#but then to the point where if you show the slightest bit of emotion they’re like…

[castleofravens]

it’s so fucked up actually for your friends to be essentially shit talking you behind your back while also invalidating/not trying to understand your feelings and where they’re coming from

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: How they kiss

Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! In here I will give you a reading on how your future spouse kisses. I hope you guys enjoy and find this interesting.

Masterpost > Paid Readings

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

When your future spouses kisses you they absolutely go for it; there won’t be just a little peck on the lips or cheek (unless you wish for that). They will smother you with kisses all over your body, making sure you know and keep being reminded of the fact that they love you unconditionally. You might be an insecure individual who often needs reassurance that you are loved and liked, your future spouse is aware of that and makes sure that it is clear to you that you indeed are.

Your future spouse will smother you with kisses so passionately you can’t do anything but think they see you as their prized possession, someone to care for and love, someone to help in difficult times etc.

Pile 2:

Your future spouse won’t have much experience when it comes to kissing the moment you two get together. It might feel a bit clumsy at the beginning but they will pick up quick enough what it is they’re supposed to do, how to follow or take lead and make it a pleasurable experience.

When it comes to kissing they will mostly stay around your mouth region; your lips and the parts around it. The way they could often be kissing you could be in the way Mr Darcy kisses Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice in the last scene; they will peck your cheek and tell you they love you, then kiss next to your lips and repeat the same thing, kiss the corner of your lip and eventually end up kissing you full on the mouth. Your future spouse is definitely a romantic when it comes to kissing and will use it in a sensual and delicate way of getting their point (love) across.

Pile 3:

When it comes to kissing your future spouse is definitely a big smoocher. Think big, long kisses where they hardly give the both of you time to take a breather. As well as long and big pecks on the cheeks when wanting to show some love yet not make a whole scene out of it. They’re very enthusiastic when it comes to touching you and kissing you; so much they refrain from doing too much.

Your future spouse also has trouble showing you how much they love you, showing their emotions in general in the usual ways. So whenever they do find a way it will be very energetic. Therefore when they do kiss you it might come over as very intense and passionate, yet not dirty in the slightest. Just amusing, fun, and to some of you maybe even really cute.

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: apologies

authors note: inspired by roman being roman on tonight's smackdown. it was a bit tricky to come up with a scenario to justify these people talking to roman like he's just anybody, so i had to keep some things vague.

words: 1.5k

warnings: none

The last thing Solana expected to walk into post grocery store trip was a shit show, but that’s exactly what she’s got.

The sound of arguing voices is impossible to ignore, all of them emanating from her husband’s office. Directing security to bring in the rest of the groceries and to leave them on the counter, she doesn’t hesitate to walk into Roman’s office, bypassing the knocking.

Sure enough, she’s met with her husband, his cousins and Sami Uso arguing down with each other. And not a single one of them seems to be listening to each other. They’re all just yelling and talking over each other, Roman, in a surprising twist, not being as loud as the other three.

But, he looks just as pissed. 

If not more.

Despite having no idea what the source of the argument is, it feels immaterial as she intrudes into the almost circle they’ve formed.

“Hey,” she says it too low the first time around, forcing her to raise her volume for the second round. “Hey!” As Jimmy and Sami move towards each other, as if they’re about to progress to something physical, Solana is prompted her to move even closer, her hands raised, separating them. “Stop it right now!” She switches to Spanish, a natural thing that seems to occur when she's upset.

The minute, however, that Roman becomes aware of her presence, he’s gently pulling her toward him, away from the other three. She ignores that, instead asking in English, “what is going on?”

It’s probably a silly question, as she’s almost certain that it’s business related, and Roman has always been tight-lipped regarding a lot of things concerning his work. But, it’s hard for her to ignore this when the tension is literally palpable. 

In another twist that she wasn’t expecting, Jey smacks his teeth, completely ignoring her question and directing his statement toward Roman. “Man, you trippin, Uce! You not trying to hear—”

“Keep fucking talking to me like that, Jey.” Roman sneers, Solana having to place her hand on his chest. More comfort to her than him, she’s sure. “I beat your ass once, I’ll do it fucking again."

“Listen, Roman, man—”

Jimmy scoffs,, moving closer to Sami, shoving him back. “Aye, wasn’t nobody even talking to you!”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue when the roles reversed where Jey seems more buddy buddy with Sami than her husband and Jimmy. Regardless, that’s not important right now.

“You guys aren’t accomplishing anything,” she cuts in, shaking her head. Where is Paul? This is definitely one of those moments where he needs to be the voice of reason. “Just stop—”

“I’m not listening to this shit,” Roman snaps, Solana looking back at him as he moves away, turning his back. “We’re doing it my way, and that’s fucking final.”

“What’s the point of having us around if you just always do shit your way and don’t even listen to us?” Jey calls after him. 

At that, Roman turns around, speaking from a place of visceral emotions. “Then fucking leave. I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you!”

Her eyes shut as she takes a deep breath. He doesn’t mean that. She knows him well enough to know that he doesn’t mean that. He’s just talking out of emotions. Not logic.

“Roman—” She calls after him, but he turns on his heel once again, slamming the door behind him.

Hand to her face, she refocuses on the men, directing, “just….just stay here. Let me talk to him.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Jey counters, looking just as done as the rest of the men. “Roman refuses to listen to anybody but his damn self, so let him deal with it by himself.”

Nothing about what her husband does should include him handling anything alone. “I’ll talk to him,” she repeats. “You guys stay here. D--don’t leave. Please.”

She’s not sure if they’ll listen to her, but she can’t focus on that right now. She’s instead walking out the office, trying to find her husband who she eventually locates in their backyard. Closing the door behind her, she watches how he paces back and forth, hands on his hips, facial expression hiding not an ounce of his anger. 

She’s careful in how she approaches him, waiting a minute to give him some space. But, she can only wait for so long. “Roman….”

“Since when the fuck do I answer to them?” It’s a rhetorical question. She knows this, but it’s hard for her to not respond.

“I don’t think that’s what they meant, baby…..”

“I’m the Tribal Chief!” He gestures to himself, again, anger toward the situation. Not her. “I make the plays. I call the shots.”

“Yes, Roman, but that—that doesn’t mean you can’t at least hear them out.” 

That interjection is what makes him stop pacing, makes him stop and look at her, really look at her. She sees the way his shoulders drop and watches how he diverts his gaze, apologizing, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t…..you shouldn’t be involved in this.”

Probably not, but it’s too late to not be. “I–I don’t like seeing you guys argue. You’re….you’re better than that, Ro.” Because he is. Because this petulant, petty-like behavior isn’t like Roman. He’s a hothead, but he’s not childish. “I don’t know what this is specifically about, and it’s none of my business, but I do think you should–should talk this out. That everyone should apologize to each other….including you.” 

At that, his eyes go wide. “Apologize?” He points to himself. “I should apologize to him?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Solana—”

“Roman,” she says it again, voice softening, lips pressed together for a second. “Please?”

It’s a tricky, manipulative thing. She’s learned that he can’t say no to her, and she uses that to sway him over. 

And once again, it’s worked. 

“Fine,” he relents, and she leans up to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you.” He only nods, still looking slightly irritated but walking back into the house. 

Solana finds herself overtly relieved to be able to play at least a small role in the path to reconciliation. It fills her with pride that she carries with her as she goes into the kitchen to start putting the groceries away as well as get started on dinner.

With the twins and Sami over, she’s certain that they’ll be staying ov—

“I’m sorry that I ever let you waste my time with this!”

Solana closes her eyes. Her husband has to be the most stubborn person to ever walk this earth. 

She closes the cabinet she was loading the canned goods in and moves towards the office, only for a flustered, irritated Roman to come stomping in said kitchen, rounding the island to stand in front of her. 

“I tried, Sol. I fucking tried, but this is fucking stupid—”

“Roman.” She reaches up to cup his cheeks, holding his face so he’s forced to meet her gentle gaze. “I love you, but you are the single most hard-headed person I’ve ever met.” He cuts his eyes, but it’s an innocent thing. No maliciousness. Or disagreement. Verbally, at least. “I need—I want you to actually try.”

“I did—”

“Roman.” A small smile falls on her face, knowing. She knows him well enough to know they have very different definitions of trying. “If you’re not going to do it for yourself, or maybe not even me….” Solana drops one hand from his face to grab his hand, easily guiding and placing it on the swell of her belly. “Do it for them.”

Solana sees it so clearly. The immediate shift in his mood, his disposition, even his stance. Feels the way he subtly rubs her bump, an almost soothing thing for him. Like he’s being reminded of the lives they created, the two tiny humans who they will raise together, bring up the right way. 

The exact opposite of what they received.

But part of it starts now, leading with the messages they want to send and lessons they want to instill. 

Roman gets that. It’s evident in the way he nods subtly. Eyes closing as he leans over and kisses her forehead. “Thank you.”

Her smile is small but warm as she gestures to the direction of his office. “Go make things right.”

He just gives her one nod before walking off, and something tells her, he'll come back this time with the relief of having found a solution.

Solana finds herself rubbing her stomach, speaking to her daughters who continue to grow and develop day by day. “Your daddy’s a good man.” She sighs, adding on an almost quietly. “We’re just going to have to help him from time to time.”

She’s answered with a swift kick, prompting a hearty laugh and deepened smile.

[chevelleneech]

The whole AYS show seems like Jimin is trying to make things go back to how they were in the past with Jungkook (i.e., in 2020/21), and Jungkook is just going along with it for the sake of it and trying to enjoy it. Now, either they are holding back in these episodes or something, but there, I cannot see even the slightest bit of affection, which can be classified as romantic or maybe romantic in any sense. They just seem like 2 bros (not in a homophobic way, but in a bestfriends for a decade goofing around way) hanging out. He is enjoying it for sure, Jungkook I mean, but he is definitely not the one putting a lot of thought, or some actual good conversation during trips, its like going through motions because someone invited you. Its mostly jimin trying to make the atmosphere feel good.

Also, another unpopular opinion is that they, in Sapporo episodes, just feel sadder? anxious? or, um, discontent (most probably because of the military), but it probably would have been better if they went to Sapporo without cameras again.

I disagree. Your opinion is yours, but I think they appear to be having fun, and ignoring how much Jungkook is laughing and literally saying out his own mouth that he’s happy, makes no sense.

Is it possible Jimin is trying to rekindle something? Yes? But we don’t know that. They haven’t talked about anything of the sort, so I don’t see the point in letting that color your view of the show. I’ve said it before and will say it again, it’s fine to have your theories and such, but you can’t slap them on what we’re being shown and decide that’s what it is.

Yes, I think they’re dating so my opinions on how they act are biased in that regard, but I am also able to watch the show as it is. Dating or not, Jimin and Jungkook both have been happy in each episode we’ve seen them spending time together in. The very first one is the only one where, imo, we saw hesitancy or nerves more like, but they also gave an explanation for why. They hadn’t seen each other, JK was working, and Jimin planned it yet wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

That latter bit alone insinuates to me that they had something deeper prior to hiatus, and were nervous about being together again in a serious one on one type of trip, but by the end of Connecticut they seemed fine. Constantly pulling on the “JK seems to be going along for the ride” thing is again, very Tkkr minded. Jimin planned it and JK said yes, so yes, technically he went along with it. However, Jungkook said himself by the end, he wanted to keep doing it. Jungkook said himself, he wanted to go back to Tokyo/Japan in general with Jimin, because they had such a good time the first time (GCFT).

I get it, you guys want a reason to explain away emotions of theirs you don’t understand, but what’s the point? They are telling us they’re happy. They’re telling us they’re having fun. They’re telling us the memories they’re making together will be what they think back on once enlisted. You’re digging for reasons to claim they’re not being truthful, and that’s why a different version of the show is forming in your head.

I’d also like to state a strong opinion here, that plenty of people hate to see discussed: Jungkook’s personality has always been “disinterested”, and it is likely because he’s neurodiverse. Solos of other members, and JM and Jikook antis alike have been saying the same thing over and over for years about how he acts rude, drifts off, is selfish, overly competitive, etc., as a reason for why they think he dislikes Jimin, dislikes this or that member, is actually in love with Tae, and so on.

Jungkook has even said these things about his personality, and it’s been co-signed by the other members. So while it’s possible he’s never been checked for anything, the truth is whether he knows or not, the parts of his personality you all keep harping on as proof of him “going through the motions,” are common amongst people with autism and ADHD. It’s why fans with them have said for years he reminds them of themselves or people they know. It’s why I say it.

I’m not diagnosing him, but he does share traits, and it isn’t new. Jungkook has always had moments of appearing standoffish and unbothered, yet when he talks about things he did during those same moments, he recounts them with positive words and smiles. Not only that, but every person who has ever had anything to say about JK, has used positive words to discuss him. They say he’s quiet and shy, then proceed to talk about how kind and present he is, meaning when JK is doing things he considers work, he dials in. He puts in effort to always be present and in the moment. Which he and the others had also already told us he does. Jungkook has to put in effort and be very interested in something to get it done. When he’s not working, he has trouble focusing on things that don’t hold his attention fully.

So it is impossible to decide he’s not having a good time with Jimin, just because the same personality he’s has over all these years, remains his personality. You guys just keep ignoring the fact that he has told us it takes effort for him to focus on things. It’s either that or you guys choose to use it against one specific person, which is Jimin.

You like to believe his lack of overt excitement and interest is because he doesn’t want to be with Jimin, when he is telling us that isn’t true. Jeju showed us a lot as well, of how completely blind almost, the members are to JK’s personality, and various other travel shows of theirs have told us the same. They don’t blink twice at his ticks and stims, they don’t really scold him for his dry and blunt reactions and responses, and they laugh off his competitiveness.

Jungkook, and I say this kindly, appears to be a lot to handle. He has a very polar opposite type of personality. When he’s dialed in, it’s difficult to get him to take breaks, to stop criticizing himself. When he’s playing games, he gets really into them and is loud and has a desire to be the winner. When he’s in a quieter mood, he seems to not speak at all and zones out, and wants to be left alone. That is a lot to adjust to, because from all we’ve seen, it doesn’t seem to happen once in a blue moon. It’s a day to day thing, if not hour to hour.

I even recall a time back in 2020 I believe, where it was talked about Jungkook was overstimulated by something during a rehearsal, to the point where he couldn’t participate in their dress rehearsal. He had to keep on the same clothes he’d been wearing and sweating in all day. I don’t remember which stage it was, or else I’d be more specific, but yeah.

Point is, I think the members know who he is, and I think JK has shown us who he is plenty. The members have also shown us who they are, and it seems they all have taken time to learn how to best support each other and their needs, whatever they may be. And speaking specifically of AYS, I simply do not think Jimin would bother rekindling old times if he knew Jungkook truly wasn’t wanting to do it. He’s known him for too long to push his boundaries that way, knowing it would be easily seen in camera how disinterested he’d be. Nor do I think JK would have planned Sapporo if he didn’t really want to do it.

Again, even if we ignore him possibly being neurodivergent, his personality remains what it is, and the members know him. So why force him into something, knowing he’d have to accommodate or makeup for JK’s lack of interest? It doesn’t make sense to me.

Now, I know I got a tad off topic and long winded, but I feel like what was said was necessary. Jungkook isn’t acting any different to how we know him to act, and he is repeatedly voicing his joy as he spends time with Jimin. Ignoring the literal words coming out of his mouth in favor of deciding he is feeling something else, and then taking that something else as reality… that’s on you.

