#coffeet-shirt

[sunny-mercya]

Precious Darling

Poly! Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Male Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Masterlist

Even though it was movie friday, another round of various horrofilms—in between just about two normal like movies—as always for the friday nights. Snacks, drinks and Pizza taking over most of the coffeetable space.

Whilst you cuddled against Billy, who sat a bit cramped on the left side of the couch—legs propped up against the ottoman, arm slung around you—Stu leaned against you, head on your shoulders and his whole body laying on the couch, taking over the most space, legs dangling over the arm edges.

All in all, a perfect night and yet, Billy couldn't focus on the movies at all. Couldn't enjoy the relaxing time with his boyfriends at all. Billy unconsciously traced his finger, every so slightly, over your long and ragged scar, which adorned part of your neck.

Billy glanced at you. You were too engrossed in watching the movies, flinching ever once in a while from a jump-scare—even though the amount of times you have rewatched the movies and still you keep flinching—gripping his shirt tighter in your grip, while Stu squeezed your hand from time to time, to notice his tracing.

Which was good for him, if you didn't take notice of it for the moment. Billy didn't wanted to trigger another panic attack, to set you off into a mindset spiral and bringing back the unwanted memories you tried to bury deep inside.

But Billy always triggers himself with it, whenever he does that. It brought back a boiling rage, the hatred he felt in that night and his own unwanted haunting memories—of how Stu and him found you in the boys restroom, laying in your own puddle of blood. Barley breathing and conscious anymore. The after Halloween party of the school had been over sooner than the students had wished.

~~~

Billy had killed before, his first victim had been Mrs. Prescott—out of pure hatred against her, for ruining his family.

The ever first killing Stu and he did together, before they decided to create Ghostface and do a spree of death in Woodsboro, was a year after Mrs. Prescotts death and days later after the schools halloween party.

Their victim was a upper classmate of theirs. One of those arrogant, rich asshole jocks. One of the kind, who thought they could do everything they please, without fearing consequences.

The party had started good, they all had their blast of fun as they danced, eat and drunk. Billy and Stu sat at the many tables, enjoying their cups of beer and their view of you dancing around with your best friend Kelly. At some point you had left the party, probably going to the restroom.

They both begun to feel restless, when you didn't have come back. Stu voiced his worries and when Kelly passed by, telling them that Dylan has left right after you the party, they both stood up and sprinted towards the restrooms.

After all, Dylan had some strange love-hate relationship to you.

Billy wasted no time, kicking the door open—probably breaking the frame, not that he cares for that. Switching the lights on immediately, he stood still, when he saw the sight before him. Stu crashed into Billy's back, brought him stumbling forward just a bit but Billy didn't moved any further.

«Bills, move!» Stu whined out, even though he was taller than Billy and could easily look over his head, Billy still managed to block his view whenever Stu tried to take a look around him.

Billy had seen blood before. His own when he had cuts himself on accident once and when he had killed Mrs. Prescott. It didn't faze him, after all it was just mere blood, a watery sticky substance.

But this sight of blood before him, was way different. Leaving Billy in a state of something unknown. Shock or the sort of, he didn't know.

Stu pushed Billy aside, stepping into the restroom and got hit with the same wave of shock as Billy. Though Stu could easily break out of his stupor.

Within seconds Stu walked over to you, kneeling besides you and tried his very best to stop the profusely bleeding from your neck with his hands.

«Billy! Damn it! Get the teachers and the Ambulance!» Stu shouted, cried it out. You needed medical attention as fast as possible. Billy ignored him.

If it would have been another Students, which laid their bleeding out, none of the two would've cared. But this was you who was bleeding here and that is a complete different situation.

Billy was deaf to Stus pleading and calling. Only starring at your lifeless bloody form. Moments ago he saw you laughing and having fun and now? Now you were so deadly quiet.

Kellys high pitched screaming, right next to his ears, was what brought Billy out of the stupor he was in. Stumbling against the door frame, he took a shaky breath, watching how Kelly ripped a part of her dress off and kneeling, like Stu, next to you. They both tried to stop the bleeding, to keep you awake—if your still have a conscious left in you.

«I go and get teachers» it was the only thing he could bring himself to say, before Billy jogged out of the restroom and back to the party.

~~~

Days later, after the party, on a chilly afternoon Billy and Stu had visited you in the Hospital again. Bringing flowers from Kelly for you.

You still were unconscious, in a coma. The Doctor, after he deemed you out of danger the next morning, had told your dad and them both how your condition was and would possibly be from now on.

A blow to the head, more a bashing it was, left a concussion and probably long lasting brain damage—which the doctors yet have to testify how serve it would be. The cut on your neck was deep and had damaged your cords. Prone muteness and Dyspnoe.

«Only for a hour today, boys. Mr. [Lastname] had a rough night and needs to rest.» one of the kinder nurses said. They didn't question why she spoke of you as if you had woken up from your coma. They only nodded at her, when she walked past them and out of your room.

Billy took ahold of your hand, giving it squeeze. You looked still ghostly pale, but more on the healthier side. The constant beeping form your heart monitor, was a calm reminder for Billy that you are still alive.

Stu had put the flowers in a vase and standing next to Billy. Putting his hand over them and nudged Billy a bit in the side with he elbow.

«You know Stuy, how about we visit Dylan and give him a early Christmas present.» a certain glint in Billys eyes as he smiled, liking the thought of giving Dylan a taste of his own doing.

~~~

For weeks, even after your release from the hospital, the news were full with the brutal death of Dylan Helock.

„There are still no new information about the death of Dylan Helock, who had been brutal murdered in his own home. The police said it could be a possibility of ritual murder, but still have to testify their statements completely. Even the missing organs and gauged out body is a mysterious for the officer as they –“

When Billy had come back down into the living room, after changing into some more comfy nightwear, he instantly had switched the news channel back to cartoon one. Silently cursing out Stu for not keeping watch.

Though Billy thought the news could've still reported it better. The left so many detailed information out, Stu and him had put so much effort and work in it, to make Dylans death as painfully and gore full as possible, so the last those damned reporters could do was honoured mention it.

They simply did what Dylan had deserved. The asshole should have seen it coming, shouldn't have hurt you in the first place.

Breaking bones, cutting limps off, bashing his head into he ground and smashing it with a crowbar till no proper recognising was left, besides dentist check. Slitting his stomach open, gouging the organs out, cutting names and symbols onto his back.

They had their blasts, laughing about Dylans whimpering pleading, crying like a baby he did. Enjoying his pain filled screams.

Billy knew you would forget about what the news channel had said soon. Your short term memory had been affected the most, but Billy didn't wanna risk anything which could possibly trigger you. Getting you calm after a panic attack, without either medication or sedative, was no simple task to do.

When you got released from the Hospital, your dad had to rearrange his whole schedule—his life even, so he could take care of you and your needs—and Billy and Stu were happy to help with that, after all they're your boyfriends.

And hearing the sentences; „I know my little boy will be in good hands with you two“ and „I'm proud to have you has my possible future in Laws.“ from your dad, a chill guy he is in all honestly, gave the two a fulling feeling of pride.

They accompanied you to every therapy session, helped you with your own schedule, keeping notes and overall giving as much support as they could.

You were their little ray of sunshine after all, their light of life. The sole reason for what they did.

~~~

«....bill...billy......Billy.» your rough voice, still a low whisper, which got slightly better over the last year, thanks to the medicine and speech therapy, broke Billy out of the reminiscing past.

He hummed, glancing at you and Stu, who give him a expectantly look.

«What?»

«.....you good....?»

«Yeah, bills, you good man? Spacing off during a horror movies isn't like you.»

«I'm good, I just thought about something. Anyways, Stu move your ass it's your turn to put the next movie in»

Stu huffed at this, but did as asked. Your frowning face didn't wavered, taking Billy's hand. Billy kissed your lips, pulling you more into his side, ignoring Stu's whining about being left out.

He wasn't big for emotions, though those small rare moments he liked to do and enjoy.

«I'm fine, nothing to worry about love.»

Billy would always kill for you. He had to protect you after all. Stu would do the same.

You're their precious little darling after all.

[its-my-whump]

Whumpril 2024 - Day 8

Bloodshot

@whumpril

Tw: language!, vomit, helplessness, implied beating, anger

The door bell rang for the 4th time. "Bloody hell." Caretaker mumbled to himself, paddling the blanket away and crawled out of his bed. The room was chilly and a quick look, showed a blurry 2:48 am on his alarm clock. He brushed a hand through his own hair and over his sleepy face to get his bearings, while coming up to his legs.

Shuffling towards the front door it rang again. "Yeah, coming." He half loud mumbled again, naked feet left prints on the cold floor making a path to the door.

His hand grapped for the door handle. The moment he pulled and some weight started to press onto the doorleaf from the outside, the thought jumped in, that at this time of night, it could easily be some buglars.

Surprised by the weight on the door, he had to hold it strongly, so it wouldn't push him away.

A step to the side. No burglars! His hand automatically let go of the handle and he stepped forward to catch the limp body.

The door flew open, his own body was almost pulled down, when he took a hold of the dead weight now in his arms. "Johnny? Fuck!"

He grapped his friend under his limp arms and pulled him completely inside the appartement. An elbow against the lightswitch and a hard kick to the open door. It fell shut with a bang, at 2:49 am in the morning.

Caretaker pulled Johnny to the couch and laid him down on the cushions. Getting to his hunches, a few light slaps to the pale cheek. "Ey, Johnny. Can you open your eyes for me, man?"

Half a minute passed, some more light flaps and the limp form stired on the couch. Eyelids fluttered open, it looked exhausting, just watching the attempt. His eyes bloodshot, some veins dark red in glazy white, his iris too small for the semi dark room. His left eye already swelling shut.

"The fuck, man! What happened?"

Some undeceiferable movement in his ghostly white face. Dry lips weakly parted, to reveal bloody teeth. "T..th...they got m..." His jaw visibly clenched. Caretaker, yet shocked by the forming bruise on his left side of his face, but still quickly thinking on his feet, grapped for the bowl of some rubbish from the coffeetable and emptied it.

