#don’t get mad that other people want to round out the character and focus on other parts of them

[zombie-eats-world]

Literally never seen anyone turn Crocodile is a poor little meow meow. He’s evil, no one’s arguing that but no one has to continuously bring it up when focusing on other facets of his personality.

I’ve seen the fandom take a bastard character and make them a poor little meow meow, twice now

Which isn’t a lot but it’s fucking disappointing.

[nerdy-novelist017]

Rooftop Conversations (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Pt 4)

On my drive home yesterday, I heard Zach Bryan's Oklahoma Smokeshow for the first time and I realized it's so Benny x Bunny coded :) I'm curious to know what song reminds you of Benny x Bunny! As always, I so so so appreciate all your comments!

Benny x Bunny Masterlist here!

Word Count- 3.1k+ (longest one yet!)

Summary- Another night spent with Benny was sure to be an adventure filled with firsts for both of you.

******

Benny told you he knew a place to eat that had real food. You were about to tell him that Ricardo’s did have good food, but he all but pulled you into the back of his bike in an effortless move that silenced your voice with a soft gasp. The adrenaline surged through you as fresh as the first time he had given you a ride and you wondered if you would always feel this feeling riding on the back of his bike. 

He drove you to the other end of town again and you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face as he pulled up to a bar, parking next to a lineup of other motorcycles. 

“A bar?” You asked as he helped you off the bike.

“Not exactly what Pete would have picked,” Benny replied coolly as he dismounted. “But the best food ‘round.”

“Well, I’m mad at him so who cares what he’d pick.” You grinned as you followed him to the door. 

Inside, the bar was alive with music, voices and bustling bodies. Benny’s hand found the small of your back and gently guided you toward the far tables. Ignoring the rush of butterflies at the contact, you tried to focus on the familiar faces from the picnic who cheered when you entered with Benny but you blushed, looking down at your feet. A couple people clapped Benny on the back as he passed and you felt sort of like a prize and he was the winner. He found an empty table at the back, and you took a seat, facing the room. 

“I’ll get you a drink,” he announced before he disappeared into the crowd, moving towards the bar. You glanced about the bar, taking in the rustic setting and colorful characters. Then suddenly, the leader of the Vandals himself was in front of you, sliding into the unoccupied chair. 

“You’re Benny’s girl, right?” Johnny asked and before you could correct him – or rather ask exactly what he meant by that – he continued, “It’s nice to see you here again. The boys all really liked your cookies. Sure was sweet of you to bring that.”

You nodded, muttering a soft thanks.

“My wife was wonderin’ if you could give her your recipe – for the cookies, I mean. Maybe you could tell her at another meeting,” he said, tapping his fingers over the tabletop. He’s trying to be friendly, you realized. Trying to include you in the club somehow. Warmth filled your chest at the idea of a club filled with bikers could possibly like you enough to want you around. You wondered if they just aimed to make you the center of every inappropriate joke that would inevitably be thrown out. Regardless, you still felt flattered at the notion.

Charmed, you replied, “I–It's nothing too difficult. I’m sure she could recreate it.”

He hummed. “Well, maybe some of the guys would like to see you ‘round, too. It’s good for ‘em to be ‘round such a civilized lady as yourself. Might even be able to whip ‘em into shape.”

“I don’t know about that,” you grinned sheepishly, rubbing your shoulder. For being the leader of a motorcycle club, he wasn’t as scary as you originally thought. Intimidating, definitely, but not terrifying. 

“You whipped our boy Benny into shape! And hell, if you can do that in just the few hours you spent with him, think of all the good you could do for the Vandals. You’d be like a god amongst men here.” The lines around his eyes creased as he bantered.

Heat climbed up your neck at the implication and you broke his eye contact. “I’m sure Benny acts like that with every girl he’s trying to sleep with.”

“I’ve never seen him act the way he does when you’re around. It’s like you’ve hypnotized him.” A mirthful grin overtook his ruggedly handsome face. “You’re not a siren, are ya? Leading him off to his watery demise?”

You giggled, shaking your head. 

“Good, can’t have that – it’s bad for business.” He stood, using his foot to slide the chair back in. “Plus, ya know, I kind of like that kid. He’s rough around the edges and damn near feral at times, but he’s a good kid. Has a good heart. I think he’d take care of ya. That’s all he wants, I think. Someone to love ‘em and someone he can show he’s capable of lovin’ too. ”

Bemused, you fell quiet and before you could reply, Benny reappeared, two bottles in hand and he nodded at his friend, “Johnny.”

You glanced between the two as you felt the gravity of their friendship sparking. It was clear that Benny had not heard Johnny’s previous words because if he had, you were sure he wouldn’t appreciate the wingman stunt. And though you didn’t know Benny hardly at all, it was clear in the way he nodded at Johnny that this was an important relationship in his life, possibly one of the only friendships he had. Something heartening stirred in you as you pictured Benny going to him for advice, for brotherly connection. 

“Benny,” Johnny returned innocuously and he shot you a secretive smile before disappearing into the crowd again. 

“He wasn’t teasin’ you, was he?” Benny asked lightheartedly as his gaze found you again.

“No,” you replied with a small smile, mind still sifting through the information Johnny had left you.

“Good, I’m the only one that can do that,” he stated and your eyes widened slightly at his confidence. “I didn’t figure you were the type to order a beer,” he explained as he slid the coke bottle in your direction. You wrapped your fingers around the cold glass, internally beaming at the thought of him second-guessing himself when it came to ordering you a drink. 

“Not usually,” you answered as he sat down in the seat next to you, a fresh beer bottle in his hands. “You must think I’m pretty boring.”

“I think you’re anything but.” He smiled, his eyes seeming to be alight with a playful seductiveness. A dare, you realized. That’s what his mischievous look was; a dare, to be bold, to be adventurous. It stirred something in your gut chest that you didn’t know was dormant until now. 

“Well, in that case . . .” You quirked your brow as you slid your coke bottle across the table stopping in front of him and grabbed his beer bottle which he had already opened and took a swig from. You brought it up to your lips, the smell making your stomach flip before you sipped a generous serving. The alcohol burned as it went down and you winced, nearly coughing. 

Benny laughed. You were certainly something to keep him on his toes. He opened your soda bottle and moved it forward to cheers with you. The bottles clinked together and you smiled, making his heart flutter. Without breaking eye-contact, he lifted your coke bottle to his mouth and drank from it and nearly lost it when you mirrored him with the beer bottle. You sip was considerably shorter than his and you screwed up your face at the taste afterwards but he was still impressed by your sudden intrepidity. Just as he thought he was starting to figure you out, you’d surprise him with a new and exciting action. And Benny lived for the thrill of it. It was his turn to surprise you.

“What do you want out of life?” he asked abruptly as he set the bottle down.

Your brows rose at the severity of his question. “That’s . . . a deep question.”

“You don’t have an answer?” 

“I have an answer, it’s just . . . that’s not something I expect on the first date. First date questions are more like ‘What’s your favorite color? What kind of music do you like? If you could travel anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?’ Stuff like that.” You explained, voice lowering as you played with the wrapping on the beer bottle. A nervous distraction, he realized as he watched your delicate fingers.

“This is our first date?” he quipped, living for the way your eyes shot back up to his, a blush coating your nose and cheeks. “I thought it was when I gave you a ride home last night.”

“No, that was just a ride home.” You stood your ground, but gaze still fluttering back to the bottle.

“Oh,” he pretended to look down as if he were in deep thought. “Then what’s your favorite color?”

He watched as you tilted your head and fought to hold back a smile. “Yellow, like the sunrise in the early mornings. What’s yours?”

He made a mental note of that. “Red, like that red lipstick you're wearing right now.”

At that, your smile grew and he felt a swell of confidence so he continued, “What kind of music do you like?”

You giggled at the realization that he was playing into your game. “I listen to a lot of The Ronettes . . . and Elvis. Let me guess, you like The Rolling Stones?” 

“Are you judgin' me by my cover, Bunny?” He grinned. “I also like Johnny Cash.”

“That makes sense. You seem like a character Johnny Cash would sing about," You said flippantly and brought the beer bottle back up to your lips for another sip and Benny was so enamored by the way your head tipped back, delicate neck exposed that he didn’t even realize you had teased him. 

“If you could travel anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?” he continued after a moment to compose himself as he drank from the coke bottle, wishing it was something stronger.

You seemed to ponder that for a second. “I’m not sure. I’ve always wanted to go to California.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve never been to the beach and when I was a little girl, my mom had this magazine that dedicated an entire issue to the beaches of California. It looked so fun,” you described, your eyes lighting up.

Benny imagined the sight of you in a swimsuit – one of those new bikinis he’d seen Aubrey Hepburn wear on tv – and he nearly groaned. 

“What about you?” you asked innocently, drawing him back to reality. 

“The beach in California,” he replied instantly.

“Why?”

“Because you’d be there.”

You blushed, a smile encompassing your beautiful face and you looked down at the glass bottle again. 

Benny leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What other first date questions do you have for me, Bunny?”

******

The night was spent with smiles, stories and plenty of teasing (the latter of which was mostly Benny’s doing) and you hadn’t realized how late it was getting, too absorbed in the attention of the ocean blue eyes of the man sitting next to you. You both ate dinner (Benny insisting on the best meal was their burgers and you had to agree) and you had finished the beer but Benny replaced it with another coke afterwards. Hours passed and the rest of the patrons began to leisurely shuffle out, each calling out goodnight as they went. There were only a few left now, you realized as you glanced about the bar. Then, Benny asked if you wanted to see something. 

He seized your hand in his and took you through the back of the bar, down the hallway and out the back door. The cool nighttime air was a refreshing change from the cigarette filled clubhouse. He led you around back to a closed in ladder leading to the roof. He opened the cage door and motioned for you first. You shot him an expected look.

“I’m not going up first!” You tried to act serious as you crossed your arms playfully, feeling an funny buzz from the drink. 

“Why not?” he grinned, yeilding.

“Because, you just want to look up my skirt as I go.” You quirked a brow at him. “I’m not stupid, you know.” 

“No, you definitely aren’t stupid. And I would never. I’m a gentleman.” He held a hand over his heart as if he was hurt by your insinuation. 

“Yeah, sure you are,” You said, holding your ground. 

He held up his arms in an appeasing way. “Alright, I’ll go up first. Just don’t trip and fall on your way up.” 

You laughed as you began making your way up the ladder after him. You climbed up the two stories, the ladder clinking beneath each heel until you made it to the top where Benny offered a hand to help you up. A gentle breeze guided you to the far end of the rooftop where a generous view of the town lights, each twinkling like the stars above. You’d never seen this perspective of your little home town and it almost looked magical.

Benny went forward and lowered himself to sit down. He beckoned you to follow and, though you were scared, you moved to mirror his seat. He held your hand as you took a seat next to him. Your legs, significantly shorter than his, dangled off the edge, bumping lightly against the brick wall. He was close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that your shoulders touched slightly. 

“Wow, what a view, huh?” you said, voice barely above a whisper as the scent of his cologne wrapped around you. 

Benny only nodded and you looked at him with a small smile, falling into a comfortable silence. Your gaze fluttered over his face, taking in the details in this dim lighting. His dilated pupils made his eyes darker and the shadow of his nose blended beautifully onto his lips. The gentle curl of his hair looked so soft and you didn’t even realize that your hand was reaching out. And maybe you tried to tell yourself that it was from the alcohol, but you knew you weren’t drunk. You touched him because you wanted to. Your fingers found the blonde tendrils and a gentle sigh escaped your lips because they were soft. His eyes were locked onto you and he remained unmoving, letting you take the reins. 

“Do you actually want to marry me? Or were you just sayin’ that to get a reaction out of me?” you whispered, hand dropping back to your lap, fingers still tingling from the contact.

“Yes, I want to marry you.” His voice was a low rumble disrupting the silence of the rooftop.

You studied his face carefully, unable to look away. “How could you know that so soon?”

“You make really good cookies,” he retorted playfully and you gave him your best unamused look despite the fact that he left you very amused.  

“I’m serious,” you said, fighting the smile tugging on your lips.

“I know you are,” he murmured, gaze flickering down to mouth. “I’m serious too – about marrying you and about your cookies.”

Heat filled your core. Like the undeniable pull of a magnet, you felt yourself drifting closer to him. “I bake more than just cookies, ya know.”

Benny groaned, “You’re teasin’ me, Bunny.”

“No, just letting you know what you’d be signing up with if you married me.” You smiled. 

“I know exactly what I’m gettin’ myself into with you, Bunny,” he admitted slowly as he dipped his head lower, only a few inches from your face. His thumb and forefinger touched your chin softly. “Why else do you think I ran off Pete?”

You paused, brows furrowed at his words. “Wait, what?”

He didn’t seem to hear you as he continued forward and you lurched back before he could kiss you. “You did what to Pete?”

“I ran him off,” Benny explained as if it were obvious. “Had a talk with him.”

“Oh my god,” you breathed out harshly, a feeling of being drenched in icy water washed over you. “You saw him? Where?” Then it dawned on you. “You saw him at Ricardo’s? He actually showed up?”

He remained quiet, watching as you turned from the ledge, standing and began to pace as you worked through the thoughts hitting you faster than you could process. 

“You ran him off? Oh my god, Benny. Is that code for something? Did you kill him?” You squeaked, the possibility of poor Pete being having to fight for his life played out like a complete disaster in your head. 

“No.” He shook his head as if annoyed.

“Well what does that mean, then?” Your voice raised an octave as unease gripped your heart. “Did you beat him up?”

“I told you. I had a talk with him.” He said simply as he turned, flipping his legs over the ledge and faced you. 

“You intimidated him! You with your loud bike and leather jacket and mean look, it wasn’t just a talk. He doesn’t deserve that. Pete is a good guy.”

Benny lifted his hands up in a placating way but the sarcastic look on his face caused anger to spike through you. 

“What makes you think you had the right to do that?” You demanded as you planted your hands on your hip. “Where do you get off from?”

He opened his mouth to say something but thought better and closed it. 

“You intimidated my date,” you snapped. “A date I was actually excited for by the way. He was kind and . . . had a nice smile.”

“I don’t see the problem,” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes at the ground in front of you.  

“You don’t–” your mouth dropped open in shock, blood boiling at his audacity. You threw your hands up in exasperation as you spun away and made your way back to the ladder. 

“Where are you going?” Benny called out as he trailed after you.