[pastelclovds]

Bo Sinclair— E, H, I, K, Z

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Bo has dated a few people before you (mainly women), and has had sexual relationships with a few of them. But ever since he and his brothers moved into the deserted town, he hasn't had that much action in a while. He knows the basics of sex between a man and a women. But is he experienced with people of different genders? Nope, not at all.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Since he hasn't had sex in a long time, he doesn't bother with trying to groom the hairs below his belt. If there's no people in the town you live in, what's the point? But when he meet you, he definitely tries to make himself look good. He shaves his hairs until there is a little bush left.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Bo didn't have the best childhood growing up. Albeit he was a troublemaker, he was still just a kid who needed help with his temper. Over time, he has changed slightly for the better. But memories from his past still scar his mind, it didn't help that he also had physical scars too. He wasn't really the noisy type during sex, he also didn't like showing his emotions because he was afraid you would view him as weak. But when you gently touch his face, his wrists (where his scars were due to his father taping him down in the arm chairs), and whisper soft praises into his ear, he tries to hold back his tears from surfacing by hiding his face in your neck. You don't tease him for showing the slightest bit of vulnerability, and he appreciates you at lot for that.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Rough sex, public sex, praise, creampie (he likes the warmth of you), and nipple play.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After you clean him and yourself up, and put him on the clean sheets of your bed. He sleeps like a bear in hibernation, he snores like one too. It's also safe to say that sleepy Bo is a lot more cuddly than awake Bo. While he is sleeping away, he wraps his arms around you and snuggles into your chest. He will deny ever doing that to you if you bring it up, but you know that it is bullshit.

all rights reserved © pastelclovds. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate, repost, nor recommend on tiktok the fics seen below as this is strictly prohibited. anyone found doing so will be contacted immediately.

[tieronecrush]

I have a request but it’s also infideltiy so I understand if you ignore this lol.

I’ve been thinking lately about a scenario where reader and Joel have been separated since the outbreak for a few years, reader starts dating some guy in the QZ she’s at, joel shows up and they reunite. Joel really tries to stay away and respect her relationship but they’re both too emotional and horny to resist. I really do love passionate reuinion sex tho!!!!

thank you so much for your request lovely nonnie! i switched it up just a lil bit to make the reader the one who shows up with her bf to boston where joel already is - hope that’s okay!!

muscle memory

joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

word count: 6.5k

summary: when you flee the baltimore QZ to head to boston with your boyfriend and others, the last person you expect to see is joel miller. you had mourned him for years, having thought your last partner was lost to you forever. when the two of you start smuggling together, more time around each other only seems to strengthen your connection - to the point where neither of you can manage the tension anymore.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, no age specified, use of pet names (‘bonny’, ‘little lamb’, ‘sugar’), infidelity, previous relationship, mentions of death/loss, some angsty angst, alcohol use, mentions of drug use, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cockwarming, dirty talk, praise, mild breeding kink, possessive!joel, soft!dom joel

Boston is an upgrade from Baltimore. At least in the state you left it; the Baltimore QZ had finally succumbed to Firefly occupation and FEDRA was forced out. Not that it really mattered to you, but it was another reason to add to the list. The biggest reason for your caravan up north was that your smuggling lines and connections had dried up. Like, completely. Either people found better deals or died on their journeys outside of the walls of whatever QZ they were from. You mostly dealt with Washington and Philly, both having been radio silent for weeks by the time your smuggling group made the decision to move on. You were welcoming the change; sure, the means to get there was full of uncertainty and danger, but the group you were with and your boyfriend of a few months, Danny, made you feel the slightest bit more confident trekking through the decimated country.

It’s been a few weeks since you all officially transitioned into the Boston QZ, registered under FEDRA, and having gone through your quarantine. You all settled into your government-assigned homes, you living with Danny and others grouping up to attempt to make these shabby walls feel like home.

It was easy to be with Danny. You two had known each other for years, done tons of runs together, and developed a comfortable friendship. Your relationship was born out of convenience -- after hooking up one night when you both needed to be taken care of, you stayed together. It was nice to have companionship, but it certainly wasn’t love.

You haven’t felt that way since Joel.

Joel Miller. Your partner when the world went to shit.

The two of you were together for a couple of years, and you were planning to move in with him at the start of the new year - 2004. It was supposed to be your year. Moving in with the love of your life and his daughter that you loved as if she were your own, probably getting engaged or just eloping with him, maybe even talking about growing your little family.

You loved your life before. You mourned it for years after the outbreak happened, knowing you likely wouldn’t see any part of it again.

When Outbreak Day happened, you weren’t with Joel. You weren’t even in Austin. It was the week of your mom’s 60th birthday, and she had begged you to come up north for a visit. You were supposed to fly home on September 26th. You were supposed to surprise Joel for his own birthday.

And then your flight got canceled. Rebooked for the following day.

And everything changed.

But that was years ago, now it’s 2010. Family members were long gone, friends made along the way lost, too. You grieved as well as you could with the way the world moved now. Despite searching for any sign of Joel, or Sarah, or even his brother Tommy, you accepted your fate to be alone and settled in Baltimore.

And now, you were accepting the fate that your new home would be Boston. Seemed like a decent replacement in your mind, and hearing about the smuggling business here made you eager to get involved.

The small group that you traveled with had arranged a meeting with two of the more prolific runners in the city. You weren’t given any details besides a meeting place and time, so when that night came, you and Danny made your way into the dilapidated storage building along with your friends from Baltimore.

You glanced around at the place, attention turning to the small huffs of frustration coming from your boyfriend next to you. He was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket, the grooves stuck in the fabric. Nimble fingers worked it loose as you stood amongst everyone, Danny’s lips pressing to your hairline in a sweet thanks.

There is no way in whatever is holy, if there even is anything out there, that Joel is seeing who he thinks he’s seeing. They must be a figment of his imagination. It’s been seven years.

And then he hears that laugh. This stranger has a laugh that he would recognize anywhere.

That’s your laugh. That smile is yours, too. And when you turn towards him finally, his gaze fixed on you since you entered the room, he meets your eyes. Those eyes that made his heart sing whenever they shined with joy, made him shatter when they were filled with tears, made him completely head over heels for you.

And right now, they were making it all come rushing back. The heartbreak, the loss, the grief, the love.

A small gasp escapes your mouth when you recognize him. He was aging, that much he knew. Had some grays sprinkled into his brown hair, his beard was just as patchy as it had been before. He had harsher lines on his face, the world wearing him down much quicker than it would if the outbreak never happened — if he never knew what loss was like.

You’re taking inventory of all of his changes, and he notices similar ones in you. Your hair is longer, even pulled back he can tell it’s inches past where you normally would keep it. There’s the faintest wrinkles next to your eyes, soft smile lines near your lips. Signs that you stayed light in the world of darkness. That made the pain in his chest lessen just the smallest amount.

He keeps checking that you’re still there during the entire meeting. Tess does the talking, some grumbles of rules coming from him, but he’s thankful that she’s taken the lead ‘cause he doesn’t know if he could get more than a handful of words out at a time. With arms crossed over his chest, he pinches his bicep as he glances at you again, assuring himself that he isn’t dreaming or having a bad trip from those pills he takes.

The rest of the meeting goes by quickly, plans are made for the next few runs to integrate the newest additions. He stays back, hoping that you would do the same. There was no way that he wasn’t going to talk to you; he’d run after you if you left.

Luckily for him, you had understood the subliminal messages in the short bits of eye contact he made with you.

The guy that was with you stayed, too, but he stood near the exit while you stepped closer to Joel.

With you right in front of him, he gave himself another quick pinch before clearing his throat. Just when he was about to break the growing awkward tension in the stale air, he heard your voice crack.

“Hi.”

That’s all you say, and suddenly he can’t help the grin that quips up to the side. A hushed chuckle exhales through his mouth shortly, eyes locking with yours.

“Hey there, bonny.”

He watches your shoulders drop from their frigid position, uneasiness visibly relaxing after the greeting. He grins wider, dimple deepening in his cheek as his chest tightens from the gentle reaction he’s gotten out of you.

He still had the tiniest bit of his accent. Especially when he said that nickname. Short for bluebonnet, Texas’s wildflower, which is where the name originated from. Joel called you his wildflower, and when you asked him what kind of flower one night, he told you he only knew bluebonnets. Typical proud Texan man. Eventually, the moniker turned into ‘bonny’.

It’s a nickname you hadn’t heard since your last phone call with him, disappointment evident in his voice when you had to confess that your planned surprise wasn’t going to happen and that you would be home the next day to celebrate with him belatedly.

“‘S alright, bonny. Sarah’s already got something planned for the two of us. Promised her I’d pick up a cake on the way home from the site.”

Your stomach had toiled with anxiety that day from his sadness that you were going to be missing from his birthday and that he was just missing you. This time around, hearing that same nickname roused your nerves from the thrill that it zipped down your spine, the sound of his voice around the words tingling in your ears.

The two of you make introductions to your respective tag-alongs, Joel to Danny and you to Tess. Greetings were passed and conversation flowed, the two of you skating around your history with company present, only divulging necessary details. You two dated before. That was it. They didn’t need to know how long, how serious, how you mourned the loss of him and the life you two built together.

Ignoring the past in conversation was easy. Ignoring the physical pull you felt towards him was more of a challenge. Heat crawls up your back and settles on the nape of your neck, tongue poking out to wet your lips every few moments. Fingertips itch to touch his skin, to trace the lines on his palms, and to brush over the scar on the right side of his face. One he didn’t have with you, and you wanted to know what it was from.

You wanted to know a lot from him. What these last seven years looked like for him. Once the conversation died down naturally, you faced Joel and asked him gently the first of the two most pressing questions you wanted answered.

“Where’s Tommy? Guessin’ the two of you are still glued to each other like you were back then,” you tack on a light laugh to your query, feeling the rush of panic as you realize that these answers you were wanting might not be answers that you want to hear. A lump forms in your throat as you wait for his response, a tender look on your face.

“He’s, uh, he’s here still. Doesn’t run with us though, he’s been getting into shit with the Fireflies here. Drives me insane, but you know how he is.”

“Always a joiner,” the words roll off your tongue and you bite down on it, cursing yourself internally for making fun of his brother without really knowing how this Joel would respond.

Relief washes over you when he laughs, not a full one, but nevertheless, you got to see a sliver more of that smile that had you smitten.

“Got that right. Tommy always wants to be a hero,” he shakes his head back and forth, an adoring smirk on his face as his stare lengthens and his mind is taken to his younger brother for a moment.

With the news of Tommy, you were even more eager to ask your second question. It gripped your heart, tugging it nearly out of your chest. Your voice softened as you spoke to him, eyes involuntarily watering in anticipation.

“And Sarah?”

Silence. As if the words catch in his throat and start to choke him from the inside. His eyes widen in loss of oxygen, chest still as he holds his breath. He can’t look away from you, eyes quickly pacing to hold contact with yours. They communicate desperation, as if he wants so badly to explain, to tell you what happened to his daughter that you loved, but he can’t get the words out of his airway.

It tells you everything, that look. You hadn’t lost your ability to read Joel, and the realization completely demolishes the composure you were attempting to maintain. Closing the gap between you, you focus on Joel as you wrap your arms around his waist, tight and full of compassion. Your head rests on his chest, facing to the side. Everything else in the room falls away, muscle memory moving your hands in circles against his lower back in the way you remember he loved. He’s tense in your arms, his own wrapping around your shoulders hesitantly until he feels the comforting touch. Tautness breaks from him, resting more of his weight against you as his head dips down to rest his chin on you and his eyes close.

Yours close too, and just for that moment, you’re back in his kitchen, sticky summer morning air coating the room from the open screen door. Cartoons squeak from the TV in the other room, and the smell of Joel’s French toast wafts from it’s crisping on the stove.

Domestic bliss. What could’ve been.

That hug has tormented Joel for weeks. The first time he saw you, the first time he heard your voice, the first time he held you after he thought he never would again. And that one time has unearthed a hunger for more. A need for you. Doesn’t matter if he’s around you or not, he can’t stop thinking about you.

When you’re on runs with him, he has one eye on you at all times. When it’s a route without your boyfriend, he feels a bit bolder; touches linger on your back as he guides you through obstacles or around your arms as he holds you back to get ahead of you to clear a room.

He’s been trying, so desperately trying, to respect your relationship. Not that you mention him much, but you and Danny arrived in Boston, shacked up together, and have made no hints at that changing. For now.

It’s gotten to the point where it’s driven him to drink, added to the long list of things he needs to be inebriated or high to cope with.

This is how he ended up at the QZ speakeasy, a few blocks from his building which makes it an easy past-curfew destination. Sole occupant of the low, barrel table against the back wall, he pounds a whiskey back which quickly turns into three. A buzz has started in his body and his mind, a clear path to his ideal destination on the horizon. It was a shitty run today, mostly coming up dry and having to deny some trades. Plus, you weren’t with him.

When he’s waving the bartender for another glass, his eyes skate across the room and catch you standing at the top landing of the stairs that snake down to the warehouse basement bar, eagerness evident in your expression when you find him. Overprotective, he watches you bound down the stairs to make sure you get to whoever you’re meeting without any issues. He’d be more than happy to step in if someone got too close.

Focused on his self-appointed task, he doesn’t realize that you’re making your way over to him excitedly until you’re standing in front of his table, gesturing to the empty seat across from him that he offers to you.

Plopping down in the wooden chair, a goofy smile stretches across your face as the giddiness of being around him flickers in your stomach. You’d felt this jolt of energy being near him, thinking about him. It’d been like that for weeks since you saw him again and held him. It was a spark, and now your embers were slowly catching fire the more time you spent with Joel.

Greetings were exchanged, and him buying you a drink along with another for himself. Finger tracing around the lip of your glass, you glance up at him and attempt to make small talk if only to be able to hear his voice.

“So, how was the run today?”

“‘S fine. Pretty dry.” His response is clipped, mumbled out as he brings his drink up to his lips for a swig.

“Oh, really? That’s a shame. You got another one planned?” you keep your eyes on him, watching as he looks anywhere but at you. Around the table, across the room, even at his own boot.

“Yeah, got one next week.” Joel’s grumbling, deep crease between his brows as he sulks in his chair.

“Maybe I can join you on that one?” you propose, hoping that it gets his attention. Sure, you could be reading into it, but something told you that he enjoyed having you around as much as you enjoyed being around him. Brows raised in hopefully curiosity, anticipation swells your tongue in your mouth.

“Maybe.”

That’s it? That’s all he has to say?

Joel’s always been a man of few words, always crafting careful and thoughtful responses when you were together. But this? This is ridiculous. He clearly doesn’t want you around, his eyes darting as if to look for the fastest escape route. It stings, deflating your excitement. The chance of this encounter was the sole reason you went out tonight. Danny had fucked off to play poker or gamble away ration cards with some other guys he’d gotten buddy-buddy with, and it didn’t help that you two had been drifting further from each other over the last week. You weren’t sure how much longer this companionship would be worth it, and with Joel always around, it certainly was starting to blur some lines. He always made you feel better, even when he wasn’t trying. Except for tonight.

Your hurt boils into anger, and you scoff at him, arms crossing firmly in front of your chest.

“You keep acting like you’re looking for a chance to leave. If I’m keeping you here, feel free to go. I’ll drink by myself.”

Joel looks at you, his eyes softening. He opens his mouth, then shuts it, thinking about what he should say. You get annoyed by his lack of response, grabbing your drink off the table and slipping out of your chair to leave him there.

“Are you really that oblivious, bonny?”

You turn back, anger growing at the thought that he’s mocking you.

“Well, screw me for trying to make conversation with you, Joel. I guess I am oblivious ‘cause I thought we could be friends or, I don’t know, at least civil after all this time.”

“Bonny, I can’t be friends with you.”

He’s kicking you when you're down, clearly just being cruel.

“Why? What did I do?”

“I can’t be friends with you, ‘cause I want more than that.”

