shake your head. “Yonsei.” The boy rises from your chest, surprised eyes looking at you. “Are you serious?” “Yes, I already confirmed.” you shyly admit.

He laughs softly, throwing his back on his pillow and pulling you on top of him instead. “Why? This was a crazy life opportunity.” “True, but…I realised after all this that no school or opportunity can make me go away from you. Yonsei is still top tier, I won’t lose that much, I won’t lose you.” Jungkook looks at you with stars in his eyes. “I love you.” he says in a heartbeat, you smile coming closer to him. “I love you too.” His lips slowly mold onto yours, moving slightly to kiss you so good. You gently bite his lip making him whine in the process, his moves growing eager. With a swing he pushes your body under him, lips attacking yours even more. “Fuck, I love you so much.” he whispers onto them, his fingers latching onto the first buttons of your pajama, taking them down. “I love you, and I love you, I can’t live without you, you drive me crazy Y/N.” “Then don’t.” you say softly once his lips start sucking on your neck. “Make me yours forever, Jungkook.” A low growl erupts from his chest at the thought. Claiming you as his, him being your first man and you being his only woman. His brain was fogging with desire. “Are you sure that’s what you want, baby?” he mumbles on your breast making you whimper. “Yes, please.” “You can’t back down on your words, just so you know.” he trails his lips lower, stopping at the hem of your pants, looking up for approval. You bite your lips half lidded, nodding simply as he complies. Jungkook takes a deep stare at your glistening pussy. “All mine.” is the only thing he says before he lowers his head to lick a long stripe through your folds. You moan loud, latching your fingers into his soft hair, pulling him closer to your warm core. “Mmm, my pretty girl, tasting so good.” he mumbles over your clit. The bliss becoming way too much to handle once the tip of his tongue starts moving rapidly at your entrance. “I’m coming, fuck!” you warn him, but he does not care, dragging his tongue through and out your orgasm. With shimmering lips he emerges from between your legs. His face just as fucked up as yours. “Should I stop?” he questions without the desire to actually do so. You shake your head, dragging his pants by the front. “No, I want you all.” you mewl, making the man lower his head whining. He turns around for a second, getting out to search through his suitcase. Coming back he throws an unopened pack of condoms next to your body. “You, oh my God.” you manage to say in disbelief. “Were you planning this all along?” you question, still not over your blowing height. “Maybe…” he manages to cockily say, slipping back between your legs, pantless. You reach out, grabbing his already throbbing cock, slowly moving to kiss him while stroking up and down. “Such a menace.” Sitting back down and spreading wider under him, you look at how he slightly struggles to unwrap the condom, his focused gaze and red hot cock, standing so proud and waiting ready, making you drool. “Need help, baby?” it’s not like you’ll be better, but maybe you can figure it out together, however his answer is a straight “No”. Once he gets it on, he leads his covered tip at your entrance. You hold your breath in anticipation and slight worry. “Tell me if it hurts, we can always stop.” he smiles and grabs one of your hands for some extra emotional support. You close your eyes expectant, feeling him slowly push inside and past the first ring of your walls before stopping. He stays still for a second before letting a small grunt pass out, making you open your eyes in worry. “Everything okay?” you ask concerned, staring at how his chest tries to even up, his breath rages as he shamefully admits “I came.”

You stare, blinking a few times, trying to process what he’s just told you, finally realising when he pulls out, the condom filled with white cream.

“Don’t laugh!” he whines seeing you hide your face into the pillow. You didn’t want to embarrass or make him insecure, potentially ruin his view on sex, but the way he was so cute and flustered, desperately trying to change the condom, made you grin in adoration.

“Let me help this time.” you say, pushing your body up, grabbing another foil from the box. You gently roll it over his member, while the man whimpers from sensitivity, his cock still hard as a rock even though he only came a few moments ago.

Once ready to try again, you lay back down and with a big gulp of air he pushes in, this time easing himself more and more, until his pelvis touches yours.

You can only grunt in pain and mild pleasure, but his reassuring touches and slow pace makes it somewhat enjoyable.

He slowly drags his member through your walls, until only his tip sits inside, gasping every time you clench around him, feeling like your tightness can rip him every second.

It sadly only takes a few minutes for you two to reach bliss, your nails clawing at his back and him deliciously and much easier stretching you out. Both of you come down your height with a big and loud moan.

Jungkook pulls out, looking proudly at his spill, sitting warm under the protection, while you try to catch your breath with happiness flowing through your veins.

“Is this forever?” he looks at you with love in his eyes.

“Forever.” you whisper back with just as much sentiment, sealing your love with a heartfelt kiss.

In the end, you realized that the world outside may change you, and challenges may come, but it’s these moments, with his eyes on yours and both of your hearts beating for each other, that really matter.

#kpop imagines #jungkook #kpop fanfic #bts jungkook #bts #bts imagines #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #bts smut

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what-is-this-car · 8 hours ago

Photo

Nope. So let's find some!

How To Identify Cars (even if you know nothing about cars)

I should first start by noting that I've already written a guide on telling cars apart, but that's different from identifying them - chiefly because in that context concluding "this is not any car that I know" is a success, since it means you've told it apart from the ones you do know. If you work out what car it is every time that happens, that will eventually lead to enough knowledge and experience to identify cars at a glance. But gradually learning cars as you go through life is rather different than having a specific car (or worse, a shred of it) that you NEED the name of harder than the guy from the memes wants pictures of Spiderman. Hence, this guide.

Properly going over the topic requires me to once again flaunt my studies in perceptual psychology like it isn't the one exam I failed and twice at that recapping what actually happens when you recognize something. That is, your mind analyzes the shape it's looking at, scanning it for traits and features, compares what it notices with items in its database, and identifies a match.

Experience helps with all aspects of that.

It improves analysis, because it trains you to parse the shape and scan it for distinctive traits. Where one may see this...

...I saw this.

It also may mean, with good luck, already being familiar enough with the car in question to recognize it instantly. Or without that luck, as per this case, using the aforementioned details to narrow down the possibilities. For example, the transverse engine indicates a front wheel drive car, and the round, aerodynamic but unfussy styling is clearly from no sooner than the early 90s (not that the custom shaped headlights didn't already give that away) and no later than the late 00s. This narrowed the search quite significantly, and pointed me to potential suspects, like the Ford Falcon's sixth generation (known as AU)...

...though this couldn't be it because the lower edge of the side window is rounded and much lower than that of the windshield. But hey, that's one more detail to note!

So how about the Honda Civic's sixth generation (known as EK)?

Not this either, since the top of the fender follows a gentle upper curve along with the windshield, where in our car the top of the fender's flat, and the door's frame falls beneath the front pillar of the roof (known as the A pillar), where in our car it stretches over to conceal it (trait first introduced in 1980 by the 🇮🇹Giorgetto Giugiaro🇮🇹-designed Isuzu Piazza, btw).

But that's two more details we've noticed!

Then what about the Chevrolet (/Toyota) Cavalier?

See? Now I don't even need to explain why not, because noticing the discrepancies in the cars above taught us details about the car we're looking for and taught us where to look, and thanks to that experience we spot discrepancies here! This to say, where the experience can't manage it, sheer trial and error fills in the gaps. It's what many people will tell you about failure: try long enough and, if you'll keep learning what worked and what didn't, you'll ultimately end up knowing what you need to. So armed with all the knowledge we've gone over, I went about ruling out a lot of other cars, like the fourth generation Honda Prelude or the Saturn SL1.

But some may not know those cars to begin with. And I must assume they'll be delighted to find out that at one point I just googled "90s sedan" and just checked all images for potential fits one by one. Again, sheer trial and error. Well, not really, since I already knew to look among 90s cars, but again that could come with trial and error if you had a keen enough eye to notice older cars' lines were too flat and newer cars' were too... more.

But even then, the terms were way too wide, and even needing just a lightning's span to assess each picture still presented an insurmountable task. So I used that which is not just my greatest strength, but every single human's, even those delusional enough to believe otherwise:

my brethren.

Yep. Surprisingly enough, even despite my use of light mode the friendly people in the things-about-cars-in-posts Discord server were people willing to help me.

And it was a daunting task, largely due to the heartbreakingly cruel combination of crop and resolution. Lights and front bumper, which as I've gone over previously are the most distinctive elements of a car, are just shy of featured, and the badge on the front is just shy of sharp enough to be parsed. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that with 10 more rows of pixels I would probably have clocked it in 10 seconds. But as it was, thanks to the power of multiple perspectives and knowledge bases, theories flew in every which direction, from the Hyundai Tiburon/Tuscani (nope, exposed A pillars) to the Ford Mondeo (same as above and flatter lines) to the Escort (the Ford, not me. Neither was it.)