“I’m going home so I can call Pete and apologize.” You retorted over your shoulder. And probably check to see if he's not been put in the hospital because of the biker behind you.

Benny laughed. “I thought you said you were mad at him,”

“Well, I’m not anymore. I’m mad at you now,” You fumed as you shot him a look before you descended the ladder.

“Me?” Benny scrambled down the ladder after you but you didn’t slow your pace as you rounded the outside of the bar, heading for the sidewalk. It would be a long walk home, but you had no interest in getting a ride home from him.

He jogged to catch up, grabbing your arm to halt you. “I didn’t hurt ‘em. I swear.”

You spun around to face him. “That’s not the point. You men all think alike, don’t you? Thinkin' you can stake your claim like women are just . . . just objects, toys.”

Benny’s jaw clenched tightly. “I’m not goin’ to apologize for it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You scoffed as you wrenched your arm free and turned away. You picked up your pace as you made your way down the sidewalk in the direction of you home.

“Can I at least give you a ride home?” He called out. 

“Nope, I think it’s a perfect night for a walk, don’t you?” you replied without looking back, leaving Benny standing in the middle of the sidewalk in a stupefied silence.

-Tag List-

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[m-blackwell-and-associates]

First Round pt 2

Clothing was propaganda and no one knew that better than her.  Every outfit she sent down the runway or into the hands of her private clients had a story sewn into the very seams.  Most people tried too hard to carry stories that weren’t true.  Clothes never made the man.  Not really.  The whole point of fashion was to dress the lie, and if you couldn’t lie convincingly, then all that would happen was that your clothes would wear you and everyone could see it for the costume it was.  Like putting frosting on a shit cake.  It would look pretty at first glance, but something wouldn’t smell quite right.

She would have to get closer to determine if that violent character hollering like a mad thing had any truth in him.  Pia made her excuses to the Tremere, now made petulant that he wasn’t the focus of her attention any longer and unwillingly relinquishing her hand in exchange for the promise that they’d speak again.  Her interest was now the angry little man from the poker table.  If a fight broke out, Follet would want to know why and it was her job to read these unruly guests for their secrets and grudges so the prince could use it against them when needed.  It had been so long since a new game had presented itself and was interested in this new little tempest despite herself.  Follet’s demands of her were forgotten in this new attraction.

 It wouldn’t do to approach the table directly, letting them know it was the point of her interest.  She would watch from afar, watch the subtle shifts in their auras, the tell-a-tale flash of one color over another that would speak of their hidden feelings.  Then, having a sense of them, she would approach and a gentle hand on their shoulder or, in allowing them to touch her, she would get a deeper taste.  There’d be the flash peek inside their minds, the way an ornamental fish would touch the surface in a bright twist of color before sinking back into the dark.  

Follet would want anything that could be a killing offense.  Anything that would make them money.  The subtle lures were not worth his time.  The treasure she mined from these casual encounters were left to spoil.  If only she could make use of what she knew.  If only she could find enough to buy her safety, since it wasn’t enough to buy herself a seat at the table.

As Pia drifted quietly to where the game was paused, the yelling continued and the angry man stuck a finger in the face of his trembling ghoul, shouting at him.

“Why isn’t that fucker dead yet?” 

But the ghoul couldn’t answer.  “I don’t - 

“What do you mean you don’t know?  You find a gun now and go kill him!”

“But I - “

“You go fucking kill that guy or I will fucking shoot you myself!”  A hand dropped to the gun in the waistband of his pants.

The ghoul fled and, now apparently satisfied that business was concluded, the man picked up his chair to resume his seat.  The rest of the players shared a look, but said nothing while going back to their cards.  Either they knew the man from prior meetings and thought this behavior was of no consequence or they knew the truth of this threat.  Pia found that interesting.  It wasn’t entirely a surprise that the Kindred not known to her would keep silent, being on unfamiliar territory and in a new Domain, but the other residents of the city would have no reason to tolerate ill manners from some interloper.  Yet there they sat, as mild as summer breeze.  

[holylulusworld]

Bad Boys (6) - She’s ours (FIN)

Summary: New to town, a goody-two-shoes, you catch the attention of not one but two guys. Too bad they are the ‘bad boys’ and your ‘dad’ tries to protect you.

Pairing: Biker!Alpha!Bucky x Reader x Omega!Biker!Alpha!Steve

Warnings: A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, angst, language, protective alphas, scenting, true mates, fluff, cuddling & snuggling, violence, blood, pregnant omega, Steve freaks out there for a minute

Characters: Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, unnamed deputies

A/N: Reader is Tony Stark's goddaughter. This is an AU/A/B/O setting. I have a thing for Biker /BuckySteve so bear with me.

Bad Boys masterlist

The beautiful text divider was created by @firefly-graphics

“Aw, I like your decoration, Bucky,” admiring Bucky’s room at the clubhouse you hum to yourself, wander around, or stop to pick a few things up. “I like the little bike bookend. Where did you get it?”

“Flea market, doll,” Steve smirks when his friend’s cheeks turn pink. “Bucky likes to go to the flea market and buy useless crap.”

“I like flea markets too,” excitedly you jump at Bucky, tug at his leather jacket to make him look at you. “Do you want to go with me next time? Oh! We could buy some things for Stevie’s house.”

“Please, don’t—” the blonde groans when you won’t stop talking about decorating, the flea market, and how you wish you could all move in together.

“Please—Stevie,” you whine. “I want to find something nice for your house, alpha. It’s nice but needs the woman’s touch. You’ve got no clue how pretty it could look.”

“Like my room,” Bucky states, grinning at his friend. “See, our omega loves my room and my decoration.”

“Except for the picture over there,” pointing at the wall you scrunch up your nose. “Why do the dogs on the picture play poker? They look like drunk gangsters or something. I don’t like it, Bucky.”

“It’s a classic,” defending his picture Bucky mutter under his breath. “None of you got a clue how hard I fought for that thing. There was a punk offering buck after buck for it at the flea market.”

“Did you lose?” grinning you place your hand onto Bucky’s chest. “I mean, you ended up bringing it home.”

“I won, doll. I paid ten bucks for it,” he grins. “Punk had to go home empty-handed.”

“See, no taste—” Steve insists. “None of you will ruin my house with crappy decoration. That’s my last word!”

“B-but, Stevie,” you cry, eyes big and wet now, “you’re not a bachelor anymore! You’ve got a mate now, an omega. I want to feel safe and comfortable when I visit you. Don’t you want me around?” choking on your words you hide your face in Bucky’s chest. “Do you already regret your claim?”

“Great job, Steve. Now she’s crying and I got no house for her to decorate,” grumbling Bucky runs one hand over your hair, tries to soothe you while you smirk to yourself.

None of your alphas can see you played Steve well. “No—no! Baby doll, you can redecorate anything you want to. Maybe even bring that ugly picture with you. I’ll do anything, omega.”

“How often can I visit you?” you nuzzle Bucky’s neck; enjoy he holds you tightly. “I don’t want to disturb your solitary, Steve.”

“I-I want you to move in with me,” Steve blurs out, gasping as you turn around to look up at him with wide eyes. “I mean, shit—uh erm, that’s a bit sudden I guess. We should talk about our bond first. It’s a bit different from normal bonds with one alpha.”

“Can Bucky move in too? Can we buy a huge bed and share it? Oh, I want a large bathtub for us to share too and a shower! Imagine all the sex with could have!” you babble, slowly stepping toward Steve. “Please—alpha?”

“Oh, crap,” Bucky snickers when Steve whines low in his throat. You nuzzled your face in his chest and now the rough biker fights his alpha to not give in to everything you demand. “She’s got your balls in her hands.”

“Perfect, alpha,” smiling you look at the bookshelf. Bucky brought his belongings, including the bookend you love so much. “Right, Stevie? It looks awesome.”

“Yeah, awesome,” Steve gave up the moment you demanded you need three more pillows on the couch. Now you are busy redecorating his living room.

He sighs deeply but tries to remember you are an omega who tries to create a cozy home for her alphas.

“Look at the pictures I placed on the fireplace, Steve. I want to take some of you, Bucky, and me too. I want to fill our house with our love.”

“Uh-she’s in nesting mood,” Bucky whispers. “Do I need to know anything, Steve? Did we get her full of pups already? I think her breasts grew too.”

“WAIT-WHAT?” panicked Steve glances at your chest, tries to figure out if your breasts are fuller. “It’s only a month. I mean, she was in heat but we—”

“Didn’t use anything, Steve,” smirking Bucky watches you usher toward the couch to place one last pillow next to the others. “Do I have to explain how sex works? If she wasn’t on anything, we got her round.”

“Round? Pups?” panting heavily now Steve clutches one hand to his chest. “Fuck—Stark will kill us!”

“Tons won’t kill you, alpha,” humming happily you nod to yourself. “I’m done here. Can we go to the bedroom now? I wanna cuddle with you on the new bed you and your friends built.”

“S-sure,” Steve’s eyes drift toward your belly and he swallows thickly. “Uh-Y/N are you on birth control?” you giggle at Steve’s words but don’t answer his question. you brush past him, grinning as he follows you like a nervous puppy. “Omega? Doll?”

“I wasn’t when we mated if that’s what you are trying to ask, Steve—”

Steve’s head is spinning when you walk upstairs, giggling as Bucky runs after you to sniff at your neck. “Damn me, omega. You smell like us. Stevie, I think we filled her good.”

“I-I need a minute here, Buck,” Steve pants. “Go ahead. I’ll be right with you, guys…”

“Where have you been Steve? Y/N was waiting for you for half an hour,” Bucky tuts. He growls when you hide your face in the cushions. “Look what you did! She wanted to cuddle with us on the nest she made.”

“We need to use one of these,” Steve place a paper bag filled with pregnancy tests onto the bed. “I want to know if she’s pregnant.”

“Alpha,” you purr low in your throat. Before he can blink you snatch the bag from the bed to hide it behind your back. “Can’t you scent me and tell me if I’m expecting?”

“I can barely focus on anything, doll. All I want is to cradle and scent you right now. I-I need to know if I filled you with pups,” the alpha purrs, much to Bucky’s amusement.

The brunette sits next to you, a shit-eating grin on his lips. “Steve, just scent our omega. Her scent changed and this means our girl is expecting.”

“How’d you wanna know, Buck?”

“I read books about omegas and true mates. She smells more like me and you now. I think we both filled her with our pup,” humming you snuggle closer to Bucky to hide your face in his chest.

“Please, alpha,” you whine, hoping Steve’s not mad at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was in heat and lost control.”

“Baby doll,” Steve purrs low in his throat, ready to pounce on you. “I’m not mad, Y/N. This is just a little overwhelming. I finally found my true mate, mated her to share her with my best friend and now she’s pregnant. I need a moment to realize I need to change my life.”

“I want my big bad biker to cuddle me,” whimpering in distress you look at Steve. “Please.”

“Alright, doll. Let me kick my boots off and we can cuddle.”

After joining you and Bucky on the bed, Steve sighs deeply. He scents you, excessively, purring now and then.

“So—who’s going to tell her godfather we got her pregnant?” Bucky grins when you look at Steve. “Guess she wants you to volunteer…”

“Look what the cat dragged into the sheriff’s department,” the deputies growl. “Pity the sheriff couldn’t get rid of us – huh? Maybe you change your mind and want us to take care of that sweet little omega?”

“If you want to keep your teeth, you will shut your cakehole right fucking now,” Bucky grits, hands already balled into fists. “You are talking about our true mate, the mother of our pups.”

“Pups?” the deputy gasps, looking at you hide behind Steve. “You got her pregnant? What a pity. The girl looked like she likes to take dick—” Bucky’s fist breaks the deputy’s nose with one precise punch.

While the man stumbles backward, pressing one hand to his bleeding nose, his friend tries to help him but ends up pressed against the wall by Steve, the blondes arm against his throat.

The alpha grits his teeth reveals his true intentions. “Back in the old times' alphas defended their omegas by ripping their concurrent’s mating gland out with their teeth.” He grins, feeling the deputy struggle against his strength. “Good thing the old times are over – right, Buck?”

“Right, Steve. I mean, some people should watch their backs and mating glands if they don’t want to end up in a dark alley,” the brunette grins at the other deputy. “I have a thing for knives and always wondered how deep I can cut a bastard until he bleeds out.”

“T-this isn’t necessary,” the deputy looks up at Steve before he tilts his head in submission. “My friend was just joking. He likes to run his mouth.”

“I will tell you this one last time,” Steve growls. “She’s ours. Our true mate and you will stay the fuck away from her.”

“So—,” Tony clears his throat. “You are pregnant by two alphas, great. I will get a godfather of the year medal this time.”

“Please don’t be mad, Tony,” you sniff. “It’s not your fault nor theirs. I wasn’t on anything and gave in to my instinct but Steve, Bucky, and I got a nice house. We can raise our kids there.”

“I heard you gave my deputies hell,” your godfather smirks at Bucky. “Good job, boys. Next time break a few bones.”

“Tony,” Pepper tuts her alpha, but she gently pats his hand. “Don’t encourage them! Soon they will be fathers! Now let’s talk about the nest and anything else, Y/N. How far are you?”

“Two babies,” Steve watches you lie in the middle of your shared bed. “We need to tell the gang we are going to be fathers soon, Buck. No more dangerous stuff for us. Y/N needs reliable alphas.”

“Aw, you’re such a softie, Steve,” Bucky whines when you look at your alphas. “Fine, I’m all soft for her too. What happened to us? We used to be stone-cold bikers and now we are putty in a girl’s hands.”

“Not just a girl, Buck,” smiling Steve looks at his friend. “Our omega, my friend. I think it’s time to grow up and be good alphas.”

“Agreed,” offering Steve a fist bump Bucky grins. “Now let’s take care of our omega. She needs us.”