The honesty stuns you. Sure, you had felt that pull towards Joel again, but you didn’t know that he felt the same way or that he would act on it if he did. He gets up from his chair, taking a step closer to you before he continues.

“I looked for you, y’know? After everything. All I wanted was to have you back. I knew you’d know what I needed. And when I saw you again, I realized why I couldn’t stop looking. What I needed most was you.”

He stands close to you now, warm breaths intermingling with the other’s, humidity heating your cheeks while his eyes stay locked on you. Everything you’ve felt since Joel had been revived into your life suddenly becomes overwhelming; you can’t contain them, can’t compartmentalize them anymore. You reach for him, hand pressed over his heart, feeling the rushed beating pulsing under your touch.

His eyes look down slowly to his chest and then back up to you when you whisper, “Mine feels the same way when I see you.”

“Is that right? Can I feel for myself?”

You nod slowly, peeling your hand off of him only for him to catch it and hold it in his. Your voice is thick, “Maybe somewhere a little more private? Like your place?”

He looks confused for a second, brows knitting together before it dawns on him, pupils widening and darkening his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here, bonny.”

Keys jingle as he twists them in the lock, throwing the thin wooden door open after he pulls them out. He nods for you to step in ahead of him, taking a few paces into the apartment and surveying around. The door clicks behind you and the deadbolt slides into place, the sounds sending goosebumps across your skin at the prospect of being totally alone with Joel, no watchful eyes or possible interruptions.

Eyes continue to skate along the room, tiny details noted. Half-drunk whiskey bottle on the counter, small baggies of pills on the coffee table, other finds from his side occupation littering the space.

His weighted steps drag across the worn wooden floors at your back, the presence of him hanging behind you slowing your breaths in suspense. Saliva coats your mouth at the dryness of your thirst, hair standing off of your skin in waiting.

The first touch you feel is his fingers brushing against the back of your neck, sweeping the hair there off to one side and holding it there. Joel takes one step closer, chest pressing against your shoulder blades and crotch against the swell of your ass. The warmth radiating off of him sends a shiver down your spine, jolting against him briefly. Your breaths pause as you wait for his next move, eyes fluttering closed when his lips touch the nape of your neck in a ghostly kiss. A hand wraps around you, resting just over your breast to feel the rapid beating of your heart, the rhythm matching his own that you feel against your back. A placid gasp puffs from between your lips, snapping the taut tension between the two of you and sending a new urgency to his actions.

Palms encase your hips, spinning you around to face him and tugging you close to feel every curve pushed against him. His lips find yours in a hungry kiss, your own mouth opening in a sigh at the contact. Joel takes this as an opportunity to lick into your mouth, tongue dominating yours and swallowing every whimper that comes out of you.

Your own hands grip his shoulders, nails dragging against the fabric down to his biceps. Fingertips dig into the flexed muscles, steadying yourself as he starts to walk you backward throughout his place. He never leaves your lips, knowing the space with his eyes closed to lead you all the way back through the door to the small bedroom on the left side of the living space.

A whine escapes you when his mouth detaches from yours, working kisses along your jaw to the hollow under your ear, sucking at the space there. A groan rumbles from his chest when you let out a soft moan and hold his arms tighter, hips involuntarily jerking against his growing bulge.

Lust-blown eyes stare into yours as he stands up fully again, delicate touch brushing your cheek before his thumb nudges the scar that sits on your brow. The look in his eyes pains for half a second, and you finally speak up since leaving the speakeasy.

“‘S not a good story. Happened from a lamp falling onto my head when I was raiding around some suburban house. Just an accident. You wouldn’t have been able to stop it from being there.”

His gaze meets yours again, tugged away from the fibrous tissue on your face. The bulb in his throat bobs when he swallows, head moving side to side minutely.

His hand caresses your cheek, voice thick with his drawl when he softly responds, “You underestimate me, bonny.”

The words gloss your vision, quick blinks settling the emotion and clearing the picture of Joel in front of you again. Your heart constricts in your chest, attempting to imagine the amount of pain that he’s been through, but you can’t even begin to know.

Instead of dwelling on the moment, he presses one light, affectionate kiss to your lips before he takes a step back. He grips the hem of your shirt, brows quirking up in a silent question. You nod subtly, the permission allowing him to slowly tug the fabric over your head. He devours the newly exposed skin with his burning stare, compelled to bend down and trace his lips over every new mark he sees while his hands move across your curves to reacquaint himself with your new features. Wider hips, rougher skin, purply stretch marks veining your skin along with ropy paths where injuries had healed over.

Joints crack softly as he settles onto his knees in front of you, sending you into light giggles while he groans and presses his forehead against your lower tummy. He reaches around and playfully smacks your jean-covered ass, a fake scowl on his face when he looks up at you from his praying position.

“‘Nuff gigglin’ at me, you’re gonna feel this sore come morning.”

The threat of his words floods arousal between your thighs, bottom lip toyed between your teeth as you quiet down your laughter. Joel kisses your clothed thigh, fingers popping the button of your jeans and dragging the zipper before they hook in your waistband and tug the denim down your legs. Joel laughs lightly at your silence, eyes finding yours as his hands lift each of your feet one at a time to help you out of your pants.

“Thought that might get you excited, lil’ lamb. I know you’re gonna be such a good girl for me, aren’t ya?”

The wink that follows his drawl jolts your limbs and fingers twist into his locks as his open mouth exhales warm, humid air on your panty-covered mound. He presses his face against the fabric, inhaling deeply and moaning softly at the scent of you.

“Fuck, sugar, it’s still the same. Missed you so much. You think you still taste the same?” He directs the question up to your face, your head lulled down to meet his gaze. A smirk pulls at the corners of your mouth, mischief glittering in your eyes.

“Only one way to find out, baby.”

His amber eyes were pools of ink with how much they darkened, full of carnality. Large fingers smoothly strip you out of your panties, his figure coming to stand at his full height in front of you. Gripping your waist, he guides you back to sit on the edge of the mattress, lifting your legs by your thighs and easily maneuvering you toward the center.

Joel moves to climb onto the bed with you, but your soft sigh of frustration stops him.

“I wanna see you. ‘Specially if I’m completely naked, ‘s only fair that you are, too,” you gripe to him, bottom lip protruding only slightly in a pout. Joel considers for a moment, ultimately deciding that fair’s fair. He pulls his knee off of the mattress and makes quick work of undressing, his own clothes laying rumbled on the floor with yours.

Satisfied with his fulfillment of your request, your eyes completely devour his bare body as he moves to kneel on the mattress between your open legs. Fighting for survival has kept him fit, broad shoulders flexing as he lifts your legs at the crook of your knees to spread them further. His chest is firm, the rest of his torso softer just as it had always been. It was one of your favorite parts of him, the sight of it now taking you back to times cuddling him on the couch or in bed, head in his lap to press kisses against his tummy or resting your head there and being lulled to sleep. Your fingernails comb through the happy trail, pressing into the skin of his lower abdomen as you sit up to kiss him deeply. He moans quietly against your lips, your knees pressing into his stocky thighs, toes curling against the flexed muscles in his calves. Your arms settle around his neck, lips chasing his as he pulls back to look at you.

“I really did miss you, bonny. Couldn’t believe it when you were in front of me again. Still can’t really believe it right now.” His voice is breathy, eyes holding yours, moving back and forth minutely. One of his hands encompasses the left side of your face, the other moving down between your bodies, his frame bent over yours. Two fingers work circles into your clit, inhale catching in your throat while your legs tense from the feeling of his touch on you.

“M-Missed you, too. So much. I looked for you everywhere I went. Needed you again, I need you now.”

“‘M right here, lil’ lamb. Not going anywhere again. I’m gonna make you feel so good, just like I used to.”

His fingers working your clit slip through your wetness, pressing against your entrance to coax a moan out of you. He hooks them into you, pushed against your spongy walls in search for that spot he’d been all too familiar with. Like riding a bike, he fell right back into what you had loved from him before, knowing just how to work you up. His jaw dropped slightly as his eyes glued to where his fingers thrusted into you; he closed his mouth every so often to swallow the saliva flooding his mouth until he couldn’t wait another second to taste you again.

Joel folded over, legs scooting back on the bed to allow his head to sit between your thighs, tongue lapping against your clit feverishly and switching with his lips every so often to suck at the same spot.

The sounds leaving you at that point were wanton and lewd, mixing with the squelch of your wetness. You felt the familiar knot tightening in your stomach until it’s pulled loose, a loud gasp of his name while your nails dig into his shoulder and walls tighten around him.

He keeps his pace, mouth still attached to your core. He’s not going to let up without you saying something, and you can’t take another moment without him giving you what you want — what you need from him. Fingers tangled in his mussed hair, peeling him from between your thighs. He meets your eyes, lips and chin shining with dampness in the low light of the bedroom and fingers pulling out of you. Eyes blown into blackness at the sight of your pleasure, mouth opening to speak when you cut him off.

“More of that later, if you really want it. But I need you. Inside of me.”

Joel smirks devilishly, fingers coated in your come pushing between your lips and into your mouth for you to clean off.

“Just tastes so sweet, bonny. Can’t help but want seconds,” his hard cock twitches where it lays against your thigh at the feeling of your tongue sucking his fingers, “Better ask again nicely, lamb. Or else I’m not giving you anything.”

The smirk stays painted on his face, a huff of frustration as your hips jerk up to chase his hand that hover over you, desperate for more.

“Please, pretty please. I need you,” you beg, pleading in your eyes as you look through your lashes, dull nails scratching his skin.

“That’s my good girl. Kept your manners.” The wink he sends you flutters your walls around nothing, whimpering as he manipulates you into his desired position.

Joel straddles one of your thighs, bringing the other up to lay against his torso and rest on his shoulder. Your hips turn only slightly to the side in the position, opening your pelvis into a kindling heat. He spits in one of his palms, fingers of the same hand running shortly through your arousal and then mixing the fluids to coat the tender skin of his length. The head of him pushes into you deliciously measured, his motion pausing for you to adjust.

It only takes a moment before your body remembers, the muscles of your tight pussy molding around him once again. Your body feels the familiarity of him, the reactions it has are heightened from the comfort of his own body, focusing solely on how perfectly he fits inside of you.

“Damn, sugar, feel like your little pussy got even tighter. Feels so pefect around me, like she knows who’s about to fuck her just right,” his voice is coated with lust, jaw laxing with a guttural groan when he pushes further into you.

When Joel finally starts a rhythm, slow and deep at first, your eyes roll back into your skull as your head presses hard into the mattress under you. The position brings him incredibly deep, and his size fills you nearly to the brim. It was a feeling you hadn’t felt since the last time you’d had him, his veins on his swollen cock carving the same paths along your insides to feel every detail of him.

“Feel so full, baby. Haven’t felt it since I had you last,” your voice is higher and breathier, toned in a whine.

“That’s right, bonny. Nobody makes you feel as good as I do, huh? Probably haven’t had a decent fuck for years, you poor thing.”

All you can do in response is moan, hands gripping his forearms that are the part of his nearest to you.

He fucks you like this for a good moment, moaning your name quietly before he huffs in frustration, completely pulling out of you. Immediately, you mewl at the loss, head shooting up to protest before he’s moving you to his will again.

“Just a second, sugar. Need to be able to kiss you and feel you all over. Being such a good girl for me, I promise you’re gonna love this.”

He still couldn’t be as deep and close to you as he needed to be in the previous position, so he manipulates your jellied limbs easily to be able to fully cover you with his body. His grip is on your knees, bending your one leg that was once between his thighs to move your calf to hook over his shoulder. Once both your legs are settled on his frame, he continues to stretch your hips by leaning over you, pinning your thighs back to your ribs. He’s completely opened your lower half, folding you back to the point where his tummy is resting against yours and his face is hovering over you. Muscles in your legs and hip flexors burn and spasm, but you can’t care for even a moment when Joel thrusts into you again. You’d never been in this position with him before, and your mind instantly clears of any thoughts besides how hard and deep Joel is fucking you, how you had never felt as full and complete as you did in that moment.

He chuckles as he watches you completely cock drunk, one hand leaving your leg. The large palm finds your lower abdomen, pressing against it as he locks his gaze in yours.

“Can you feel me right here, lil’ lamb? Feel me deep, pushing your belly?” His voice is sweetened sickeningly, the pride and amusement of being the one to give you this experience, to make you feel that full once again evident in the twinkle of his eyes and the sideways smirk on his face.

Chants of his name leave your mouth, your voice barely covering the sounds of his skin slapping against yours steadily.

With him inside of you, it was like two puzzle pieces joining together to finish the picture. The satisfaction of completion was there on all fronts, his rhythm frying your nerves and tightening that red hot coil in your core. With his body covering yours in this embrace, he keeps his mouth on you, heady kisses to your lips when you can take it and mouth biting or licking along your chin, jaw, and neck when you need to breathe.

His motions switch up in the next instant, pushed into you at the hilt as his hips circle to grind you on him. He makes tight figure eights, the act getting you to the point where he’s fucked you completely dumb. All you want in that moment is to feel his warm spend inside of you, watch his face contort from his own pleasure. You can tell he’s close the less he speaks and the more he pants, head falling to your shoulder and eyes closing as he focuses hard to keep pace.

“Come inside me, please. I want it,” your tone is urgent, spilling the words out before your orgasm blinds you white-hot, mind clear of everything except for the euphoric high Joel’s given you. Tightening around him, he moans loudly, thrusts becoming messy and stacatto as he chases his own peak.

“God, such a perfect girl for me. You gonna keep my come in you all night? Go back to your boyfriend tomorrow with it dripping out?”

All you can do is nod, cunt fluttering around him as it starts to work into overstimulation, the rub of his skin against your clit so pleasurable it’s getting painful. Your voice falters when a third orgasm pulses through you.

“Y-Yes, yes. I want you inside for as long as it’ll stay there. Pl-Please, baby.”

Your begging pushes Joel over the edge, hips stuttering as ropes of his warm spend fill you up. He starts to work into you again, fucking it deeper before he finishes.

The pair of you are sweaty, sticky messes; hair tangled, lips swollen, eyelids heavy in recovery. Joel stays inside of you, gently moving your legs down and his own arms wrapping under you to lay you on your side with him, lifting one of your legs to rest on his hip.

Soft, supple kisses are shared as the two of you drift in and out of consciousness, eventually falling asleep completely.

Blue tinted sunlight creeps into the sole window of Joel’s bedroom, the night sky fading into a lilac dawn. You’re studying Joel as he sleeps, long lashes grazing his cheeks, lips parted just enough to let some light snores escape. Your finger delicately traces the scar on his right temple, your featherlight touch causing his eyes to flutter open and find your gaze half awake.

Joel’s immediately in fight or flight mode, arm around your waist tightening as he holds you closer.

“You okay? Something happen?” His voice is hoarse from sleep, clearing his throat as the slight panic wakes his up more.

Gently, you rest your hand on his chest and shake your head with a tender smile.

“Everything’s fine, you can relax. I was just lookin’ at you before I have to go home.”

Joel deflates, brow creasing at the mention of you needing to leave, to go home to your equally shitty apartment and some guy that wasn’t him. Jealousy flicked in his chest, a confession sitting in his throat for a minute before he let it out.