We stumbled in the dark for over six hours, until the legend that is friend of things-about-cars-in-posts and member of this blog @brick-enthusiast came in clutch and finally released us from the torment:

And yes, I reacted with my trademark gratitude.

In my defense, my brain kept rightly insisting it was a 90s Chevrolet but stopped just shy of remembering the Lumina.

And now you can appreciate just how mean the crop was. I think a single row of pixels would have clearly shown the wheel well to be that close to the fender crease, which would've been a useful element.

Oh well. We've made it now. It's the second generation Chevrolet Lumina. And this is a brand new collective blog for car identification whose point is precisely that, instead of replying with behemoths like these as I do in @things-about-cars-in-posts causing me to take months to provide a simple answer, the posts will just be a couple of lines about what model the car is and, if relevant, how one can tell. And you can be part of the people involved (pretty please) by joining the aforementioned Discord and asking about the cult. Er, the cult. Er, what-is-this-car.

So for the sake of ceremony, allow me to state:

This car is a second generation (1995-2001) Chevrolet Lumina. See: the fender's crease and its flat upper edge, the windshield pillars covered by the edge of the door, the windshield's bottom line lining up with the front window's.

#chevrolet lumina #a very merry Christmas for all those in the Americas for whom it still is lol #i tried my best to publish while it was still Christmas here as well #but. yanno. it's christmas. so you tend to have and want to do other things.#either way TADA!

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chubby-bun-bun · 24 hours ago

Text

untitled (part 5)

You rope the busy businessman into enjoying the holiday spirit.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 (current)

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, fluff, your shot's smoother than stephen curry's

“You set me up,” you accuse, pointing a finger at the culprit before you.

Your midnight-feathered companion merely squawks in your face.

Frowning, you scoop the garnet-eyed traitor into your arms. Try as you might, you can’t resist stroking its feathers, the soft, silky texture effectively subduing your vexation. The bird settles comfortably in your hold, pecking at some lint on your shirt.

Are you still plagued by your embarrassing encounter with the red-eyed Apollo of a man in the park last week?

Absolutely.

Are you being unfair by taking it out on an innocent animal?

You drop your face into your hands with a dejected sigh.

It’s the eve of the Frostlight holiday, and you’ve decided to visit one of the places you hold a lifetime voucher for—a quaint little coffee shop tucked away in a shopping district alley. Aside from wanting to shake off the holiday blues, worsened by the eerie quiet of your undecorated house (save for the tiny Frostlight tree your brother gave you as a gag gift on your fifteenth birthday), you’ve been eager to check out the place after its recent renovations.

You’d been enjoying the shop’s new seasonal latte, sitting at one of the outdoor tables, when the familiar sound of cawing reached your ears. Before you could look for the source, a blur of black feathers descended gracefully onto your tabletop, a tiny red gem bead clutched in its beak.

Normally, your friend’s surprise appearance would brighten your mood. But as the events of last week played out again in your mind, you couldn't help but launch into a one-sided tirade about how your little tag game with the bird had unfolded that night.

“He said his name was Sylus—he was so handsome,” you groan, idly tracing the condensation on your cup. “And such a gentleman, too! And I tripped over him.”

The crow pecks at the stack of tissues on your table.

“But he was bleeding,” you continue, your gaze drifting to your straw, now bent and chewed. “He looked really hurt. I tried to help him, but then he just stood up—like nothing happened!”

It abandons the tissues, opting instead to preen its feathers.

“Do you think it could’ve been his Evol?” you wonder. “If it was, that’s so cool. And really convenient, don’t you think?”

You glance down at your companion, only to find it engrossed in cleaning its glossy plumage, its blatant disregard for your monologue clear.

You huff.

Deciding to leave the bird to its own business, you let your gaze wander to the other shops.

Because it’s the eve of a well-awaited holiday, the shopping district is alive with activity. Warm white lights, accented by the tasteful sparkle of colorful fairy lights, adorn the busy booths. Even from a distance, the aroma of cookies, hot chocolate, and assorted pastries wafts through the air. At the heart of the district where the streets converge stands a towering Frostlight tree, its meticulously arranged decorations glimmering under the festive lights. Decorative wrapped presents are nestled beneath its branches, and a brilliant star crowns the top, casting a warm, radiant glow over the lively scene.

The crowd is a bustling mix: parents paying at booths, teenagers laughing boisterously in groups, children darting around with unchecked energy, pets drawing clusters of admirers… and a familiar, silver-haired man standing by a stall, his towering presence capturing the awe-struck attention of passersby.

You blink.

Before you even realize it, you're on your feet, weaving through the crowd—nearly tripping over a couple of kids—until you finally reach the stall.

Breathless from your short dash, you rise onto your tippy toes and tap him on the shoulder.

He turns around, brows furrowed as he glances left and right, before finally looking down.

“Sylus, hi!” you blurt out, a toothy grin plastered on your face.

You're pleased to catch the surprise flicker in his eyes.

"Sweetie," he greets, the faintest tug of a smile playing at his lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I was in the area trying this new latte...” you trail off, glancing down, only to realize your hands are empty.

You must’ve left it at the table, along with your little crow.

You look back up at him sheepishly. (You send a half-hearted mental apology to the abandoned drink and bird.)

“New latte, huh?” he says, lips curling up into a smirk.

You realize his eyes are a beautiful, bright scarlet under the light.

“What about you? What are you doing here?” you ask, eyes curiously trailing over his dark button-up dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up neatly, revealing toned forearms, the fabric adorned with slashes of deep red embroidery.

Sylus pauses. “Just… handling some business,” he replies, vaguely gesturing to the stall behind him. Around it, several well-built men in black attire and face masks move about—some standing idle, others murmuring in low voices, and a few weaving in and out of the stall's shadowy depths.

Your gaze shifts past them, landing on the vibrant display of oranges, clementines, pomegranates, figs, and other fruits neatly arranged in wooden crates.

“Oh! You own a fruit business?” you exclaim, your face lighting up with excitement.

You miss the slight grimace crossing his face.

“How lovely!” you say, already fishing for your wallet. “Allow me to support such a wholesome endeavor. I’d like two bags of pomegranates, please.”

A brief silence lingers between him and the nearby men in black. Then, he chuckles, flicking a finger over his shoulder. Two of them—smaller and seemingly younger than the rest, each sporting identical curls—exchange a quick glance before grabbing paper bags and clumsily filling them with pomegranates.

“Here you go,” one of them says with a bow, handing you his bag.

“The freshest of the season!” the other adds cheerily, offering his own.

You accept the bags graciously, about to hand over your payment, when Sylus raises a hand. “On the house,” he tells you, eyes gleaming with amusement.

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he replies, gaze roving over your form with a slight smile. “A holiday gift, if you will.”

You take in how striking he looks beneath the soft glow of the lights, his presence almost ethereal against the lively backdrop.

It’s then you realize you only have one life to live. Life is too short for regrets, and you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. That fortune favors the bold, and that you either go big or you go home.

And so, with a deep inhale to steel your nerves, you seize the moment.

“Sylus, would you like to go get ice cream with me?”

The men behind him perk up. Deeper within the stall, a bound man sits trembling, a gun fitted with a silencer pressed against his temple. He’s being hushed, and the air grows thick with suspense as everyone waits with bated breath for the silver-haired man’s response.

After what seems like eternity, Sylus chuckles, flicking your forehead gently.

“I’d be more than happy to.”

—

You’ve barely spent an hour together, but already, you’ve learned so much about him.

He’s surprisingly chivalrous. You hadn’t expected it, but when you pulled out your wallet to pay for both your ice cream cups, he leaned over, gently swatted your hand away, and handed his card to the cashier.

You looked up at him in protest. “But I was the one who offered to get you ice cream…!”

He merely ruffled your hair, amused, as if you were an unruly feline meowing its head off for not getting the fish on the dinner table.

“I’m not letting you pay. End of discussion.”

Determined to make up for your honor, you dragged him to a weathered claw machine not far from the ice cream stand.

“Fine. But I’m getting you that one,” you declared, pointing at a black-and-red dragon plushie nestled among the other prizes. “You’re not allowed to refuse, okay?”

After a brief scuffle over who got to insert the coin (you lost), you managed to snag the plush on your first try. Triumphantly, you handed it to him, watching as he turned it over in his hands, his fingers gently fiddling with its tiny wings. Your gloating expression faded, though, at the sight of his faint smile, the image strangely sending a dull ache through your chest.

And despite his intimidating appearance, he’s remarkably generous.

When the two of you stepped outside the bustling shopping district for a breather, ice cream cups in hand, a gaggle of children in Frostlight-themed costumes approached. Tambourines and melodicas in hand, they eagerly asked if they could perform for you. Their chaperone stood nearby, wincing apologetically at their loud enthusiasm.