THE END...*and yes I made her pregnant, sue me...*

All works Tags

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@the-loml-got-nailed

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

Marvel Tags

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Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tags

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Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags

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Stucky Masterlist

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@hinata7346​

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Bad Boys Tags

@isitmine​​​, @this-is-a-chilis-drive-thru​, @justlovelifeblog​​​, @tdbooth​​​​, @coldbreadbouquetworld​​​, @peaches-roses-sins​​​, @bubblyyzabel161-blog​​, @nightriver99​​​, @dee-vn​​​, @youngdreamer3214​​​, @dangerouslovefanfic​​​, @alexakeyloveloki​​, @irishflutiegirl​, @tinkymae​, @rachellovesharry, @bubblyyz

[honklore]

Can you do headcanons for sapnap with a shy reader please?❤️💌

ALSO I LOVED LANDSLIDE IT CHANGED MY LIFE

shy!reader headcanons | sapnap

(gender neutral, non-au, this is less of a headcannon and more of a small story sorry about that)

listen to: georgia by vance joy

okay firstly to premise, i think sapnap is a pretty shy guy himself. he’s absolutely the guy who refuses to correct a waiter after they read their order back to him wrong

so he would get it. i don’t really think he would try to push you out of your comfort zone

lets say you guys met in a csgo lobby lol. sapnap was practicing before a stream, playing with strangers, and you popped up

and you didn’t speak for the first like. five rounds. you were AMAZING with last minute clutches but you never spoke so people just kind of assumed you didn’t have ur mic on

except one round, sapnap lost focus and nearly ruined the round, forgetting to call out his location for a cover

luckily you came in with the clutch and shot the enemy before they could get to sapnap, saving the round

and so while in the lobby, sapnap turns on his mic and just “[user], thanks for saving my ass out there.”

and your voice just comes through, a little clipped and very shy, “no problem,” before your mic is muted again

sapnap ends up saving ur gamer tag and inviting you whenever he needs someone to play with or fill a lobby

this turns into playing every day, and you guys become rlly good friends thru the screen. you both keep to yourselves for the most part, a strict csgo relationship if you will

and then sapnap is like. i rlly like them. i want to be their bestie.

so he asks if you want to play with him and his friends sometime, maybe in minecraft or jackbox

and you’re a little overwhelmed bc you know they have a decent online presence. but he’s nice to you and you don’t have many online friends so you say yes :)

and he’s like SO excited bc all of his friends are going to meet his new friend

only he’s been talking abt u to karl and dream and george and q for like. ages. since like. THE NIGHT he met u on csgo. (bc he’s a pisces and he gets v attached to anyone who breathes in his direction)

(i’m a pisces i can say it)

when you join the lobby (no one is streaming) he has the boys in a separate call to give him advice just in case he needs it

you don’t really speak unless spoken to, and when the boys get rlly loud they can kind of forget to include you

so sapnap always brings you back into the convo by asking you a question or making a quick joke

george in their chat: simp

you guys play jackbox, and you rlly like quiplash and survive the internet and others where you can just type

(and you’re really good at it like the boys think ur rly funny and clever)

but of course the boys want to play mad verse city, and you’re like,,, rlly nervous and don’t really want to rap,, so sapnap raps for you,, and he’s the loudest to hype you up after each of your verses

and you’d slowly get more comfortable with the boys. it’s easy to flow with them bc they’re so loud and obnoxious that you can mind your own business and still feel like part of their convos.

so anyways it’s months into your friendship, and sapnap has developed the fattest crush on you. if he’s not on call with the boys, he’s on call with you

chat knows about you bc sapnap always has you on his alt streams to talk and hang out with him. surprisingly, chat is very protective over you and cheer you on even if you’re on a different team than sap

i imagine sapnap gives you his minecraft info and lets you go around the dsmp the same way dream lets drista hang out with his info

just... a stream where he leads you around and just talks to you in vc while you share your screen with him,,, and chat is like. sapnap you are so in love.

you spend your time in the smp making a cottage and a house for yourself. you even tame a cat.

(it’s the first pet on the server that sapnap doesn’t try to kill. that’s how chat knows he’s in too deep.)

and the thing is,, he wants to ask u to be his s/o,, but you’re so shy that he has no idea how you feel about him

you’re not flirty and you’re friendly with everyone, so it’s hard to see any signs.

(sapnap is also just kinda dumb, bc he doesn’t realize that you only address him when you talk, you’re only comfortable in calls if he’s there too, you have made him a playlist called “sapnap <3”, you made him a flower garden in minecraft and literally mined netherite for him to return to when he came back on the server)

like sapnap is thinking on such a large scale that all of these little things you do don’t register as anything more than friendship

and he’s in call w the dteam one day and he’s just like “guys :/ idk if they like me :/”

dream calls him a dumbass

george hangs up

when george comes back, you join the call too, and sapnap can only assume george messaged you to join

“tell them, sapnap”

“george you’re such an idiot, y/n don’t listen to him we were just messing around.”

“okay,” you say. “but i’m here to talk if you ever need me.”

sapnap wants to burst because he likes you so much, he’s just so terrified of messing up what you guys have that he would rather stay silent

he doesn’t want to run you off, but he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t like you either

“can i call u?” he asks “without these two nimrods to hear us?”

you agree, and you start talking as soon as you two are in a separate call. “sap? are you okay? you’ve been acting weird lately.”

“i rlly like you,” he just blurts it out, because it’s the easiest way for him. he can’t take it back, but at least you know.

“oh,” you say, voice just as timid as it was that first csgo game ages ago. “i like u too”

cue blushy sapnap

always talks about you on stream. you don’t join streams too much bc they make you nervous, but you’re always talked about lol

sapnap will bring you up literally every day on twitter or smth

when the two of you finally meet in person, you’re both so shy that dream has to start the convos for the first hour or so

but once you get comfortable it’s like two long lost souls

you guys just fit

sapnap speaks up when you’re quiet, and vice versa

you guys get ur own shared mc server and sapnap kills mods while you plant flowers

you use your twitter to show off your builds and sapnap always retweets and hypes you up

he suggests you stream your builds but it’s something you just like to do on your own, so you decline. sometimes you’ll appear on his streams and give his chat a lil tour tho :’)

sapnap is pretty protective over you. he will fight anyone for u <3 that’s just how he is lmao.

you get along with everyone pretty well though, and sapnap fits in with your friends as well

it’s still mostly a long distance relationship, but the two of you are used to it so you make it work

and sapnap will correct a waiter if they get your order wrong. so, character development.

thanks for requesting and for liking landslide !!

[angelic-jeonghan1004]

Enhypen reacting to you cheating in a game to win

More enha timeeee I've got more stuff in the works for them so soon I'll make a masterlist! Doing a mixture of both video games and arcade games in this. If it's not obvious to tell from my past fics I love me some video games I'm now super into Genshin atm!! Heeseung is absurdly long btw sorry about that he's the only one I actually had an idea for from a random tropes list on Wattpad the rest I wrote the prompt games and ideas for sitting through a school lecture

Pairing: Enhypen x reader

Genre: fluff, crack

Warning: swearing!

Gif credits to rightful owner ✨

Heeseung

Thinking of a way to spend time with your boyfriend and have a fun date

You went to play laser tag, there's no physical harm in laser tag

Problem here is you're both competitive

And deciding against being on the same team

Decided to go being on opposite team

Whoever lost has to buy lunch

So going into the game in the black out neon room full of obstacles you both had one thing on your mind

"I'm going to win" was the one thought racing through both of your heads (spoiler alert you won in the end)

Protecting your chestplate for your life in fear of someone shooting you

The game got very heated but you thought strategically

You didn't try to find him (that was his goal to find you, but by his height yells or cheers of success eliminating a player you knew where he was 99% of the time) you actually avoided him

You went to get out all of his teammates

It wasn't hard you where in it to win it

You realized there's no way it's not just you and Heeseung now

An idea came to mind

Yelling to him you said

"Heeseung I have an idea to make this fun for us , meet me at the middle since I don't want to yell"

You both made your way to the middle very cautious of eachother but he was very curious of the challenge

Quickly you explained that you two should go on opposite ends of the laser tag maze but each step you take you have to do one shot no matter what

Due to your limited amo this intrigued Heeseung

How he could strategically move his lanky body around the maze without loosing tok much amo

He agreed

And you leaned in for a kiss before "putting the plan to action"

He quickly accepted the kiss closing his eyes taking in the moment before having to head to the opposite corner

That was until he heard the "Defeated" noise come from his chest plate as you shot him in the chest neon red lights covering the what used to be blue chestplate

You giggled as you broke the kiss

"UNFAIR" Heeseung yelled

"We can talk about it over lunch" you said putting your hand in his

You explained your true strategy to him at lunch and how you made that plan up just so he wouldn't kill you on spot

He peas so pouty

Just ate his food and sulked

"You owe me a fist game and next time let's try that challenge I was excited baby"

He'd say with just 🥺 eyes

Pls win this boy some sort of gift he deserves a pick me up

Jay

You guys where having a great time having an in home date

Then you disrespected man's gaming skills

Oh all hell broke loose into a heated argument

"I totally bet I could beat you in Tekken"

"Oh you fucking wish"

"Who do you main"

"Roger" (Roger is a Kangaroo)

"What the fuck are you doing? Representing Jake's home? That character takes no skill to beat people as"

"Yeah well who do you main"

"Is that even a question? Alisa Bosconovitch. A cyborg robot lady with fucking jet legs and chainsaw arms you can't tell me that's not cool"

"You're telling me I'M the one that plays someone that takes no skill to play as?"

You both knew there was only one way to settle this

Jay got out Playstation and everything for it and put it as a 5 match game

Settling yourselves into the game you both where doing actually really well

Way too well actually it was 2 to 2 so whoever won this round one the game

Your anxiety got too high

You where not gonna let this dude win

He'd be too cocky for his own good holding it over you

Quickly you had an idea as you saw his health was only 50% of the way nearing death and your ultra power and held up enough exp

"BABY IS THAT A SPIDER" you yelled looking at the ground near his leg

Causing him to roll away from his spot fearing a spider near his leg loosing focus

That's when you charged at his character

You could see the soul leave his body

When he saw the pink and magenta hair move speedy across the screen straight to his sweet little kangaroo in boxing gloves and a neck tie

"K.O" filling the screen you knew his yell was coming before he even did it

"AAAAAAAAA"

"WAS THERE EVEN A SPIDER"

"No baby I just had to through you off your rthym"

Man he was HURT

"I can't tell if that was foul or not. I'm going to talk with Niki on if what you did was fair or not"

"Babe it's not that deep-"

"No No No you owe me a rematch, kiss and patience as I consult with Niki"

Jake

Gosh this sweet boy

You two where playing dead by daylight on switches laying on opposite sides of the couch so you couldn't see eachothers screen

And you just kept scaring Jake coming up out of no where behind him

"Baby please just kill me you don't have to run up behind me" he was so scared please(〒﹏〒)

He was giving you puppy dog eyes that quickly went to fear as he shrieked from you running up behind him as he tried to start the car for the 18478282 time

You realized he was actually almost done fixing the car due to his pears so you went on a killing spree it was just you, Jake and some girl who was searching for fuel that you couldn't find

Getting back to Jake you realized he actually started the car and was ready to drive it and win the game

You hid behind a tree so he wouldn't see you

So in that moment you said "Jake can you toss the blanket I'm really cold"

Jake is too much if a gentle men he did so immedietly with a smile on his face you felt a little bad for what you where doing ngl

You took this chance and killed Jake's character

He knows that's how the game works that you you still could've done that without

But boy still yelled that it was unfair

Another boy who would just pout

Beware next round he's not going to be nice and will play the murderer

Sunghoon

Who knew a game of thumb war would get so aggressive

You where just waiting for the time to pass for a cafe to open up since you guys where too early before opening

The glares you shot eachother where unreal

Neither of you wanted to loose and both where confident in winning

But one thing was tempting you

The sign flipping over to open on the front door

So in that quick moment you felt really bad

But you stepped on his toe as you lifted your arms down and quickly put your thumb over his

"12345678910 I WIN"

"NO YOU DIDNT THAT WAS TOTALLY CHEATING"

He was so upset omg

The glare on his face

You know the look like just 😐 but definitely angry

But he couldn't hide the smile on his face when you leaned in to kiss his cheek

"I needed the game to end the cafes open now baby,,,"

He went blank for a second confused then

"OH SHIT YOU'RE RIGHT WE WHERE IN LINE FOR THE CAFE LETS GET IN"

A smile filled his face and he moved your hands to be in an actual hand holding way as you too went in

But don't get me wrong

This boy getting a rematch

And if you playing dirty he'll play dirty too

But for now he'll be fine having this cafe date of coffee/tea and pastries with you

Sunoo

Rthym games aren't a competition

But you guys made it one-

Who could get a higher score??

Originally a joke gone TOO far

Since here you are playing one song from Superstar Woollim, Superstar SM and Superstar JYP

Just 3 main and random superstar rthym games

Each thing was going alright then you got to Woollim

You both played the same songs but each got to choose a song

Woollim you knew The Eye was hard so you chose it and had him go first

He was doing surprisingly well though

Too well🤔

But suddenly Jungwon entered the room

You knew what to do

Make that boy jealous

"Hi bubs! How are you?" You said looking up to Jungwon

Jungwon was very polite asked you how you where

And Sunoo was not having it

He's fine with you being friends with all of enha

He encourages it!

But bubs is a pet name that's for him and him only😔😔

This caused his attention to tare away for a second

Suddenly in the blink of an eye his heart dropped as the "missed" noise came through the phone

The yELL

He was so mad

Once the song was done he immedietly went

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"Sort of"

And then you just did your turn and this boy gasped and look at you likeヽ༼⁰o⁰；༽ノ

He would be pettyyyyy

He'd be so mad

Pouting and glaring at you

Just completely done

You'd have to go in with a LOT of cuddles and affection

But he'd still not budge for a while

You got a better score than him so you won

But he will hold this over you whenever he wants something he'll be like

"remember when you cheated in a game we where playing by making me jealous? That was a little too much don't you think? Now grab me one of the ice cream bars from the freezer"

Jungwon

Wonnie this precious boy

Ppuyo ppuyo Tetris is not a game to play with others

It ruins relationships, friendships, family bonds (from personal experience as someone who got grilled on their Tetris skills while playing 1v1 while my friend was also doing terrible)

He got it since the characters looked cute

And Tetris is fun!

So why not??