“I really did mean it, y’know. I need you. Now that I’ve got you back in my life, I can’t let you go. You’re some of the only family I’ve got left, and I don’t think I could survive losing you again.” His voice is shaky, wet brown eyes locked with yours. You have rarely seen Joel this unguarded, even in your life before, without the hardness that had come with the constant threat to his survival hanging over his head. The words wrapped around your heart, squeezing tightly and ripping it out of your chest to give to him. Silence falls between the two of you as an understanding washes over you, relaxing your body as the memory of safety, comfort, and home ripples throughout every muscle. You tell him what you have felt since the moment you saw him again:

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel. Not without you.”

tagging the mutuals: @swiftispunk @joelsversion @johnwatsn @midnightswithdearkatytspb @pedrit0-pascalit0 @theelishad @undrthelights @ladamedusoif @ruinedbylanadelrey @thetriumphantpanda @pedgeitopascal @dinsdjrn @thepascalofus @pedgito @soaringcloud @somedayauthor @alloftheimagines @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters @atinylittlepain @nicolethered @scrambledslut @lunapascal

[reviewdiaries]

Love and ferrets - Ace in 4x06

Ace, Ace, Ace, my dude, you had the best of intentions but boy you did not think this through.

Two of Ace’s love languages are acts of service and sacrifice. Any attempts to break the curse where it’s just his life on the line and he is there, no holds barred, ready and willing yes please let’s give that curse what for. As soon as there’s even the slightest hint that Nancy might be in danger through his actions and he immediately leaps to there’s no way we’re ever trying that again thanks. He doesn’t care how miserable it makes him, he can’t bear the thought of a world without her in it. Combine that with his serious issues with self-worth and he convinces himself whilst Nancy is in the hospital that it isn’t worth it - that he isn’t worth it. He can’t give her everything of himself, everything that he thinks she needs and wants and deserves, so he’ll sacrifice what he could have with her so that she has the chance to find that with someone else. Has he thought that through fully? No, but that’s beside the point, it’s the thought that counts. Calculation number one where he’s added two things together and come up with the sad emoji.

So he doesn’t think he’s worth it - definitely not worth Nancy’s life, or even the possibility of her life. That means they have to go back. Only untangling what they were to each other before is another calculation he’s failed to accurately make. They’ve both had feelings for each other for much longer than the other realised, and that’s impacted every part of their relationship. Their friendship is coloured by those feelings, by time and emotion and acts of love that they have performed again and again and again. They can’t just go back to being friends because they have loved each other (in so many different variations) from so early on that it’s impossible to unravel.

But Ace looks back at their relationship and he settles, no matter how deliberately, on one of his love languages to show that they’re ok - acts of service. He’s always made himself useful - to the investigation, the crew, Nancy. Tying back into his self worth, he thinks they wouldn’t want to be friends with him unless he’s useful, so he’s constantly trying to prove himself, trying to prove that they need him (they do need him, but not just for the reasons he thinks they do). If he can do this, tie up this investigation that’s been plaguing her for weeks, this will magically fix everything, it will show her (and him) that things can go back to how they were, he can be useful to her, he can make this thing easier, and then magically, it will all be ok. He’s not really looking beyond the immediate because that would require a bit more self awareness than he’s really got capacity for right now, so he fixates on this. 

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

This one thing, he does this one thing and it makes it right. This one thing and she’ll look at him like she used to. This one thing and the bitter taste in his mouth will ease and he’ll stop feeling like he’s cut off a limb and rewind back to when he just had an idea in his head of Nancy, rather than the reality of her warm and soft in his arms.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

He’s stopped looking after himself, thrown himself into his work. He’s barely eating, only when other people stop by or send him meals does he think to wolf anything down to keep himself going. Otherwise it’s methodical work and organising parts and small puzzles that aren’t related to Nancy so his mind doesn’t tear itself apart thinking about her and the last time he saw her, right here in the morgue looking beautiful and heartbroken and telling him about finding another great love. 

Lying to her is hard work, so if he doesn’t see her and focuses on something else maybe it will get easier, and he doesn’t have to think about the fact that she’s it for him, there won’t be another great love, not like her, never like her. 

He can’t bear to go back to his flat with its shattered barometer and sheets that still smell like her from when she lay there with that beautiful smile on her face and told him all the ways he’d touched her. She is in so many places for him, but at least in the morgue it’s cold and impersonal.

He becomes so fixated on this one thing, finding Chunky, that he keeps on not being where he should be. He’s not there helping Bess with the portal, because that would mean seeing Tristan and he’s still trying to work out why it stings that Tristan was there with her when she got sucked through, that Tristan left her there. If it had been him with her none of this would have happened, he would have protected her, he wouldn’t have just left her there.

And he’s not helping look at the school, because he trusts Nick and George and right now he might be able to solve this other thing and when Nancy’s back he’s got an excuse to see her, to take Chunky to her and they can talk and maybe he can unknot more of how he’s feeling.

But he is there at the portal because of course he’s going to go through and save her. He should have been there in the first place, and he’s not letting Tristan go through and risk screwing it up again. But everyone else argues for Tristan and he ends up pinned in place waiting for a sight of Nancy, to know she’s ok, to see her and reassure himself that she’s ok she’s safe, it’s over. 

Only Tristan is practically dragging her through the portal and she’s got blood on her and he can’t do anything. He is paralysed by the portal and the curse and how tied up everything is and he can’t even touch her, pull her through, reassure himself that she’s ok. He can’t take his eyes off her. And when she quips how’s everyone else's day going his laugh feels shaky with the depth of his relief, and all he can do is breathe through the adrenaline that’s spiked through him with fear.

They go their separate ways, and she’s with George and Bess so he knows she’s ok, and then he gets the call that she’s not, and he runs. He should be there with her to hold her hand as Bess makes the cut, smooth the hair from her forehead and whisper that it’s ok, that it’s going to be ok. But he’s too late. He’s been so fixated on getting a trap and trying to catch Chunky for her, trying to prove himself, trying to take his mind off all the ways he thinks he’s failing, that he almost isn’t there in time. And he bursts through the door and Nancy is cowering and blood stained and pale and he doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate to protect her. Love isn’t about dying for each other only when it’s Nancy’s life on the line. Ace will put himself in front of her every time. He will step up and hold the line, protect her with his life every time. Every. Single. Time.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

She knows that. The look they share after the spider is dead shows that. He loves her and he won’t say it, can’t say it, can’t act on it, but he shows her in so many ways so many times.

And then she collapses and he flings himself over to her but the god damn curse stops him from reaching out. He’s trained himself so well not to reach for her, even when it’s killing him not to hold her, reassure himself that she’s there, she’s ok, that this too shall pass and she’s still breathing and it’s just the aftershocks of having a spider cut out of her. 

He feels untethered, shaken by the events of the day, but reassured by the moment shared with Nancy. Something is still there, it’s not completely broken whatever it is between them now. He keeps pushing her away, desperately trying to convince her it’s better if they don’t try, better that they’re not together. But he is so terrified to lose her, he keeps trying to find ways to bring them back together again.

And then. And then. Chunky. It’s a sign that things are on the right track. It’s a sign that things are going to be ok. It’s a sign that all isn’t lost and they can find their way back to each other. It’s a reason to seek her out, to see her, when he’s been telling himself he can’t. Every time he finds himself going to see her and has to turn himself around. Every time he’s reached for his phone to message her and tells himself he can’t. What would he say? He can’t tell her the truth - he loves her, he misses her, please let them keep trying. He can’t reopen that - not convinced that she’d say yes, convinced himself he’s not worth it, convinced himself that in the scales of him and Nancy the world would be fine without him but crumble without Nancy.

He’s so excited to see her and he’s so proud of all the work he did, and this right here is proof that they’ll be ok and they can still be friends and they can still mean something to each other and it isn’t ruined and he can still be helpful and she’ll still want to be around him. He doesn’t even knock, just slips in because he can hear music. And it’s like the bottom is punched out of his stomach, like his heart has been clenched in an iron fist. Because she’s slow dancing with someone else, not just anyone else, Tristan. Who has made it very clear he likes Nancy and he’s there in a stupid suit and there are flowers on the table and he’d told her to move on, but honestly the words and the reality were two separate things that he hadn’t really figured out how to put together yet. Two jigsaw pieces that he can look at in isolation but don’t fit no matter how he jams them together.

He wanted things to go back, but he realises in those moments watching her slow dance with someone else - someone who can hold her and touch her and kiss her - that going back was never an option. They could only ever move forward, it was just a choice about how they did that, and his fear of losing her dictated which path they took. He could be there, not holding her (maybe holding her) searching for ways to break the curse (already having broken the curse), laughing with her, teasing her, deepening the intimate connection they’d already forged in those days after she finally told him about the curse. Sharing time and memories and getting to see her, be with her, be the one that she looks at with love. But he let fear decide and now he’s left holding a ferret in a cage watching her with someone else.

He can’t think logically that maybe Nancy’s hurting too, maybe that’s why she’s reaching for comfort from anyone because Ace has broken her heart more thoroughly than she ever dreamed possible, and he’s made his feelings about their relationship perfectly clear. No, all he can see right there is all the ways he’s lacking, and all the ways Tristan is not.

And Chunky was hope. Chunky was a tether holding him to Nancy. Chunky was finding a path back to each other. But now there’s no hope. There’s just letting her go, no matter how much it hurts. There’s just shame that he thought he was still important. There’s just embarrassment over how revealing it would be to hand her Chunky, to leave Chunky where she could find him. Because Nick would tell her what had happened and it would be tied back to Ace, and how can he brush those feelings off, pretend he doesn’t feel as deeply as he does, pretend she isn’t consuming his thoughts and his actions and desires. 

He can’t bear it, so he takes Chunky and lets him loose - nearby so hopefully he’ll find his way to Nancy anyway but it can’t be tied back to him. But as he does this (another small act of love, acts of service, acts of sacrifice) Chunky bites him and god that hurts. All of it. Everything about this hurts.

GIF Credit  @nevenaxh

He can barely hold himself together as he gets back into Florence and drives, screeching away from Icarus Hall like the gates of hell have opened behind him. Like his heart is breaking. Like he’s shattered into pieces and some of them are being left behind.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Hi! Could I request the SFW alphabet for Desdemona, please?

Also, I really like your username <3

➼ Word Count » 1.2k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ A/N » You're so sweet, Nonnie! Hope you had a nice day <3

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Dez isn’t a very physical person. She’s busy and doesn’t have the time or patience to do anything like that. Instead, she shows her affection through her words, vocally standing up for you or simply telling you how important you are to the Railroad (and her, but she doesn’t want to pick favorites).

B - Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

In every timeline, the friendship starts with synths and the Railroad. She’s an incredibly supportive friend and always seems to be there whenever anything goes down. She’s not afraid to speak up for you and defend you whenever she deems it necessary. If you’re a part of her cause then you’re a part of her family, and she’d be damned if you caught any fire for it.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

She’s not doing that, so you can just forget it. Touching isn’t her thing. The most you’d ever get is a firm pat on the back.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

One day she would. She’s more than a decent cook and would love to have a child, but for now, her job will have to come first. The apocalypse isn’t exactly the easiest environment to raise a child in, and her survival and the survival of those around her is the most important thing right now.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She’d be very direct with you. She prefers it that way, whether that be the business-driven person within her or not. She’d give it to you straight and as professional as possible, although, the slightest bit of emotion is guaranteed to show.

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

She’s fine with commitment, but would rather wait till the Railroad was in a more stable place before officially tying the knot. Getting married in the middle of a war isn’t always the best course of action.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Dez is just the right amount of gentle to where she’s kind but doesn’t coddle you. You’ll always get the truth from her and, unless you did something outrageous, she wouldn’t find it in her to shout at you or anything.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Her hugs are rare, only happening when something big has gone down. When you finally destroyed the Institute, she let out a huff of disbelief before enveloping you in a tight, albeit short, hug.

I - I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

She’s more of a “show don’t tell” type of person. She doesn’t say she loves you often, but you can always tell through her infinite actions. Sometimes she’ll give you extra boxes of Cram, and that’s how you’ll understand she cares.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Dez feels very secure in herself and her relationships and just doesn’t have it in her to feel jealous of anyone. She will, however, get pretty vocal if she notices someone getting a bit too handsy with you, but it’s more so you don’t feel uncomfortable than her being jealous.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Firm and long. She never knows when one kiss will be your last, so she always makes sure they count, and they’re always on your lips.

L - Little ones (How are they around children?)

She’s amazing with kids. Dez doesn’t always get the chance to be around them in her line of work, so she likes to make a point of playing along whenever she does. She’ll humor their questions, and hand them little trinkets and whatnot.

M - Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are spent restocking the deaddrops and mapping out the next course of action.

N - Night (How are nights spent with them?)

The nights are spent counting heads to make sure everyone survived another day, before taking a quick smoke break in the pews of the church.

O - Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

She’s built on secrecy, therefore it’s incredibly important for her to slowly introduce things about herself to you. She’s a huge political figure in the Commonwealth currently, and can’t afford to have any weakness for the time being.

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The only way she’d get angry is if you recklessly put someone’s life in danger, but other than those extreme cases, she's an incredibly level-headed individual.

Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Are you kidding? She remembers everything. From the exact words, you said down to the date you both met. What kind of leader would she be if she didn’t catch everything in passing?

R - Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Her favorite moments are those rare occasions when the two of you walk down to Bunker Hill together to discreetly pass messages to other agents, before hitting the bar.

S - Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Dez is VERY protective, but she’s sorta that way with everyone under her. Of course, she expects that same loyalty in return, but truly, if it ever were to come down to it, she’d very willingly take a bullet for you.

T - Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Not much, she hardly hands you gifts. She’ll reminisce and thank you for everything you do, but she hardly has the time to search for gifts to give you.

U - Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She's almost always stressed and can sometimes start projecting it onto you. It usually comes in the form of her snapping, but she definitely tries her best to keep herself calm.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She'll do small things to touch up here and there, but nothing big. She just thinks it's important to look somewhat presentable when you're expected to lead an entire movement. She refuses to look like a hobo.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

In short, no, Dez is a very independent person and makes a point to never be too attached to anyone.

X - Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

She's a caffeine addict and is almost always drinking any form of coffee or nuka-cola drinks she can find.

Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone inconsiderate or irresponsible. She needs someone willing to stick by her and make rational decisions, not only for themselves but for everyone around them.

Z - Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Whenever she has time. It's very sporadic and unplanned, but she's adapted fairly well to it.

[eddiemunsonw]

Hopelessly Devoted To You

Steddie drabble :)

Summary: Steve sings his heart out, breaking Eddie's in the process

CW/Disclaimer: Slight angst, mainly because Eddie jumps to conclusions, but it ends with fluff &lt;3

Author's note: Love my clueless boy

Words: 1772

Karaoke Night. Whoever’s idea that was deserved many things, varying from a kiss to a punch because of what it was doing to Eddie currently. Or rather, what Steve was doing to him. Of course the fucker had picked something that would make his heartrate go alarmingly high and his pants uncomfortably tight. Most of all though, he was hurting by the way Steve sang it. His voice was good. Just the perfect kind of soft, warm and laced with emotion which seemed to have built up for a while. Who would have thought tonight would end with Eddie crumbling apart watching Steve sing “Hopelessly Devoted To You”? He sure as fuck didn’t. Eddie watched as Steve’s eyebrows knit together, his hand clutching the microphone just a little tighter and he allowed himself to wonder briefly who he could be singing about. Imagined Steve was singing about him, just to crush his own dreams when the realization kicked in that Steve would never, ever sing such a heartfelt song about him. Not Steve. Not ever.

Eddie’s grip on his knees was straining as he watched him. Seeing him getting lost in his own feelings like that, he felt like an idiot for thinking he ever stood a chance. He could see how Nancy was looking at him. Of course it was her. The one that got away, the one that broke his heart and still carried it around to this day. While Eddie didn’t think Nancy was exactly right for him, he understood why Steve fell for her. She was caring, sweet, and strong. Pretty too. His eyes felt a bit watery near the end but he blamed it on the smoke machine that Argyle had brought along. Steve deserved someone who cared as much for him as he did about them. The person he was singing about. If it wasn’t Nancy, then… He shuddered. He didn’t even want to think about a new person stealing his heart. Fuck. What if it was a guy? Ever since he learned that Steve swung both ways, it had given him more despair than anything else. A second of euphoria, then the realization that he may be a guy but he was still nowhere near Steve’s… He was no match for all the pretty guys out there. Steve would probably get swept up by some type of golden retriever surfer guy who also happened to be romantic or something. Fuck.