“Do your best,” Sylus told them, leaning against the building wall behind him, eyes gleaming in amusement.

The children hastily formed a crooked pyramid, the instrumentalists awkwardly positioned at the back, before launching into the most gloriously off-key performance you’d ever heard. You struggled to suppress your laughter, covering your mouth with your hand, but Sylus regarded them seriously, his head nodding slightly, as if genuinely finding rhythm in their chaotic melody.

When they finished with a burst of giggles, Sylus clapped slowly, laughter dancing in his gaze, before handing over a generous wad of cash. You’ve never heard so many high-pitched “You’re the best, mister!”s all at once.

You’ve been having so much fun—exploring the bustling stalls, petting the pups you come across, checking in on his hardworking fruit stall employees (and happily handing them some of the banana chips you bought), and watching the small fireworks display in the shopping district's adjacent plaza—that you don’t realize how late it’s gotten. Before you know it, you’ve arrived at your house, the neighborhood now quiet and serene, the hum of the city replaced by an almost peaceful stillness.

At your doorstep, you turn to see Sylus leaning casually against his sleek black SUV, his gaze fixed on you. A thought strikes you, and your eyes widen.

“Wait!” you blurt, fumbling for your key. “We never got around to returning each other’s stuff. Let me grab your coat!”

Before you can act, tendrils of black-and-red mist creep along the ground, curling around your feet. Bewildered, you stare at it as it coils upward, encircling you. “What…?”

Despite the way it looks, it feels soft and warm against your skin. Gently, it curls around your wrist, pausing your search for your key, and lifts your chin, guiding your gaze back to him.

“Return it next time,” Sylus tells you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“But won’t you need it?” you ask, distracted by the way the mist dances around you, one tendril brushing your side playfully. You let out a surprised laugh. “Is this your Evol…?”

The mist retreats slowly, as if reluctant to leave. It curls around his feet one last time before dissipating entirely.

“I don’t have your sweater yet,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “It’d be rude to accept the coat before then.”

“But—”

“Think of it as my excuse to see you again.”

Your words catch in your throat as heat rises to your cheeks.

To appease you, though, he offers to exchange numbers so you can work out the details of your sweater and coat handover. If he notices the way your hands tremble when his fingers brush yours while swapping phones, he doesn’t mention it—though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth doesn’t go unnoticed. With a reluctant wave and a final goodnight, you step inside and close the door behind you.

You lean against it for a moment.

Then, you bolt to your room, dive onto the bed, and scream into your pillow.

When you finally roll onto your back, breathless and grinning like an idiot, the ceiling above you seems brighter, the world lighter. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this way—like you’re floating, bursting with happiness.

You like him. You really, really like him.

As thoughts of brightly colored ice cream scoops and cuddly dragon plushies swirl in your mind, the weight of the day’s events finally begins to settle over you. You briefly resist, realizing you haven’t even changed out of your clothes or undergone your nightly routine yet, but in the end, you surrender to the comforting pull of slumber.

Just as you drift off, your phone screen glows faintly from your bag.

Good night kitten.

note: tysm for taking time to share your thoughts about the series 🥺 reading through them truly makes me so happy! it's so surreal to know that there are people out there actually looking forward to updates lol!! happy holidays, everyone! 💞

tag list: @thepotatoislost, @xxfaithlynxx, @browneyedgirl22, @vorfreudevortex, @midiplier, @wisteriaflowersss, @euclase0, @leighsartworks216, @keyiswatching, @goldenbirdiee, @delaythings, @datura109, @iloveboysinred, @everythingistaken00, @moonlight-inthe-sea, @blueberrysquire, @mourning-into-dancing, @bookfreakk, @everywherenothere, @vvhira, @laidenbreecatchall, @kyushii, @lucifer-says-hii, @sylus-crow, @carmelves, @nishayuro

#ori.writes #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #love and deepspace

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hyunsvngs · 1 day ago

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𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 - han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

a/n: pwp based off of two images i saw of jisung's boobs in concert and then i went haywire and wrote THIS... MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! 🎄🎅 please read the warnings! 18+ SMUT MDNI!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: ROLEPLAY where jisung is santa for no particular reason, nipple play (m rec), oral (m rec), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (i’m having a white christmas!), dirty talk, overall kind of not extreme but maybe a bit of d/s dynamics (both switchy)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you don’t know what game you’re playing tonight.

jisung’s due back home any minute now. he’s been gone a few hours, last minute christmas shopping with friends, and he claimed he had a surprise for you. you asked to go with, claiming you needed to get a few things too, but jisung had simply told you he had a plan. it’s unusual behaviour for him, but he’s always doing sweet things for you - this could just be another one of those times.

still, you’re bent underneath the tree placing presents in nothing but your nightie and some fuzzy socks. you’ve had to light the fireplace to warm yourself up, but jisung always likes it when it’s cozy anyway. you expect that he’ll arrive home tired, but wanting, from the infrequent texts he’d sent you about missing you. there’s nothing you like more than snuggling with your favourite person on your favourite holiday, even if he does get a little too warm too quickly and ends up being more of a human radiator than anything else.

once you’ve finally found places for all of the gifts, you’re able to wriggle yourself outwards. with the multicoloured lights on and the fireplace lit, along with your many other trinkets… well, it may look like christmas has exploded in your living room. still, you’ve always loved christmas. you adjust a little santa ornament on your fireplace and allow yourself to lay on the couch, pulling a thick blanket over your body. it’s comfortable.

unfortunately it may be a little too comfortable. you appear to have dropped off, because when you wake up it’s a little darker outside. you hear the click of the lock, the sound of the door swinging open and heavy boots stomping in. you sit up, drowsy with sleep but ready to greet your boyfriend.

a few hums are heard from the door, soft and melodic, and you smile. it’s nice. you push yourself up, padding over to the front door, and- oh.

santa’s here.

sure, he looks a little different. under the fluffy white beard and velvet red costume you can catch glimpses of him. a snippet of black ink across honey toned skin when he moves, the sight of his chain dangling beneath the fabric - it’s him, your santa claus, you know it, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“santa!” you grin, walking over to wrap your arms around his middle. he lets out a small ‘ooph’, pretending he’s winded, but two toned arms wrap around your frame right back. “you’re here! early, too.”

“i had to be early for my favourite girl,” you feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks against your ear, and you nuzzle the fabric of his suit. over the time you’ve known your santa, you’ve learned he can be a little sleazy - you’re pretty sure he’s making his voice deeper on purpose, and his fingertips are already tugging up on your nightie to check if you have panties on. it doesn’t surprise you. “why don’t we go take a seat?”

you’re guided back over to your sleeping spot with a firm palm on your back, and you realise he’s got his gloves on too, black faux leather that you can feel even through your nightie. you stumble a little and santa catches you, using the position to sit down and pull you down with him.

one of those sinful gloved hands come up to push your hair out of your face. it feels a little fucked up you’re getting aroused over this, over fucking around with someone who isn’t really your boyfriend, but he meets your gaze with his own. the look in his eyes lets you know that it’s all intentional. “have you been nice this year, baby?”

“i’ve been so nice this year, santa,” you wiggle onto his lap, legs splaying over the side. you receive a gummy smile in return and the feeling of his hand moving up your thigh. it’s sleazy, and you’re slicking up already. it smears against your thighs. “don’t you remember? just last week, i fingered your asshole until-“

“al-right,” he stammers. “doing naughty things isn’t very nice, y’know?! it’s actually the polar opposite. hah, polar.”

his facade is cracking, and you giggle, letting your hands run over his chest. you can feel the muscles beneath his suit. “i thought it was nice, santa. you seemed to like it. a lot, actually, if the noises were telling at all.”

“u-um, you’re not- this isn’t how this is meant to go,” his eyes are wide and ever so brown, the multicoloured lights bouncing off of them. he looks so earnest, almost innocent - if you’re pretending you can’t feel his cock hardening underneath your ass. “i’m meant to- you’re- baby.”

you’re already moving, swinging your legs back over to kneel on the floor in front of him. despite his protesting, he’s letting you, always pliant. his arms fall to his sides and his knees kick apart. his boots make a heavy thud on the wooden floor, the same platform boots you thought he’d retired years ago, and you want to ask him about them but he’s moving your hands to his cock.

while your santa is pliant, you are too, and you give in.

you pull his trousers down, letting the waistband snap just underneath his balls. the pressure pushes his cock upright for you, hard and plump and leaky, and you engulf it with your mouth without a further thought.