Johnny was already retching and weakly leaning towards the edge of the sofa. The bowl went under his face and Caretaker turned away. More out of respect as of disgusted. He studied Johnny shaking body from his kneeling position.

His friends short hair was sweaty, spiking in all directions. Only now Caretaker saw the blood on the back of Johnnys head. Sweat was glistening on his pale, almost translucent face. A stream of blood had painted a red line down into the back of his collar. He was shivering all of a sudden and Caretakers hand took a hold of his shoulder. Johnny flinched, wiggled in pain and a moan slipped out. Caretaker pulled carefully on the collar of his friends shirt and took a glimpse of the purple bruise, that was creeping up his back.

Johnnys fingers were digging into the couch, knuckles white from strain, but bloody from fighting back.

"Fuck!" Caretaker exhaled, then he got angry. "I'm gonna kill these cowards."

My masterlist

[oldsargasso]

🤭

Winner is definitely one of those people who does not act as mature as his age LOL. DEAN’S CUSTOMER SERVICE SPIRIT SHFJFJF

I was gonna say Kim is probably bad at letting people take care of him when he’s sick but you know what! He’d probably be good at that too, the bastard!! (But oh, I’m having thoughts now about Kenta providing care for him the first time after the whole Tony incident, and it bringing back memories and complicated emotions about that time he totally definitely canonically tended to Kim’s wounds when he was captured)

And oh Kenta, oh baby, he WOULD have trouble understanding the appeal of his body, it just would not compute to him (I need to see him get shy when it finally starts to sink in, please)

Winner would be the WORST (when is he not) to learn on because he’d be shifting and complaining the ENTIRE TIME. And yet it would give Dean very important feedback on what happens if he leaves it too loose in this spot, or too tight in that one etc etc—whereas Kenta would simply Not Say Anything unless continuously prompted by Kim. 

Dean *has* worked hard and deserves recognition and Kim is gonna tell him what a good job he’s doing and how appreciated he is and it is NOT going to make me emotional.

Kim 🥺🥺🥺🥺 this practically perfect dude and his three loser boyfriends

Also we DO DESERVE TO KNOW EVERYONE’S BIRTHDAYS, THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION

noooo I canNOT think about kim being cared for! especially by Kenta which 100% happened while Kim was Tony's captive - do you think that's when Kim started to realise what a gentle soul Kenta truly is? even when Kenta was holding a knife to his throat, the hand in his hair wasn't pulling hard or forcing him to strain his neck. lol I do kinda love the idea of Kim being a terrible patient though. he's gotta have a flaw!

I need the other three to have like, a campaign to make him understand. or maybe a game to see who can get away with the most blatant innuendo or...I can't think of the word. but like making excuses like 'oh you should take your shirt off while doing XYZ 😇 you don't want to get it dirty'

(listen...very very occasionally Winner is not the worst. it probably hasn't ever occurred onscreen but I believe in my terrible pathetic emotional support goon okay. he just wants to race cars and wave a gun around!!) but YES Kenta would absolutely keep quiet about being uncomfortable (back to the not safewording when he should that you mentioned - it's not THAT bad so why would he say anything? Kenta knows how to endure, more than anything.) but omg 🥺 Kim constantly checking in 🥺 and then with Winner they're like "okay we GET IT" (while still not actually crossing any lines) in my head Winner just isn't into the rope thing at all. why would he not wanna touch? why would he not wanna be touched? but perhaps there is a tiny little EMOTION occurring when he sees how peaceful it makes Kenta. and how proud Dean is.

I'm like sick over Dean getting praised. every time I think about actually writing polycule fic it's the first thing I go to I NEED IT TO HAPPEN. (honestly it's so blatant you wonder how the rest of x hunter weren't getting Dean to do literally anything - Kenta had one conversation where he said something remotely nice about Dean and Dean went and sabotaged a car over it. imagine what could have been.) anyway. imagine the first time Winner says something genuinely appreciative for Dean. (I gotta go work on my winnerdean fic lol)

I honestly need like a coffeetable book of everything about everyone on this show. birthdays, favourite foods, how they all got into racing. an explanation of how everyone's finances work lol.

[funnycoffeeqquote]

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[dudidamtees]

Coffee Quote All I Need Is Coffee And My Camera T-Shirt

Coffee Quote All I Need Is Coffee And My Camera Inspirational Photographer quote saying in his life when he working

[xsavannahx987]

🏙️City Living ADD ON🏙️

All CC on this pack are base game compatible.

casket coffeetable - conversion from a sculpture, it came with 9 swatches, all lods and shadow. 7 slot for clutter. Fully tested in game. Cost 55$

contemporary barstool - conversion from base game dining chair. It  has 12 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 30$

fortune table lamp - 12 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 150$

fracture veil dining chair - conversion from living chair, it came with 10 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 115$

minimalist bookcase - conversion from large bookcase. 10 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 1395$

minimalist dining chair - conversion from living chair. 10 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 115$

private living chair - new mesh. 10 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 150$

private loveseat - new mesh, it came with 10 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 180$

private sofa - new mesh. 10 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 290$

shell dining chair - conversion from living chair. 11 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 115$

waste loveseat - new mesh. 6 swatches, all lods and shadow. Fully tested in game. Cost 180$

clutter items deco only:

festival paint - new mesh. 4 swatches, all lods and shadow. Cost 55$

festival poster - new mesh. 4 swatches, all lods and shadown. Cost 15$

festival shirt - 2 items, detached from debug object. 4 swatches, all lods and shadow. Cost 65$

treasure casket - new mesh. 9 swatches, all lods and shadow. Cost 45$

To find all objects in game, type [City Living Add on] in the search bar.

DOWNLOAD (Patreon, early access)

Free on 29/11

@moonglitchccfinds @emilyccfinds @maxismatchccworld @sssvitlanz

[cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc]

One more time

Summary: Alex regrets ever saying yes. All he wants is a second chance.

Trigger warning: Mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, swearing, angst

Author's note: my first piece off hiatus !! - you're a twitch streamer in this fic but it won't come up too much :) hope u like it <3

Based on: Break My Heart Again - FINNEAS

you sigh. your ex-boyfriend called again. you've been ignoring your phone for 5 minutes now. was he really this desperate?

you pick up your phone and slide the green button.

"what do you want, alex?"

"___, you picked up!"

he sounded extremely relieved, like he needs you to breathe.

"i did, now what do you want?"

alex sighed and leaned on a wall in his bedroom.

"can i come over? there's some stuff i still need to pick up."

you suck in a breath sharply. the air is thick and tense.

"no."

you clench the phone you were holding and bit your lip.

"i don't want to see you right now."

alex closed his eyes and pushed himself off the wall.

"i understand, you need time."

there was silence for a moment. neither of you wanted to say anything.

"if you want to come over that bad you can get your things tomorrow morning."

"sounds good. i'll be there around 11, okay?"

"fine."

"good-"

you ended the call.

"-bye..."

alex let his arm drop beside him. his eyes were watering, but he wiped it away with the sleeve of his hoodie.

it's his fault, he knew. but why is he still so upset? he shouldn't feel like this - it's is his own doing, after all.

~

you open the door to your home. alex was standing on the porch with a few empty bags in hand. the morning sun blinded you slightly, making you squint at the man in front of you.

"hi ___."

"hello, alex. all your belongings are on the couch.

"great, thank you."

~

he looks over as he's folding a shirt.

"what are you looking at?"

you say without looking away from your laptop.

his face was getting red slightly from embarrassment.

"nothing, you seem busy."

alex directed his eyes back to the clothes in front of him.

"otherwise you would've said something about me."

alex snickered slightly, trying to lighten the mood.

you sigh, holding your face in one of your hands.

don't say it. ___, keep it in. there's no point in fighting him. ___-

"if i wanted to make a comment it'd be about the fact you can't keep your dick in your pants."

god damn it, why did you do that?

he fell quiet. you hated his guts, but even you felt kind of bad for being so blunt with it.

a part of you still loved him. his loud, yet charming laugh. his sweet kisses. his adorable clinginess. his blushing face when you teased him.

you shake your head, trying to physically get rid of your pity for him. he doesn't love you anymore. he shouldn't, and neither should you.

~

after filling the bags with alex's belongings he stood up and wiped his forehead. you waver from your work and look him up and down.

"you done?"

you asked him. he turned around and gave you a weak smile.

"yeah, i think so."

"good, you know the way out."

you turn back to your computer.

"___, wait. can i ask you something?"

you make eye contact with him, fully aware it makes him nervous.

"what do you want?"

alex took a quick breath.

"can we talk sometime?"

you look at him like he spoke an alien tongue.

"why the hell would i?"

"i want to talk about what happened between us. i hate that our relationship is so sour."

he set a step forward.

"i just want this to end peaceful - or at least neutral."

"why the fuck would i want to be peaceful with you of all people?"

"i hate ending things on the wrong foot, you know that."

alex stands his ground, making you livid.

"then we make up, and then what? you'll just break my heart again!"

you stand up, simultaneously pushing the chair away with your legs.

"then i can lay awake and think about why i even let you inside my house again in the first place?!"

if looks could kill, alex would be on the floor.

"fine. if you don't want to, then i guess everything will just stay the way it is."

alex turned around and grabbed his bags. there's no way he's getting through to you right now.

"oh, so now it's my fault?"

you slam your laptop and walk away from the table.

"well, i'm so sorry for being angry at you for cheating on me!"

you don't hold your anger in anymore, he crossed the line.

"i never said that, ___!"

alex yelled to match your energy.

you took a step back. the audacity to yell at you in your house.

"out. now."

alex grabbed the second bag of clothes and without a word walked to the front door.

"goodbye, ___."

alex pushes the door open and steps outside. you go after him but stop at the doorstep.

"fuck you!" you sob out. you grab the doorknob and slam the door shut.

your knees slowly got weaker and you sit against the front door, shutting your eyes.