You guys started playing it on the switch and everything was fine at first

Then it started getting faster

Wonnie chose the annoying little wizard guy that just yells every 5 seconds

It was driving you both up a wall ngl

So you where like how do I cheat in Tetris,,,

You realized you where gonna get a 5 in 1 move so it was gonna fuck up his play real hard

But if he realizes that's your move he can make one just as strong if he puts his brain to realize what spots he has open and he's good at coming back from riskfull moments

So you digged deep in your brain to think of something quick

It hit you then

"Wonnie did I ever tell you who my Enhypen bias was"

His face just sort scrunched and he was like ¯\_ಠ_ಠ_/¯ I thought it was me? Moment

"wouldn't it be me? I never thought to ask"

"Oh okay" legit you had gone in with the 5 in 1 move and he hadn't looked at the silver blocks that quickly started to fill his screen he wanted to know

"nonono who is it?" Turned to you he didn't even see the mess that was on his screen

Until he heard the god for saken wizard just yell in defeat

"wait no that's unfair you can't drop something like that on me while we where in a 1v1 match"

His eyes he would just ಠ︵ಠ

Boy so sad :((

He lost the game and now he doesn't know if you bias him or not

If you do bias him you'd just tell him and he'd be like you stressed me out for noThing??

If you didn't bias him he'd be fine with it but he'd need a little moment of confirmation

Idk give this boy some kisses you stressing him out

Niki

Intense DDR fight let's go

This boy don't go down without a fight

Neither do you

But as the levels kept going and the energy got more and more intense

You know it was very likely Niki could win

That boy is dancing prodigy type of guy

So he be doing these steps while also the hand work of the dance itself just to flex

Done with the cute boys snarky behavior

You did the one thing that would throw him of his rthym

Pretend to get hurt

You crouched in a way and made it seem like your knee was in pain but you where still doing the steps

Niki was gonna look over to you to be snarky and witty

But you looked in pain and this giant baby got panicked

"nononono baby are you okay? If you're in pain don't worsen your injury we can stop playing, what about your knee hurts?" He was panicking and you immedietly felt so bad

He stopped moving and so his score got worse and worse

You felt so bad you pretended to just act it out a lil more

"no don't worry Riki it's okay I'll be fine"

"don't say that you're in pain you could worsen your condition, let's find out what happened maybe you just buckled your knee? I've done that, be more careful please"

He legit went over to your board and tried to just stop your movements and left a kiss on your forehead

The song would end and your score would be higher but you would never do that as a cheat again

You didn't even have the courage to tell Riki after

He continued to be just so sweet and caring throughout the date

Would probably even text you afterwards like "Im sorry you injured your knee a little but I'm glad afterwards you felt better and I had a lot of fun :))"

Pls you better keep that all in till the day you die or tell him it's up to you but don't mess with this pore boy again like that pls(〒﹏〒)

[appleflavoredkitkats]

Analysis of the “Fundy’s Mind” Stream: A Showcase of Repressed Memories and Repressed Insecurities

i. INTRODUCTION

Hi! This is going to be… something. Funny how I focus on this rather than my research homework, but I have a MASSIVE Fundy brain rot right now and I’d love to share my thoughts on Fundy’s newest stream. Fair warning, I am not the Messiah, so don’t take everything as fact. I’m open to constructive and objective discussions in replies or in DM’s, so feel free to hmu!

All of this is /dsmp and /rp by the way!

Heavy trigger warnings for derealization, parental neglect, neglect in general, self-deprecation, self-neglect, low self-esteem, death, manipulation, abandonment, loneliness, trust issues, torture mention, blood mention, and broken friendships.

Word Count: Approximately 10k.

ii. PRE-LIVESTREAM ASPECTS

Before we begin deep diving into the mind of Fundy, I do want to emphasize two major themes of this stream: 1.) Fundy’s insecurities, especially when it comes to abandonment and trust, and 2.) Fundy’s future predicting abilities. A ton (but not all) of statements uttered by the books and Fundy himself tend to have double meanings that apply to both of these themes. 

We can further discuss the future predicting powers later, but to give a little background on Fundy’s insecurities: Fundy is notorious for heavily depending his self-worth on the recognition other people give him. Despite his immaturity, a lot of Fundy’s character is rooted in being heavily underestimated. This could be observed during the Pet Wars when his safety was constantly being threatened by Sapnap, inevitably making him lose a duel against him. Another way we can see this is through Wilbur’s early treatment of Fundy where he constantly infantilized him because Wilbur believed Fundy was a child incapable of being independent. This caused Fundy to appeal a lot to any type of compliment from any person- it began with Quackity ensuring him that he will gift him a lot of cookies if he votes SWAG2020, then to Schlatt complimenting him to the point that Fundy almost gave up on spying and siding with Pogtopia, then to the Butcher Army where he unhesitantly followed Tubbo and Quackity’s lead no matter how many times they made fun of him. While he revels in any type of recognition given, oftentimes, those who seem to care for Fundy tend to leave after he grows attached to them; first with Wilbur, then Niki, then Schlatt, then Eret and Phil, then Tubbo, Ranboo, and Quackity. In the Dream SMP, Fundy is very lonely and has dealt with abandonment issues left and right, but typically, he never does anything with his loneliness, as the last time he lashed out against someone who left him, nothing positive really came out of it (this is when he got mad at Ghostbur). 

(Everything else is under the cut! I worked so hard on this, so please read it if you can, it’d mean a lot!)

So, with all that laid out, I want you to keep this all in mind as it is important for understanding why Fundy feels the way he does in the stream.

Now, let’s begin the analysis. First off, I believe it is important to denote the title and the tags of the stream. The stream is titled “Fundy’s Mind”, so we have to denote that this isn’t merely a dream sequence- the stream is meant to explore the complexity of Fundy’s mind. This includes his thoughts, insecurities, repressed memories, and so on and so forth. Additionally, the stream is tagged “Permadeath”, something different from what Fundy typically tags his streams. There is no clear explanation as to what this could mean, but the possibilities are:

It is hinting that the death system in the Dream SMP could be rigged, and someone is messing with the semantics of death and how it works.

It is hinting that someone will face a permanent death, and most fingers are pointed at Fundy as this is his stream. If not a permanent death, he might at least lose one of his canon lives which was hinted later on in the stream (will discuss later).

It is hinting that he was killed by the end of the dream. Not really a solid theory as we don’t actually know the repercussions of killing someone who is actively dreaming, but it is a possibility.

iii. PROLOGUE

A thing to question at the beginning of the stream is if the entire introduction was part of the dream or not. Seeing how Fundy has the same inventory from this to the next scene, it is plausible, but I don’t think it provides anything if it were a dream. 

Anyway, other things to denote are Fundy’s hotbar! First noticeable thing would be the 38 baked potatoes. The website angelnumber.org explains that 38 means:

“The combination of these two numbers makes the number 38 a number which signifies joy and optimism, courage, finding creative ways to materialize abundance, reality, etc.

The essence of the number 38 in numerology are different kind of relationships, such as romantic ones, business partnerships, teamwork, cooperation, diplomacy, etc.

Number 38 people have a talent for dealing with people in a caring and creative way. They are born team-workers. They need interaction with other people to fully enjoy their lives. They are usually optimistic and have a gift of inspiring others to action.”

So far, the number 38 is viewed to be positive. It signifies financial success and cooperativeness, which is interesting if Fundy’s future arc potentially ties to working with Quackity. To further add onto symbolisms regarding success, dreamastromeanings.com says the following:

“If you dreamed of baking or roasting potatoes, that dream is a good sign. It usually indicates your finances increasing over time.

Possibly you have made some investments and now you are beginning to reap the fruits of your efforts and risky activities.”

or,

“If you dreamed of holding a potato in your hand, that dream is a bit of a warning. You might soon receive some lucrative opportunity, possibly work related.

It is advisable to think fast and accept it because you might not get a second chance.

It could also indicate that you are a bit lazy when it comes to taking chances and missing opportunities because of that.”

Both explanations refer to business opportunities and possible investments. If we combine both the explanation for the number 38 and carrying potatoes, we can assume that Fundy will be receiving a business opportunity that would be too good to miss. These explanations also imply that nothing too negative would occur, but instead, Fundy can achieve success through this business opportunity. The only arcs in the Dream SMP which I think could provide a business opportunity would either be 1.) a new warden at the prison, 2.) new member at Snowchester (low odds), but the most likely occurrence would be 3.) Quackity offers him a position at Las Nevadas. With the Quackity smiley face at the end of Fundy’s stream, we can safely believe that the job opportunity at Las Nevadas would be the most likely occurrence.

Another explanation for this is that because the 38 potatoes were brought from the seemingly real world, it could possibly pertain to something that had already happened in the past. This could possibly allude to L’Manberg, especially when the explanations behind 38 potatoes are presented to be more positive, something the current Las Nevadas arc isn’t.

Second thing to notice about the hotbar: Fundy is currently at level 5, with his EXP bar 1/18 filled. To reach level 5, one has to gain 55 EXP, and to reach level 6, one would need to gain an extra 17 EXP. If the bar is merely 1/18 filled, 1/18 of 17 would be 0.94, which when rounded off, is 1. Add 1 to the extra 55, and we would approximately get 56 EXP. The website angelnumber.org says the following:

“The number 56 symbolizes teamwork, coexistence, family, relationships, adventure and expression of freedom.

Number 56 people have diverse interests, some of which they have an in-depth knowledge of and some just general understanding.

They try different approaches in relationships, trying to keep them alive. If everything they’ve tried fails, they simply walk to another relationship.”

This could mean a lot of things. The second sentence could imply that Fundy doesn’t fully comprehend the complexity of his mind. Some parts, he may understand, some, he does not at all. This could imply that there are also more secrets hiding in his mind that we couldn’t get to see. The third sentence is more interesting as Fundy’s entire character arc involves him and his broken relationships with other people. It’s a quite accurate description of Fundy, describing how he desperately tries anything to make a relationship work, and if it fails, he could easily befriend other people even if there is a possibility that that relationship would fail like the previous. 

If we ignore the number of EXP, we can merely focus on the number 5, which means the following:

“When angels are sending you number 5, they want to encourage you to have hope and to be ready to accept all the changes that are coming. Also, if number 5 has appeared just at the moment when you have been thinking about something important in your life, this number could be the answer or the solution for your problems. You should pay attention to number 5 and think of its secret meanings.

If number 5 keeps appearing by your side, it means that changes are already happening in your life. If they have not happened yet, don’t worry. They are on the way and you will feel them in the next couple of days or weeks.”

This can be connected to both the EXP number and the stream as a whole as Fundy begins to accept the gravity of his abandonment issues instead of suppressing his negative feelings towards it. Throughout the stream, Fundy is shown rejecting the idea that he is being neglected by others, but by the second half of the stream, he rejects it less and less. This could be the change the explanation is referring to as Fundy realizing his negative feelings towards his abandonment issues are valid and he needs to take them more seriously rather than brushing them aside. 

With number symbolisms finally aside, we can begin analyzing the actual sequences! Fundy is seen to be approaching his “Not A Secret” Base with a sigh, asking chat if they can go to sleep so that he can go to sleep too. Fundy immediately doubts the possibility of the others in the server following through his request until Ranboo responds with a simple “okay” while Niki responds with “yiss, am asleep”. Fundy quickly flashes the members list on the screen, showing us that only Niki and Ranboo are online on the server before he showcases his new bed, claiming that he likes it.

Two interesting notes about this: 1.) he decides to sleep, which is odd enough in the Dream SMP, and 2.) him having three new beds despite only using one of them. For the first point, I’d like to refer you to what Fundy said at around 26:08:

“I just gotta sleep and then, it’s gonna disappear! And then everyone is gonna appear out of a bush and they’re gonna be ‘Surprise!’, and I’m gonna be like, ‘You guys…! You’re always pranking me, you’ve always been there for me. Every single time… except sometimes… when I needed you the most.’ I just go to bed, I just go to bed, and none of this ever happened.”

While I understand that he is referring to the dream, I also believe that this statement would be one of those types I mentioned earlier that may have a double meaning. While “I just go to bed,” could refer to him wanting to sleep and wake up from this horrific dream, it could also refer to how he easily shuts down to his abandonment issues and goes to bed instead of handling it head first. Knowing this, him going to bed in the first scene could imply that he is in this type of  abandonment predicament, especially when we connect it to the second point. The color orange is meant to represent joy and warmth, and even without the symbolism, we all know orange is Fundy’s favorite color. He sees these three beds and says that he likes them, but I can’t help but feel like the other two beds are meant for two other people. I don’t think Niki and Ranboo being the only other two people on the server is coincidental; they have to relate to the two extra beds in some way.

Niki and Ranboo are two prime examples of close friends Fundy had before breaking off after a misunderstanding. Niki fought with Fundy after he had to burn the flag she made in order to gain Schlatt’s trust, while Fundy fought with Ranboo after Doomsday when they had conflicting beliefs about neutrality and sides. After both incidents, Fundy never really made his way to apologize, but Fundy has awkwardly met up with these two after a certain point. With Niki, he was forced to team with her at the beginning of the November 16th War, joking around with her and Eret, while for Ranboo, Fundy had to talk to him and Philza when they were joking around in the SMP. The meet ups definitely relieved some tension, but it never fully resolved the conflict Fundy had with both characters, so there was never a chance for him to rekindle the close bonds he had with both Ranboo and Niki in the past.

Fundy going to his favorite beds with two extra spots next to him could represent how he does cherish the friendships he shared with Niki and Ranboo, but never has the guts to actually bring back things the way that they were before. So, instead, Fundy sleeps, not wanting to think about them any further.

iv. FIRST DAY

When he wakes, Fundy checks his inventory before exiting his base, saying “Uhm, I don’t actually-” until he cuts himself off once he spots the desert. I don’t actually know what Fundy was supposed to say here, but because he checked his inventory beforehand, I believe he was trying to say “I don’t actually know where my things are,” but I could be wrong. To be fair, this isn’t too important, so we don’t have to focus on that. What we can focus on is the misplaced desert that was obviously not there before Fundy slept. We can easily infer what deserts could symbolize in dreams, especially when it comes to loneliness and the feeling of being deserted, but for better insight, consider what dreamstop.com claims about deserts:

“A dream of a desert is about something that is devoid of any feelings or care for you. It is all about them and nothing about you. Does someone show you a lack of respect? Is there someone or something in your life you dislike and adds no meaning to your life? Do you feel invisible? That no-one cares about you? Deserts represent an empty, barren place you may be trying to fill.

Desert dreams may appear when a relationship or friendship breaks down, or when you feel totally alone. You may have moved recently and have not yet made friends. You may feel homesick for all you left behind.

Being lost in a desert refers to your feelings that a situation is hopeless. You may have a problem you feel no-one cares about, even though you tried to reach out. You may feel there was no support and are feeling hurt and alone.”