Steve sat down next to him, his leg bumping into his, his hand momentarily resting on his knee when he adjusted himself. His hand lingering for… no good reason at all. It drove Eddie mad. He also missed it when it was gone. Eddie relished in the slightest pressure that his knee gave against his own and even indulged by slightly pressing his own too under the guise of a manspread. Steve didn’t seem to mind. Christ, he was pathetic.

“Steve? Can you show me where the snacks are?” Nancy interrupted his thoughts instantly and he cursed her as Steve leaned away from him to angle his body towards Nancy. He glanced down at Steve’s feet, angled in her direction. It was stupid, he knew it didn’t make sense. It was only natural that your feet pointed in the direction of the person you were talking to. It didn’t have to mean anyth—

“They’re in the left cabinet of the—”

“Steve. Show me, please?”

Now what the fuck was up with that? Steve mumbled a soft “Oh,” before getting up and joining Nancy in the kitchen. Which was way too far away and behind a wall meaning Eddie had no way to see what was happening over there. Unless…

“Gonna direct my juices towards the sewers.” He announced to no one in particular.

Robin cringed. “Why’d you have to say it like that?”

“Gonna send them on a journey amongst feces and yellow waters? Better?”

“Just go take the piss, dude, Jesus.”

Eddie snorted and headed for the hallway, halting once he found a spot to lurk from. Christ. What was he doing? He could see Nancy was looking up at him with big eyes, she almost looked concerned. Eddie pierced his ears and tried his best to eavesdrop.

“... that song I just sang? It was… about you.”

Fuck. Fuck shit fuck FUCK. It took all of his restraint not to bang the wall with his fist. He hated being right. Downright hated it. 

“Steve…” 

Nope, nope. He was going to take a piss and then fuck off. He could claim he wasn’t feeling well, whatever. There was no way he was staying. 

His hands were shaking still when he left the bathroom and when he spotted them hugging, still in the same fucking spot, from the corner of his eye he’d had enough. He wasn’t going to wait politely for them to get back to the living room either. He was just gonna get his jacket and—

“Jesus, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost, Eddie,” Robin remarked as he pulled his jacket from a chair. Then, in a more serious tone: “Are you alright?”

Eddie shook his head. “Not feeling too great Buckley. I blame that weird lookin’ pepperoni slice on my pizza earlier.”

“Don’t insult the Abraham Lincoln pepperoni like that.”

“Still no clue how you saw that in it. Anyway, I’m out. Have a good one.”

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Steve!” she called after him. “And Nancy!”

“Already did,” he lied before he headed through the door. He could always pretend he was feeling so light in the head he had dreamt the encounter. The gravel crunched under his Reeboks as he crossed the path towards his van and he only realized he was crying when his vision got blurry when there was no reason for it.

“Munson! Eddie! Wait up!” 

Fucking hell. Not now. Still. Who could say no to an angel, right? He stopped in his tracks and quickly wiped some tears away as quickly as he could without looking suspicious before he turned around.

“Harrington. Sorry dude, didn’t mean to leave so quickly but,” he gestured at his stomach, “out of my control.”

“You didn’t say goodbye,” Steve, ever the sentimental guy. Looked almost upset by it. Probably the beer intake. “You need a ride?” 

“You’ve been drinking a lot more than me, sweetheart.” Fuck.

Steve’s cheeks turned pink, but Eddie didn’t exactly notice. He was too busy staring at his hands after his slip up.

“Uhm… maybe. But. Uhm. I don’t know, I could come with you? Make sure you’re alright?”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you away from your people.” From Nancy.

“O-Or you could stay? My room is soundproof so you won’t be disturbed or anything and that way I can check in on you or you could—”

“Steve.” Eddie couldn’t handle his kindness. Not now. “I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not fine. What’s going on that got you in literal,” Steve gestured wilder than he meant to, “tears? That’s not fine.”

“Hay fever, whatever, I don’t fucking know, man. I just know I gotta… go.”

“Eddie. Talk to me man, c’mon. Robin said you looked like shit all of a sudden.”

Eddie sighed loudly, covered his face with his hands and groaned exasperatedly. Whatever, right? He couldn’t possibly continue to hang out with them anyway if Steve got back together with Nancy. It would fucking break him so why the fuck not. Honesty it was.

“It’s really fucking stupid, Steve.”

“It’s not stupid, Eddie. I promise.” 

A hand on his shoulder. Christ this man was gonna kill him one way or another, wasn’t he?

“The song you sang. I heard you say—”

“Oh, fuck. You heard that?” Steve suddenly sounded nervous. Christ, as if he wasn’t obvious. Everyone probably knew about his never ending love for her.

“I did. And it’s fine. I just can’t, uhm. I like you, y’know, it’s just—”

“Not like that. Yup, yeah. Got it. Alright. Thought as much, I mean I’m not cool or anything so—”

Eddie held up his hand and pinched his brows together.

“Hold up. What?”

“What?” Steve asked in return.

“I’m saying you told Nancy you sang about her and that it broke me a little because I have a stupid crush on you. What the hell are you saying? What do you mean you’re not cool? Huh?”

“You— What?” Steve laughed nervously. “Wow I uhm. Shit. Hah. Uhm, no I… Nancy? No. I was talking about you when I said that to her, man.” 

“You literally said ‘That song I just sang? It was about you.’, how was that about me?”

“No, I was discussing a hypothetical way of telling you. Nancy pulled me apart to tell me I should let you know. Because apparently it was so obvious it was hard to watch. So I said that I couldn’t just say… and I guess that’s where you picked up the rest. You have a crush on me?”

Eddie blushed furiously and waved his words away with his hand.

“You’re hopelessly devoted to me?”

Steve looked away as a chuckle escaped him.

“Jesus Eddie, it sounds so cringy when you put it like that.”

“Just quoting you here, man. Besides… I think it was fucking beautiful, what you did back there. Like, I had tears in my fucking eyes because I wanted to beat up whoever made you feel this way.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, letting Eddie’s words dance around them, hopeful, eager to land in each of their brains as a promise.

“Well, good luck at beating yourself up then,” Steve muttered, his eyes avoiding him as his cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.

“I told myself you deserve someone who cared about you as much as you cared about that person. But since apparently I— Would you… maybe, uhm.” Eddie was lost for words. Eddie, who always had something to say and then some, was lost for words.

“Yes.” Steve nodded for emphasis, took one step closer and enclosed his arms around Eddie’s waist. “Yes.”

“Oh…,” Eddie swallowed, “o-okay. Good. ‘Cause I got a lot of it, y’know. Care and stuff.”

“Yeah? How about you prove it?”

Eddie looked at him, swallowing as he tried to process what Steve was asking him to do.

“H-How do I…”

Steve’s lips were on his first. Sealing his answer between them as his fingers drummed a gentle melody on Eddie’s back. It didn’t take a genius, but a guy who knew his music, to recognize the rhythm of the song that brought them here. Hopelessly Devoted To You.

[electricbluebutterflies]

This for Jessica/Leto 🥹

❝  do you even know what it does to me?  every time i see you cry,  any time you’re hurt even the smallest bit it just— do you realize how deeply you’ve imbedded yourself into my heart?  ❞

Early-era, PG-ish, also on ao3.

He’s falling for her.

This isn’t quite supposed to happen, he thinks, but it isn’t quite-

If this is the most reckless thing he ever does, so be it. If this becomes ruination…

The realization that he is capable of such emotions comes too slowly to be a shock, the creeping warmth of it all, of caring so deeply about another living thing who must have her own reasons for tolerating him but-

Whatever they’re doing, whatever this is, is already more than he expected and it’s only been a year and a half. What will the rest of their lives look like if they go on? He wants… he wants-

There are routines, in these years. The late-afternoon project of trying to figure out what that woman is up to, time slipped away from the endless pile of things he ought to be doing, the weight of power and the endless paperwork and the need to clear his head and-

He has spent his whole life within these walls and somehow she already knows the complex better than he does. Which hallways offer quiet, where to go if one does not want to be found, always perfect safety but there is something reclusive about her that he has not discouraged as he wonders if he ought to. If anything, her unpredictability shows personality. If she were what she has been accused of, he thinks, her behavior would have more of a flow to it than he’s actually seen. The occasional reports of her activities line up with this; the guard already ignores her, maybe too much, but-

Unpredictable to a point, but there are routines. A certain place he’s learned to start on these afternoons as the instinct hits, a niche under a near-unused staircase, a hiding place he’d suggested to her and she has claimed for her own and the ghosts of his own past are replaced with hers now and-

She is there, yes, and she is not in expected condition. Something has wounded her heart, something even she cannot hide. She looks up at the sound of his footsteps, yes, but there is something hurt in her eyes, something-

“Do you need something?”

Her voice sounds wrong, he thinks, as if she has cried too recently, but she still uncurls her body. She looks unstable on her feet and she’d still do whatever he asked, recent stubbornness be damned she is still thoroughly programmed and-

“Only your presence, if you will tolerate me.”

“I can’t say I’m good company right now, but-“

He has come to suspect she does not admit weakness easily, and even the slightest vulnerability, the catch of her voice and she would still-

Oh, they are going to need to work on this. Whomever tried to socialize her absolutely failed, and this is the kind of project that takes lifetimes and he’ll still do it, still try to see if there’s an actual person under there and the flickers he gets sometimes are pleasing enough and-

“You realize how little-“

“I don’t know that I believe you.”

It’s as if they play a game every time they interact, how fast can she casually say something to make his heart break, to worry him, to-

At least she seems aware her emotions are compromising. She’s displayed less regret when vaguely implying murder, and perhaps he will learn from her too, how to be calm about things normal people would never be calm about, and-

“I won’t ask that either. You do have little incentive to trust me.”

And a year and a half of what at least feels like enough effort on his side, he’d point out if he thought she’d hear him, but that would sound like obligation and she does seem too responsive to that and-

“I do. But in my current state…”

He won’t ask what’s wrong. He wants to and he won’t. He suspects he doesn’t want to know, and there are decent enough odds it would go right over his head, and-

“Do you even know what it does to me? Every time I see you cry, any time you’re hurt even the smallest bit it just… do you realize how deeply you’ve imbedded yourself into my heart?”

He doesn’t know why this seems like the right moment for such fragile words – at least it is not during or after intimacies, at least he has not crossed that line – but it is, somehow, it is-

“You don’t need to feel that way about me. You don’t need to feel anything at all.”

“This stopped being about need… I don’t know when, but-“

“I will not destroy you that way.”

Skies, and he thought he had a pessimistic view of emotional attachments…

“What if we don’t destroy each other? What if-“

“You’re not supposed to fall in love with me.”

Well, current unclear emotional state is… whatever it is, but at least she’s perceptive, at least-

“Does it bother you if I have?”

“It’s a complication. But not an undesirable one. I will… figure out how to move forward.”

“I won’t pressure-“

“I know you won’t. I know I’ve had your heart for a year and you haven’t done anything improper about it. I don’t assume you’ll start now. But I am not… I am not sure if I can ever-“

“I wouldn’t ask. Your tolerance and patience are enough.”

“You say this now, but-“

“You could stop me. I know you could stop me.”

She laughs, and oh that is as rare as anything about her and even in her current-

“Why would I ever want to do that?”

[rosy-fox-art]

i def agree with what you said about how the fandom handles heart's blindness so thank you for calling it out before it got worse. i feel that it would make more sense if he put the blindfold on himself, like how other ppl in the tags on your post said.

another thing that ive noticed is how heart is sometimes infantilized and seen as someone who can "do no harm" which is... strange to say the least. i think ppl forget that he is a personification of a grown man's emotions and depression (sorry for wording it like that lol i didn't know how else to say it)

Hi! Thank you . I was honestly really worried to post about it, so I’m glad to see people so receptive to it so far in a positive light. I’ve been reading the tags very diligently ^^~

As for victimizing heart or ‘ saying he can do no wrong’ and infantilization… yeah I can see this as another issue that’s starting to sprout up, and some people in the tags of that previous post have mentioned it as well. And while I know that’s not everybody and I figure that is also another case where people don’t really intend to do it and just aren’t thinking about it, that doesn’t really erase the problem. This applies mostly to people depicting heart as childish, not being able to handle himself, being idiotic, victimizing and woobifying him etc. So, I really hope you don’t mind me using this as a chance to talk about that a bit, too.

Being over emotional does not, at all, translate to any of the traits I just listed out in the slightest. Sure, heart may be a little naive and impulsive as per his nature, but that is not the same. You are absolutely right to point out that heart an adult here, too. And at the end of the day the album seems to make it very clear that Heart and Mind are not all that unlike each other, but are unwilling to admit their similarities and highlight and judge their differences heavily. Heart is just as harmful and violent as mind, just in a different way. He has the propensity to be just as cunning or manipulative as Mind, too. Even his tactic of victimizing himself is a show of this, and Mind points this out several times in the album. They are two sides of the same coin. There is a large difference between Heart victimizing himself and actually being the victim, which he is not. Or at least, he is not completely blameless for the hole that he has dug for himself. When people show heart as being the victim or as doing no wrong, a lot of the nuance is completely lost.

Secondly, the internet and fan spaces have a bad habit of infantilizing people with mental illness, in general. Depression does not make someone soft and cute because they’re sad all the time. Depression does not make someone an uwu bean. Depression makes someone — as we can very clearly see by how Heart is within the cannon itself— a wreckage of rage and disdain that struggles to crawl out of a spiral of misery and apathy. It’s not pretty. When you boil it down to all of the things I’ve mentioned as being a problem here— that’s infantilization. This is also a big problem when it comes to disabled characters (Because people jump to the conclusion that the character cannot do much for themselves because of the disability, do not understand how disabled people actually advocate for themselves and function day to day from lack of experience or exposure to disabled people, want to depict them as incapable, etc). So, the fact that Heart is both of these things creates a ripe mess. This is kind of why I’m hoping to make some less angry, more informational post about some of the things blind people use to function just like other people here, sometime. Because the lack of these things in itself may lend into the infantilization problem. Being able to do things— having agency and independence over oneself— is a large part of breaking away from that. And I think it says a Lot that you rarely see this happen with Mind or Soul, as well.

So sorry if this came off at all angry, but I’m very passionate about it as someone whose experienced infantilization in my life from other people assuming things about me solely based on my disability. So, if I can say something to stop people from perpetuating it in fan content then I will. 👉🏻👈🏻. At any rate, thank you for the ask! I’m sure there’s a typo or two in here. So so sorry for that!

[fatuismooches]

What are some habits that reader picks up from the Harbingers? Like what stuff do they begin to copy after being with them for so long :)

Imagine the Harbingers noticing that you picked up some of their quirks and habits.

Pierro notices how you start to stay up until abysmal hours of the night to complete whatever you have to. He does not approve of this at all and tries to get you to stop, even going as far as to have agents try to escort you to the bedroom. But there’s not much he can do when you say he does the exact same thing, and you won’t stop unless he goes to bed at the same time as you. So, Pierro has made somewhat of a compromise with you - the two of you work in the same office now. As much as he loves it, it is a bit of a distraction when you get bored with your work, and saunter over to him to drape your arms around him.