~

it's been a month since you've seen alex. you've blocked him on everything since then.

you were doing a q&a on your twitch channel and everything was going well. chat was filled with questions and you answered the one's you could.

your thoughts were somewhere else, though.

you still miss him, you really did. alex used to watch your streams all the time. he sent you donations with cheesy pick-up lines, he called you during streams to make fun of you for dying in a game or just to chat while he's bored.

but that didn't happen anymore.

you realize you haven't said anything in a while and you apologize. your chat was spamming purple hearts and 'are you okay?'

"ah, sorry everyone, i'm still tired from yesterday. i think i'm going to end the stream for today, thank you all for coming!"

after saying goodbye you turn off your computer.

why are you still so obsessed over him?! he cheated on you! he even tried to cover it up with a bullshit story about "not being the first to kiss her," and "she forced me to," like someone would believe a lie like that.

yet, you still love him. something inside you wants to believe him, like he really was telling the truth.

~

the next morning you open twitter and scroll for a bit. you made a tweet earlier in which you stated you weren't going to stream today.

you looked at the trending topics and saw your name in bold letters. you clicked on it and read the first tweet that popped up.

'i really hope ___ is doing better, they looked so sad on stream :('

an image was attached to it - a screenshot from the stream you did yesterday where you were mindlessly staring at your computer screen.

you sighed. at least they're not thinking too deep about this.

you scroll further down, replying and liking a couple tweets saying you were alright, thanking them or cracking a joke. this should keep them off your back for a while.

after scrolling for a bit one tweet catches your eye. you clutch your phone as you read the comment.

'kinda obvious they miss quackity :/ it's a good cover-up story tho '

~

alex was staring at his ceiling. he'd seen the tweets about you - about him.

he hates this feeling. he hates the fact that he knows what you're thinking. he hates that he knows it's his fault. he didn't mean to. he didn't.

"come on, alex. you know you want it." the woman said.

"i told you, no! i have a partner!" alex pushed her away for the second time, trying to find a way past the girl and out of this small alleyway. he should've never gone to this stupid bar.

"tch, whatever. but know you'll regret rejecting someone like me!" the girl pushed him to the brick wall and fixed her dress as she walked away.

alex fixed himself for a minute and walked past the bar and into his car. he pulled out his phone and shot you a quick text.

'hey bb i'll be over in a few :)'

'don't come back.'

you responded almost immediately. alex froze as he looked at the screen.

'wdym?'

'you know damn well why'

you sent him a photo of him next to the bar in the alley. the girl was all over him while her lips connected lustfully to his.

'it isn't what it looks like, i didn't start any of this!'

you don't respond. alex tries to send you another text when an error pops up.

'unable to send message. user has blocked you.'

~

you hover your hand over your phone's keyboard. you thought anbout alex's offer to talk, and decided that maybe it was a good idea after all. you couldn't get your mind off him, you thought that hopefully getting some closure could help.

but how were you going to ask him? 'hey, i know i blocked number like a month ago but can you to meet me at some random park? see you there!'

after typing and deleting multiple texts you eventually landed on a message.

'hey alex, i've been thinking about your offer to talk it out, and i wanted to ask if you're still up for it?'

you send it and immediately turn off your phone and place it on the coffeetable in front of you. you did it, finally. you fall back on your couch and pull your knees up to your face, waiting for a notification.

after a nailbiting five minutes a light emits from your phone. you pick it up and read the name calling you. 'alex'. you take a deep breath and answer the phone.

"hi alex."

"hey ___, it's been a while."

you sit up straight, preparing yourself for the conversation you're about to have.

'yeah, you can say that."

the atmosphere was a lot less tense than you expected. it was weirdly... comforting? you can hear alex's raspy voice through the phone. has he been crying?

"i saw your text, you wanted to meet?"

"yes, i did. i wanted to get some closure, at least."

alex chuckled, his laugh making you a little flustered. trying to brush it off, you laugh with him.

"what's so funny?" alex asked.

you rolled your eyes and smile.

"you, dumbass."

he gasps cartoonishly loud. his goofy personality is something you could never get enough of. maybe you were wrong after all.

"ok, but seriously, when do you want to meet?"

he gets back on topic. you snap out of your smile and remember why he called in the first place.

"right, right. i'm free this whole week, you can choose when."

after some planning and back and forth, you decide to meet at a small family-run café in the afternoon. coincidentally, it's the same place you two had your first date.

~

you settle down at a table on the terrace of the café, the sunday sun greeting you warmly. you were a little early, so you decided to think of some questions. it didn't take you long to come to a few, though. your main question was the photo. what was that all about?

as you were handed a menu you saw alex walking on the pavement fidgeting with his fingers.

"hey! sorry if i'm late, i took the bus instead of my car."

he took the seat parallel to yours and exhaled.

"oh no, you're right on time. i was just a little early."

the waitress gave alex a menu and disappeared into the establishment. you both decided to stay quiet before getting on topic. neither of you want to start the conversation.

after both ordering and having surface level conversation for a while silence fell. you both know why you're here, it feels off to talk like nothing ever happened.

"okay-"

"so-"

you both start at the same time. alex awkwardly chuckles while covering his mouth.

"you first."

alex proposes. you nod and like magic lose the somewhat content mood you had prior. you steadily breathe in and pull out your phone.

"so, first things first; my main goal is to get closure and an explanation - there's no point in lying to me."

alex hums in agreement. you could tell he was nervous, you knew him better than anyone. you tap on your screen a few times until you reach the photo that was sent to you.

"now, i want a clear answer. what happened that night?"

you ask him firmly as you put your phone on the table to reveal the image.

"that's my ex-girlfriend."

alex said. you raise an eyebrow - his ex? you've heard some wild things about her and her antics, which is exactly why alex broke up with her in the first place.

"she said she wanted to ask me something in private. my dumbass said yes, because i can't pick up on context clues, apparently."

you cross your arms and lean back on the chair.

"you got that right."

alex looks up from the photo and makes eye contact with you.

"long story short, she pushed me to the wall and kissed me. i tried to push her off but she didn't let me go. after shoving her, like, twice she finally got the hint and left."

~

"so she set you up?"

"she hasn't changed a bit since all those years."

you say with a hint of condescension. his explanation made sense, and from what you heard he wasn't lying. your gut told you to believe him, yet your mind had an itching feeling that there was something else.

"are you sure that's all?"

alex flinched slightly.

"y-yes, ___. i don't know what else to tell you."

you mess with your hair a bit, clearly conflicted. there was nothing else, you knew that. but your brain wouldn't let it go. you decided it's better if you just sleep on it.

"alright, then.-"

you grab your bag and stand up.

"-i think we're done here."

alex stays seated and looks up at you.

"yeah, i think so."

you pick the phone up that's laying on the table. you pull out your wallet and put a $5 bill under your teacup.

"goodbye, alex."

"wait!"

alex stands up and grabs your wrist, the gesture scaring you little bit.

"are you still mad at me?"

those eyes. they're so pretty, almost sparlking. you snap out of it when he lets go, just realizing how weird it is to grab someone's arm out of nowhere.

"sorry, my bad. i wasn't thinking."

alex scratches the back of his neck.

"i'm still deciding if i can trust you, but i appreciate you showing up, at least."

"that's enough for me."

alex smile at you, not trying to pry.

"goodbye, ___."

"goodbye, alex."

~

you heard the chirping of the birds outside your window and groan. why is it already morning? you sit up and grab your phone from the nightstand next to your bed, the phone reading 11:23 - tuesday - xx-xx-xxxx.

you sigh and fall back onto your bed. you've been thinking about alex for a few days now, still not getting him out of your head.

after going downstairs and eating some toast you pull out your phone again, the clock now reading 12:44. you look through your contacts and eventually land on his name.

you hover your hand over the green pixels while sitting down at the dining table. you swallow audibly and click the call button.

it goes once.

it goes twice.

"___?"

'Hey alex, i wanted to ask you if you wanted to meet up again?"

ty for reading <3

m.list

taglist: @adoring-ghost @sakisaralazy @for-memories-sacrifice @ialexabsuniverse @shiyanchan @bioluminescentfrog @esylwen

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[buckys-fairy]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - Shower Time

Note: English is not my first language - and this is the first fanfic in a long time.

Inspired by the picture above and some girls-talk in a Sebastian Stan Whats App group

Warning: Romance, fluff, 18+ content

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Bucky, I'm home" you call out as you are entering your appartement after a long day at work .

"I'm in the kitchen" you hear your boyfriend answer, " You want a cup of coffee too, doll?"

You get rid of your shoes and even after 2 years together you have to smile at the nickname he has for you. As you enter the living room you see him leaning on the doorframe leading to the kitchen waiting for you with your favorite mug in his hand. Your smile widens as you walk up to him and lean in to him to kiss him. Immediately his other arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer. "Glad your home, I kinda missed you" Bucky mumbles against your lips.

"I'm glad I'm home too .... I kinda missed the coffee", you say with a cheeky grin as you grab the mug from him and take a sip.

"Ouch, so you are only living with me cos of my barista skills?", Bucky fakes a pout, patting his left chest like he's having a heart attack.

"Yeah, well ... that's the main reason...you got any other skills?" you challenge him as you move past him into the kitchen.

With one smooth move Bucky is in front of you, pinning you between him and the kitchen counter, causing your coffee to splash on both of your shirts. Before you even can complain about it, Bucky takes the cup out of your hand and puts it on the counter, pressing his hips a little more against yours and leaning down to you. You can feel his breath on your skin, causing you to shiver, as he whispers in your ear "Well, you didn't complain about my bedroom skills last night, doll..." "I didn't, did I .... " you mumble against his neck and wrap your arms around his back. "Quite the opposite ... as I remember" he recalls as he starts nibbeling an your neckline and picks you up to sit on the counter. Bucky knows that your neck is one of your sensitve spots and smiles as you let out a soft moan. He intensifies his nibbling and kissing down your neckline to your collarbone until you wrap your legs around his thighs and pull him closer. Suddenly he stops and steps back, leaving you wanting more. With a devilish grin Bucky says "As much as I want to show you some of my other skills, I am afraid I have to get changed and ready for my Zoom-Meeting with Sam and Agent Miller."