“this is why y-you’re my favourite,” he gasps shakily, thighs spreading further. with a flick of his hand, the red velvet jacket falls open, and you’re met with the tattooed honey skin you’ve been craving all along. he’s built, chest plump enough to make your mouth water, and he rubs his thumb over his nipple while you suckle on his cockhead. “that’s it, my sweet baby. suck santa’s cock, just like that.”

your jaw aches already, head reeling from how fast everything is going. you pull off with a wet pop, and with your spare hand you stroke the shaft erratically, your spit acting as lubricant. it’s all too wet for him and his hips buck upwards into your grip. a sharp whine leaves his lips, preceding the heavy breaths that he lets out.

you can’t help but let your other hand move down to his balls, running over the taut skin there. his thighs shake, and you pump harder, squeezing deliberately to watch how precum forms on the head.

“come and kiss me,” he orders, pushing your hand away to replace it with his own. he looks the image of debauched, cockhead ruddy red and sensitive, and he pulls you upwards impatiently to his mouth. you’re laying over him like this, tits pressed against his through your nightie, and he finally leans up to press his lips against yours. immediately, the kiss is filthy, his tongue pressing into your mouth with the deep moans and muffled noises he lets out at the feeling of his own grip.

it’s not long before he’s pushing the same gloved hand past your nightie again, wet from your spit and his precum, finding that you definitely are not wearing panties. he moans into your mouth again, digits finding where you’re wet and aching for him. his lips clack against yours messily as he pushes two fingers inside of you - it’s just a precaution, not meant to be anything more than a quick stretch. still, when your fingers scrabble for purchase on his chest and your nails dig into the plump flesh, he finally pulls away from the kiss and sinks a third finger inside of you. the faux leather is warm from his natural body heat, and you gasp, hips grinding into his palm rhythmically.

“f-fuck, that’s- you’re stretching my pussy out so good, santa,” you keen, keeping your words filthy because you know how he likes it. as you expected, he groans, head tossing back against the sofa and causing his hat to slide onto one side. his cock aches, pressing against your thigh. you can’t help but rub against it just to be cheeky, and his thumb comes to your clit as a punishment. “o-oh! oh, santa, please, will you give- give me more? i want your cock, please!”

“yeah, of course, my baby, of course, just- get this off? get it off,” he’s impatient, gripping at your nightie and pulling it each and every way until you finally sit back and yank it off of your body. instead of wasting any time, your santa is shifting forward, letting his fingers slip from your soaked hole.

he slides inside at the same time his pouty lips envelop your nipple. he’s always been engrossed with your chest, just as much as you are with his. while he’s letting you adjust, his hands move to your ass and squeeze the flesh, eyes fluttering shut as if he’s sated just being inside of you - you know him better than that, though. once you’ve readjusted the red hat on his head, you start to move your hips.

“oh, that’s it,” it’s muffled against your chest, but you hear it, along with the deep groan that leaves his chest. he tries to remain in control, hips moving against yours. “this fuckin’ pussy. been needin’ it all day, baby, you don’t even know.”

“that’s why you came early, santa, right?” you say shakily. the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit in a way that has your eyes watering, and you quicken the pace, pussy clenching down on his shaft. “needed your baby’s pussy too bad. it’s here now, santa, why don’t you just take it?”

“fffuck,” he leans back on his forearms, nodding, eyes scrunched shut. you can tell he wants to take, to force your pussy to take his thick cock, but the feeling of it all is too pleasurable to think. he’s always been a bit too sensitive. you can tell it’s not going to be a long one already, and your hand snakes down to rub fast circles on your clit. “ah, it’s so- it’s so wet, baby, so wet around my cock.”

you moan, moving like a woman possessed, hips rutting into a fast bounce that has him pistoning in and out of you. it’s then that he takes a little more control, grip moving back to your ass to bounce you on top of him. his cock hits deeper like this when he’s pulling you back and forth, and your toes curl in your socks, nose scrunching at the wet sounds reverberating throughout the room. it really is so wet, and you only have your santa to blame.

your hand slaps over your clit just after he opens his eyes, and they narrow, fixating on your pussy. his chest is heaving, and then in a split move, he’s pushing you down flat onto the sofa.

“keep rubbing it, keep- keep going, i need to cum,” he babbles, shaking his head. he’s out of it, and both gloved hands pin your hips down so he can take it from you. his hips move erratically, balls slapping against your skin, and with one hand you do exactly as he said, rubbing the little bundle of nerves until you’re wailing into his neck. the other hand splays against his stomach, almost as if you’re pushing him back, but he’s too strong for that. “it’s- me, now baby, talk to me. talk to hannie, my baby, c’mon.”

“h-hannie,” you hiccup, tears biting at your eyes. “‘s so good, jisungie, baby. i think i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? why don’t you cum for me?” jisung questions. the white pom pom of his hat swings in front of his eyes, but jisung’s fed up by now, ripping the fabric from his head and tossing it to the side. it’s nice to see him properly, his face unobscured by taunting red fabric, and he gives you a gummy smile.

the sincerity of him, your boyfriend, your one true love is ultimately what does you in. your gummy walls clench around him, finally letting go, and your fingers slide messily across your clit until you’re finished crying through your orgasm. jisung isn’t far behind, and his lips come to kiss your forehead as he holds you close and pumps you full of his cum.

unceremoniously, jisung collapses with another ‘ooph’, sweaty chest pressing against yours. you know it’s intense for him to cum so quickly, and you run your nails up his back underneath the jacket to soothe him. he hums and wiggles his hips around in glee, as if he’s not still inside of you.

“so,” you yawn, letting your nails run down to scratch over his ass. jisung’s hips buck into you this time. “where did the santa idea come from?”

jisung leans back and rubs your nose with his, giggling. “no idea. it wasn’t even the original plan.”

“it wasn’t?” you gasp, attempting to sit up. “then what was it?”

“what was what?” jisung furrows his eyebrows. you groan.

“what was the original plan, jisungie?”

“oh, that!” he slides out of you, and you try not to giggle at the way he surges off of the sofa with his dick still out. “i’ll show you, just wait there!”

you really do giggle when he runs out of the door, tripping over his trouser legs. you think he’s going to return with the surprise, but then he pokes his head round the door, that same wide grin on his face.

“merry christmas by the way, my baby. i love you.”

#juno's fics ♡#han jisung fic #han jisung fanfiction #han jisung smut #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #jisung fanfiction #jisung smut #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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hi-im-dazey · 1 day ago

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I worked for QA at Atari, in the early 00's. Here's some interesting Nintendo stuff from that experience:

Nintendo had the MOST stringent pass requirements of all three consoles and PC (titles we publish used these four platforms)

The localization had to be easy for native speaking children to understand, so anything that was poorly translated would fail a title.

Loading screens were required to show movement, so you got a little cartoon or a spinner or something along those lines when the screen was loading, it could not just be a static image.

There had to be a button input way to save IN ADDITION to any on screen save points. This is why you get the pause screen or menu screen saves.

pause had to work in EVERY scenario, no action could be unpausable, except cut scenes which had to be skippable. (the exception to this rule was Animal Crossing, which has no unrepeatable urgent running clock content, if you wanted to pause, you just let your avatar stand around in peace)

When they brought in the wi-fi lan tunnel hardware for GCN, (along with Double Dash, btw, which used it to make giant multiplayer races) The requirements of any game that wanted to use the Lan Tunnels were to not allow any private text conversation between users. You could not directly talk to any other player, past throwing out a limited number of react emojis, or, in the case of Double Dash, honking at other players. Nintendo wants your kids safe online. They will not put up with any shenaniganry where the kids are concerned, this is why, even in this last gen, you are very limited in how and when you can communicate with other players and reporting a player for inappropriate communication is easy and effective. They check the chat logs and issue lifetime bans, almost instantly for this stuff. Another fun fact Nintendo designs and tests EVERY piece of equipment to survive the following

-Being wet (not at depth, or left soaking, but spilling a drink on it should not brick it if you dry it off right away)

-Being thrown by your average 8-12 year old into a wall

-Being dropped from a height of 5 feet onto a hard floor

-Being stored in less than optimal conditions (the c-stick should return to normal position after being pressed in one direction for too long, for example. (switch controller drift is another issue that is baffling to me that it passed testing like that)

Basically they test for any thing a kid is likely to do, taking into account emotional regulation (throwing the controller), neglect of toys (forgetting it and sitting on it, for example), and just being generally uncoordinated (dropping it)

“I went to school for game design! I am highly qualified to talk about any game out there!”

I bet you don’t even know how big an 8 year old’s hands are.

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headkiss · 1 day ago

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it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

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thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington requests #steve harrington request #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve x reader

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neuvilette-tea-party · 2 days ago

Text

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ Mon petit coeur ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Steb x F!reader

Words : 7679

You borrow a shirt from your lover for a lazy morning, unaware of the turmoil it will create in your boyfriend's heart and loins.