You don’t need much analyzing to connect these meanings to what Fundy is experiencing. The setting of a “desert” merely pads the idea of Fundy being incredibly lonely to the point of him believing that he has nothing left to lose. Back in Doomsday, he was an optimistic nihilist, claiming that he doesn’t care much about what occurs from this point onwards as long as he can have a little bit of fun. On the stream where he created the Cube, he claimed that most people hated him anyway, so the least he could do was to make himself so hateable so other people could unite together in their hatred of Fundy even if it meant Fundy would have no companions left. Let it be known: Fundy is incredibly, incredibly lonely, and he is miserable in his loneliness, especially when his self-worth depends on how much people recognize him.

Another thing this desert could be eluding to would be Las Nevadas as it is set in the desert. I do think the desert’s main purpose is to showcase Fundy’s loneliness, but the connection to Las Nevadas is plausible.

Additionally, the dark skies Fundy sees doesn’t really need much of an explanation either. I couldn’t find a website exactly defining what it means to find a dark sky, but most of them speak of it as a negative thing, often symbolizing something terrible to come. I don’t think I need to explain that part, so we’re moving on.

Fundy is, understandably, very confused about this entire predicament. He quickly moves around his base to figure out what is going on, even messaging in chat to see if anyone would respond. Climbing up the ladders, he stands atop his base, spotting the silhouette of the Camarvan from afar. He continues to be confused, claiming he has no idea why he’s here in the first place. He claims he is “freaking out”, continuing to ask questions about where he is, and why the sky turns dark. He denotes that he isn’t at least completely alone as bunnies swarm around the desert. He begins to follow this sandstone path, every few blocks or so passing a fence with a torch stood atop it.

Here, we can infer that Fundy seems to have never seen this place before, or has no recollection of it entirely. Fundy doesn’t seem to be immensely freaked out just yet, especially since he hasn’t asked any questions about how no one is there, mostly focusing on his location and asking what the place is about.

Fundy then asks why the van is here, then zooms in on the nametags he sees at the back of the van. It is notable that something nametagged “Fundy” is shorter than another thing that is nametagged “WilburSoot”. Fundy tries to reach out for them but is unable to enter the van.

We can easily infer that this scene was meant to represent Fundy’s childhood in L’Manberg when he was being taken care of by Wilbur. Despite the lack of silhouettes, we can easily determine that Fundy is young in this scene because of how his nametag is in a much lower position next to Wilbur's, implying that whoever owns that nametag is much shorter. We can denote that by the beginning of the L’Manbergian Revolutionary War, Fundy was, in fact, a child. 

Another question some of you might ask: why is the Camarvan here in the first place? While I believe it could be representative of the part of Fundy’s mind that tackles past memories, I do think it also serves another purpose which I will explain later.

Moving on to the next scenes, Fundy continues following the sandstone path while typing in chat, asking if anyone was actually there. He gets confused by the path for a moment, wanting to go to the ominous building, before realizing that the path does connect to the building, it just swerves a little to the left.

It is notable that when Fundy cried out for help, he doesn’t call for a name in specific-  he calls out for ANYONE. The fact that he is calling out for “anyone” could denote that he doesn’t have any close friends or family members he would want to specifically call out for. 

Continuing on, Fundy follows the path to the building, still very immensely confused about where he is. Opening the door, he sees that the inside descends into an underground room with its flooring made out of chiseled quartz blocks. Fundy gets scared at first, immediately closing the door, looking back in, and going back out once more.

Fundy denotes that there is absolutely nothing out here as he walks around the building. He then gains the courage to descend the staircase, wondering what it is, and at the bottom, there are a lot of misplaced sandstone blocks with small lights illuminating at certain corners. The path leads to the left, showing 10 pieces of red carpet on the floor, and 8 pieces of yellow carpet on the table. He approaches the wooden table before looking to his right, spotting a skull on the floor next to a piece of redstone, which I believe is meant to resemble blood.

I don’t think we really need to research a skull to check what it might represent, but my theory so far as to what the skulls mean in each building would be that it’s meant to represent Fundy losing a canon life. I don’t know if this was intentional, but the corner room where the skull is somewhat reminds me of the Final Control Room with the redstone in the middle representing the button. That is, after all, where Fundy lost his first canon life. 

One of the theories I subscribe to is that the skulls in these buildings are meant to foreshadow Fundy’s death before he ever reaches it. Earlier in the day, we saw Fundy pass by the Camarvan with a younger Fundy which could possibly imply that they haven’t gotten to Eret’s betrayal yet, but the skull creeping up at the corner could represent that it is, in fact, coming. How this ties in to the entire future predicting thing, I will explain later, but for now, keep an eye out on the skulls.

Terrified of the skull, Fundy opens the chest and hesitantly picks up the book and quill inside of it. He opens it and is introduced to another Fundy writing to himself. Other Fundy claims that they’re not exactly the same person, but this Fundy is a part of the real Fundy. Other Fundy claims that Fundy cannot trust this place as it is not real, then begins saying that Fundy himself is not real repeatedly. Fundy’s heart rate suddenly increases when he sees the words “wake up” appear slowly in the book, and after page 34 is shown, Fundy wakes up to a new day in the dream world. 

First thing to denote is that the book has 87 pages, and 87, according to affinitynumerology.com means as follows:

“The numerology number 87 is a number of family, organization, and prosperity.

It's also a number of harmony and idealism, the ideal generally related to a harmonious and prosperous family relationship.

87 has parental instincts. It assumes responsibility for the welfare of others it considers to be family.”

The explanation implies that Fundy longs for family and cares deeply for those who he considers as his family. As much as he hated Wilbur after he died, Fundy still continuously expressed how much he needed Wilbur to be there. He is absolutely attached to anyone who poses as a possible family member, especially to those who he views as parents or guardians. Even outside of Wilbur, he is still practically attached to Phil, even if Phil refuses to consider Fundy as family. Fundy also got immensely angered by Eret when she didn’t show up to sign his adoption papers. I’d even say his attachment to family would even reach people like Sally and Schlatt. Fundy has a tendency of casually talking about Sally, and whenever a character talks about eating salmon, Fundy becomes deeply offended. For Schlatt, Fundy kept Schlatt’s netherite sword after he died, considering it to be an “heirloom”, something that only gets passed down onto different generations of the same family. Fundy is incredibly attached to the sword, and whenever he loses it, he’s absolutely desperate to get it back. As much as Fundy gets abandoned, he still deeply appreciates a lot of his family.

87 is also very reminiscent of one of the books in the Inbetween. A lot of the phrasing in the books are actually quite similar to the Inbetween, but we aren’t sure if Fundy and the Inbetween are directly affecting each other or if these places merely work in similar ways. The main similarity between Fundy and the Inbetween is that it involves something related to time travelling, so the similarities could be pointing towards that rather than imply that Fundy is directly affecting the Inbetween all together.

Secondly, the book stops at Page 34. The website angelnumbers.org express the following:

"Most likely you are leaving your projects unfinished because of fear for their destiny after you finish them.

Will they be rejected or accepted by others?

Because you would rather not find out that and possibly have your ego hurt, you consciously or subconsciously sabotage your work and leave things unfinished.

When this number starts appearing in your life frequently, it is a reminder to acknowledge you have a problem and start dealing with it.”

This is very reminiscent of the paragraph I made earlier discussing Fundy’s relationship with Ranboo and Niki- and this could honestly apply to any other relationships Fundy has as well. Besides Fundy’s relationships, this explanation could apply to Fundy’s hesitance of finding out the truth of his mind. Earlier on in the streams, Fundy is immensely confused about the dream, not wanting to discover its truths at all. This eventually changes on the third day, but we’ll discuss that in a bit.

Another thing I’d like to discuss would be the identity of the book authors and why they wrote the books the way they did. I’ll explain about this more in-depth later, but I do believe that another Fundy is, indeed, writing these books. As this was set in Fundy’s mind, it’s quite impossible for anyone who isn’t Fundy to be meddling with the books. What we can denote, though, is the reason as to why these books were created in the first place. The book itself seems to be harmless at first, quite inviting towards Fundy in the first few pages, but once it had to introduce what this world is, it seemed to hesitate. There were a couple of disjointed pages, as well as blank pages, before it began claiming the world wasn’t real, and that Fundy wasn’t real. It turned a complete 180, which seemed to be very odd to me. In past events of the Dream SMP, derealizing statements like this tend to be tricks of the mind, but these statements seem to be intentionally put there by those who wrote the book, especially since later on, we see another book completely give up on saying these triggering statements, saying that “It’s not going to work.” (32:05). 

What this implies is that whoever placed these statements are attempting to scare Fundy in some way, possibly heightening his insecurities and terror so that he can be truly terrified of the place. The constant statements of “you are not real” may not only refer to the Other Fundy trying to make Fundy spiral downwards in derealization, but it might actually represent how neglected Fundy feels to the point of feeling invisible, to the point of feeling that he “isn’t real”. But why is this Other Fundy trying to scare Fundy, and who, specifically, is the person behind the writings, you might ask? This question will be answered later on when we go more in-depth with the other books, as the bigger picture is very much needed instead of explaining it all by the first book.

v. SECOND DAY

Fundy wakes up in his base once more, evidently confused. We don’t really know why he wakes up in his base, and why the world changes every time he wakes up, but let’s just say this is all part of his dream to make sense out of it. This time, he sounds more broken, and definitely more unhinged. He calls out for any other member in the chat, telling them that whatever they’re doing is not funny. This is the first we see of Fundy believing that the others may actually just have been pulling a prank on him. He opens his chests frantically before venturing outside once more. He claims that he doesn’t believe the book, saying that this dream sequence feels pretty real to him. 

This time, Fundy puts a bigger emphasis on asking why he is alone, and why nobody seems to be here with him. Fundy seems to be more shaken up by the idea that he’s alone over the idea that he does not know anything about where he is at all. He approaches the van, and when he zooms in, he sees that Wilbur’s nametag disappeared. 

Transcript of this following scene:

“I knew you were there. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no- you can’t fool me! No, I knew you were there Wil. You were there, right there! Where did you go? Are you being- he’s being funny. This is funny! This is great. Aw, this is amazing- it’s just a prank! It’s April Fools soon- that’s why! Oh, I’m just being pranked… right?”

Now, this was… sad. This is one of the other statements that could have a double meaning. Fundy insisting that Wilbur is supposed to be there could not only be him comparing this day to the previous, but it could also imply his true feelings towards Wilbur, especially since he’s disappeared for a good portion of Fundy’s life. Fundy believes Wilbur is supposed to be there for him, but the reality is that he wasn’t. Instead of facing reality, Fundy concludes that all of this was a harmless joke instead of believing that Wilbur might have possibly left him.

Fundy attempts to enter the van once more, but his attempt doesn’t work. He then follows the path on the side directing to the ominous building only for him to realize that it has gotten closer.

The building getting closer to the main base actually has a lot of symbolism behind it. The building itself stores a lot of secrets, especially when it comes to the truths about this world and the different insecurities Fundy has repressed. Those writing the books have laid out all these secrets in every single book found in this building. The fact that it’s underground is meant to represent that these secrets are meant to be hidden in the depths of Fundy’s mind, but the fact that the building is getting closer to the main base makes it feel like 1.) the stored secrets about this world that Fundy may have forgotten about might finally seep into his consciousness, making him aware of them next time he wakes up, and 2.) the insecurities Fundy repressed deep down are seeping out more and more as it reaches the main core. Once it’s there, Fundy won’t be able to reject the truth about his abandonment issues any longer.

Fundy nears the building, still quite nervous. He opens the door, and the layout of the inside seems to be slightly similar to the previous day, but there are small details here and there that are different. Instead of 10 red carpets, there are 6, and instead of 8 yellow carpets, there are 6. Additionally, the skull seems to be closer, this time directly next to the table.

While the carpets were quite subtle, I do think it symbolizes a certain decrease of something. Red symbolizes the color for passion and love, while yellow is meant to represent happiness and positivity. Earlier, we saw that Wilbur disappeared from the Carmarvan, so the decrease of rugs for each color could represent Fundy’s love and happiness decreasing.

For the skull itself, I don’t know if I’m right, but this is what I infer from it: On the first day, we saw that Wilbur was still standing next to Fundy in the Camarvan as the first skull underground was still very far away. On the second day, when Wilbur was gone, the skull got closer, standing next to the table instead of it being far away. I theorize that if the skull is closer, then a canon death has already occurred in the time period the day wants to present. The first day presents a time where Wilbur was still taking care of Fundy, so Eret’s betrayal may not have happened yet, hence why the skull merely stayed hidden at the corner. On the second day, Wilbur has actively left Fundy, similar to the period after L’Manberg’s independence when Fundy had to partake in the Pet Wars alone. During that era, the betrayal has already happened, which is why I believe the skull is much closer this time. 

Continuing on, Fundy opens the book and begins reading. From this point onwards, I do want to go more in depth with each of the books, so I’ll put transcripts here and there with my thoughts added onto it after each transcript.

“Hi me!

Welcome back!

Yeahh, second time here? or third?

not entirely sure”

So, this is confirmation that this might not be the first time Fundy’s having dreams like this. A good question to ask is if the book was written a long time ago and has presented itself the same way it does right now, or if this book was written recently. I don’t think the stream gave a definitive answer, but it is something to keep in mind.

“Listen to me Fundy

and you should trust me because,

well you know why

There are two things you can do right now

Walk back to your base, jump in bed, fall asleep, and you will wake up as if nothing ever happened

Or you can keep reading…

And I will tell you what I know”

The book pauses for a bit then continues saying “You are not real” ten times, “You dont want to know the truth” fifteen times, and spams “WAKE UP” until the 38th page, a number we analyzed earlier because of the 38 baked potatoes. 

For the book itself, whoever is writing the book seems to be a bit hesitant when writing. It doesn’t seem to want to explain what this place truly is to Fundy, and as much as it clarifies that they are, indeed, Fundy, they never expound on how they were able to write these books and why Fundy should trust him. Other Fundy saying “you should trust me because, well you know why” is actually quite ominous, and I can only think of two reasons as to why they would say it: 1.) Other Fundy is implying that Fundy can trust him because he is, in fact, the same person, or 2.) Other Fundy is hinting that Fundy trusts too easily as seen with the people Fundy trusted in the real world.

Additionally, the Other Fundy seems to emphasize on the fact that they WANT Fundy to go to sleep and wake up in the overworld. They phrase it so that sleeping once more is the more logical option, while they basically scare Fundy with the other option, evident by his quickened heartbeat. The Other Fundy seems to know about the intricacies of this dream and its world, but seems to be very hesitant to tell Fundy about it. The continuous threats imply that the Other Fundy doesn’t want Fundy to know the truth at all.