He turns around and leaves the kitchen, pulling his stained shirt over his head, perfectly knowing that you love the sight of his naked back.

"Argh", you let out a frustrated groan. You want more of your man, you want him to satisfy your burnig desire.

You get off of the counter and make your way to the bedroom to change out of the coffee stained shirt yourself. You see Bucky sitting in front of his laptop in the living room, putting his ear pods in and getting ready for his meeting.

You close the bedroom door behind you, strip out of your clothes and decide to take a shower. As you put on your silk robe you suddenly have an idea.

You open the door carefully and listen to make sure that Bucky's Zoom call has already started. As you hear him talking, you walk out to the living room and stop infront of the coffee table.

Bucky looks up when he notices you and you can see the slightly surprised look when he sees you standing there in your silk robe.

Slowly you let your robe slide down your right shoulder, revealing your collar bone and the little tattoo right above your breast. You chuckle a little when you see Bucky's eyes widen and notice that he has trouble staying focused on his meeting. You let the robe slide down your other shoulder too, just stopping it with your hands before your breast would be visible. His intense stare and the growing desire in his eyes give you more confidence. So you place your right foot on the coffeetable, making your robe part a little to show your thigh.

You look Bucky straight in the eyes as you start to trace little circles up your thigh and back down to your knee. He swallows hard and you notice that the bump in his jeans is getting bigger. This gives you even more confidence, so you very slowly untie the belt of your robe, your one leg still in front of him on the coffee table. And with one move you let the robe fall to the floor.

Bucky lets out a small groan, which he tries to cover up with a cough and shifts uncomfortable on the couch ... his full hard on obviously bothering him in his jeans.

You give him your most innocent smile and turn around to head for the shower that you wanted to take. As you leave the room you can feel his stare on your naked back and the feeling shoots directly in your stomach, making your sensitve parts tingle.

As you shut the bathroom door behind you and turn on the shower, you can help and chuckle to yourself , "Payback's a bitch, Barnes!"

You let the warm water run over your body and get lost in your thoughts. You start rubbing shower gel on our body as suddenly two strong arms grab you from behind. You are so startled that you let out a small shriek as Bucky bites your neck.

"So, you wanna tease me?", he askes, " I don't think so"

He cups your breast from behind, carefully rolling our nipples between his fingers. You let out a moan and tilt your head back a little against his chest. He starts to nibble your neckline again and you have to reach for the wall to stabilze yourself as you feel your knees getting a little weak.

Bucky pushes you against the wall and you can feel his hardness against your ass. His right arm stays on your breast as his left caresses down your stomach and your hip making his way between your legs. He slides his fingers between them and starts massaging your soft spot. You hear yourself moan as you grind your ass against his hips wanting more of him.

"Bucky, please I need you!", you whisper.

"Need me where, doll?", he asks.

"I need you inside me, please...", you beg.

"Oh doll, I need you too", he moans.

Bucky turns you around and with one move pulls you up on his hips. His lips find yours and his kiss is full of hunger and desire. You wrap your thighs around his waist as he pushes you against the wall.

As he enters you, you both need a moment to adjust to the feelings washing over you. Bucky deepens his kiss and slowly starts grinding.

As you moan against his lips he ups the speed a little, pushing harder. You drag your nails into his back as you feel him getting deeper and thighten your thighs around his waist a even more.

"You feel so good babe, so good" he mumbles against your lips.

"I need to feel you deeper inside me" you moan as Bucky thrust harder.

You feel your climax building up, your head falling back, your moaning getting louder. And with the next thrust Bucky sends you over the edge, letting your inner self shatter into pieces.

He bumps even harder as he feels you contracting around him and you can feel him twitch as he comes inside you.

You both wrap your arms around each other, holding on tight, not letting go as you try to catch your breaths. Bucky still pins you against the wall, your legs still around him as he places his forehead against yours.

"I love you, doll!" he whispers.

"I love you too!", you whisper back, gently kissing him.

-------------------------------------------

@nevenabadr

@shafverani

@imsebastiansta-n

[shingekinohyrulewrites]

The Printers Smell Fear, You Know

Based on the prompt "I have to print my paper before class, you're trying to fix the printer jam while I freak out."

Or

You have thirteen minutes to print out a paper or you'll fail out of university. A mysterious, handsome brunette comes to save the day. And then he dips.

Read first chapter on AO3 here

Read previous chapter on AO3 here

It was currently Friday night, and you were curled up on your couch scrolling through the Netflix catalog. Hitch was out with her British boy toy, assuring you that there was no need for you to wait up for her, which meant she planned on spending the night with him. Sasha and Connie always had date night on Fridays, so making plans with her was out of the question.

After class, you changed into your comfy clothes, a ratty old T shirt and a pair of track shorts before ordering some takeout and settling onto the couch. While you waited for your food to come, you began scrolling through the movies, hoping to find something mindless to watch while you ate and eventually drifted off to sleep.

A series of knocks had you jumping up, and you smiled upon knowing your food was finally here. Grabbing the tip from the coffeetable, you opened the door, mouth parting as you began to thank your delivery guy.

Your mouth immediately shut.

Eren was standing at the door, eyes raking over your figure before giving you a small smile.

“Hi. Sorry that I’m here unannounced.”

You blinked up at him. Even though the two of you had been texting daily, you had yet to tell him which dorm you were staying in. The two of you often met up in between classes, catching up quickly before rushing off to your next class. Eren must have read your mind because he reached up to rub the back of his head awkwardly.

“Er, Hitch and Sasha both texted me saying that you were here alone and to come check on you.”

I am going to strangle them.

“Oh, sure, come in. Make yourself at home.”

You stepped aside, allowing him to enter your dorm. Glancing down the hallway, you saw your delivery guy approaching, raising the bag as he greeted you. Smiling, you jogged to meet him halfway before tipping him and retreating back to your dorm.

“If I would have known you were coming I would have ordered you food,” you frowned.

Eren shook his head. “No worries. I stopped to eat before coming here.”

You settled onto the couch, placing your food down before searching through Netflix again. Deciding on some B list horror movie, you hit play and picked up your food. It was silent while you ate, occasionally making a comment to Eren about a character or some lame line. When you finished your meal, you leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder while he wrapped a strong arm around you.

Halfway through the movie, a sudden jumpscare had you jerking up, instinctively hiding your face behind Eren’s shoulder. Chuckling, he pulled you closer to him, rubbing your back soothingly while pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You relaxed into his touch, inhaling the familiar scent that was wholly him. He smelled like aftershave and pine mixed together, a combination that was oddly sweet.

After calming down, you lifted your head and continued watching the movie. Unbeknownst to you, Eren’s attention was on you, eyes glimmering in the dim light as he admired your features. He was still in disbelief that he had found you and that the two of you were hitting it off. The hand wrapped around your waist began lightly stroking you, fingers slowly making their way towards your hips.

Ever since you had opened the door, Eren felt like his skin was on fire. His eyes had stayed fixated on your legs, admiring them and the way your track shorts fit your ass and hips so perfectly. He was slightly ashamed to admit that he had been jerking off to the thought of you nearly every night, looking forward to when he would finally be able to touch your skin and taste you. Your focus was on the movie as he inserted his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging at them gently.

The sudden movement had you jerking your head towards him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He took in your surprised expression, lips twitching as he tried hard not to smile. You just looked so damn adorable. Instead, he leaned in slightly until your noses were inches away.

“Can I take off your shorts?” he whispered.

You nodded, lifting your hips to help him remove them. Instinctively you leaned back, eyes staying fixated on him in the dark room. He threw your shorts onto the floor before kneeling and leaning over you. His lips were quickly on yours, hands running down your sides before one settled on your breast and the other tangled in your hair. A low moan left your lips as he squeezed your nipple, kneading it between his long fingers. His hand shifted to the bottom of your tattered shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it to the floor. He quickly fumbled with his own, tugging it over his head and adding it to the discarded collection.

Even in the dark, you could tell that Eren was built. His years of playing soccer led to him having broad shoulders, delicious abs, and bulging biceps. One of your hands reached up to trail the muscle, starting at his shoulders before slowly making your way down. Your hands caught onto his pants, fumbling with the button and zipper before yanking them down. His erection was obvious in his boxers, and your eyes widened at the size of it.

Eren leaned down quickly, capturing you in a fiery kiss. His tongue swiped out to enter your mouth, darting about to taste every inch of it. You bit his bottom lip, pulling on it gently in an effort to pull him closer to you. Groaning, he pulled his head back, panting lightly as he stared at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Fuck, if you don’t stop I won’t be able to hold back,” he muttered.

Laughing, you looked him dead in the eyes as you said, “What if I don’t want you to?”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a smirk tugged at his lips. He reached down to slide your panties before removing his boxers. In the light of the television, you took the time to admire his cock. You were right about the size just from the bulge, with it hanging heavily between his legs, a neat patch of dark hair at the base. One of his hands reached down to pump himself as he nudged you back down, spreading your legs with his knees.

“I’ll take it nice and slow, baby. Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

Eren lowered his body until his chest was right above yours, pressing sloppy, open-mouth kisses down your neck. One hand reached down to align himself with you, pressing the tip in gently before pushing his hips forward. It had been a while since you had been laid, and the stretch was a reminder of that. He slowly pushed in, biting down on your neck as he inched himself in. You lifted your legs, tucking your feet behind him as your legs caged him in between you. When he was inside you fully, hips flush against yours, he let out a shaky breath.

“You feel so good Princess, it was like your pussy was meant for me.”

His dirty words had you moaning, cunt clenching around him. Upon feeling it, his hips jerked forward, and he pressed his forehead against yours in an effort to steady himself.

“Hurry up and fuck me, Eren,” you whispered.

His hips jerked back, pulling out until just the tip was in before slamming into you. The impact had you moving higher on the couch, hands scrambling to grab on to anything near you. His thrusts were slow, mouth still on your neck as your hands moved down to grab onto his ass. Despite how slow he was going, he thrusted into you with such force you felt jolts rush up your spine.