Tags: established relationship, heavy making out, Steb is selectively non-verbal, first time together, Cunni, Steb is pussy drunk, P in V, creampie, knot, mating press, wet humping, slight breeding kink, Steb has carnivorous tendencies

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

You yawn, making your spine pop. Next to you, Steb’s spot is cold already. You smile, imagining him biting down a toast completely hypnotized by one of his chess tactics books.

You throw the covers off your body and rummage through your closet to put a thing on. It’s Sunday, you don’t work, have nothing planned, and don’t feel like dressing up. You let your gaze travel and end up on Steb’s white shirt on the back of the chair. You take and detail it, you could think it is a clean shirt with how neat it is, but he wore it yesterday. You press it against your nose and inhale his scent deep into your lungs.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah... Delicious.

Smells like love.

You take off your pajamas and put his shirt on, leaving you in a simple white shirt too big for you and your panties. It’s not like you have to impress someone today.

You inhale his smell again with delight, sighing satisfied, and lazily go down the stairs, yawning. You can hear Steb in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

He is so nice, you’re so lucky to have him, you think.

You enter the dining room which is more of a mix of a kitchenette, a dining area, and a living room. You discover Steb busy at the stove, cooking some salmons. He’s wearing a tight black turtleneck and dress pants, clearly more worried about his general appearance than you in the morning.

You approach on your tip toes and surprise him with a big hug, making him gasp in surprise as you wrap your hands around his large chest.

“Hello, handsome!” You greet, kissing his neck, pulling on the collar, making his fins tremble as he deeply exhales at the caress of your lips, “Thank you for breakfast”

You part from him and he turns to you with a smile, only to make a double take with a shocked expression.

“What?” You ask as he fixes you up and down intently, “I hope you don’t mind the shirt, I didn’t feel like dressing up.”

He slowly shakes his head, his ears shaking once, visibly under some tension. He turns back to his salmons but just... looks at them.

You shrug and start to empty the table of all the papers and clutters to make some place to eat. True to your lazy mood, you don’t bother skirting the table to grab everything and just bend over the table to reach the last objects.

You jump hearing a broken glass sound. You spin your head towards Steb, who was visibly checking you out, observing the now-destroyed spice container on the ground with a discomfited expression.

“Are you all right Steb?” You immediately ask as he lowers himself to collect the shards.

You crouch next to him to help and notice his hands trembling slightly as he picks up the glass, visibly distraught. His face scales undulate without stopping while his cheeks are getting rosy. You press your hand to his forehead to take his temperature.

He’s quite hot.

“Do you have a fever, handsome? You should have stayed in bed, I would have cooked you something myself!”

He sighs, nudging his forehead against your palm as he shakes his head in disagreement.

“You don’t beat the allegations, treasure. Go sit, I’ll take it from here.” You softly order.

You both throw the shards and you resume the cooking, adding some salt and pepper with other spices, opening up the herbs bouquet to add later, and drizzling a stream of lemon juice. You sniff, feeling a burning sensation on your exposed skin, like a heavy gaze on your form.

You turn your head to see Steb, leaning against the counter right behind you, his hands wrapped around the edges, nails dug into the woods, breathing deeply as his eyes devour your body in this less-than-modest garment.

“... You’re all right, sweetheart?” You finally break the silence after several seconds.

He raises his eyes back at you, fogged with fever. He takes a step forward and seizes your hips delicately in his large hands, pressing his tall body against your back, sensually swaying his hips, guiding yours.

“What’s with you this morning?” You cannot help but giggle, adjusting the sauce.

For sole response, he lets his deep breathing resonate in your ear, the tip of his fingers sliding just under the shirt to brush the hem of your panties.

Delicately

Slowly

He licks the shell of your ear with a grunt that you feel spreading down your very core. Your own breath gets caught in your throat as his fingers pass just the hem of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin of your venus mound.

Just a brush, just a touch

Like a secret...

He kisses your ear before biting the lobe, never ceasing the sway of his hips with yours, a low growl making his chest vibrate. You gulp, feeling your hands trembling over your fish as you try to follow your recipe the best you can.

Quite hard when Steb is making advances, you realize.

He never made advances before.

You always initiated, learning rapidly that he was not so interested in sex that much and liked taking things slow. So slow you never saw each other naked yet...

He gently tugs on the shirt, begging for attention, letting his fangs graze your ear shell. You turn the stove off and he gently makes you spin in his embrace, blocking you between the stove and his tall body.

He brushes your nose tips, pressing his forehead to yours, letting his lips hover over your mouth with a sound between a pressed growl and a begging whine. One of his hands snakes its way into your back, under the shirt, eagerly discovering your skin while the other lower down to your ass to caress it.

He devours your face with bedroom eyes, taunting you with the kiss he holds back from you. You purse your lips and rise on your tip toes to reach his mouth, he meets you mid-way, capturing your lips like a hungry man.

He presses himself tight against you, towering over you with his full height, you can feel his groin starting to heat up and bulge as he devours your mouth, purring in satisfaction.

He suddenly grabs your thighs to lift you up, forcing you to circle his hips with your legs with a yelp. He purrs loudly, grabbing the back of your head to press your lips together and not let you escape. His gills open wide to breathe while you’re left completely pantless in that demanding kiss.

You never saw him like that! So eager and needy, so demanding! So... Desperate.

Your lips dance together in a sensual embrace, locked together, exploring each other like your lives depend on it. He licks your lips, demanding access, and your tongues meet to hug each other.

Steb’s tongue is longer than a human’s, swirling yours like a snake, robbing you of your breath so easily... You can say you have never been kissed in such a way before. You feel your legs getting like jello under his ministrations but he holds you firmly to not let you fall.

He gently carries you out of the kitchenette and you expect him to go up the stairs to enter the bedroom but he puts you down on the dining table and with a large gesture pushes all the papers and clutters you had to put back down on the ground.

“Steb!” You protest!

That’s going to be a pain to tidy everything!

But Steb is clearly in no state to care about such details, he captures your lips back with a groan, gently forcing you to lay down on the table. He lets his body weight rest on yours as your mouths discover each other.

His hands brush your side to gently pull on the hem of the shirt, revealing your stomach to his eyes, he immediately lowers himself to kiss your tummy, pinching the flesh of your side with a smile as you yap. He takes a big lap at your stomach with his long tongue before going higher, revealing your breast to his ocean eyes.

He stops, admiring what he has in front of him, his scales undulating like a dance. Your nipples perk up in the cold and he immediately makes them roll with his thumbs tenderly. He makes it slow and gentle, soft circle with the pad of his thumbs, making you whine.

He takes them between his fingers delicately to brush them, titillating your nervous buds with delight while you whine. At some point, he cannot take it anymore and lowers himself to take one in his mouth, thoroughly licking it.

“Fuck... Steb!” You complain in a pitiful gasp. He hums in response, focused on the candy in his mouth. You feel his tongue twirling your nipple easily, lathering it with his drool while he kneads your other boob with his large hand. He suckles your tit thoroughly with an appreciative purr, letting his saliva roll down the hill of your boob.

He never breaks eye contact, his deep blue gaze set on yours, commanding your attention.

He gives a peck to that boob and kisses his way to the other, taking it between his teeth and gently biting it down, making you start. He chuckles before teasing it like he did the other, giving it the same amount of love and attention. He sucks down hard, hollowing his cheeks as he does it.

Once satisfied he stands back up, towering over your trembling, lying form, observing his work with... delight. His blue eyes seem to shine as the light of the room over his head gives him an angelic halo. One of his hand come dancing on your breast, barely brushing the skin before snaking down, grazing your stomach with delicate intentions until it reaches your panties.

He hooks the hem and lets it slap your skin, tilting his head at your whines and jumping. You gulp, not used to being scrutinized this way, especially half naked, but his gaze travels your skin with absolute focus, memorizing any nook and crannies of your body.

His finger traces your panties until you suddenly squirm under his touch, telling him he located your clit. He tilts his head at you again, circling the vicinity of your pearl, never touching it directly, teasing you to no end.

You gasp and gulp, digging your nails in the wood of the table as he toys with you with his infuriatingly beautiful face. He keeps his gaze on yours, opening your thighs wider slowly.

His eyes grow larger and his ears shake with vivid interest when he flicks your clit out of nowhere, earning an ungodly moan from you. He brushes his fingers in his luscious hair as he lowers himself down between your legs.

He looks at you like he dared you to stop him, taking deep breaths in anticipation, parting your legs. He nudges the side of his face against your inner thigh, letting his cheek fins tickle your thin skin, making your leg jolt instantly.

“Ah!... I...” You let out, raising a hand with hesitation, “I never...”

He blinks at you with his third eyelid, silently inviting you to finish your sentence, his hand wrapped around your thigh meat.

“I’ve never done that...” You admit, embarrassed.