Basically, this Other Fundy knows something, something our Fundy doesn’t know about, and wants to emphasize that it is something horrific. He will do whatever he can do so that he can stop Fundy from knowing the truth, even if it means he has to scare Fundy.

Additionally, to me, it feels like “WAKE UP” could possibly have two meanings. If the underground structure is meant to represent things that Fundy constantly represses to the back of his mind, not only would the secrets of his dream reside there, but his own repressed insecurities may reside there as well. The way Fundy treats the truth about his dreams is actually quite similar with the way he treats his insecurities- he tends to reject its existence and pretend that everything is normal. This dream isn’t just a dream, it’s an exploration of Fundy’s mind, and telling Fundy to “WAKE UP” doesn’t just refer to not knowing the truths about the dream, but it could also refer to Fundy not knowing the truths about his own insecurities hidden deep in the depths of his mind. 

vi. THIRD DAY

Fundy wakes up, breathing heavily. He paces around his room before opening the door frantically, seeing that he is still stuck in a desert. He begins to laugh, repetitively telling himself that all of this is a “joke”. He continues questioning why he’s still in this dream, and when he opens the door, he sees the ominous structure observably closer to the base. He claims that he’s actually stressing out, and Fundy goes on a tangent about this dream and reveals a bit about his insecurities:

“They’re toying with me, they’re toying with me. They’re actually- everyone is toying with me- they are ALWAYS TOYING WITH ME. Everyone is! I’m always being played with. Why? Why always me- no! Why does it always have to be me? Every single time. I don’t wanna- (sigh). I don’t wanna keep dealing with this- I just wanna- no- do I just… Do I just… Do I just go up here and listen to- wai- okay. The book said I have two options: I can wait here until it’s night time. Wait until the sun sets and I can go to sleep, and when I go to sleep and wake up, none of this is real. None of this is gonna- it’s gonna disappear. None of this is real, none of this is real, none… It’s not real, it’s not real, I am currently not real, this is no- how is this possible? How is this- wha- how did- how… None of this is real. I am not real. All I have to do is wait for midnight and just sleep, and all of this would end, right? All I have to do is… wait until night time and then… it’s all gonna be over, it’s all gonna be done. 

I just gotta sleep, and then, it’s gonna disappear. And then everyone is gonna appear out of a bush and they’re gonna be ‘Surprise!’ and I’m gonna be like, ‘You guys! You’re always pranking me… you’ve always been there for me (sniffs). Every single time… except sometimes… when I needed you the most. I just go to bed… I just go to bed, and then I wake up, and none of this ever happened. And we’re gonna go back to my old life where I have fun and join parties and join groups and only see them disappear in front of my eyes as I start to get attached to them. Y-yeah, that’s- that’s- that’s the choice I’m making. Go back to that... (sigh). Just… or you know…”

LOTS to unpack here, and I’ll go one by one explaining certain aspects of this because it’s not just something that showcases Fundy’s insecurities.

Firstly, interesting how Fundy believed that the book was toying with him like how a lot of other people do. That’s what makes him afraid of the book- the feeling of being pushed around. The book is actively trying to use Fundy’s insecurities against him in order to make him more and more afraid of the truth. This is interesting because Fundy is known to be ignorant towards his actual issues (just look at his monologue), but the Other Fundy seems to be acutely aware of them. I will explain why he is aware of them later on.

Secondly, this is the most observable point, Fundy seems to be aware that he is quite frankly, alone, but tends to ignore it. He copes with his abandonment issues by treating his abandonment like a joke. He believes that every single person who’s left him did it as a prank. Even if he laughs at this idea, he is also evidently hurt by it. It hits even harder when you realize that Fundy is quite the dependent character, often sucking up to any person who gives him recognition. If Fundy depends on others to dictate his self-worth, how do you think he thinks of himself right now when he literally has nobody?

Putting emphasis on Fundy’s loneliness is going to be interesting because I do think some characters in future arcs are going to exploit that. If Quackity is going to use and manipulate Fundy the same way Sam does, then there would be no doubt that he will use Fundy’s loneliness against him. Even if it’s not Quackity who approaches Fundy first- even Bad, Sam, Dream, anyone, really, could use Fundy’s loneliness against him, which will make for an interesting plot point.

Lastly, not a lot of people spotted this, but this monologue also gives us insight as to why Fundy continued looking for the truth about his dreams instead of staying in his base and waiting for night. When talking about what to look forward to once he wakes up, he talks about how much “fun” he is going to have. Slowly, you see his denial start to dwindle as he finally admits that people leave him just as he gets attached to them. As much as Fundy wanted to wake up from this horrific dream, he realizes that, once he wakes up, he has nothing to look forward to either. That’s why he hesitates when he says “Yeah, that’s the choice I’m making,” because he realizes waking up isn’t as ideal as it seems. This is why Fundy immediately goes outside afterwards with no hesitation- Fundy has nothing left to lose, hence why he chooses to venture forth. Fundy is driven to do things because he feels like his life is purposeless anyway.

Fundy then begins to head outside quietly, zooming into the ominous building while walking right towards it. He then detours for a moment, walking towards the right of the building, and approaches a giant crater filled with obsidian and blackstone.

The explosion could symbolize two things:

Any of the L’Manberg explosions. With the obsidian and blackstone combination, my guess is that this is either the first Doomsday event (L’Manbergian War of Independence) because of L’Manberg’s walls, or the November 16th War because of Schlatt’s Podium. Why the big amount of blackstone and obsidian? Well, I’m not so sure when it comes to L’Manberg as its walls didn’t have obsidian, but for the November 16th war, I do think that the abundance of blackstone and obsidian is meant to represent how Fundy is reducing the November 16th war to Schlatt’s Podium. This can be alarming as he was the one who made Schlatt’s Podium, so reducing the war to that one building might symbolize that he blames himself for the war.

Another theory, which is the theory I subscribe to more, is that this is actually depicting an event in the future that we haven’t seen yet. Namely, the prison. If you zoom in on the explosion, the block pattern is quite reminiscent of the block pattern present in the prison.

While I’ll mostly discuss Fundy’s future predicting powers later, I do think that there’s a possibility that Fundy saw a vision of the future, unlike the past two days where he saw visions of the past. The prison might possibly be nuked in the future.

Fundy then proceeds to walk back towards the building, repetitively saying “no”. He claims he needs to find out, sounding more determined than before. For this, even if the explosion could represent many things, I do think Fundy is generally reminded of the explosions he had to witness throughout the history of the Dream SMP. Perhaps he believes that finding out the truth could prevent more explosions from occurring, perhaps he figured out that this was the prison and he needed to know why it exploded, perhaps him walking away from something that’s reminiscent of real life represents his choice of wanting to learn more about his dreams rather than sticking to anything similar to real life. 

Moving on, Fundy enters the building, saying he wants to know what’s going on. The underground room seems to have changed a bit, as the chiseled quartz floors changed into quartz bricks. The place also seems to be littered with end stone blocks and bricks. The place is much darker as well, and the carpets on the floor and table seem to be gone entirely. Two skulls can be observed near the table.

My brain actually can’t reason as to why the end blocks were there, or why the quartz blocks changed. My guess is that the end stones will eventually connect to a future plot point relating to the End, but again, I’m not sure. The carpets being gone could represent that the love and happiness (red and yellow) that Fundy had disappeared completely. The dishevelled state of the room could represent that the secrets being held inside this underground room are finally breaking free as its confines tear down more and more. 

Now the skulls- if we go by the theory I presented earlier, then the skulls are meant to represent canon deaths. If the skull was tucked into the corner, then that means death is to come, but if it’s near the table, then I believe the canon death already occurred. If two skulls are next to the table, then it could imply that whatever time period the day is set in should be around the time Fundy loses a second canon death, which hasn’t occurred yet. Again, this is all speculation, so I might be overthinking, but if the explosion is meant to represent the prison getting nuked, then there’s a possibility Fundy would lose a canon life before the prison gets destroyed.

Now, onto the juicy bit: the book. The book reads as follows:

“Hi. again.

...Why are we so persistent

...Why are we so stubborn

...You have been here before, but you keep coming back

...Why?

WHY???

You dont want to know the truth

It will hurt you

I dont want to be hurt again

YOU dont want to be hurt again

I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT

PLEASE JUST LEAVE

GO TO BED

FALL ASLEEP

ENJOY YOUR LIFE

ENJOY THE FUN THINGS

THE TRUTH ISNT WHAT YOU WANT

PLEASE

STOP THIS

STOP!!!”

The book tries scaring Fundy by spamming “WAKE UP” across multiple pages.

“It’s not going to work, huh..

Listen to me Fundy…

Your mind is not safe…

You are not imagining this…

This place might not be real…

But he is.

Spare yourself.

I need you to listen carefully.

Do not join him.

Whatever he asks of you.

Do NOT join him.

his plans aren’t as nice as they sound.

his intentions aren’t what you think they are.

he will use you

he will destroy you

everything you ever loved

everyone you ever cared about

do not join him.”

Before I explain this book, I think it’s best to also note down what was said in the next book as well so I can better explain what’s going on.

“note to self

hello

I just wrote this book to remember who I am

To remember what is happening

All the books I just found are indeed written by me

Listen to yourself

You suffer from a very odd illness

You suffer from a form of insomnia, within your own dreams.

Now the effects of this aren’t really known, and even I don’t fully know what is going on.

but let me tell you

somehow, this world, these actions and events, are linked to reality.

things that happen in these so-called “dreams”, tend to leak into the real world

they will actually happen.

you might wonder how exactly this is a bad thing.

the ability to predict certain events from happening, sounds pretty cool.”

Fundy then stops reading the book, seemingly overwhelmed by the influx of information. Analysis time, boys, time to unpack what this all means.

Firstly, I believe that this dream has happened before. Multiple times, actually. If certain “events” in the dream are meant to predict the future, then the moments involving the Camarvan on the first two days could imply that Fundy has seen this place before during the L’Manberg era where he could’ve predicted Eret’s betrayal and the loss of his father. If we think about it, the books could honestly be given to Fundy at any time period and it would work. Look at the entire section of the book describing someone who Fundy can’t trust- this “him” person could honestly be… anyone who abandoned Fundy? If the book hints at someone who might possibly hurt and use Fundy, then Eret, Wilbur, Schlatt, and Dream could also be considered. These people were nice to Fundy at first before betraying him one way or another. There is a possibility that this dream has warned Fundy about these people in the past, only for Fundy to forget about the dream. What about this time though, who is this “him” that’s going to betray Fundy during this time period? Well, the easy answer would be Quackity, but Bad could be a possibility as well. With the hint towards Quackity at the end, I do believe that Quackity would be the main suspect, but it’s also good to keep an open mind as we don’t know much of who Fundy’s involved with in Season 3.

Now, why would Fundy be able to forget about the dreams, though? I do think that whoever is responsible for writing the books are doing their best to prevent Fundy from uncovering the truth. Who do I think are the book authors? Well, I don’t think they were lying when they said that they were Fundy. I believe that, just like the Dream voice in Ranboo’s head, the Fundy that writes books would be some sort of conscience or subconscious in Fundy’s mind. This part of the mind holds certain memories repressed by Fundy, as well as some of the insecurities he chooses to ignore. They are aware of all of Fundy’s past visits of this dream, and they know the dangers of it, which is why they want Fundy to not uncover the truth. 

The signed book claims that whatever Fundy sees in the dream will seep out into reality. Knowing this, I believe Fundy’s subconscious is trying to prevent Fundy from seeking out the truth to prevent these future visions from happening in real life; this especially applies to events that involve Fundy possibly being hurt. There is a possibility that this Fundy has seen past Fundy’s discover events like the Camarvan and the loss of Wilbur occur in dreams way past before it occurred in real life, so they feel afraid that our Fundy would uncover more and more truths that would become reality. While we don’t know if Other Fundy’s beliefs on future predicting is true, this gives us a better understanding of why they want Fundy to go to bed and wake up. (Additionally, the Other Fundy has placed emphasis on saying that the truth may hurt Fundy, so there is a possibility that these future events might involve something that heightens Fundy’s insecurities more. That’s why this Fundy seems to be so aware of Fundy’s insecurities- they have witnessed Fundy’s insecurities being used against him in certain visions.)

For the memory thing, so far, I believe a part of Fundy’s mind is actively suppressing all the memories Fundy has of his dreams. Fundy already represses a lot of his insecurities, so using Fundy’s insecurities against him might actually enable them to keep Fundy’s memories about the dream locked in the corners of his mind. The place where the book is kept in is underground, after all, but we do have to keep in mind that the building is getting closer and closer to Fundy’s main base. This could symbolize that Fundy will remember his dreams more once he wakes up.

So basically, so far, Fundy has dreamt this dream multiple times in the past, and during each dream, he witnesses an event in the future that could possibly happen in real life. Fundy’s subconscious, or possibly past versions of Fundy, are trying to warn future Fundy’s to not uncover too many truths about the dream as they believe this could possibly manifest terrible events to happen in real life. To get Fundy to go back to bed, they try scaring Fundy, using his insecurities against him, only this time, Fundy is a bit more disobedient because, again, he feels like he has nothing left to lose. 

Another theory I have which I’m not 100% sure about is that this Other Fundy, as much as it has good intentions, may have committed a mistake when they tried to get Fundy to bed by using his insecurities. If anything in the dream may happen in real life, them heightening Fundy’s insecurities might pass over to the real world as well. While scaring Fundy could prevent him from uncovering the truth, it might’ve also been a double-edged sword as Fundy is more aware of his insecurities more than ever.

Continuing on, Fundy decided to leave the building, seeing that it’s night time. He sounds relieved knowing that he can sleep and that he can wake up from this dream. He celebrates for a moment, throwing the book away, but then he hesitates, saying he wants to know the truth. He picks the book up again but doesn’t read it immediately, claiming that he could just sleep instead of knowing the truth.

Fundy seems to revel in the idea of waking up for a bit until he mentions how much of a “blast” he can have with everyone once he wakes up. After mentioning this, he immediately picks up the book with no hesitation. This is the second time Fundy is shown to be motivated in finding the truth about his dreams because of him realizing how unfun the real world is. Again, Fundy is seen to be motivated by the fact that he has nothing left to lose, and as much as he is scared of this dream, he seems to prefer finding this world’s truth over going back into the real world where he’s practically alone.