There was so much intimacy, and you realized he wasn’t fucking you, he was making love. His thrusts stayed slow, mouth trailing up your neck and along your jaw until he met your mouth again. One of his hands reached up to cup your face, the other searching for your hand to interlace your fingers together.

His thrusts began to pick up, becoming sharper as his hips rammed into yours. The couch creaked under you, mouth opening as you panted and moaned his name out. Your hands remained interlaced, squeezing his as he picked up the pace until he was thrusting into you hard. Tumbles of his name and cries filled your dorm, the sound of skin slapping skin and the lewd sounds of your squelching echoing throughout the room.

“God, I never want to fuck anyone else,” Eren panted, fingers tightening around yours.

You nodded frantically, your orgasm building as his thrusts lost rhythm and he began sputtering into you. With a loud wail of his name you came, hand gripping tightly onto his as you let go. He came right after, your name coming out as a low groan as his hips came to a stop, spilling himself into you.

Thank God for birth control.

He collapsed onto you, face settling into the crook of your neck as he tried to catch his breath. You ran your fingers through his long locks, massaging his scalp before dragging your fingers gently through his soft hair. For a moment, you thought he had fallen asleep before he pulled away, gently removing himself from you. Whining at the empty feeling, you peered up at him with a relaxed expression.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that,” he admitted sheepishly.

Giggling, you pulled him back down to press a kiss to him.

“Me too.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

⌘: being picked up, for Kauri?

CW: gruff caretaker, degrading language, victim-blaming language, mention of infected wound, sick/feverish whumpee

Timeline: First safehouse Kauri runs to after escaping Owen

"Hey, Mr. Martin?"

The voice is shrill, and Kauri flinches back from it, instinctively moving his hands to cover his neck, to keep Owen from closing his own thicker fingers around them. The movement pulls at the bandages he's managed to tape down over his collarbone and he whines, animal-sounding but unable to stop himself, as the pain spikes.

"Yes, Breck?"

"The whore fell over again." Breck's voice is flat, uncaring, and Kauri feels himself nudged in the stomach with someone's toes - Breck's probably - and curls up. "I think he's sick."

"Probably." Mr. Martin's voice has more compassion than Breck's, if only just, and Kauri sees behind closed eyelids a shadow as the big man looms over him.

It feels like Owen, bent over him next to the coffeetable, wide green eyes with tiny pupils as he promised that this time Vince would never escape him.

Kauri tries to open his eyes to look up, but sees only a more solid vision of the same shadow before the pain makes him close them again.

"We don't use language like that," Mr. Martin says to Breck, and Kauri feels muscled arms slide underneath his shoulder blades and then behind his knees.

For a moment he floats untethered in the air and he cries out, digging his fingers into the arms that hold him and burying his face against Mr. Martin's neck. He'd jostled a little, adjusted, and when the wave of resulting pain recedes, he finds himself gently cradled in Mr. Martin's arms.

"But he is one," Breck argues back, his voice swims in and out of Kauri's consciousness. "That's what his designation is for."

"Breck. We don't use that kind of language here. Let me get him into bed and I want to talk to you some more about this."

Mr. Martin carries Kauri, and his neck is cool compared to the burning heat inside Kauri's body, the sweat he can't seem to help sticking his curls to the back of his own neck. He's shivering, shaking from cold, and still the sweat keeps coming. His shirt sticks to him, his pants rub until they leave red marks on his legs.

"This is getting to be too much," Mr. Martin mutters.

Kauri keeps his eyes closed, but he thinks... he's probably right.

He'll take something to bring the fever down, and then he'll put Keira back in his backpack and keep moving. The house will be happier without him, anyway, and he... he's been watching the door more and more every day.

[cuddlepilefics]

Whumptober Day 9 – Belly Ache

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jisung

Caregiver: 3racha (+Felix)

To say Jisung was stressed would be an understatement. He hadn’t really gotten much sleep lately with the deadlines for their upcoming album release looming. 3racha basically lived in the studio writing and editing during times like this. Chan sat in front of his laptop editing the view songs they had already completed to bring them to perfection. Changbin was scribbling on a notepad going over some lyrics changing them up a bit to improve the flow. Han sat there feeling guilty as he stared at his own blank sheet. His rap part on one of the titles was still missing completely but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t really focus. The words he was looking for to express himself just wouldn’t come to his mind no matter how hard he tried. The little discomfort he had started to feel in his stomach when he went to sleep last night had only increased since he woke up, only distracting him more from his work. The dull ache had developed to sharp cramps shooting across his abdomen. The young rapper took a sip from his water bottle absentmindedly slipping his hand under his shirt to give his upset middle a short rub. He was glad his friends didn’t pick up on his struggling because the thought of holding them back by making them worry only made his anxiety levels rise. Picking his pen back up Jisung glared at the blank page willing words to just appear on it growing more and more frustrated. He started anxiously tapping his pen against the edge of the table he was sitting at.

At some point the noise got to much for Changbin who was similarly stressed as Han and snapped at him to stop. Annoyance clearly visible on his face causing the younger to freeze in his movement. Even Chan turned around alerted taking his headphones off which were blocking the sound of Han’s tapping. “I-I’m sorry”, the youngest member of the trio stuttered pressing his palm into his stomach gasping as he was hit by another cramp. Chan furrowed his brows giving his dongsaeng a quick once-over glance noticing the shaking hands that struggled to keep a secure grip on the pen. Changbin noticed too, immediately feeling guilty for snapping. “Hey, Sungie, I’m sorry for snapping. You ok?” He received a frantic nod but a moment later tears were dripping onto Jisung’s sheet. Chan got up and engulfed his crying member in a hug rubbing his back in steady circles. “It’s ok, Hannie. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”, he asked quietly. Changbin too got up and moved closer to the pair giving Han a comforting smile to show he wasn’t mad. He took away the pen and paper the younger one was still holding onto. With both his hands now free Jisung just hugged his stomach tighter hiding his face in the crook of Chan’s neck trying to steady his breathing again. After a few deep breaths he was able to reply to his hyung with a cracking voice. “My stomach is hurting really bad and I just can’t get a single line down”, he sniffed. “Don’t worry about your lyrics right now. Just focus on yourself for now. How long has it been hurting?”, Chan pressed on calmly. “It started to ache a bit last night but this morning the cramps started.” – “Was there anything off about your dinner?”, Changbin threw in reaching for the sweat jacket hanging on the back of his chair as he saw his younger member shiver. Shaking his head Jisung moved away from Chan and gladly slipped into the warm jacket handed to him. He had always struggled with his anxiety and especially during middle school it often caused him belly aches, though he thought he had grown out of it. Guessing his pain was caused by anxiety the rapper didn’t dare voice his suspicion since his friends were under even more pressure than he was. But Chan wouldn’t be Chan if he didn’t know his members well and giving the youngers shoulder a gentle squeeze he asked: “Do you feel really stressed? Might that be what’s making you sick?” Han just looked away avoiding his hyungs’ eyes: “All of us are stressed”. “Don’t be ashamed?”, Changbin said softly. He exchanged a look with Chan, both silently agreeing that their friend wouldn’t get better in the work environment the studio provided and would be best helped if they took him back to the dorm. Chan moved back to his computer to save his work, letting Changbin put a comforting arm around Jisung’s shoulders. The youngest in turn leaned against the older rapper’s side putting his head on his shoulder to rest his eyes while Chan finished everything up and called a driver to take them back home.

A few minutes later though he was pulled from his daze to be walked to the car by his friends. After the three of them were settled in the car Han tried to go to sleep again, this time on Chan’s shoulder, failing as he took deep breaths through the cramps that kept wracking his abdomen frequently. Situated between both his hyungs there steady hands on his shoulder and knee, giving gentle squeezes everytime the young rapper curled in on himself tighter. Arriving back at the dorm Chan gently led him to his bed while Changbin went to the kitchen preparing a cup of chamomile tea and filling a hot water bottle. It was nice and quiet, a rare occurrence at the Stray Kids dorm, with only 3racha being home. The dance racha was working on a new choreography and Seungmin and Jeongin were taking vocal lessons. When Changbin entered the bedroom Han shared with Jeongin, he found the young rapper curled up in his bed. Chan was sitting on the edge of the bed stroking his back trying to lull his dongsaeng to sleep. Changbin placed the tea down on the bedside table and handed the hot water bottle to Jisung, who quickly wrapped his arms around it giving a content sigh. The warmth soothed his burning middle almost instantly. “Try to get some sleep, ok? Binnie and I will be in the livingroom, so if you need something just yell”, Chan said running a hand through Jisung’s hair receiving a hum before he and Changbin left the room to set up the laptop on the coffeetable in the livingroom, picking up where they left off earlier. They kept checking in on their friend who seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep and refilled the hot water bottle from time to time.

Around dinnertime the rest of the group returned to the dorm taking turns showering before teaming up to cook dinner. Felix had been having a bad gutfeeling that something wasn’t right to day. His worry increased when all of them gathered at the dinnertable and he was only able to count seven members, himself included. The boys always joked about Jisung and him being september-twins and as much as he tried to laugh it off, it was true. They did have a special bond, similar to those twins had and apparently it had been his intuition telling him his brother was hurting before I even learned about it from Chan. The leader explained the situation why Han was absent during dinner and saw a frown forming on his members faces. All of them knew how much their Squirrel sometimes struggled with the pressure. Being one of if not the loudest member didn’t mean there wasn’t a very sensitive side to the Malaysian. Despite this causing concern to his group sometimes, they truly loved it when their Squirrel would turn soft and cuddly. That’s why Felix had shoved down his dinner in half the time he would usually take before putting his dish away and making his way to the rooms they slept in. Sneaking in on his toes he crept into bed with his twin spooning the other from behind.  “Hmm, hey Lixxie” – “How’d you know it was me?” – “Felt like you, you always give the best cuddles”, came the muffled reply making Felix heart swell causing him to hold on even tighter. “Chan said you don’t feel good?” Jisung hesitated, afraid to worry the slightly younger boy in his bed, but then admitted sounding younger than he intended to: “Yeah, my tummy hurts a bit…”. Felix tugged on the hot water bottle which had long since cooled down. The rapper uncurled slightly, letting go of the item that didn’t bring him comfort anymore. It was soon replaced by a tiny and that slipped under his shirt massaging gentle circles into his still aching tummy. Slowly Felix felt the other relax under his touch and after a while his breathing evened out. Being tired too, Felix rested his forehead against Jisung’s shoulderblade and closed his eyes. He fell asleep not long after.