His gaze lowers like he is thinking and for a second you think he’s about to lose all interest and stop everything. But instead, he tightens his grip on your thighs and leaves a soft, infinitely reverent kiss on your inner thigh, closing his eyes to savor the instant. He nibbles on the skin fondly, leaving several lovebites all over your thighs with the application of a devotee praying.

You roll your hands in fists with short breaths under his ministrations. You yelp when he purposefully bats his cheek fins to tease your skin again. He replaces himself between your thighs and presses his lips on your clothed pussy, where he found your pearl and loudly kisses it. You exhale, on edge while he peppers kisses all over your clothed pussy before taking a big lap, wetting the fabric.

Sharp blue eyes deep into your febrile gaze.

He purrs loudly, satisfied with his new position between your thighs before gently pushing your panties aside and revealing your pussy for the first time to his eyes.

You cannot take it anymore and close your eyes as you feel the tip of his fingers caressing your slit so gently, humming in appreciation at his new toy. He details your little cunny with great focus, tracing its line tenderly, testing your reaction to this or this sweet pressure.

He gulps, his gills wide open with excitation. That’s a beautiful sight... Do you taste sweet or salty? Savory for sure, he knows it deep down in his guts. He licks his lips to prepare them as a low growl escapes his eager mouth.

He wants to taste you... So badly.

You gasp feeling him part your fold with his fingers and blow air on your hidden flesh, playing with your nerves.

“Mon petit coeur...” You hear his too-rare voice rise in the living room full of tension, “Look into my eyes, mon amour...”

You wince, gritting your teeth. You don’t want to look at him, you would die of shame and embarrassment on the spot! But he only speaks for grave matters, fighting the physical pain when he uses his voice.

Signifying you that it really, really matters to him.

You gulp and reopen your eyes, lowering them to his. You cannot find anything else but love, tenderness, and adoration in his orbs which makes you slightly tremble.

Keeping eye contact he lowers his mouth just above your exposed pussy, letting his breath brush your sensitive flesh, like a promise.

That everything is going to be all right.

And he takes a long slow lap at your cunt, tracing your entire slit with the flat of his long tongue. You immediately melt and whine, with a shudder.

This is such a foreign sensation... So...So...

He doesn’t lose a second and does it again, his pupils wide open, all the fins of his body trembling. He licks your pussy thoroughly like he’s eating his favorite dish. His purr perks up each time his wet appendage touches your folds, tasting your flesh in an entirely new fashion.

An addictive new fashion he realizes...

His breath quickens as he keeps licking, coating your folds with his saliva enthusiastically. His expression leaves no doubt about his mood, his amusement and pleasure illuminating his face as he savors you like ambrosia.

He dives his nose into your pubes to deeply inhale your sexual musk and his ears shake irrepressibly as he lets out a gasp, breathless, eyes closed shut.

You do not have time to worry if it is a good sign or not he immediately resumes the lapping, digging his fingers in the flesh of your thighs. He trails your slit with the tip of his tongue several times before taking another big lick, opening his mouth wide like he is about to devour you.

You cannot catch your breath under all of those attentions, all those new sensations swarm you without mercy, and you feel your blood beat inside your cunny.

He leaves a big kiss on your pussylips and focuses slightly higher, on your little clit. He flicks it once with the tip earning a dramatic tremor coursing your entire body, much to his pleasure. He does it again, titillating your small pearl with glee, sending waves of raw pleasure into your pussy. He flicks it, drums it, and whips it with abandon, leaving you no time to catch your breath.

You cry out as you feel his purr making his whole tongue vibrate against your sensitive pearl, bringing you to your knees.

How...?

How does he do that?

It feels even better than with a toy with the wet, soft sensations and his warm member. He licks it up and down like he’s savoring an ice cream and with the same enthusiasm. You are lying on the solid table but feel yourself falling as his attentions set your nerve endings on absolute fire you are convinced actual lava was poured into your veins.

He sucks it hard, making it roll between his lips, twisting it so gently as he crosses it with his tongue. He lets out a long and deep guttural moan of raw satisfaction escape him, getting high off of your cunny.

He takes great joy in feeling your delicious pearl puffing up and swelling up under his gentle care, he wants nothing more but for you to enjoy yourself thoroughly between his large hands.

He will devote himself to the craft and perfect his techniques until you break down crying, begging for him to stop giving you so much, that you are about to break into a million pieces under such tension and bliss.

That promise to be so fun, he feels his heart jolt at that prospect!

Each of his tongue movements sends a shiver into your very core and you can feel your inner muscles gorging themself with blood, getting all fluffy as your slick starts to drip out of you. Stebs notices immediately and loses no time tasting it too, lapping you clean.

His powerful muscles roll dangerously under his skin, like a predator ready to jump but he never stops, keeping your clit in his mouth like a lollipop that he savors like a child, letting you hear his grunts and moans of pleasure.

Steb was always a caregiver to you, but make no mistake, this one is as much for himself as it is for you. He eats you out because he ardently craves it, like a fish needs water to breathe he feels like he now needs to be between your thighs forever.

You? You’re at the end of your rope. These new touches are just... Too much!

This is too much...

The assaults of pleasure are too powerful and you try to push his head away gently, for just a second...

His response is immediate.

He lets you hear the most pissed-off growl you ever heard from him, looking at you with the angriest face you’ve ever seen him.

You will not take that away from him! Not now that he sank his fangs into it.

You round up your eyes in full surprise and a bit of apprehension.

Realizing his reaction, he immediately softens his expression and reverently kisses your cunt as a sorry gesture while he detaches your hand from his head to intertwine your fingers together, locking you with him for that intense experience.

He nibbles your clit that swoll up, palpitating hard and he can feel it vibrate against his tongue in tandem. He kisses it several times as he feels your essence dripping on his jaw to the ground.

What a waste, he thinks to himself.

It is also ruining his distinguish turtleneck but that is such a small price to pay to be between your luscious thighs.

He opens your pussylips again with a purr and presses the tip of his tongue against your entrance, letting it stretch the ring of your flesh as he pushes it inside. You immediately tense feeling the flexible wet member invading your most secret place, stretching your inner muscles with surprising ease.

You feel it wave and undulate to push deeper, dancing like a real succubus, leaving no surface of your pussy untouched and uncared for. You hear him drinking your slick with large gulps and reveling mewls. You feel it twirl inside for a moment, grazing and caressing all of your deepest sweet spots, pushing you to the end of your sanity until it gently retracts to focus on your G spot.

You gasp, digging your nails into the fabric of the white shirt and the flesh of Steb’s hand as he waves his textured tongue against your sensitive spot, you feel his tip grazing and circling it in a maddening dance leaving you pantless and sweaty on your dining table. Your thighs’ muscles immediately contract as you feel your wetness worsening, dripping all over your Vastaya’s jaw.

Your legs instinctively try to close to refuse him access and stop the attacks of pleasure on your exposed flesh, but he holds your thighs firmly open, lecherously drinking like an animal.

He twists his tongue into different angles, testing all your reactions, studying each and every tremor shaking your helpless body in his embrace, taking thorough mental notes for future times when lust seizes him once more.

Oh how he adores how defenseless you are right now, no filters, no masks, and pure, raw reactions, the truth shining on your blissful expressions as he toys with you for both of your pleasure.

He whines, feeling parched and desperate against your swollen pussylips, this is a lot to take in but not yet enough for him, he is ravenous and your supple flesh is all for him to take and devour.

The line between lust and bloodlust is so thin and he had to temper your advances and hopes to not risk wounding you in his fury. He silently thanks the Enforcer order who demanded him to file his sharp teeth down to human teeth. He felt dispossessed for a long time, but right now he doesn’t know if he would have had the self-control to not bite into your flesh like the carnivorous Vastaya that he is.

But he waited for so long... And you taste just so good, he is getting absolutely mad, wondering what your blood tastes like. He immediately mentally slaps himself, refocusing on your shivering body, all for him to toy with and take care of.

He circles your marvelous spot and starts to furiously lick it with his tip. You gasp, biting down your finger to silence yourself, throwing your head hard against the table as your back arches in an impressive fashion hypnotizing him completely.

Such an honest body you have, a delight to play with and taste all to his heart’s content. He curves his tongue in a new angle and admires how your body undulates once again, like magic.

Magic right at the tip of his long flexible tongue.

He quite likes that.

“Steb! F-fuck...!” You shout as he feels your slick overflowing out of you, rolling down your thighs and his jaw, beading on his gills wide open to not stop for a second to breathe!

He devours you like a hungry beast, too impatient to carry you to completion to wait any longer! He wants you squirting in his mouth right this instant!

And you will give it to him or he’ll be damned!