Moving on, the book continues:

“however…

while this might be the case of dreams…

this is also the case for nightmares…

this is your last warning Fundy

please… for the both of us…

just wake up”

This part of the book simply affirms all I’ve theorized about earlier. The Other Fundy hints that some events that Fundy might witness in his dream would be detrimental to Fundy, which is why he doesn’t want Fundy to continue exploring. He knows that Fundy will possibly manifest an event that will ruin him in real life, so he wants Fundy to sleep instead of accidentally manifesting his demise.

vii. FOURTH DAY

Fundy then wakes up once more, complaining that this dream never ends. He goes outside, seeing a black, hooded figure slowly turn around and chase him. With a quickened heartbeat, he runs up his stairs to sleep in a black bed placed on the roof. Fundy screams as we see the hooded figure approach, and the screen fades to black. A white smiley face reminiscent of the one on Quackity’s skin appears on the screen as casino slots sound effects play in the background.

Now, what do I make of this? Well, firstly, we gotta point out that his bed at the end looked EERILY similar to a gravestone. A lot of websites claim that sleeping in a gravestone or seeing a gravestone could indicate change, especially when it comes to overcoming one’s sadness or problems. In a literal sense, we can think of it as something foreshadowing a future canon death, especially if we think that the person chasing Fundy is the grim reaper.

Speaking of that person, I do have a couple of explanations as to who this person is:

The person is death themselves, the grim reaper. This is the common conclusion everyone believes in, especially when we consider this “him” person possibly hurting Fundy, and that second skull in the underground room. Quackity is the main culprit for now, especially with that smiley face in the end, but there could be other possibilities! Like, what if someone takes Fundy’s canon life before he joins Quackity, which is why the smiley face only popped up after Fundy’s dream death? Mayhaps someone affiliated with Quackity might be doing the dirty work for him, so Bad, Sam, Dream, and anyone, really, could be responsible for Fundy’s future canon death. Moreover, the fact that this death occurs affirms the beliefs of the Other Fundy. The Other Fundy merely wants Fundy to be safe from possibly manifesting his demise in real life, but Fundy’s curiosity got the best of him, and in the next sequence, he was killed, proving that the Other Fundy was right in saying that Fundy should’ve just slept.

A theory I made up which I’m not 100% sure of is that this figure is actually Fundy’s subconscious trying to get him to sleep. When Fundy was being chased, we heard a quickened heartbeat, and where was the only other time we heard that? When Fundy was reading the “WAKE UP” and “you’re not real” messages from those books. We can view this as the Other Fundy’s attempt in trying to get Fundy to actually sleep by using another scare tactic against Fundy. And well… it did work! Because Fundy was afraid of this figure, Fundy went to sleep. There is also a possibility that this occurrence is what makes Fundy forget about the dream because his subconscious got a hold of Fundy and forcibly made him forget, but I’m not 100% sure about that one yet.

Lastly, the face! That should already allude to Fundy possibly joining Quackity’s lore, and with the “38 potatoes” symbolizing business opportunities, I expect Fundy to be joining Las Nevadas as a possible employee. Quackity does, in fact, prey on people who are insecure, and can easily get them to do whatever he wants because of his words. If he can get Sam to give him the tools needed to torture Dream, Quackity might exploit Fundy’s loneliness into making him do whatever Quackity wants from him. 

Another face that this could possibly connect to is the face in the Egg lair! While I’m leaning more towards Quackity because of the casino sounds, I do wanna say that the Egg and the Eggpire could possibly be connected as well, especially when the Egg could provide Fundy anything he wants. Just like how Quackity could prey on Fundy’s insecurities, the Egg preys on those who feel like they’re missing something, so as much as Fundy could be manipulated by Quackity, he could also be manipulated by the Egg. Additionally, business opportunities could apply to the Eggpire as well as they’ve contacted Purpled in the past to assassinate Puffy, so who’s to say they won’t try adding Fundy to the Eggpire?

TLDR; This entire stream showcased both Fundy’s insecurities and Fundy’s future predicting powers and how this “Other Fundy”, aka his subconscious, wants him to repress them because they believe that if Fundy uncovers the secrets of his dream more, then Fundy would accidentally manifest his demise in real life. Additionally, Fundy is very lonely, making him vulnerable of being used in the future because he is desperate to get any type of recognition from anybody. In summary, be afraid of Fundy’s future lore streams, be very afraid.

viii. ADDITIONAL NOTES

Even when I finish this, there’s a lot of questions to ask about this stream that I want you to keep in mind:

How many times has Fundy encountered this before?

How does Fundy forget all the information he got from the dreams?

How does Fundy write to himself?

Why is there so many details connected to Karl, and what does it have to do with time travelling?

Why does Fundy return to his bed every time his heartbeat quickens when reading a book?

Was the first scene part of the dream or not?

Could the underground room’s structure actually mean something?

And there’s probably more, but just saying, keep an open mind about this entire stream because there’s definitely a lot more to uncover.

I want to reiterate: I am not the Messiah, so don’t take my word as the truth and the absolute truth. I’d love to hear your thoughts about Fundy’s stream as a lot of it could be up for speculation! The entire thing is filled to the brim with symbolisms, so there could be a lot of interpretations to consider. If you enjoyed this, feel free to like and retweet because I worked my ASS off with this one. 

Special thanks to the following:

Fundy and any of the Dream SMP members because that stream was INCREDIBLE. Go give them your love and support.

kingjem for always being there whenever I want to discuss any ideas I have about the Dream SMP. One of the smartest bitches I know, go follow them.

To all my betas who reviewed this document since I have a TON of grammar mistakes (thanks English): prismartist, bootsforthebootsgod, Finni_june (twt), ender-hyperfocuses-on-things, and Dngertosociety2 (twt)

And to all of you who like this post and would share it to other people! All support is appreciated. :D

[doubledgesword-2]

Can I get Vil Schoenheit x Rival Celebrity? They shoot insults at each other but end up flirting? Take it as far as you want! Any gender reader is fine lol

Oh, ma Gooosh!! This is the first Matcha Tea I've gotten, and I'm all for this. I had so much fun with this one, and I want to show you lil' sugar cubes the difference between characters I know and the ones that I don't. I do my research before writing a character that I'm unfamiliar with, but I will be sincere: I butchered the last request (Shalnark's). I will try to rewrite it, but other characters apart from the stated ones are a bit hard for me ( ˘︹˘ ).

I will always try my best for ya'll! Enjoy this steaming Matcha (❛‿❛✿)

“What a shameless potato,” nimble fingers scrolled down on their phone, looking at the menagerie of pictures from one single account: yours.

You and Vil were from the same industry, just not the same department per se. While he was a model and actor, you were a j pop star and actress. Your popularity and his were on the same level, but he was slightly higher if you asked him or his fans. Ever since the two of you met on set for a fantasy-like movie, you repelled each other’s presence like oil and water.

Amethyst eyes glared at your smiling picture, and a thousand critiques passed through his mind. Your make-up did not complement your features; what was your make-up artist thinking? That nail polish didn’t match with your skin, and your haircut didn’t go with your face and countless other thoughts. But that wasn’t his place to tell, and besides, you living in his head rent-free wasn’t good for his skin. Stress kills, and thinking about you was very stressful.

The subway doors opened, and Vil gripped his side bag, adjusting his beret and sunglasses and walking out with the amount of confidence and power it took to walk down the runway. The sea of people diligently coming and going parted for him without a cue. They just did like mindless fish around a predator. It was in their nature to give in, in the presence of something so regal.

Vil had a photoshoot to go, and he couldn’t miss a beat. His agenda was full and complicated; anyone who tried to follow it would surely lose their minds after the first three days of the same arduous pace. But he could handle it with the grace of a swan. He was the great Vil Shoenheit. He wondered if you could handle a week in his shoes. You probably would drop exhausted and disheveled, complaining about the hard work. The thought made him smirk smugly, and passerby fans who recognized him couldn’t even keep up to ask for an autograph.

He just couldn’t fathom how you had such a fan base with your attitude and manners. Sure, in front of the cameras, you were a sweetheart, stealing everyone’s hearts, singing like an empowered angel, and making them think you were as far from the villain he knew you truly were. Vil knew your kind and recognized it the moment he met you on set. Heck, you couldn’t even contain your disdain in interviews when the two of you had to sit side by side. It was uncomfortable, to say the least; the poor reporter was so painfully awkward trying to alleviate the tenseness in the room.

“So (Y/N), how do you feel being an actress in a big-budget movie while also singing and performing the next week? Is it exhausting?”

You sided glared at Vil, and gave the reporter a smug grin. “Well, I think I can handle a little bit of work. It’s not in me to sit around and look pretty, you know. But then again, I guess that’s what some people are into, so we can’t judge them. They might not understand hard work.”

Vil smiled with closed eyes. You were such an amateur. If it weren’t for the fact that you were actively throwing shade on him and being so annoying at it, too, he might think you were cute.

Of course, Vil wouldn’t back down; that’s not what he was taught. The crown was his, and he would take it with hard work and determination. Which means potatoes like you don’t really matter in the long run of things.

“Vil-senpai, how do you manage your modeling gig and your acting? I mean, it must be hard to run from one event to the next since they’re so close behind each other?”

“Well, dear, we models are more than just a pretty face. We represent big companies and events that many couldn’t even fathom getting into. My schedule might be a bit tight, but I was born into this lifestyle, and I have learned many skills to help me move and work in these types of environments. I can say one thing for sure not a lot of people can handle my agenda, one day in my heels, and they might slip if you know what I mean, darling.”

You scoffed under your breath, and it made Vil’s smile grow wider.

“Ahh, Vil-senpai is a hard worker for sure. Perhaps one day I could do an interview that can provide insight to one day of your agenda.”

“Anytime you want, darling, it would be lovely,” he knew with every word that came out of his mouth; you simmered even more.

“Are there any hobbies or activities that can fit into your schedules?

Vil was about to open his mouth when you beat him to it.

“Well, I don’t think he’s allowed to have any, you know, with his busy schedule. But I do love partaking in (hobby). I think it is a nice way to unwind and take my mind off of everything. Since stress it’s not good for your vocals, you know. I try to keep myself in top shape for my lovely fans.”

Vil was raging. How dare you interrupt him when he was clearly about to talk. Didn’t your parent taught you any manners, or are you so much of a spoiled brat to care for?

“Ahh, interesting. Does Vil Sendai have any hobbies in particular?

“As a matter of fact, I do” you were looking at him with an expectant smirk. You were genuinely curious to hear what he had to say. “I like to make beauty and make-up tutorials that are beneficial for a lot of my fans. I like to show them how to use brushes correctly what and what not to do with concealer. Those are bonding moments for me and my fans. I think they are important.”

At the end of that interview, a single question brought the anger and tense meter to burst. Now the tensions and dislikes weren’t palpable. They were visible.

“Oh, I’ve had some partners, but I like to focus more on my work, unlike some other artists who like to jump around; my projects come first, and I don’t want to ruin my partner’s and I relationship by not spending enough time with them.”

“Wow, he really doesn’t like to have fun.”

“I do just not with the likes of you.”

“Come on, pretty boy, you couldn’t handle me even if you were begging pretty on your knees.”

“Dream on, potato, you might be prettier than most potatoes, but you’re still that a potato with some potential. I bet if push came to shove, you wouldn’t last seconds with me.

“I bet you wouldn’t make it into the second round without having to retouch your make-up with me. Besides, it’s not like you’ll last long enough to even sweat that much.”

“Well, that’s a relief to know I wouldn’t have to put much effort into pleasing someone like you.”

The reporter was utterly flushed, and that was cut from the interview recording. Good thing that it was, or people might’ve gotten the wrong impression. That you liked each other or something.

Or something.

After that interview, rumors spread like they always do, and fans started gossiping about the two of you secretly together but having to hate each other in public to save face since it’s a big rumor that singers and models don’t actually go well together in the industry.

Such wild imagination and machinations fans have. It brought out a small chuckle.

Vil passed through the automatic doors telling the receptionist his name and guiding him to the set. Once there, he settled his stuff over the make-up table and sat back to look once more through his phone.

“Have you seen this?” A text notification annoying appeared on the screen.

Vil tch and opened the message to reveal a very well photoshopped photo of him and you sitting and drinking at some café. You were smiling like he just told you you were beautiful, and it was a good look on you.

This was outrageous. Who would go to such lengths? Suddenly a bag dropped right on the table next to him. He looked up to meet your eyes as you took off your sunglasses, slowly realizing who was sitting beside you.

“Oh no,” you faintly muttered underneath your breath but not faintly enough that Vil couldn’t hear you.

He scoffed and went back to look at the stupid picture, texting his manager as mad as he was.

“Oh, you saw it too,” you commented, sitting down and looking at your own phone.

Vil didn’t answer. He really didn’t care about your opinion on this; his credibility was on the line. He was supposed to hate you, and that’s how things should go.

“Well, at least they got a good angle of my face, not to mention I’m actually smiling for once.”

“Actually, smil- what are you talking about potato? All you do is smile in all of your pictures. That’s why you have to hide your wrinkles with make-up,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Well, as presumptuous as that was, proud little peacock, I actually never smile genuinely for the cameras. My genuine smile is reserved for good moments. I guess not anymore.”

At that, Vil felt like the two of you clicked. He knew the feeling, the invasive nature of fame, and the lack of privacy was very real in the industry. It’s the first thing you have to get through. But listening to you say made him realize you’re just like him.

“Well, if you behave during the shoot, I might feel inclined to reward you for good behavior” he grinned at you.

“Mmm, you make it sound as if you don’t like the way I make you crumble in front of everyone. It’s like you’re denying yourself the pleasure, and here I thought you liked the masochism.”

“Hahahaha, I’ll step on you once we’re done here. Maybe that and a little bit of discipline will put you in your place. However, your lack of manners and running mouth might be a problem; perhaps all you need is a nice pacifier. I can help with that.”

You both were so close to each other muttering salacious threats that you didn’t realize how flustered everyone else was in the room.

It was going to be another one of those shoots.

[justkending]

Noisy Neighbors, Drabble Series. (2/2)

Summary: Bucky Barnes is that loud neighbor you want to scream your head off at for throwing all kinds of parties what feels like year round. But in doing so, you somehow got a free coffee date out of it...