Those two needed no words, they just knew what the other needed and were able to provide the necessary comfort.

[deluxewhump]

On the completely opposite side of the spectrum to the other anon: can we ever see the drabble(s) of Carlo getting the cigarette burns?

CW: slavery, torture, burning, cigarette burns, dehumanization, ganging up on whumpee, suggestive conversation, alcohol

****

They’re in Keith’s trailer, which he stays in most of the year for simplicity’s sake. Master’s away for a week in Stockholm so Keith decides to let him stay with him as a sort of mercy. Only it isnt, and Carlo wishes he could just stay alone in the house, sleep at the foot of Master’s fourposter bed. 

Three men sit across a coffee table from them, lounging on Keith’s beat up old sofa. The trailer’s got old shag carpet and tan appliances, fake wood paneling that makes it feel like the cabin of a ship. Keith called Carlo in with a holler and a whistle and now they’re watching with growing interest, wondering what Keith will do with him. 

“Your boss lets you mark up his boy?” One of them asks. Carlo recognizes him from the crate-loading crew the other day. 

“Ohh,” Keith drawls, tugging Carlo closer by the waist. He only ever touches him when there’s others around, for show. He gives him a peck on the cheek and Carlo flinches from his scratchy beard, his dry lips.

 “I don’t mark him up too bad. And the Boss never says anything. Besides, I leave his face alone.”

Carlo feels the familiar void in his belly, the vacuum of panic as it tightens his throat and makes his skin prick with sweat. Keith sets him on his knee with one arm still tight around his waist. Don’t even try it, it says. He pulls a pack of Marlboro Reds from his flannel shirt pocket, drags one out between his teeth. Carlo flinches from the metal click of the lighter. 

“Sometimes guys ask to uh… have a roll in the hay with him.” Keith says around his cigarette. Carlo drops his eyes but he can still feel the three others looking him over like a piece of meat.

 “Now that I can’t allow.” Keith likes to be the one in charge, the one that gets to say what does and doesn’t happen to him. The illusion of power makes him feel more important than he is. Even Carlo can see right through it. “Boss man eventually notices that and I got some explaining to do.”

Laughter. Carlo’s face is hot.

“But here,” he says, and tugs Carlo’s pants so a skinny hip is exposed. He whines. The men lean forward, craning to see the exposed skin. Old burns, silver and ashy. 

“Sometimes your ashtray gets full, you know? And where am I supposed to put out my smoke? This fine upholstery?” He rubs his hand along his old corduroy armchair. “Nossir.”

He takes a heavy drag from his cigarette, turns and presses it snugly onto Carlo’s naked hip. He yelps in pain, drowned out by a chorus of noise from the other men, souds of approval and amusement. 

Keith chuckles, tosses the butt onto the coffeetable. Carlo’s breath stutters with the shock of it, can’t believe how badly one little spot of skin can hurt. Keith takes him forecefully by the hair, dragging his head up so they can all see his face. He blows the smoke from his lungs at him, watches him scrunch his eyes shut. 

“Ever tried it?” He asks them. 

One shakes his head, grinning, and another reaches for his own pack of smokes. “Let me enjoy my cigarette first. These shits aint cheap.”

“Is that the only spot?” Another nods to Carlo’s hip. “Nowhere else?”

Keith shrugs. “I aint trying to mark up his face, I told you.”

“I’m not talking about his face.” He nods lower. “See how he likes one on the bottom of his foot. It’s the most sensitive spot there is. Well, except…”

Keith cuts him off. “Alright. Yeah.” He laughs. “Ya’ll are some sick fuckin’ puppies.”

Carlo whimpers as Keith shifts him on his knee, centering him more so he can hold him around the waist. “Todd, get his legs.”

The boy in the middle gets up, the youngest of the bunch. He tries to meet Carlo’s eyes, smiling.  “Well hi, sweetie.”

 Carlo tries to tuck his knees away from him but Keith’s got him tightly about the waist and the boy is quick, wrangling Carlo’s legs so his heels are on the coffee table. He takes off his belt with his free hand, wrapping it three times around Carlo’s ankles for good measure. Carlo watches helplessly as the boy hooks a dirty finger under his socks, pulls them off his feet one at a time. 

“How’s that go? This little piggie went to the market…” He takes hold of Carlo’s toe and pinches hard, making him jump and gasp.

The other has smoked his cigarette three quarters gone and leans forward, holding it an inch from the sole of the boy’s bare foot. Carlo goes very still, holding his breath.

“Oh, don’t tease us.” The one who’d suggested this says from the sofa. 

“What’s the capital of Maryland?” The one holding the cigarette asks. 

Keith laughs. “Oh, he don’t know.”

“A…Annapolis.”  Carlo breathes, wide-eyed. 

Todd laughs. “Heyyy, he’s smarter’n you, Keith.”

The cigarette is pulled back an inch. 

“What’s uh… what’s 9 times 9?”

Even in Ketih’s grip, Carlo manages to dip his ring finger, nine, feel eight fingers on the left side and one on the right.

“Eighty...one.”

Another burst of “ooooh.” The cigarette moves away another blessed inch. 

“What’s uhhh… what color is Todd’s underwear?”

Todd rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.”

Carlo feels his lip trembling. His ankles hurt from being pressed tight against each other in the belt. He doesn’t answer, knows it’s a trap. They’re bored of their little game already. The cigarette moves closer. The man furthest from him hums theme to Jeapordy. 

“Please.” He whispers, looking to each of them. “Please… don’t.” 

Someone makes a buzzer noise. The glowing cigarette grinds into the soft, pale skin on the arch of his right foot and he screams, bucking his hips away from Todd and Keith as best he can, which turns out only to be an inch.  They’re too strong.

His ears buzz, fear threatens his vision with dark wings on the edges. How many will they do? Would they go through a whole pack until he can’t walk? Where else would Keith let them hurt him?

Todd takes a turn, only taking one drag to get it burning before making the cigarette wheel and swoop closer like someone playing airplane with a baby’s spoon. 

Carlo sobs and turns his head away, muttering a littany of pleaseplease nonono, please stop that goes ignored, and Todd chooses the ball of his left foot, right beneath his toes. He holds it there for what seems like an eternity, watching Carlo’s face with hungry glee.

Tears wet Carlo’s face now, his throat is scratchy from crying out so hard. He can’t stop sobbing and shaking in Keith’s arms. The pain from each burn keeps coming on, seeming to get worse as the minutes go by. 

“Alright.” Keith says reluctantly after the fifth, when Carlo nearly chokes on his own spit from crying so hard. He nods at his ankles and Todd takes back his belt.

“Just a little fun, Slugger. Oh, don’t cry so hard. You’re such a little bitch, you know that? That’s why nobody can help themselves, you’re just too damn tempting.” He shoves him to the carpet the color of ditchwater. 

“Go on. Get that bottle out of the freezer for us.” 

[funnycoffeeqquote]

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[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, tonaathena1996

June 10- Loki & Jane Foster / smutty / “I’m not going to stop leaving marks until everyone knows you are mine!”, for @tonaathena1996

Written by @iamartemisday

Jane felt around the bottom of the bowl, pushing unpopped kernels and burnt bits around the plastic surface. No matter where she looked, not a hint of puffy, buttery goodness remained. Sighing, she pushed the bowl into Loki’s hands.

“Refill time,” she said.

Loki did not take his eyes off the screen. At least, Jane assumed he didn’t. She wasn’t sure. This was the best part of the movie. “Must I?”

“Yes because I got the drinks and made the last bag.” Jane sipped her Dr. Pepper. It was getting warm. “Now it’s your turn.”

An explosion cut off whatever remark he had cooking up, so he wisely bit his tongue and left for the kitchen like the good semi-reformed evil boyfriend he was. Jane sunk into the cushions under a blanket now that he wasn’t there to warm her. Scenes of a burning building and a tattered Bruce Willis staggering into the final fight flashed before her eyes. Soon Alan Rickman would be plummeting hundreds of feet to the ground like so many classic Disney villains. She just hoped Loki wouldn’t miss it.

“You coming?” she shouted into the kitchen.

“This does take time, you realize.”

“I thought you had magic. Pop it in your hands or something.”

“If I do, I won’t sleep tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because there aren’t enough hours in the day to answer all the questions you’ll have.”

Jane pouted. “Hey, I’m not that bad.”

A chuckle. Jane would’ve thrown her pillow in his direction, but she’d acheived maximum comfort in her current position, and moving now would be a mistake. Thank the Valkyrie above she’d peed before sitting down.

Loki made it just before the standoff, and he swerved gracefully around her coffeetable, his shins unmarred by the jagged wooden edges. Someday, Jane would replace that old thing. Right after she got the new carpet installed.

“I see he’s not dead yet.” Loki handed Jane a bowl of fresh popcorn and retook his place at her side. “This is taking far longer than necessary.”

“They’re just building tension. It’s how action movies work.”

“If it were me, I would’ve destroyed him and his partners within the first second.”

“You’re also an alien with superpowers. John McClane is not.” Jane popped some popcorn into his mouth. He made sure to lick her fingers before she pulled away.

“Such a pity.”

Jane nudged him, smiling to herself. Always trying to play the tough guy.

They didn’t speak again until the credits rolled. Jane switched the TV off and settled back into his arms.The rest of the popcorn could be eaten later. Perhaps with Die Hard 2.  She would’ve suggested they watch it now, but Loki hands were inside her shirt, and his lips had trailed from the top of her head to her neck.

“This is why I love date nights in,” she sighed.

“Why?” he growled, his teeth nipping her skin. “So I don’t get in trouble?”