In a flash of lucidity, he realizes he is absolutely and irrevocably pussy drunk. His own body is absolutely shaking like he got addicted to drugs, leaving him disoriented and on autopilot.

Only his sexual instincts are at the command to guide him at this moment, all reason and common sense just abandoned him when he took his first lick at your pussy.

Damning him like a cursed soul.

But he would lie if it did not taste marvelous. To become a sinner between your thighs was the best decision of his life and he feels more blessed than a devotee praying to their idols. Guess he just needs to remain on his knees from now on.

Praying between your luscious spasming thighs.

He slightly winces as he feels your nails deep in his hand’s skin as he brushes your tender spot with sensual fury, but how could he stop when you taste this good, when he’s the one guiding you to orgasm...?

He cannot just stops like that without you cumming! That’s unthinkable!

He releases your thigh to palp his warm bulge under the table for a bit of relief. He is so tense it is painful, but your taste combined with your desperate mewls and moans are just so exciting and alluring, all his blood flew south to gorge his member full and his pants feel terribly constricted and uncomfortable.

Your free thighs try once more to close down, only managing to cage his head against your pussy, suffocating him against your wetness. You can feel his gills and cheek scales fluttering. Who cares really? If he dies between your thighs, giving you pleasure, he will die happily.

What better death than satisfying son petit coeur?

And suddenly

The tension snap.

You feel a tight scorching hot knot rupture in your cunny like you flipped a switch and all your muscles contract hard, your back arching up high as your toes curl, blinding firelights under your closed eyelids. You cannot refrain from the scream of Steb’s name in your small house, your little pussy clenching hard against his long tongue as you squirt violently in his mouth.

And you fall.

Whatever was holding you together snaps too and your entire body collapses against the hard wood of the table, leaving you blind and deaf for several full seconds. Your chest rises up and down rapidly to take as much air as possible, while sweat rolls on your skin between the goosebumps.

You are exhausted beyond measure, feeling the waves of your orgasm slowly subsiding, allowing you to assess your surroundings at last.

Steb leaves several gentle kisses on your quivering pussy with a loud purr and rises back on his feet, towering over your shaking form once more. He pants heavily, ocean eyes crazy with fever and dark energies, your slick beading off his perfect jaw to soil his nice turtleneck that he adores.

That is so far away from his mind right now, if only you knew.

He seizes the hem of his turtleneck and gets rid of it, throwing it carelessly in the corner of the room to be forgotten, leaving him bare-chested, revealing his own sweaty body, his large pec and well-defined abs glistening under the crude light of your dining room.

You look at him through half-closed eyelids, still in some sort of shock as his powerful muscles dance and roll under his magnificent green skin.

You let your head fall down, trying to make sense of that entire situation.

Man, it was just a shirt...

You quake and reopen your eyes as you hear the sound of a belt opening. Steb makes quick work of it and gets rid of his dress pants to reveal his constricted boxer, leaving little to the imagination when his cock is hard and tense under the fabric.

You gulp at the bulge.

He licks his lips clean with a hiss and lowers down his grey boxers to reveal his cock to your eyes for the first time.

Your throat dries up as your eyes round up, apprehensive.

He has been... generously endowed by Mother Nature. She decided to craft a champion and chose him.

He roughly fists his entire length, hungry eyes on your exposed naked body, a low growl escaping his gritted teeth before he seizes your hips with his two hands and drags you until your hips collide, making you yap.

He plays a bit with his tip before lathering his impressive shaft with his precum, titillating his ridges all over his shaft while his other hand returns to caress your clit with his thumb making you cry out, overstimulated and exhausted.

He aligns himself and lets his member hit your pussy as you whine at how warm and hard it is. He does it several times, his ears spasming, until he starts a back-and-forth movement, teasing his cock by caressing it between your folds, lathering it with your slick. He releases your clit to seize your hips with both of his hands, letting his ridged member tease your pearl.

He huffs before throwing his head backward at the sensation of your two bodies finally carnally meeting each other.

It took so long but it has been worth it... He doesn’t regret one second letting the tension rise and frustrating the both of you if this is the final reward.

You yelp and mewl as his shaft brushes your oversensitive pussy mercilessly, grazing your clit still under the spell of your former orgasm, swollen and palpitating.

He slicks his disheveled hair back with a hand, his glistening muscles contracting under his skin as light dances on his exposed flesh, carving him like a god. You gawk at that immaculate sight.

He is well-made on all fronts!

He finally stops and trails your soaked slit from bottom to up with the pad of his finger and sticks his tongue out to wipe it off, lowering himself with his tongue out to capture your lips, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He languorously kisses you, his tongue hugging your smaller one, robbing you of your air, feeling your spriting heart through his own skin, putting him on edge.

You bite down his tongue when you feel his tip poking your entrance, gently probing your pulsating pussy to get it used to his circumference until you feel him push past your tight ring of flesh, entering you for the very first time.

You throw your head backward at his invasion, giving him the opportunity to attack your neck with joy. You feel his mouth sucking your thin flesh, leaving a tight collar or lovebites all around your throat.

You tremble, feeling his cock stretching your inner muscles, all his ridges making you cry when they brush past your G spot. This is your first time with a non-human and you did not expect all of that. You are not even sure your vagina is meant to accommodate this kind of member, but Steb seems eager to discover it.

Your mouth opens in a perfect ‘O’ as he keeps pushing deeper and deeper, making you discover depths you did not even know you had, his hands kneading your sides, digging his nails into your soft flesh. He rolls his shoulders several times with a gasped growl as he feels your tightness strangling his cock for the very first time.

It feels just so good to have you all around him...

It feels so right.

This long-desired and cherished moment of your two bodies finally making one...

He selfishly dreamt of it for so long while refusing you, keeping his own dark urges on a leash.

He exhales deeply when your hips meet, his shaft finally fully inside your warmth, weighting down your core. He bites his lower lips discovering the bulge your two bodies created with a whined breath.

This is just so hot.

He cannot help but caress the bulge with the tip of his long fingers, pressing it down with his palm to squeeze his member, teasing himself through your welcoming flesh.

“Oh, mon petit coeur...” He manages to breathe despite the pain of talking.

If only he could drown you under pet names and love declarations like he wishes he could! You would tear off your ears of exasperation.

He cannot help but snigger.

He fondly draws circles with his thumbs on your hips, anything to ease your predicament, begging for your foggy gaze on him, to help maintain his composure and not just crumble between your luscious thighs like an impotent.

But your body is just so much for him to take and experience, that delicious pressure all around his member, wet and warm, welcoming and debauched. So much pleasure courses his body right now like electroshocks.

He slowly slips out of your dripping sex until just the tip remains and pushes back in as gently as possible to not upset you. He feels you stretching all around him, working hard to accommodate his length and girth, welcoming him in your warmth and softness.

Like a gentle indulgence...

You close your eyes under the pressure, your entire body tense like a bowstring and threatening to snap once more. Steb just stuffs you so full, like a decadent cream puff, opening your secret temple wide to let his shaft inside.

And now you are supposed to take him moving and survive?

You choke as he starts rolling his hips, installing a gentle back and forth movement, leaving and entering your tight canal, your former orgasm helping prodigiously as his cocks slips in and out easily with your abundant slick that you still feel dripping along your thighs.

And now Steb’s thighs too, you imagine.

You grit your teeth as he splits you in two with such ease.

You feel him moving inside, making gentle love to your exhausted body even if his fingers are painfully deep into your hips. The pace is languid and loving. You can feel his impatience bubbling under his scaled skin, but he prefers going slowly to appreciate.

To savor.

Each. Second. of that experience.

You bob up and down as he grunts and purrs, burying himself up to the hilt into your warmth. He gasps and growls and moans and mewls, vocalizing his pleasure out loud without any shame, letting you know what a delight your body is to him.

Oh how he wishes he could remain buried inside of your sweet, sweet pussy...

It feels like heaven, like he is at his true place at last.

Maybe he could cum inside and...

Breed you

Son petit coeur, all round with his baby...

All his muscles violently spasm at that idea!

He has just the tool for that...

You try to speak but only let escape an incoherent string of syllables getting cut each time he pushes his entire member back in. You grit your teeth as all your muscles try to welcome him back each time, it gets easier and easier each time but it is not simple for all that!

You wince in slight discomfort as you try to breathe, and Steb’s immediately notice. One of his hands releases its tight grip over your waist to travel all the way back to your little clit he tenderly caresses and brushes again, easing and helping your tense muscles to relax all around him.

Your sigh of relief is cut short by another moan of pleasure as he undulates his hips like a pro. You bite back down your finger as your nails claw the wood of the shaking table under you, following the rhythm of Steb’s gentle thrusts.

He bites his lower lips to blood, admiring how your little cunt swallows him whole greedily like never before. He can already admire a creamy ‘O’ at his base making him lose it a little more and accelerates his thrusts.