Capitano notices how you pick up his leadership skills. He is a well-respected Harbinger whom many look up to, and well, you’re just kind of there. You’re just his little lovely partner that the Fatui bow their heads to out of respect for your husband. After all, you’re nothing really special compared to Capitano’s exceptionality. But, The Captain is an observant man, and he does not fail to see your new quirks, that is suspiciously similar to his. The way you go around to the camps and just casually chat with the soldiers, always greeting them with a pleasant smile and story - it seems to greatly boost morale. Now, they’re bowing their heads out of respect for you.

Dottore notices how you copy the way he walks. Your hands are crossed professionally behind your back, a self-assured smirk present on your face. Your voice starts to build up with confidence and punctuated remarks. Your strides slowly start to become more confident and your quick wit starts to bring an impressed, maniacal grin to his face. He finds the way you copy him in this manner rather endearing - the idea of you being a mini him is quite entertaining to him. Dottore enjoys the possibility of people viewing you to be just as terrifying as him a great amount, so he definitely encourages it.

Columbina notices how you start to hum like her. Your voice pales in comparison to the lovely melody of hers, yet the way it comes so naturally to Columbina makes you want to try it as well. You don’t do it around her, of course, since you are far too embarrassed to ever show her. But it all goes out the window as she is adept at sneaking up on you, literally hovering over your shoulder as you have no idea she’s there. She hasn’t told you that she knows yet, she believes that if you know, you’ll stop, and she doesn’t want that to happen. If only you could do it around her someday, the crooning of your voice would surely send her into a deep sleep.

Arlecchino notices how you start to pick up on her poker face. She is a bit surprised at first when someone cracks a joke at you yet you just stare at them. At first, she thinks you’re maybe having a bad day, but you’re back to smiling quickly. When you explain to her you’ve been practicing her facial technique, she lets out a small chuckle. Secretly, she worries a bit - she doesn’t want to be the cause of somehow depleting your emotions. But you reassure her of course, in fact, the skill of keeping a straight face is quite useful, especially in situations where you’re trying your best not to burst out laughing.

Pulcinella (platonic!) notices how you start to copy some of his positive mentality. Your young age has cast a negative outlook on the world, rolling your eyes and scoffing at many things. His old age has allowed him to see everything - the good and the bad - making him have the aptitude to hold both happiness and sadness for the world. Pulcinella has seen many people like you, and always strives to change their point of view. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. So when you start to become even the slightest more optimistic, copying word for word his advice and sharing it with others, he couldn’t be prouder of you. 

Scaramouche notices how you pick up his rude and snide comments. It’s not quite as frequent as he does it, but when you throw in a sarcastic remark or two, he can’t help but smirk and even laugh at the other person. Often times he joins in if the other person tries to snap back; his sharp tongue won’t anything hold back as he tells it how it is. He loves it - he’s the kind of person who roots for you in the background as you completely demolish someone, even if they don’t deserve it. He always thought you needed to bite back at people more instead of letting them walk all over you, so this is perfect for him.

Sandrone notices how to start to fix up stuff around her laboratory. She and her robots tend to keep the area tidy to avoid any accidents, especially after you entered the picture. Sandrone is a neat person in general and likes to keep her space organized, so you can often see her on her robot, dusting the higher-up places. You know she is a busy person, so you’d rather not see her spend her time cleaning. So you decided to take up the chore yourself. Certainly, your lover did not expect to see you nearly breaking your back to reach the lights, but she is definitely grateful and touched. She may or may not be flustered if you decide to wear an outfit fit for the task.

La Signora notices how you copy her fashion sense. You were never one to care much about fashion - you were rather a simple person who preferred simple clothes. But, it seems Signora, being the glamorous lady she is, has inspired you to put some more effort into your appearance. Surely, wearing some jewelry wouldn’t hurt, right? Adding some bling and extra lace here would look good too, maybe. Of course, Signora absolutely adores it - she has an entire wardrobe planned out and organized for you, filled with gorgeous and designer outfits that she even tailored to your tastes. She takes great pride in her appearance and would be happy to help you feel the same way.

Pantalone notices how you start to get more greedy of him. It is no surprise to anyone how possessive he is of his belongings, and that greed extends to you as well. He loves to be around you, and he loves it when others see you with him, at balls, parties, outings, everything - it’s silently saying that you are his. But when you start showing that same energy? He is so whipped and entranced. The way you protectively latch onto his arm and make direct eye contact with others, fighting the urge to stick out your tongue? Pantalone finds it so cute and even amusing; do you really think that he’d be interested in anyone besides you? His most prized treasure?

Childe notices how you start to become more motivated and determined to accomplish your goals. It is not a secret to anyone how dedicated he is to becoming stronger, as he has no shame in pursuing strong opponents relentlessly. His steadfast nature can’t help but have you inspired and energetic to follow your own dreams. Of course, Childe is wholly ecstatic and excited for you - he goes all in with the support! He’s rather glad that you are taking matters into your own hands, and that he was able to inspire that change. If your goal is to improve your battle prowess too, well, Childe would be a great supporter and helper for that. 

[biceratops7]

Fuck I love episode 6 so much…

CW: detailed discussions of a PTSD attack and trauma, mentions of domestic violence

You know why?? Because my special interests is psychology BECAUSE IDK WHY TF IT’S SO HARD TO JUST LET MEN HAVE NORMAL ASS MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS.

Literally, every friggin’ character who’s (textually) traumatized and male has to be either a war veteran or a serial killer for some reason. Like where the hell are all the dudes who shut down, cry, have panic attacks, use comfort items, regress a bit in language capabilities till they’re more grounded, you know, things that trauma actually causes??

I think I blue screened of death like 5 times watching this episode cause I couldn’t believe the show was just… letting this happen. Like thank fuck, (and please correct me if I’m wrong because I do not have this condition) an actually accurate depiction of ptsd for once! And now kindly follow me into the land of bullet points to illustrate this more clearly.

Ed’s anxiety/ level of functioning is not homogenized. He’s shown throughout the episode to have varying degrees of tolerance to triggers depending on the context and his emotional state. Telling the story to people he trusts in a safe context shakes him up a bit, but he’s ultimately able to laugh it off. Being reminded of the trauma when the environment is super chaotic and he’s about to literally repeat the event with someone he deeply cares for causes a full blown flashback.

It follows the proper… anatomy I guess(?) of a ptsd attack. Ed’s subplot in this episode is spent mainly breaking down his defenses, so when eventually there’s a sensory reminder (trigger) of his trauma he’s not prepared for, there’s a big reaction. He experiences a flashback (unsolicited vivid remembering, can be so intense your subconscious thinks you’re actually there), and he has a completely realistic response to it. No one’s concerned with emasculating him or whatever the fuck, men get overwhelmed and burst into tears sometimes damnit! And afterwards he’s not just fine, he actually needs to be grounded, attempting to take care of himself before Stede comes and helps him calm down completely. This isn’t seen as weak in the slightest, it’s just extremely unrealistic to expect someone to do such a thing quickly or without help.

There’s nuance and complexity. It’s unclear whether or not Ed’s breakdown was ultimately caused by the mention of the kraken, or the banging sounds of the puppet. It’s not supposed to be clear, not even to Ed. It’s obvious that witnessing the abuse of his mother and killing his father are not easily separated events in his memory. Trauma isn’t clean and pretty like that, and it doesn’t draw a perfectly traceable line from past to present in a one to one ratio.

He’s shown to continuously have triggers, it’s not just treated as a plot device cause we need Ed to break down and admit to attempted murder. And again they aren’t cleanly connected to the major traumatic event of killing his father, but rather smaller things that used to be unsafe day to day. The banging on the door explicitly reminds him of growing up with domestic abuse and watching Izzy fight Stede does so implicitly, being unable to even watch a loved one be put in psychical danger much less intervene.

And the absolute best part, what should be so friggin’ easy to do yet so many shows apparently prove that wrong, is that the framing doesn’t ridicule or belittle Ed for his emotions once. Not one single time. In a comedy no less. Oh sure the scene where he’s crying in a bathtub is fucking hilarious, but absolutely none of the humor comes from the fact that he’s crying in a bathtub. Because the writers know this kind of subject matter should be treated with gravity and are actually talented enough to do so without a weird out of nowhere tone shift. The closest I can think of to Ed’s trauma responses being seen as “funny” is when he falls out of the curtain sobbing and the Dutchmen freak out very cartoonishly and run away. But even then it’s clearly the Dutchmen who are the butt of the joke.

I get the same vibes as when they decided not to depict the abuse of Ed’s mother on screen. They not only portrayed this subject matter correctly but did so thoughtfully. They clearly wrote this episode while considering the needs of those who’d actually be able to relate to it.

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

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A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

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Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

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You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

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You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

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Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[colormepurplex2]

Your Guardian Angel | Slow Dance In The Kitchen

↳  Seokjin x f.Reader ⤜ Friends/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 8,698 ⚠️ Self-deprecation, talk of past abuse, physical altercation including punching/kneeing that results in an arrest, drinking, and some sugary sweet soft fluffy smut

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"I will never let you fall I'll stand up with you forever I'll be there for you through it all Even if saving you sends me to heaven"

Red Jumpsuit Apparatus - Your Guardian Angel

Last night was a blur. You don't remember falling asleep, much less being carried to your bed. Only it's not your bed. You wake to find yourself wrapped in unfamiliar sheets, a warm body pressed against your back. There is light streaming in from between the drawn curtains. It barely provides enough light for you to see your surroundings but after a few moments on the edge of panic, you realize you're in Jin's bed. Which only means the body you can feel so warmly pressed against your back must be your best friend.

Perhaps he can sense you're awake. Just as soon as the realization dawns on you, he's moving away. You curl tighter into a ball on your side, pulling your knees to your chest. You can hear him moving around, the blankets being tossed back and the mattress shifting as he gets up. If you concentrate hard enough you can still feel the phantom of warmth along your back. There is a dull ache behind your closed eyes and you can feel the subtle burn in your nose letting you know tears are not far away. But, you don't want to cry, not anymore. So, you try to will yourself back to sleep instead.

You're not sure how long you sleep for, as you drift in and out only periodically waking to Jin holding a straw to your chapped and cracked lips. It hurts to swallow, your throat raw from all the crying. At one point Jin offers you a few capsules, some aspirin maybe. Everything hurts and nothing makes sense. What did happen last night?

Maybe you're being dramatic. Perhaps it's ridiculous for a grown adult to be wallowing like this. Though, if you're being honest with yourself, you're not sure what kind of grown adult would let themselves go through what you have. It always seems that when you've been thrown out and broken up with is the only time you can see a little through the fog. You finally have a little clarity. It's a bitterness that makes you both love and hate yourself.

After all, if you know it's wrong, why do you keep doing it? Why do you keep going back? Oh, right. You've been so desperate for acceptance and love that you latched on to the first person to show you even the slightest bit of romantic interest. Sure, you could probably blame that on a loveless childhood or any other number of emotional ineptitudes. But, that always seems like the cop-out, the easy excuse.

Maybe...in reality, in some sick and twisted way, you enjoy it. The bruises are like a map across your skin, telling a story of where you've been and where you're going. Without them, you lose a sense of identity, purpose. The marks are an affirmation of love. They're like a poem, forever written on your heart reminding you that at least someone loves you. Because, after all, tough love is still love.

At one point, you find yourself absently rubbing your hands along your arms, tracing over your atlas of tender skin. You freeze, fingers digging in as your heart pounds, only now realizing that Jin must have changed you into one of his large t-shirts before putting you to bed. You fear for a moment what your boyfriend will do knowing Jin undressed you. The thought doesn't linger long, replaced by the hollow ache in your chest when you remember you no longer have a boyfriend so it doesn't matter.

The light coming in from the curtains is gone. Jin rouses you, prodding at your lips with the tip of the straw. "Wake up."

You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue before parting them and accepting the straw. At first, drinking while laying down caused you to cough and sputter. Now, though, you barely raise your head as you take a few small mouthfuls. "Thank you," you whisper, letting the straw fall from between your lips.

"You can thank me by eating something." This isn't the first time he's brought up food. You're just honestly not sure if you could stomach anything other than the periodic water right now.

You shake your head, ready to bury yourself back under the blankets and sleep some more. Jin makes a disgruntled noise which is followed by the soft clack of the glass of water being set on the bedside table. You count your breaths, waiting for him to leave.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fo-

"Hey!" you yell as the blankets are snatched off your curled-up form. "Jin! Stop!" Your throat is raw, making your voice come out like gravel.

"Come on, you need a shower and a good meal."

You stare up at him from beneath your lashes. He's dressed in a long-sleeve blue shirt and black sweats. The faint smell of beef broth soup tickles your nose now that it's not buried beneath the blankets. As if to accentuate his statement your stomach rumbles loudly. Traitor.

"Can't I just wallow in peace?" You mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself. You still feel like you might fall apart at the seams if you move too much.

You catch the slightest raise of his eyebrow before he's breaking out into a warm laugh. "I know you better than that. Tell me honestly, do you really want to be alone?"

You open your mouth to express that you, in fact, do...but your heart clenches at the thought. Do you? "I-...well, no."

Jin's weight dips the mattress beside you as he perches on the edge. "Come on, then." He opens his arms, hands gesturing for you.

As soon as you start moving, he's there. His arms come around you, pulling you up and against him. Large hands with warm palms you feel press against your back through the oversized shirt. He smells like chamomile and orange peel, a scent that floods in memories of your time in college together. Any time you were feeling down Jin would make you chamomile tea with a hint of orange. It was his way of saying 'it's okay, I'm here' and it always was okay after that.

"I'm sorry," you murmur into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut in order to try not to cry.

You can feel more than see him shaking his head. "None of that." He strokes your hair softly, letting the strands glide between his fingers. "You're going to get through this. I promise you will. I know it sucks now, but brighter days are ahead."

He helps you stand, bracing you as your knees wobble from being bent up for so long. His eyes don't wander or linger where they shouldn’t as he helps you step into a pair of shorts. It’s such an apparent contrast to the way most men would be. You watch him, really taking in the way he moves. You're not sure you ever really noticed how attentive he is with you, hands hovering to help at the first sign of need. Have you really been blind to this all along?

You're silent as you muse over your friendship with Jin. You try to pick out similar instances, looking for any sign you may have overlooked in the past. He follows you down the hallway and into the kitchen, far enough behind you that he's not crowding you but still close enough to catch you if you stumble. How close to you does he normally walk?

Jin helps you sit on one of the barstools at the counter. The smooth wooden surface is chilly against the backs of your thighs, but it's not wholly unpleasant. You focus on the feeling, letting it be a reminder that you can feel something other than hurt right now. Your best friend moves around the tiny kitchen. He turns the knob on the stove, bringing the heat back up to rewarm the soup he made. He's quiet as he goes through the familiar motions of making you a meal and you continue to watch him.

Has he always given you larger portions of rice than he gives himself? He sets a steaming mug in front of you before going back to ladling the beef soup into bowls alongside the rice. Your hands cup around the mug, soaking in the heat it puts off. Your eyes finally leave Jin for a moment as they drop to the mug. It's the same mug you've had for years, the same one he served you tea in when you were in college. It's also the only mug in your cabinet that doesn't have some sort of chip in it. You both talk all the time about buying new ones, but the old ones hold far too many precious memories. Does he always give you the only mug without a chip in it? Surely he's used it before, too...right? You're trying to recall a time you've seen him use this mug but Jin setting the bowls of soup and rice in front of you pulls you from your thoughts.

"Have you ever used this mug?" You blurt out, startling him.

"What?"

"This mug," you gesture to it, "do you use it?"

He looks confused. "Umm...I don’t, no, why?"

You make a noncommittal noise, waving off his question. Not something you really want to explain right now...just in case you're wrong. He can't possibly...last night wasn't...

"This smells amazing." You nod toward the bowl of soup.