“No, so you get in the right kind of trouble.”

She squealed as Loki dropped her on her back, his lean, powerful body pressing her down. He left a few more bites on her throat and along her collarbone. Those marks would take days to fade, just the way he liked it.

The best part about dates nights in was when they lasted until morning.

[danandthereader]

Could you write a soulmate au where they can send each other paper planes but can write down addresses, cities, states, etc. The paper planes go directly to your soulmate.

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this request in, lovely ! I love writing AU stuff like this, and I’m so happy that I got to write up a fill for this one. ♡ I hope it’s okay that this one was sort of themed around the winter/holiday season. I wrote the majority of it before the holidays passed, also working under the assumption that you meant they couldn’t write down addresses, cities, or anything like that, and I really liked what I had ! And I hope you do too. Heart you !

THE HOLIDAY

Headphones in, vacuum on, blinds pulls up and windows open. It was one of the last warm days of the season, which meant it was one of the last decent times to get some cleaning done. Soon the winds would start, and with winds came rain, and with rain came snow. You loved getting to actually experience seasons, especially this time of year, but the cold and the clouds often put a damper on any sort of plans you had.Despite the sunshine blazing through the windows, you still wore jeans and a hoodie over your shirt, the bite of winter all ready nipping at the back of your neck. But it was easy to ignore, when you fell into the sort of easygoing routine that vacuuming and wiping things down brought you. Odd, maybe, but routine calmed you.With your back turned, you scooted backward, bringing the cord with you, lip-singing along to the music in your ears, just loud enough to be heard over the drone of the vacuum. When you entered the path of sunlight, you smiled to yourself, the warmth just strong enough to work its way through your top layer and warm your back. For a moment you paused, just basking in the final rays of autumn, knowing in a month or so you’ll be begging for warmth.Then, without warning, something pegged you in the back of the head. Your head snapped forward, then turned, looking out the window. No one was down below, and when you turned off the vacuum and pulled an earphone out, nothing but the gentle passing-by of a car greeted you.Looking down, your eyebrows furrowed at the assailant: a small, white, perfectly-folded paper plane. A silly prank by some kids, or just a simple accident, obviously. Bending down, you picked up the delicate thing, surprised to see there were words on the wings of the plane; you unfolded it gingerly, careful not to tear anything.

It was a letter. Not addressed to anyone, with no names mentioned when you skimmed through it, but definitely a letter. There was a greeting, an opening few lines about where they were writing the letter from, and seemingly a lot about themselves. You felt compelled to read it fully, a gentle nudge between your shoulderblades telling you to go on, read it, it might be for you! Slowly you took a seat on a nearby armchair, eyes not leaving the paper, oddly nervous to let it out of your sight.Whoever had written it wrote in a way that made it seem like the recipient was an old friend. Casual sort of handwriting, going from subject to subject with ease and no sort of segue. It almost made you smile. But this wasn’t for you. It couldn’t be. This handwriting didn’t look familiar enough, and they were talking about holiday plans. You didn’t have any special plans for the end of the month, maybe put up some lights inside and buy a little tree to go on the table, but nothing more. Unfortunately, despite having a social job and friends from college you still spoke you, nothing had come up. But this person - a boy, you concluded, reading over the letter one more time - was excited for the holiday, the end of the year, and the beginning of new things. Everyone’s got something to look forward to but you. Your heart gave an unexpected tug at the thought.In that moment, part of you wanted to crumple up the letter, toss it in the garbage, and forget about it. Another part of you wanted to refold it, all of the lines were still there, and toss it back out the window. Both of these options would get rid of the silly letter that was someone else’s, someone else’s soulmate, and you’d get back to cleaning. The rumors and stories about the paper airplane legend came back to you, and you stifled a sigh. Those were playground stories, ones you stopped believing in ages ago.Or, well, so you thought.

After a moment, you groaned and got up from the chair, the letter coming with you. After a bit of digging, and scooting your coffeetable over your lap as a makeshift desk, you got to writing a response. It was short but sweet, a you got the wrong gal, thank you though, I hope you have a good holidays, and after folding it like you had practiced so many years ago so many times, you pitched it out the window. It was stupid, thinking that the stories were true, and quickly you squashed all of those fluttery feelings building in your stomach.You didn’t even think about the chance encounter for the rest of the day. After all the windows were shut, the curtains were drawn, and you were once again all alone, you still didn’t think of it. Not even when you got ready for, got into, or drifted off to sleep in bed. The letter wasn’t meant for you. Never had been.Until the bedroom window of your apartment blew open hours later, cold air and darkness chasing away every speck of warmth, shaking you awake. That, and a small white airplane that had landed on your opposing pillow. Blinking away the sleep, then the shock, you touched it, finding it very real, and picking it up, unfolding it as slow as before.It was the same casual handwriting, exclaiming that he was so excited to see a response. That must have meant you were soulmates! Reading the statement made you let out a sleepy sort of tsh sound, but your stomach flutters returned with a force at seeing the words laid out on paper. He wrote that it didn’t matter who you were, or where you were, that he’d find you and be with you. He was excited and hopeful and all of his words reflected that, even the ones that didn’t talk about the soulmates stories. Even when he wrote about his holiday plans, how they were going, where they’d be at, it felt like you were right there with him, hearing him excitedly babble on. Reading it made you want to write him back. You hoped this is what the others had experienced when they got their airplanes, this giddy need to keep in contact with them no matter the time, no matter the place, no matter the way.

This is how it went on for a solid week. Different times, different places, but always the same paper, same handwriting, same person behind the words. One got you at work, right in the back of the head like before. There were a few you saw and caught with the biggest grin on your face. Each time you unfolded them, the words told of so many different, wonderful things, both about your mystery soulmate and where in the world he was. Mentioning parks, squares, bars he’d go to, the people he hung around. No names, no locations, a stipulation of the soulmate bond you once heard, but lots of descriptors. You gave him just the same, everything from colors of rooftops to the piles of snow slowly gathering over the passing days.On the eve of the holiday, though, something in his most recent letter made you perk up. The mystery man wrote of a hub in the city square, where there were holly bushes and mistletoe trees out just for the season, white sparkly lights decorating the wrought-iron fences surrounding the square. That was, if you two were based in the same area, the same hub you passed by on the way to the corner store every few days when you picked up soda bottles. Writing him back quickly, you told him to meet you there, in that very hub, tonight, hoping that whatever was getting these to him would get this one to him on time.Then, you dressed for the occasion. But what did someone wear to meet their soulmate? You opted for comfort and warmth over style, but when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but crack a smile. All those romantic comedies based around the story, all those childhood dreams...A letter came through the window - all of which you were keeping open these days - and got caught in your hair, breaking you out of your thoughts. Taking hold of it and unfolding the paper quickly, you read it over. Blue beanie, brown curls. Those were the two telltale signs it was him. Refolding it, tucking it into your jacket pocket, you headed out the door, not fighting the smile that danced across your features.

Down the walk you went, only a short distance before you came upon the square. A few people were milling about, talking and laughing, taking photos, or admiring the decorations. The streets were fairly empty, thanks to the holiday, and it wasn’t hard to finally catch sight of the mystery letter-sender.You had to admit, as you stepped toward him, that his hair was a little all over the place, even when tucked under that blue beanie. But the thought made you smile more, because as soon as he turned - half-turned actually, as he was admiring one of the mistletoe trees, not quite noticing you yet - it seemed to frame his face perfectly. Sharper, defined features, but with laugh lines and a pair of flushed cheeks to top it all off.“Uh-” You cleared your throat, capturing his attention. The moment your eyes locked, his features lit up like the lights surrounding you. “Blue beanie.” You gestured, just a bit awkwardly, to the hat, and he laughed. “Red boots,” he responded, mimicking the gesture to your red ankle boots. A beat of silence, your eyes locking again, and your whole heart swelled. “I’m uh - I’m Danny. Your soulmate. I guess.” He stuck out a gloved hand, not awkwardly but seemingly self-consciously, and you took it in your bare one, shaking it, trying to not seem too excited. “It’s...” Great? Amazing? Spectacular? “Nice to meet you, Danny.” You laughed a bit, not quite letting his hand go. That seemed to relax him a bit. “So, what’s this I read about holiday plans?” you prompted, eyebrows raising, grinning. “Ah! Yeah! I’m actually, uh, Jewish, so I don’t... Do... This...” Both of you laughed; the sounds mixing quite well, if you said so yourself.“Think that take-out place on Fourth is open?” Dan’s eyes widened. “You know that place?” he asked. “I love their dumplings!” He was all ready pulling you in the direction of the shop.

[chimchimeri]

Montrachet

Next part of “Wine”~ Enjoy! 

Jungkook x Reader 

Fluff, implied smut

“ Jeon Jungkook, CEO of one of the most successful firms in South Korea, expects you for a meeting. You think that’s all there is to it, but soon it turns out the young man doesn’t intend to let you off the hook that easily, and from then on it’s you, Jeon Jungkook and your love of wine. “

You were about to decline Jungkook’s offer, but the soft glow in his dark eyes prevented you from it. Instead, you sighed in defeat. “Fine”, you mumbled. “I’ll have dinner with you just this once, Mr. Jeon.” Despite your lack of enthusiasm, his face lit up. “Great”, he smiled. “Friday evening at my place. I’ll have someone pick you up.” And before you could utter any form of resistance, your boss turned around and left your office with a spring in his step that gave away how content he was with himself. You, on the other hand, stood at the same spot for a few more seconds after your office was empty again, brain spinning with things that you could’ve said but didn’t, and only after you admitted defeat to yourself did you sit back behind your desk and grabbed your sandwich. One meal, you reassured yourself in your thoughts. You could handle one meal.