He tries hard to keep himself in check, but you’re bringing him to his knees, leaving him pantless and disoriented. Each time your little cunt clenches around his cock the entire room spins around him, forcing him to hold onto you to remain sane and grounded.

Soon his rutting is deep and fast, punching all air out of your lungs with force. Gone is the sensual and tender lovemaking, he is plunging his cock deep, impaling you on his length while he hisses and rasps. His fingers keep grabbing your hips and waist, leaving bruises flourishing on your contused skin, while the other furiously loves your clit.

But he can’t help himself, what if you found a way to escape his grip? He holds onto you like the remnant of his sanity, if he slips out right now his mind will shatter into millions of pieces.

He cannot let go.

That would kill him on the spot.

He greets his teeth, feeling his orgasm approaching rapidly. He must hold on still! You’ve not yet cum and it is capital for the breeding!

You spoke of him of a little one with sparkles in your gorgeous eyes, but each time he tempered your daring advances, the light died little by little.

He cannot deny you anymore,

he wants it,

he craves it,

he needs it...

“Steb...! Steb...!” You gurgle between his ravaging thrusts.

You have no idea what you are trying to say to him, you feel your brain melt with every delicious rock of his hips against yours.

But while he might become crazy, he isn’t deaf and responds to your cry for help. He grabs your two legs and throws them on his shoulders, grabs your hips firmly, and adroitly jumps with you onto the table, tilting your hips up, he lays on you, pressing your knees against your breast to reach your desperate mouth to kiss it.

This position magically opens you up, allowing him to deepen his rut so much he can feel his tip brushing your cervix. He winces, deeply conscious of the delicateness and fragility of that zone of the female body, and tilts his hips to not hit it too hard.

Each one of his movements earns a reaction from you, your limbs tremble and shake at his demand and your pussy clench and squeezes him at his will. He very quickly noted what to do for deeper feelings for the both of you.

He smiles in the kiss as he notes that you drooled all over your jaw, forgetting yourself under his sensual care.

In his fury he grabs your two hands to wrap them around his neck, keeping you just a little closer for the comfort of his heart

His two hands on each side of your head, he digs his claws deep into the wood and hears it crack and complain under your lecherous activity. He feels your hands palping, grabbing, pinching, and searching for what to do in your utter confusion.

He gives you a nasty thrust and you immediately dig all your nails deep, deep in his shoulder blades, tearing the skin apart, making him roar in the kiss.

He adores that.

That sudden sharp pain in his flesh keeps him grounded and he wants it again, hoping you will dig deeper, and claw his entire back, giving him scars like you would give him a medal.

Steb demonstrates extraordinary stamina, the result of his Vastaya nature and intensive training as he keeps going without a single sign of fatigue yet while you hold onto him for dear life.

You try to part from his mouth to just breathe but he doesn’t allow it, clasping them, locking them in a sultry embrace, a raw purr making his entire chest vibrate against your thighs’ skin. You bite down his tongue several times as he plows you down like a jackhammer. When he finally releases your lips a string of saliva connects your two decadent mouths as you take a big breath, instantly getting heady with the significant smell of sex filling the entire room, seeping into every fabric.

You almost bite off your own tongue as he ravages you, each hip thrust deadly precise. The wet sounds of flesh slapping flesh are getting to your head dangerously. You lower your hazy gaze between your two bodies, admiring how they meet and connect, the significant bulges in your womb as he slips in and out repeatedly.

What’s that mass at the base of his cock?

Does he have a ...?

You cannot finish that thought, his rocking forces you to throw your head backward as Steb licks your cheek, tasting your sweat with delight, and kisses your entire face, your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin... Begging for your tenderness in his craze.

Just a soft touch his way.

One of your hands caresses its way to his face to cup his cheek gently, caressing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. He instantly melts and nudges in your palm with a jubilant purr, caressing his cheek and kissing your open hand like you held his heart in your grip.

And maybe you do...

Holding him tight like that, making his soul chant blessed verse in your embrace. You ravished him, body, heart, and soul!

He wants your affection and your rage, your caresses and your bites, pouring fire in his veins as you love him without any mercy.

He wants everything and its opposite at the same time.

He wants to crush you under his weight until you cry from overstimulation and to submit to your hand, handcuffed to the bed, helpless to your whims, his entire exposed body for you to play with...

Everything in due time.

You feel him wrap one of his arms under you, hugging you tight, suffocating you in his embrace, holding you close to his febrile heart, his other hand travels between your two bodies to return to your neglected pearl. He lovingly fondles it while giving you devastating hip sways, proving his desire to do good by you, even pushed to a more animalistic state.

Your comfort and pleasure remain at the forefront of his mind no matter how far he’s gone!

Your little cunny immediately clenches at this added touch, constricting his cock hard between your fluffy walls making him snigger and grunt, trying to keep it together.

“Steb...!” You cry, big tears rolling down your cheek.

Your pussy shakes and convulses all around his member as he rocks his hips hard, squeezing him so tight he sees stars.

He brushes your nose tips, foreheads pressed together, inhaling each other’s musk to climb higher again.

You are surrounded by Steb’s inescapable presence, he holds you tight and fills your head with his groans and your nose with his salty musk. His tall and large body looms over yours, shielding you from everything, keeping you stuck under him as he pounds you down.

The table complains heavily but holds on while he rearranges your guts with abandon.

You gulp and gasp at each thrust as you feel your orgasm approaching like a furious tsunami looming over you, ready to drown you, you feel pleasure waves spreading inside your cunny at each of his movements and his relentless caress on your clit until-

The tsunami reaches the shore and crashes down, ravaging everything in its wake.

Your breath gets cut and you think your heart stops beating for several seconds under the impact. The entirety of your body contracts violently under the shock, as all your nerve endings are set ablaze with wildfire. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids as deep shockwaves incapacitate all your limbs. Your tight pussy spasms and convulse all around his girthy cock, trying to keep him inside.

Your mouth open to let go of a deep scream that Steb immediately swallows in a languorous kiss, silencing you in the most exquisite manner he could think of.

Your own orgasm pushes him off the cliff and after four erratic hip jolts, he pushes a final time.

“What the ...?” You feel the weird mass against your entrance.

He hisses and pushes a little bit harder, and while you were sure your pussy will be torn apart by that mass, it gently extends all around and swallows it whole, plugging your tight cunt shut.

Steb audibly gasps, fully buried up to the hilt deep inside of you, and unloads his seed deep inside your womb, reveling with delight at the sensation of your cunt milking him dry for all his worth, your cute tummy getting full with his semen.

He pants with a satisfied breathy laugh as he licks your jaw and chin.

He cannot resist the urge to tenderly caress where your womb hides, drawing tender circles as he purrs like a satisfied cat, nudging against your smaller body with delight.

He peppers kisses all around your neck, letting his imagination run wild. Maybe... You’ll get pregnant with his baby today?

That sounds so wonderful to him!

A little one to both of you!

Witnessing you getting rounder and rounder with his child, having to help you with everything, catering to all your needs, taking care of everything for you while you bear his blood and flesh...

“You... You have a knot?” You finally ask, panting.

He pours his eyes into yours and nods with a tight smile, hoping really hard you like that quirky part of his anatomy he kept hidden all his life.

“You know I am not on the pill?” You warn him.

He knows it. He also smelled and tasted it with his Vastaya receptors on his nose and tongue. Nothing about you escapes him.

“That doesn’t bother you?” You investigate, suspicious.

After all, tales of women being left to fend for themself after the discovery of a pregnancy are nothing new in Piltover and he kept denying you each time until now, that you have all the right to be suspicious.

But the thought of you pregnant with him...

He cannot describe the warm joy spreading in his chest at that simple thought.

A family, after that war that took everything from him, he would have his own family at last.

With you, son petit coeur...

What more could he ever ask for?

That simple thought manages to keep him hard, ready for another round, feeling his cock twitch with real impatience inside of your little pussy.

He will let you breathe for a moment and then beg you for a rematch. After all, a Vastaya and a human have lower chances of procreation, he needs to give you a lot more to ensure a pregnancy.

His ears and cheek scales twitch at the thought of tasting you again once pregnant, will your taste change? He cannot wait to try! He will have you for breakfast every day until the delivery and then spend all of his moments with you and your baby.

For now, you will hug each other tight and listen to your heartbeats, like a symphony.

At peace at last.

He brushes your nose tips and reverently kisses your lips, pouring all the love of his heart into the fountain of his lips for you to get drunk off of it.

Son si cher petit coeur...

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#steb #steb my love #steb x reader #steb imagine #steb arcane #steb fics #steb smut #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane fics #arcane smut #fanfic #neuvilette tea party

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