"It's your favorite." He smiles, setting his own bowl on the counter beside you. "There is plenty more if you're still hungry after that. Is there anything else you need?" When you don't answer he looks up at you, meeting your stare. "Hello?"

Has he always had such broad shoulders? When is the last time he got his hair cut? It's at just the length you think looks best on him, not too long but not too short, it frames his forehead nicely. "Hmm?" You realize he had asked you something.

"Do you need anything else?" He repeats.

You clear your throat, bringing your attention to the soup and forcing your eyes from assessing him any further. "No, no, I'm fine. This is fine."

"You feeling okay?"

You shrug a shoulder, studying the chunks of beef and potato floating in the bowl in front of you. "Yeah. 'm okay."

He snorts a soft laugh. "You'll be better than okay once you actually eat. Hurry before it gets cold."

It tastes as heavenly as you remember. The slight tang and saltiness from the broth make your jaw tick slightly and you silently curse yourself for not eating anything sooner. The last time this happened you locked yourself in your room and didn't eat for three days straight. Your spoon stops halfway to your mouth as you recall it, just a few months ago actually. Was it really so recent? The soup tastes slightly bitter as you complete the arch into your mouth. Bitter thoughts breed a bitter taste. You drop your spoon back into the bowl and blow out your cheeks in frustration, this soup deserves better than your dark mood.

In an effort to focus on something else you ask, "did you get the beef from the market down the street?"

Jin settles onto the barstool next to you. "I did. They were having a sale so I picked up a few things. Would you believe they actually had kiwis this time?" he looks at you with a sparkle in his eye but it quickly dims. "I'm sorry, I should have thought to grab you some, I know how much you like them." His eyes drop to his soup and he ladles a spoonful into his mouth.

No. No, he shouldn't have. He was right in not buying them for you. He used to, though. He used to buy all of your favorites every week at the market. Until he got tired of throwing it all away because it would spoil since you were never home to eat any of it.

You chew your bottom lip, thinking. "It's okay. Maybe they'll have them next time we go," you offer.

"We?" he mumbles under his breath. You barely catch it. In fact, you probably wouldn't have if you weren't trying to hang on to any and all sounds coming from him now. "Yeah, maybe." He glances up at you for a second before going back to his soup.

A few more absent bites go tasteless down your throat. Why do you feel so terrible? Not even about your breakup, but about...Jin? You cut your gaze to the side, watching him out of the corner of your eye. Has his tongue always peeked out between his lips after every few bites of food he takes? A stray drop of broth escapes the corner of his mouth and you watch as it traces a line down his chin. Before you realize what you're doing, your thumb swipes at the errant drop before it can drip onto his shirt.

He flinches back from your touch as if you burned him. "Sorry, you had...broth."

"Thanks. It's okay, I was just so lost in my thoughts that you kind of scared me." He chuckles softly, fingers of his freehand tapping against the countertop in a nervous way.

You chew a bite of rice before asking, " want to share your thoughts?"

Jin snorts another laugh. "Yeah, that's not happening."

Now you're really intrigued.

"Hey, friends don't have secrets."

He looks pointedly at you. "Not happening."

You poke out your bottom lip, giving him your best pout. "Come on, Jinnie, it'll make me feel better."

"That...that might not be true," he huffs out in a rush. He abandons his spoon in the soup bowl, bringing his hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose like he's warding off a headache.

You don't know why your heart beats a little faster and you feel slightly lightheaded by his statement. What exactly is he thinking? What about it wouldn't make you feel better?

"What is it?" You need to know. You have to know.

He licks his lips nervously, pushing aside his soup and rice before turning on the stool to face you. You mirror him, turning so your knees are pressed against his. Jin reaches out and grabs up both of your hands in his. His hands dwarf yours, completely closing around them in a soft embrace of somewhat unexpected warmth.

"Last night. What do you remember about last night?"

You're confused. "Well...I mean, I guess-" you pause, thinking, what do you remember? The breakup, obviously. Coming home, yes. Yelling at Jin, yup. You wince a little at that last thought. Jin said...he said...well, friends can love each other right? "Everything? I think? Is there something, in particular, I'm supposed to remember?"

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"Well, yeah, and I love you, too, of cour-"

"Stop." He releases your hands, shoving his into his hair as he shakes his head.

You slowly close your mouth, waiting.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to talk about it. It's not right...it's too soon." He sighs, smoothing out his hair and dropping his hands into his lap. "I love you. I've realized that for a while now. What I'm thinking about is despite how much I love you, I know you don't love me." you open your mouth to protest but he throws a hand up, silencing you. "I know what comes next, I know how this story goes," he continues, "and even though I know you won't choose me, I'm still going to be here for you. I'm still going to choose you because that's what you deserve. You know exactly how I feel about him and what he does to you, what he puts you through. In the end, there is only so much I can do because ultimately you're your own person, a person I care about, but a person who has to make their own decisions. You will always be my best friend, you will always be the girl- woman, that I think of when someone asks me if I believe there's such a thing as perfection."

"I'm not perfect," you utter meekly. You blink back the tears welling in your eyes and your fingernails dig into your palms as you clench your hands into fists in your lap.

He gives you a sad smile. "Don't you see? That's exactly what he wants you to think." Jin takes a deep breath, schooling his features back into a neutral state. "I'm sorry, can we not talk about this anymore?"

You swallow thickly, still fighting the burn in your nose and behind your eyes that says tears are coming. "Sure, yeah, of course."

Jin turns in his seat, going back to his abandoned and probably cold-by-now meal. Your heart aches as you watch him, your knees oddly numb without his pressed against them. You can tell he's intentionally not looking at you, focusing on his food just as much as he's focusing on not continuing this conversation. He doesn't want to get hurt...again.

________________________________

The next week goes by in a fog. Each day you feel a little better, but your head is still full of cotton most of the time. You're lucky Jin seems to bounce back to his normal self. If it wasn't for him you probably wouldn't have finished your marketing presentation on time.

You slump down in your office chair, staring blankly at the computer screen. It was hard to breathe, standing in front of your boss and colleagues trying to act like nothing was wrong as you mindlessly recited your parts of the presentation. But, it's done with and Vaughn signed off on it and had it sent for publication.

It was agreed everyone would be going out after work to have drinks. It's Friday night and your boss just thumbs up'd what could be a career-changing project. You should be more amped, excited...yet, you're just floating. You're tempted to cancel, tell Mina and Linny you're not feeling up for it, but you know it'll be hot office gossip next week if you do so. And honestly, you'd rather avoid that than the discomfort of going out tonight. Besides, Jin will be there, as it's just as much his big night as it is yours. He's made you chamomile and orange tea every night this week, just a single cup, in the same non-chipped mug as always. There have been few casual and cordial conversations between the two of you at home, but otherwise, it's been nothing but business.

That hasn't stopped you from creating and keeping a mental log, though. You've made note of each and every little thing Jin does for you...or just in general. The way he stops mid-laugh to put on a serious face just to melt back into laughter is one of your favorites. You don't know if you've ever really appreciated just how funny and quirky he can be.

He's put on muscle. Not that you've really been particularly paying attention to that. Not much, at least, that's what you tell yourself. But, you can't help but not notice the way his shirt tugs at his shoulders when he moves his arms or the way the muscles in his thighs pull tight the fabric of his slacks. No, you absolutely do not really notice those things.

You're lost in thoughts of black slacks and button-downs when a knock sounds at your office door. "Sorry, yep, hello? Come in!" You quickly straighten up in your seat, smoothing the front of your shirt and dress pants absentmindedly as the door swings open.

"Hey, Vaughn said we can head out early if we want, so we have time to change before meeting at Reno's in a few hours," Jin explains, peeking just his head into your office.

You nod. "Okay, great, I'll gather my things."

He purses his lips for a second. "You okay?"

Clearing your throat only seems to add to his suspicion. "Y-yeah, uh- yeah, I'm great. Just a little tired is all," you lie.

You know he can tell you're lying, but he doesn't press any further. "Hmm, alright. Well, the first round is on me. Meet me out front in five?"

"Yeah, that works."

It doesn't take you long to gather your things, shoving everything into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. You're glad you decided to wear a pantsuit and flats today, not sure you'd be up for the walk home in anything else. In all honesty, you really are kind of tired. Sleep has been pretty elusive, except instead of staying up thinking about your ex and the breakup, you've found yourself lying awake at night thinking about...Jin.

After a few nights of this, you finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for him. Or rather, you did at one point. Growing up, he was your first crush, your prom date, and your first kiss- despite how awkward it was, spin the bottle in Danny Lee's basement still counts. Jin never showed any interest in you, though, always treating you like a sister as opposed to someone he wanted to date. You both joked about it, even through college, but that's all it ever was...a joke. Until it wasn't...isn't?

You can admit that had you known about the way he felt, you might not have started dating him. Though, that train of thought seems like a derailment waiting to happen. If you hadn't started dating him would Jin have ever actually been honest in his feelings? Would you have been? At what point did Jin realize he liked you? Only after the fact? After it was too late? When did you stop having feelings for him? Did you stop?

The thoughts drift away as you push open the front door and step out onto the sidewalk. Jin is waiting for you. He has his hands in his pockets, turned slightly away from the door so he doesn't notice you at first. Your eyes trace along his side profile, filing away the curve of his lips and the slope of his nose. Just another note to add to your mental log.

"Oh, hey!" He finally turns and notices you. There is a momentary pang of guilt as you realize what you were subconsciously doing. You feel weird sometimes, thinking about Jin the way you do...but ever since your conversation a week ago you can't seem to shake it.

"Hey." You smile at him, willing some warmth into it. It works, bringing his own smile to his face. A handsome smile. "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely!" Without even asking, he takes your bag, slinging it to mirror his over his other shoulder. Something he's done every day you've ever walked home together from work. It was something you had almost forgotten about, until this week, since it had been so long since you'd walked home together before that.

You fall into a comfortable pace beside him, listening to him talk about wanting to try a new mixed drink that Reno's is supposed to have tonight. Something that Mina told him about which apparently tastes like sour skittles.

The conversation and ease of being around Jin have you feeling a little better about tonight. Though, as you're digging through the clothes in your closet, that feeling begins to diminish rapidly.

"Fuck," you huff under your breath as you get to the end of your clothes for the fifth time, still coming away empty-handed.

"Having some trouble?" Jin asks, startling you, from your doorway.

You flick an annoyed hand at your closet. "Why don't I have cute clothes?"

Jin rolls his eyes before stepping into your room. "You do, you just have to actually want to wear them." He stops beside you and begins to peruse your clothes. A few items get pulled out and tossed on your bed. You watch as the filmy black material of a dress flutters onto your duvet.

"Jin, I can't possibly wear those things." You snatch up the dress, shaking it out. It's a simple black dress, but extremely short and strapless. You've worn it before and it looks great on you. But now? Now...you can't possibly. It's just not right, women shouldn't dress like this.

He glances at you over his shoulder, hands stilling on your clothes. "Why not? It looks great on you."

"It's not appropriate," you mumble, tossing the dress back onto your bed.

That brings him around to face you. For the first time since he walked into your room, you're actually able to take in his full outfit. He's wearing a pair of tight black slacks, black leather boots, and an emerald long-sleeve knit sweater. He looks unbelievably handsome.

"Not appropriate? Says who?"

"Oh, well...umm...," you fumble for an explanation. It just is, isn't it? "It's just too short and stuff, y'know?"

"Too short?" he parrots back. "It's not like your ass is going to be hanging out. It's a perfectly fine length and makes your legs look amazing."

Your cheeks color at his words. "Really?"

"Yes. Now, put it on so I can prove it to you."

You pick up the discarded dress, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. “Fine.” You look up at him expectantly. He raises an eyebrow at you. “Well?” You flutter your fingers in the air at him. “Are you going to just stand there?”

He laughs, a delightful and tickling sound that makes you smile. “With as many times as I’ve seen you naked?”

“That…that’s different!” You object between laughs. Drunk you and sober you are completely different situations. He turns back toward your closet, shoulders still shaking with silent laughter.

“Hurry up, we don’t have much more time before we need to leave,” he comments, hands going back to browsing your clothes.

You quickly strip off your work clothes, pausing with the dress in your hand. You glance down at your plain tan bra and panties. The bra will have to come off, but should you change your underwear, too? Maybe something a little sexier, to go with this dress, would be good. You giggle at the thought. You feel…naughty? Liberated? Free?

Stepping over to your dresser on the other side of your bed you grab out a cute but comfortable strip of black lace. It doesn’t take long for you to redress yourself. You clear your throat as you settle the dress over your hips. “Well?”

Jin turns and looks at you. A slow smile turns up the corners of his lips. “Amazing, just like I said. Your legs look a mile long and absolutely delectable.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Okay, okay, okay. You win.”

“Of course I win, I get to spend the evening with you.” His reply is stated simply, but it does something to you. Your heart stutters and you feel…butterflies?

Your brain can't really form a response so you just smile and continue getting ready. Jin hands you a cropped gold blazer to go over the dress along with a pair of black Mary Jane pumps with a gold chain accent. He helps you add some gentle waves to your hair, his hands moving deftly with the curling rod. You watch him chat animatedly, about how fun it's going to be seeing Vaughn in a 'normal' environment, through the mirror in your bathroom as he finishes your hair and you put the final touches on your makeup.

You're glad most of your bruises have faded. The darker ones are easily covered with concealer and makeup. Jin's eyes narrow as he watches you dot and pat the liquid along your neck and arms. You haven't talked about it since before and you're grateful he doesn't choose now to try to. Tonight is supposed to be all about fun.

"Thank you," you whisper, leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek once you're both ready and standing by the door to leave.

He winks at you. "Let's go have some fun. We earned this!"

You're not sure you would consider it fun, surrounded by sweaty bodies and music so loud you can barely hear yourself think. But, Jin makes it feel not so bad. He keeps his word by buying the first round of shots. The small and seemingly innocuous shot glass packed a bit more of a punch than you were anticipating. It really does taste like sour skittles, but you're certain it's to blame for the warmth you feel in your cheeks.

Drinking, going out as a whole for that matter, isn't exactly something you've done in a long time. Well, ever since...no, we're not thinking about him. Not tonight.

"Having fun?" You ask a breathless Jin as he slumps into the booth beside you. You had volunteered to table-sit, keeping an eye on drinks while everyone else enjoyed a round on the dance floor.

"Mmm, would be loads more fun if you'd join us." He nods toward your other coworkers still dancing. Jin snorts a laugh. "It's weird, huh? No tie, no business suit, he almost looks like a real person."

It really is something else seeing your boss, Vaughn, in a setting outside of work. He's old enough to be your grandfather, but he seems to have lost at least fifteen years while on the dance floor. He insisted he'd only stay for one dance, one drink, and then he'd be leaving. Apparently, his wife is none too keen on him being here. If his loud cheers and obnoxious laugh are anything of an indicator, you can kind of see why.

You shrug. "He's just having enough fun for the both of us."

Jin is about to make a snarky comment about fun when he's cut off by Vaughn slapping his hand on the table. Under his palm are a few large bills, definitely enough to cover drinks for the remainder of the night. He leans in and projects his voice so you can both hear him over the music. "You've all earned it, but especially you two. Without your hard work, we wouldn't have gotten the Armon deal off the ground. Thank you, have some fun for me tonight. Gotta get going, Joi is out front waiting for me."

He shimmies his hips and shoulders as he makes his way to the door, waving to your coworkers as he passes them on the dance floor.

"You heard the man, boss' orders. You have to have fun now." Jin grabs your hand, pulling you out of the booth behind him.

"Wait! What about our drinks?" You tug futilely against his grip as he leads you closer to the dance floor.

He glances back at you over his shoulder. "We'll just get new ones!" he shouts.