You weren’t so sure of that anymore when you saw a fancy, shiny limousine drive up to your house. Nervously, you tucked around at your short black dress – you didn’t want to wear anything too fancy, so this simple dress and some black high heels had to do - but it was too late now anyway. The sound of your doorbell ringing made you flinch and you took a deep breath before you opened the door and greeted the chauffeur with a weak smile. It was an older man with grey hair and a friendly face, and he returned your smile without hesitance. “Good evening, Miss Y/N. I’m here to drive you to Mr. Jeon’s house. Are you ready?” It was tempting to reply with a “No” and shut the door in front of the man’s face, but you pulled yourself together just in time. With a simple nod, you let the driver guide you down the stairs and open the car door for you. “Just relax, Miss”, he smiled before he shut it close. “It will take a bit of time until we arrive. Feel free to help yourself with the drinks.” He motioned towards a wide range of bottles, obviously containing both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks judging from the various kinds of glasses standing next to them, and you attempted a smile again. “Thank you, Mister”, you replied, and then he closed the door and proceeded to take his place in the front of the car. At first, you didn’t pay the drinks any attention, but when the turmoil in you stomach didn’t get better but worse with every meter the limousine passed, you gave in to a glass of whiskey. The alcohol burned in your throat and you had to swallow a cough one or two times, but the heat in your stomach got rid of every uncomfortable emotion. When you were finished, you forced yourself not to pour some more and put the glass back where it belonged. After that, it didn’t take long until the limousine slowed down and finally stopped, and suddenly, the alcohol’s effect vanished in a heartbeat. Again, you felt sick with nervousness, and the driver who, again, opened the door for you, seemed to notice. “Don’t be too scared”, he tried to cheer you up while guiding you towards the door of a modern-looking apartment complex. “He isn’t all that bad.” The man bowed in front of you after pressing the bell button and then excused himself with a last friendly smile. “Have a nice evening, Miss.” And then he left you alone in front of the huge doors, and you waited for Jeon Jungkook to let you in for what you hoped would be the last private interaction between the two of you.

“Hello?” His familiar voice sounded through the intercom in a somewhat distorted way and you quickly stepped up to the panel. “It’s Y/N”, you replied with a  voice that held just the slightest tremble, and after a bit of nerve-wracking silence, Jungkook chuckled. “I’ll open up. Come to the 4th floor.” The door clicked after just a few heartbeats and you pushed it open. “Mylady.” Jeon Jungkook was already leaning against the doorframe of his apartment entrance when you stepped out of the elevator, brimming with satisfaction. He was wearing a simple black jeans and a white shirt, two buttons opened at his neck and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, thus exposing his strong forearms. His lips curled into a smile when you didn’t reply instantly. “Good evening, Y/N.” Due to your nervousness, you missed the lacking ‘Miss’ and stiffly bowed your head. “Mr. Jeon”, you replied, and something in his face twitched as he extended his hand to help you into his brightly lit home. “Call me Jungkook, please.”

You followed the young man, who was now humming a melody unbeknownst to you, through the apartment. It was a different house than the one you had met at before you started working for him, and slowly but surely you started to realize just how rich and influential this man was. The flat seemed bright and inviting, not at all like the big mansion you had seen before. It almost made it seem like Jeon Jungkook was a normal man with a normal life if it wasn’t for the fact that every single piece in his household seemed to be design furniture. Jungkook led you to a wide-open dining area which was fused with a big kitchen. It led to a seating area with two sofas and a coffeetable in the back and behind there was an open window façade stretched over the whole width of the room and offering a perfect view over the skyline of Seoul. The furniture showed the same style as the other house and Jungkook’s office, obviously built based on his own ideas and likings – modern yet elegant. You turned to the young man and for the first time since you had entered, you managed a smile. “It’s gorgeous.” Jungkook returned your smile, seeming almost relieved. “Really?”, he replied. “I’m glad you like it. I sometimes wondered if it’s…” His glance wandered around the room. “A bit much, maybe.” You quietly shook your head. In your opinion, the apartment seemed quite clean and minimalistic; a style that you actually liked a lot, even though you kind of felt like an intruder. “I don’t think it’s that. It’s probably just… you, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook seemed surprised as he looked at you. “Me?” You had to ban these thoughts from your mind and shook your head, turning back to the window façade and admiring the glistening lights in the darkness of the night. “Nothing.” The young man next to you shrugged. “Fine, but one thing…” A silent warning resounded within his voice, but when you quickly looked up due to the change in tone, he grinned. “I told you to call me Jungkook, remember?” You froze for a second, then attempted a weak smile. “Sure, Mr- no, Jungkook.” The male seemed satisfied with that and returned to the kitchen to check on some pots which already emitted a delicious smell. To be honest, you kind of expected a chef to prepare some exclusive meals for the both of you, so it was a littlebit of a shock that Jungkook apparently cooked for himself. “What are we eating?”, you asked while running your hand along the big kitchen island, cold but smooth granite beneath your fingertips. Jungkook dried his hands on a kitchen towel and threw you a short glance. “Beef Wellington”, he replied. “I figured it would be… a fitting dish for such an evening. I hope you like beef?”, he asked while opening the fridge and searching for something. Having gained some courage, you now snickered quietly. “Yes, I like beef”, you answered over the clinking of some bottles. “If it’s well-cooked, that is.” Jungkook looked up from the fridge, apparently having found what he was looking for. “I will make sure the meat will be to your liking”, he replied almost teasing, then raised a wine bottle. “Red or white?” You didn’t have to think long. “Red”, you said. “White doesn’t pair with beef well.” Jungkook chuckled and closed the fridge just to step to a wine rack to its left. “That’s true”, he quietly said while going through the bottles and finally pulling one out of the middle. He inspected the label shortly before nodding. “Shiraz?”, he simply asked while reaching for a bottle opener, and you hummed as a confirmation.

A few minutes later, Jungkook had filled two big wineglasses with the red fluid and handed you one, raising his glass while looking you directly in the eyes soon after. “Cheers, Y/N”, he quietly said; and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the way he looked at and spoke to you made your heart flutter and a shiver run down your back. “Jungkook”, you smiled back while also raising your glass, and a short smile flickered over his face. You took a short whiff of the red wine first, vanilla and red berries and something else lingering in your nose as you took a first sip. Heavy, velvety tartness filled your mouth and you sighed in satisfaction when you had swallowed. “This”, you said while swirling the liquid around in your glass, “is delicious.” Jungkook pulled a rack out of the oven and turned around to you with it. “I’m glad you like it”, he replied, resting the oven rack on the kitchen island and taking a look at the meat thermometer. “Seems to be perfect”, he contently nodded to himself and reached for a knife block. He just looked up shortly before he cut into the beef wellington. “How about you sit down already?”, he suggested with a smile. “I’ll be done here in just a few.” You complied and turned around, but instead of sitting down at the already laid table, you sauntered towards the window façade and quietly admired the glimmering colours of the brightly illuminated city. Seoul was already impressive by day, but by night, the whole scenery seemed to change, and you had always loved the night sky more than the sun.

You were so immersed in the view that you missed Jungkook quietly appearing behind you. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it”, he quietly said and you flinched at his sudden voice behind you. He chuckled lowly. “No need to be so afraid, Y/N”, he whispered, amusement lacing his voice, before he stepped back again. “Dinner’s ready.” You ripped yourself from the sight and turned around, setting your wine glass on the table as you sat down. Jungkook picked up two plates from the kitchen island and set one of them down in front of you – the beef did look perfectly cooked, surrounded by crispy puff pastry and accompanied by green vegetables and potatoes. When he sat down across from you, you raised your glance and smiled at him. “It looks delicious.” The young man returned your smile softly. “I hope it is. Let’s eat.”

When the both of you were finished, Jungkook quickly cleaned the plates off the table while you enjoyed the last few sips of the wine. “It was really good”, you said as he returned to the table and the young man seemed sincerely relieved to hear that. “I’m glad you enjoyed it”, he hummed, glancing towards your now empty wine glass. “Do you want to try another drink?” Having shared a full bottle of heavy red wine with Jungkook, you were a bit tipsy, but still nodded after a few seconds of contemplation. “Okay”, you agreed and handed Jungkook your wine glass. “But nothing too heavy, please.” He chuckled as he returned to the kitchen island, the glasses clinking on the stone as he set them down. “I’m sure I’ll find the right thing for you, Y/N”, he reassured you while he opened the fridge and after a while pulled out a slim bottle of white wine. He filled two white wine glasses with the clear fluid and handed you one as he returned. Instead of sitting at the dinner table, the two of you decided to retreat to the sofa, quietly watching the never-ending bustle of Seoul and sipping on the delicious white wine. The silence between the two of you was comfortable and you finally leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch with a content sigh. Jungkook’s eyes wandered towards you and his lips twitched. “Did you enjoy the evening?”, he asked, and you nodded while you threw him a smile. “Very much so… Jungkook”, you said. “The food was excellent, as well as the wine… And your apartment is gorgeous.” Jungkook’s expression showed his utter satisfaction. “That’s good”, he nodded to himself and you looked into your glass. “I have one question thought”, you finally spoke up again and Jungkook raised his glance with a frown. “A question?”, he repeated, to which you nodded. “A question”, you confirmed and returned his glance firmly. “Why did you actually invite me here? This clearly is no business meeting, but I am still your subordinate.”

Jungkook stayed quiet for a while after you finished, just taking a sip of his whine. He seemed deep in thought, and you started to get confused about what actually took him so long to think about. Finally, he looked up again, and the expression on his face sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes rested on your figure almost hungrily and you saw his grip tighten around his whine glass a tad bit more. Jungkook took a deep breath and leaned back a bit. “Do you remember the first time we met?”, he asked, so quietly that you nearly missed what he was saying. You nodded. “Of course.” A smile threatened to flicker over his face, but his expression didn’t change. “You twisted your ankle that day.” He took a sip of his whine. “I took you to my house and… You know what happened there.” His glance intensified; he put his head back and finished the remaining half a glass of whine in one go. He then set the glass down on the coffee table and stared right at you. “We said we needed to get to know each other.” His eyes darkened and you noticed how his jaw muscles tightened. “I think we know each other well enough now.”

His words positively knocked the air out of your lungs and as if on autopilot you set the rest of your wine down on the table and looked at him directly. Your voice was rough when you replied. “What are you waiting for then?”