You don't have time to try and argue as you're suddenly engulfed with bodies. Your grip tightens on Jin's hand, holding him as tightly as he's holding you. It feels nice, your hand secured within his, it makes you feel safe.

There isn't much use in having a conversation, the music drowning everything out. So, you just follow Jin's lead. He stops near Linny and Mina, offering them a smile before holding up your clasped hand and shaking it in victory. You can't really hear their laughter, but you see their smiles and for once, it seems like any animosities between you and the other ladies in the office have been put to rest for the night.

You're not really sure what you were expecting, but Jin's hands on your hips definitely weren't it. It's only awkward at first, as he tries to move your hips one way but your body pushes the other. He giggles, shaking his head. You finally get the rhythm, hips moving in sync with the music and his hands. You haven't danced like this since college, but it eventually becomes familiar again and you start to enjoy yourself.

Jin is a good dancer. He's all long limbs and broad shoulders but the way he moves his body, hips rolling and feet moving to the beat, entrances you. You find yourself moving with him, body flush to his. He's taller than you, even with your heels, but you still seem to fit perfectly against him.

Jin grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours, twirling you around so your back is against his front. "Whoa!" You let out a startled laugh and you catch a glimpse of a smile before you're facing the other direction. He brings his hands, still holding yours, to rest on your hips. Your fingers tighten within his as he begins to sway your hips from side to side, intimately aware of how your ass brushes the front of his slacks.

"This dress really is amazing on you." Jin's breath is hot against your neck as he leans in close enough so you can hear him. Even with flushed heat beneath your skin, you shiver.

You're just about to thank him when suddenly you're being snatched to the side. A hand fists into your hair, making you crane your neck painfully to the side. Tears instantly threaten to ruin your makeup as you whimper. Your heart thunders in your chest, staring up into the cold and menacing eyes of your ex.

You hear Jin yelling, his words lost on your ears. The only thing you hear is "Whore." The word is laced with so much venom it curdles your insides. "I knew it! You stupid fucking bitch," he roars, voice echoing well over the music. Or maybe you're just so used to these words your brain doesn't need to actually hear them in order to know what his lips are forming.

Your world shifts again as your ex is pushed by someone. Jin. You cry out as fingers are ripped from your hair, taking strands with them. The force knocks you down, your knees biting hard into the wooden dance floor. You scramble, trying to stand as you're jostled more by the bodies surrounding you. People are moving, yelling, trying to get away from what you can catch only glimpses of.

Your ex has a fistful of Jin's shirt. Another flash. Fist connecting to a jaw. You scream, fighting hard to gain your feet. Another flash. Knee connecting to a midsection. Finally, you stumble upright, throwing yourself past the few people in your way. A punch meant to catch Jin in the ribs catches you instead, right to the chest. Air leaves your lungs in a burning whoosh.

"No!" Jin catches you as you're knocked back from the hit, his yell echoing too loudly in your ears.

"Let me go! Fucking let me go!" You can hear your ex roaring even louder.

You cough a few times, throat feeling raw and lungs burning as you try to suck in air. Jin cradles you against his chest, eyes frantically searching your face. You see his lip is busted, blood dotting his chin.

A security officer places his hand on Jin's shoulder. His eyes drop to you. "You okay, m'am?"

"I'm fine," you choke out. Over the officer's shoulder, you see your ex being hauled away by two other officers, their muscles straining as he fights them the whole way. Suddenly the music is cut and the lights come up.

"Come with me. Please." The officer smiles apologetically. Jin nods, slipping an arm around you to help you follow the officer. You're led toward the front entrance, where they took your ex as well. "Police have been called, do you want to explain what happened?" The security officer asks as you step out onto the sidewalk. You catch a glimpse of your ex with the other officers further down.

You dart your tongue out to wet your lips, which you notice are trembling. "Umm," you start but have to stop to clear your throat, you nod down the sidewalk toward your ex, "he's ugh, m-my ex. We split a week ago...not on good terms," you trail off, trying to think of what else to say without saying too much. The last thing you need is to incur more of his wrath. No. Why does that matter!? Never again.

"He's an abuser," Jin states sadly. All the sweating and dancing made the concealer cover your arms and neck fade a little. Jin pulls the collar of your blazer aside gently. "The guy is a monster. We were dancing and the next thing I know he's ripping her away by the hair and screaming that she's a whore. Then he punched me, kneed me in the stomach, and tried to punch me again but ended up punching her instead."

You can still feel the ache in your chest every time you take a breath. You're pretty sure nothing is broken, except maybe your pride. "M'am, is that true?"

It's embarrassing. You're not sure if you should be mad at Jin for telling someone your secret, but part of you feels...grateful? Grateful that someone else finally knows, too. You take a slow, calming breath, drawing up your strength and resolve. "Yes. That's true." You state with more power and conviction than you think you ever have uttered before. He is an abuser and you're no longer a victim, you're a survivor.

You have to wait for the police to show up. It seems like it takes forever to give your statement and exchange information with the authorities. The entire ride home you keep playing the scene of your ex being loaded into the back of a squad car over and over in your head. Part of you got into that car with him, you know that. But it's the part of you that you no longer want, the victim, the helpless girl afraid of the big bad wolf. No, you no longer want that to be part of who you are...you have a new story now.

Jin has you sit on your bathroom counter so he can get a proper look at your chest. The fist connected just below your collarbone on the left side. The only indicator of anything having happened is the slight tenderness you feel when you touch it. You know it'll bruise over the next few days, but at least nothing is broken. You and Jin both had waved off the offer of medical assistance, though you wish Jin hadn't. His lip looks pretty bad.

"I'm sorry," Jin breaks the silence in the bathroom after he's satisfied your chest is okay.

"What do we say about apologizing?" You tease, trying to lighten the mood.

You see him roll his eyes before he drops down to grab the first aid kit from under your sink. "Not funny," he mutters into the cabinet.

"Seriously, don't apologize. There is no way anyone could have known that would happen tonight."

"Yeah, but if I would have just hit him back, maybe he wouldn't have been able to accidentally hit you," Jin huffs as he sets the kit on the counter beside you.

You shake your head. "No. Absolutely not. As much as I hate that you didn't defend yourself, in a way I'm glad you didn't. Had you actually punched him back, you might have been taken in, too. Just as guilty of assault as he is...the justice system is weird like that sometimes, you know."

Jin scoffs but nods begrudgingly. "I know." He opens the kit and begins to grab out a few small things to clean up his lip.

"Ah, hey, no. It's my turn to play nurse." You hop down from the sink and pat where you were just sitting. "Come on, take a seat."

He stares at you for a moment before complying, legs long enough he can almost still reach the floor. He relaxes, leaning forward with his hands resting on his knees. "You think it'll leave a scar?"

You begin by cleaning away the dried blood dotting his chin, slowly moving up to the split in his lip. "Scar or not, you'll still be just as handsome," you murmur, eyes trained on your hand. He winces as you gently clean his lip. The split isn't nearly as bad as you initially thought, but it's still tender and will take a few days to heal. "I'm sorry this happened to you." You whisper sadly, feeling tears well up in your eyes. This is your fault...isn't it?

"Hey, hey, no." Jin cups your cheeks, bringing your face up so you're looking at him. His thumbs softly brush your cheeks, catching the tears that escape. "I would accept this a million times over if it means you're safe, if it means it's me and not you. That, I swea-"

"I love you." It escapes from you before you can stop it.

Jin stares at you, mouth still open mid-word. "-r it. What?"

"It's true. I do. It's all I've been able to think about." You ramble, words tumbling so fast.

He shakes his head. "Don't say something you don't mea-"

Your lips silence him. You need him to know you mean it. You mean this more than any words can even begin to express. Perhaps it's a mistake to be kissing your best friend. Or more so a mistake to be kissing someone who just recently got punched in the mouth. But damn if it doesn't make all the problems seemingly disappear.

You're pushed up on your toes, hands gripping Jin's as they cup your face still. His lips are soft, just as lush and inviting as you remember from Danny Lee’s basement all those years ago. Even with the split in his lip, they're the best lips you've ever kissed. There is no tongue, no raging inferno. No, not really. Instead, there is passion, a simmering and pulsing softness that has you melting against him.

"I mean it," you breathe the words, a soft exhale as your lips part from his.

You can hear him swallow audibly. His warm breath fanning over your face, still just inches from his. "That's...I mean...". You can tell he's now fumbling for words, trying to make sense of your confession. One he surely thought he would never hear.

"Shh." The sound barely escapes you before your lips are on his again.

Your hands move from on top of his, sliding into his hair to secure him closer. You tentatively run the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, a wordless question. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he parts his lips in welcome. The softest moan is shared between you as your tongues meet for the first time. There was definitely no tongue during spin the bottle.

The simmering passion morphs into a searing heat. There is a faint sweetness on his tongue. You explore his mouth, mapping it out in your mind. It’s the perfect map to replace the atlas on your skin, the one you thought once represented who you were. This new map, complete with a legend of all your favorite things, emblazons itself on your heart.

This…this is true love, true happiness.

Right?

You can tell it takes effort for him to pull away. He sucks in a few shallow breaths, tongue swiping over his lips as he tries to gather his thoughts. “This isn’t right.”

Your muscles go rigid, fingers aching as they try not to twist in his hair at that utterance. Movements sluggish and fractured you separate from him, choosing to fist your hands by your sides instead. His drop from your face as you take another step back from him, your back hitting the bathroom wall bringing you up short.

There is anguish in his face like he wishes nothing more than to be able to reach out and snag his words back. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, scrubbing a hand over your eyes lest he see the tears threatening there. “I shouldn’t have…I thought you wanted…no, no, I’m sorry.”

Are you mistaken? Did you dream up his confession from a week ago? The revisited confession over beef broth soup? You shake your head, trying to dispel the confusion but it just lodges in harder. The bathroom is too small, you feel like you might crawl out of your own skin if you don’t get out right this second. Casting one last glance at Jin sitting on your sink, you lunge for the door and throw it open. You spill into your room, shrugging out of the gold blazer and letting it fall to the floor. Your skin is on fire, thoughts swirling like a wildfire.

Of course you’d somehow fuck this up, too. Worthless as always. You’re trembling, standing in the middle of your room. Your thoughts are so loud you don’t hear Jin walk up behind you. A cold chill runs through you, dousing the inferno…the cold realization that you may have just very well ruined the one good thing in your life, the one consistent thing that has always been a beacon in the darkness.

Your hand flies to your mouth following a ragged breath that turns into a muffled wail. How could you be this dense…this thoughtless! Selfish. That’s right, selfish. Foolish…and utterly heartbroken.

“Shh, shh.” Jin coos, his strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

His actions just make you cry harder. Your eyes are squeezed shut so tightly they ache. The hand over your mouth turns into a tight fist and you latch on, teeth grinding against your own skin. You feel your knees give out and if it wasn’t for Jin’s arms around you, you’d be a puddle on the floor.

“I—don’t—deserve—you,” you choke out between sobs that rattle your chest.

“No, you deserve so much better than me,” he whispers into your hair. Oh, the audacity of this man. How can he say that? “I should have protected you better, I should have whisked you away from that nightmare a long time ago…but I was too much of a coward, scared of rejection, so much that I let you fall into the hands of a monster.”

You want to tell him he’s being ridiculous. None of this is his fault, none. But as you turn in his arms to do so, he envelopes you. Swift hands, hard chest, strong arms, and soft lips. The words, the thoughts, cease to exist. He kisses you like it’s the first time. Like it’s the last time. Like he’s trying to erase the last two years, kissing away the pain and hurt. His lips say he’s sorry and he’ll never let you go again.

“I love you,” you gasp out, breath stolen by the intense and hungry kiss.

He pulls back, just for a moment. His eyes are glowing coals, shining with so much compassion and unfiltered adoration…for you. “I love you.”

You’ve never heard those words uttered with so much fever or certainty. A new chill runs through you, one that is both hot and cold, one that makes your toes tingle and your heart hammer hard in your chest. Do you dare? Is this real? Maybe another kiss, just to be sure. Yeah, a kiss sounds perfect.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. It doesn’t take much encouragement, none at all really, to bring him back to your mouth. He is the embodiment of hunger, passion, and desire as he consumes you. Maybe it’s the dizzying way he kisses you or the years of suppressed wanting, but before you realize what you’re doing, you’re pushing him back onto your bed. You follow him down, bouncing softly as his back hits the mattress and your chest goes flush with his.

The filmy black dress rides up your hips as you bring your knees to either side of his hips. So much for your ass not hanging out. As if that realization were an invitation, Jin’s hands slide along your thighs and come to rest just where they meet the underside of your ass. His hesitation is clear but it sends a little shiver down your spine that he’s even contemplating it.

“Touch me, please,” you encourage, lips parting from his to trail soft kisses along his jaw.

Permission granted, his hands grip you. His fingers knead gently and he lets out a surprising groan. He never applies too much pressure, never makes it hurt. Jin is slow, methodical, and oh so sweet as he tenderly explores to create a map of his own.

It’s endearing how fumbling his hands are as he helps you take off your dress. You both giggle breathlessly as you fumble just as much trying to pull off his sweater and unbuckle his slacks. You’re drawn to him, eyes always searching and yearning for his gaze. A gaze that pierces through you, filling up all the hollow crevices within. He’s not just a smooth spackling trying to cover up your cracks, only to flake off in the future. He’s the hot iron that melds your pieces together…making you whole again.

Tentative touches turn to familiar connections. His body is warm, inviting despite the hard muscles and planes. He’s divine, a treasure to behold. Never did you imagine his skin would be so flawless, so smooth and sumptuous. You take turns worshiping one another. Everything is soft, sensual, and utterly, utterly perfect.

He draws you to him, arms caging you in. One hand cradles the back of your head and the other is secured around your waist. His back rests against your mountain of pillows, legs splayed across your bed. There is no fight for power, no struggle to not drown in someone else’s dominance. It’s a slow dance of equals. He leads, but you follow without floundering.

There are no words. None are needed. Your body communicates with his, he knows exactly what you want before you do. Answering every beckoning from within. The moment you settle against his lap, the feeling of his naked body beneath you, everything goes fuzzy. It’s not the fuzziness of disassociation, but the fluffy clouds of contentment.

You move slowly, letting your bodies learn one another. The moment his hard length is pressing into your heat you’re both gasping, your breaths mingling between you.

He utters your name. It’s soft, barely heard, but it’s all it takes. You’ll do anything to hear it again. You begin to undulate your hips, rocking against his lap so your walls rub and squeeze around him as he’s buried impossibly deep. You know it won't be long, the slow build is almost more than you can handle. You’re so in tune with him, making you ache and crave more at the same time.

“Fu- uh,” a soft half-curse escapes with his next breath before it morphs into a moan of your name. You can tell he’s close, the way his arms flex around you and pull you closer still. Your thighs tremble with the resistance you’re trying to maintain, you want this to last…to never end. But, you’re also focusing on making more mental notes. You watch the way his pulse flutters, the way small drops of perspiration glide down the column of his neck. The soft pants and moans that emanate from him are a symphony now forever ingrained into the soundtrack of your life. Just where it belongs.

Your hips stutter, orgasm imminent. It only takes a few more rolls of your body against his before you’re both coming undone. Jin’s groan is something you’ll never forget. There is a primal and untethered way that he kisses you through your orgasm, lips locking against yours as he swallows your cries of ecstasy.

This is only the beginning. Well, a beginning. One of many. Really, it’s just a continuation of your already existing story. A story that goes farther back than any other in your life. Jin is familiarity, comfort. A true beacon in the darkness. He’s the wind that chases away the smoke, the water that quenches your parched throat…the slow dance in the kitchen when you’re 80, the happy ending- your happy ending.

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◅ Back to Master List ©️    2022-01-09   ColorMePurplex2