Pairing: (college neighbor) Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3000+

A/N: I had a sweet follower @blessedwedgie​ ask me if I can write a continuation of this drabble I did a while back and at first I was like, “What do I do? Where would I want that to go? How would I continue that in a way that would be cute?” Then I was at work being bored as hell, but had a pen and paper and well... Here we are! I hope I did it justice friend:) This was really fun to write and I want all the cuteness that is College Bucky Barnes in my life honestly!

Here is part one if you haven’t read it yet. 

Noisy Neighbors Part 2:

The only reason you really agreed to coffee with the handsome neighbor was because your morning class had been canceled and you didn’t have another until later that afternoon. Of course there was the free coffee too… Ok, maybe his stupid handsome face had something to do with you leaning to say yes. 

He was persistent.

So at 9:55 the next morning, you threw on a pair of real pants and a jean jacket over your sweater and ran a hand through your hair as you grabbed your keys by the front door. 

“I’ll be back later Wands!” you shouted back down the hallway. No response. She was probably sleeping after pulling an all nighter for a test today. “I’ll be bringing you back some coffee too, I guess,” you laughed to yourself as you went to open the door. 

But you were startled to open it and immediately see those familiar piercing blue eyes.

“Jesus-” you jutted as you threw your hand over your chest in surprise. 

“Sorry,” he laughed as he took in your reaction. “I literally just stepped in front of your door.”

“You sure you haven’t been waiting out here since last night?” you smirked, stepping out and locking it. 

“Now, I did say I was persistent, but I think I deserve a coffee and a little more than small talk before I decide if you’re stalking material,” he shrugged, watching as you turned back to him. 

“I like to think I’m stalking material,” you played along, getting a laugh out of him. “Though, doesn’t mean I’d actually liked to be stalked.”

“Ladies and gentleman, she’s got the jokes,” Bucky announced as you walked side by side to leave the apartment building. 

“Just to be safe, you’re not some charming Teddy Bundy 2.0, are you? Cause if that’s the case, I don’t think this is going to work out,” you joked, sending him a smile before tucking your hands in your coat about to bare the cold outside. 

“So you think I’m charming?” Bucky jeered. 

“Don’t get cocky there, Cavanosa. I’m still trying to decide if I’ll ever answer my door again if you knock,” you pointed at him as he opened the door for you. 

“I’m wounded, Y/N,” he faked hurt, but inside he was just gitty to know your name now and be able to say it. 

“Buy me that coffee, and you’ll have a better chance, soldier.”

_____________

You went to the coffee shop on campus and the little coffee date went surprisingly well. You talked about school, learning Bucky was a forensics major and hoped to go to Quantico at some point. He said he always had a gift and interest in crime scenes and murder mysteries growing up. He liked being able to solve it before the characters on shows did or the narrator gave it away. 

To which you countered with, “So you would be a certified stalker with a badge? Interesting…”

That got a big belly laugh out of him which you couldn’t seem to help but join him after hearing such a sweet sound.

You talked about how you’re going into Psychology, and actually were interested in a similar field of forensics. You had always loved the psychoanalyzing of people and situations. So naturally, you were looking into being a Forensic Psychologist. 

He asked why he hadn’t had any classes with you yet considering it was both your senior years. Then you explained to him how you had just transferred for this last semester because of better professors and a scholarship opportunity you wanted to take advantage of before graduation. 

It turned out that you both were taking one of the same classes, but just had it at different times. Same professor though. 

After the obligated ‘college talk’, you both got into; where you grew up, where you plan to go, what are your hobbies, what do you do in your free time if you weren’t studying. Which you had already known Bucky’s was throwing parties that irked you to no end. 

“Yeah, I’ll cut back on those. I’ve been getting behind in school and it’s starting to affect my grades,” he pursed his lips in embarrassment. “Dr. Cassel’s class especially. Damn man has a 3 page essay due what feels like every night!”

Dr. Cassel being the professor that you shared.

“Eh, it’s not fun, but if you get ahead a little and do the readings, it’s not that bad,” you shrugged, taking a sip of the hot cup of tea that you told him you preferred instead of coffee on days like this with the weather. 

“Easy to say for a nerd who likes to read,” he smirked taking a drink from his own cup as he looked over the brim of it at you.

“Excuse me sir, I thought you were trying to get on my good side here,” you gasped. “Calling me a nerd isn’t going to do that for you.”

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he laughed. “You actually kinda remind me of Steve. He’s a bookworm like you and the goody two shoes who’s always on top of things.”

“He didn’t seem like that at the party the other night,” you tilted your head. 

“Oh, yeah. I may or may not have finally had convinced him to join in on the fun. He’s always holed up in his room studying or reading something, which I’m sure you understand,” he winked getting an eye roll from you. “But every once and a while I can get him to cross over to the dark side for a night.”

“School’s important for me. It’s taken a lot to get here and I don’t want to mess it up,” you explained. Your face going a little more serious as if there was more behind that fact than you were letting on. Bucky toned his joking down some at change. “Plus, it’s my senior year. One more semester of this and I’m home free. That is until I start job searching and that’s a whole other step,” you shook your head looking down at your drink. 

“Have you ever gone to a party during college?” Bucky asked. “You know, do the whole college experience thing?”

You looked up seeing he was genuinely curious. 

“Uh, yeah. I went to one or two with my old boyfriend at the other school I went to. They weren’t more than just a bunch of frat boys and girls getting plastered and making out in random spots around the house, while the rest were listening to loud music and standing elbow to elbow in a crowded rent house off campus.”

“Very specific scenario there,” he chuckled, lightening the mood. “I take it you and your boyfriend aren’t together anymore?” His question did not meet your eye line as he stirred the dash of creamer he had to his drink. 

“No, that would mean he would be my current boyfriend, not old,” you laughed. “That and I probably wouldn’t have said yes to coffee if I was dating someone.”

“Right, because this is a date,” he noted as he looked back at you with that cocky grin. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you smirked back. 

“You did say it in the text. You said, ‘sounds like a date,’” he pointed out. 

“But do all coffee dates mean actual dates or just meeting up to talk over coffee?” you countered. 

“Would I get in trouble if I said I’m hoping it’s the first one?” he asked with hopeful eyes. 

You paused for a second. God, he was cute. He was charming. But… You came here for your degree and you broke up with your last boyfriend because your schedule is too hectic and you’re trying to focus strictly on school. You didn’t have time for relationships. 

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m not really a part of the dating rehealm at the moment,” you said awkwardly. Bucky’s smile dropping some. “My schedule is just too chaotic to add another person to it, and I really need to focus on school.”

You could see disappointment on his face, but he was quick to wipe it off to not cause any more tense energy in the conversation. 

“I get it. You have your priorities in check. Can’t blame you for that,” he shrugged with a soft smile. “But now that I know you’re my neighbor, and I really like your whole persona. You won’t be mad if we became friends, would you?”

You giggled at that and his smile widened. “I think I can get on board with that.” His grin grew once again. “Besides, I may need to copy your notes for class, so I guess it’d be useful to get along with you,” you exaggerated as if it was so much to do on your end. 

“If anyone’s copying notes here, it’ll be me, doll. I’m the one failing,” he said with a raised eyebrow as he took another sip of his drink, 

You two continued talking for a while with another cup of coffee was purchased. Strangely enough the annoying neighbor that you had grown to despise, had surprised you in being a pretty nice guy. It was like you two had been friends since high school with how comfortable and snarky you guys were with the other. And it didn’t hurt to look at him either…

Eventually you headed off to your afternoon class and Bucky headed home being lucky enough not to have any classes all day. He offered to walk you to the class, but with it being as cold as it was, you didn’t want to inconvenience him by walking you there and then all the way back to the apartments. It wasn’t a short walk. 

He obliged after much persuasion on your end and you went your separate ways. 

As the weeks went on, you started to see more of your neighbors. Steve sat with you in Child Psychology now knowing you a little better, and Bucky somehow always was in the hallway at the same time as you or was bumping into you at the forensics building occasionally. 

The neighbors had become friends and Wanda was just happy to not hear you complaining anymore about the two that shared your wall. That and the parties had practically ceased now. Considering what Bucky said about being behind in classes, you suspected he was trying to cut back on his social time. 

As the semester went on, Bucky made it a priority to see you at least once a day if he could. Emphasis on the at least…

If that meant knocking on your door to walk to class, he jumped at the opportunity. 

“Hey, I’m headed to the library and I know you have that 12 o’clock class in the building over. Wanna just go together?” He grinned. 

“Can’t say no to a chauffeur,” you would smile back as you grabbed a beanie and walked out with him. 

If it meant somehow almost always making more food than he and Steve could eat, just to come over and offer you some, he would take the option. 

“Hey, I made some pasta tonight and had way too much for Steve and I. I thought I would ask if you and Wanda want some before I throw it out,” he smiled widely in your doorway. “What college student in their right mind would say no to a hot meal?” he winked.

“Not a sane one,” you chuckled as you took the platter. “You sure you don’t want them for leftovers?”

“Eh, we never get around to eating them most the time. You guys will enjoy it more than us. Plus, it’s better fresh,” he waved off. 

“Ok, if you insist. I guess I’ll have to bake you some of my famous brownies as a thank you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Y/N. I will hold you to it.”

If it meant last minute study sessions for a class he forgot, he texted you a long message begging you to help him out. 

“I know you took this class last semester, so you have to know something. And something is more than I know,” he said with a wrinkled nose once he was in your room. 

“What part of the unit are you in?” you sighed from your desk as you put your now finished work to the side for him. 

“Personality disorders common in serial murders.”

“Oh, that’s the fun stuff. Why wouldn't you want to learn about that?” you gasped, going to sit right next to him on your bed. 

But honestly, he wasn’t worried about the chapter. He had actually read it before coming over to surprise you in his knowledge when he acted like he was lost. He just liked when you sat close to him and went on a rant when you came up on something that triggered a murder documentary you watched. That’s how he hooked you into letting him stay longer. 

“Wait, so the movie was about a serial killer who ended up having multiple personality disorder? He didn’t know he was doing the killings?” he asked. 

“How have you not seen it? It’s a classic!” you questioned in surprise. 

“I don’t know… Tell me more about it,” he grinned as you went on. 

Oh, and he had seen it. It was a good movie. 

If it meant he somehow got ‘locked out of his apartment and couldn’t get in until Steve was home’, he made the excuse to sit outside your door until you were home. 

“I left my key inside by accident today. Any chance you’ll let a loner like me hang out with you for a little until blondie gets home?” he batted his eyelashes as he leaned against your door. 

“This is the second time this week, Bucky. And the fourth time since last week. Do I need to sew the damn things to you?” you laughed opening your apartment to him. 

“I’ll pass on that. I would prefer to just hang out with you instead,” he shrugged, closing the door behind him. 

“You sure you left your keys by accident?” you asked with a pointed eyebrow as you took off your jacket. 

“Cross my heart,” he said, doing the motion. 

“Yeah, sure. Wanna put a pot of coffee on while I change?” you asked, already moving to your room. He had been over enough by now from study sessions and ‘accidental lockouts’ to know how to work your machine. 

“Already on it,” he hummed walking to the kitchen. “Want me to make you a cup?”

“Dash of cream and-”

“Two sugars! I know,” he shouted back, smiling as he moved in your kitchen to grab the mugs. 

And if it meant never throwing another party again, and instead asking you to come over to his place and watch a movie instead, he moved his schedule around for you. 

“Hey, what do you say to a movie date?” he asked as you walked back from class and nudged you with his elbow. 

“A movie night sounds nice,” you responded, emphasizing on night instead of date. 

“I didn’t say night,” he would point out. 

“I know. I figured I would correct you on your slip up. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. Words are hard,” you teased, nudging him back. 

Though he knew you would never fall for his little tricks, he always implemented date into a lot of his questions about you two hanging out. It had become a little game between you both. 

“Study date tonight before Cassel’s test?” He asked as you grabbed your mail together. 

“Study session? Yeah, sure,” you corrected. 

“Hey, want to come over for a dinner date? Steve and I are making homemade pizza. You and Wanda are welcome!” he offered. 

“I’d love to have a pizza party with you guys. I’ll text Wanda and see what her plans are,” you giggled, hip bumping him walking up the stairs. 

“Hey, what do you say to an impromptu date to the baseball game tonight? We’re playing against our school's top rival,” He smiled as you both grabbed your coffee from the barista. 

“Oh yeah! I heard that was tonight. Eh, how do you feel about a movie night instead?” you shrugged. 

“Movie date?” he seconded. 

“Yeah, a movie night,” you emphasized. 

Conversations like that went on all semester. You were finding that whatever time you weren’t spending in class or at work, it was next to Bucky. The two of you becoming a couple of best friends attached to the hip. 

It was nice. You enjoyed it. And though, you knew deep down that he probably meant all those things being a date and hoped for it, you were glad he didn’t press on when you changed the meaning. He understood where you stood and he wasn’t going to pressure you for anything different if you didn’t want to. 

And now, it was time for graduation. You, Steve, Wanda, Wanda’s boyfriend Vis, and Bucky all stood in your gowns taking pictures with your temporary degree in hand outside the college stadium. You had all finally finished. With a lot of all nighters, stress relief movie nights, and much needed pizza parties, you had graduated. 

You didn’t plan on getting two new really good friends out of it as your mind had always been school, school, school. No time for a social life and distractions. 

But boy were you glad you had hit a breaking point the night you banged on their door. If you hadn’t, you would have probably never created the very close relationship with the blue eyed, brown hair, crazy flirtatious, but charming neighbor. 

“Hey, since we graduated and we finished the damn thing, how do you feel about a date?” Bucky asked turning to you after Wanda snapped a picture of you both.

“I didn’t hear movie, study, or pizza in front of that word. What kinda date are we talking about?” you asked as he kept his arm wrapped around your waist from the pose you two were in. 

“I was thinking of a real date,” he smiled. 

His hand on your hip giving a gently, but firm squeeze as his eye practically suffocated you with the ocean tides in them. 

“I think I can get behind that,” you grinned up at him, squeezing his shoulder. “A real date it is, Casanova.”

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose  @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@morganclaire4 @chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @lizzymacy555​ @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood​ @xa-dia​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @morganclaire4​ @connie326​ @captain-asguard​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ @teenagedreams-bucky​

[yeojaa]

( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween.  What he loves more than that?  You.

pairing.  gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating.   idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded.  it’s just that fluffy.  (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings.  established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower. 

wc.  9.7k

beta reader(s).  the lovely @kerikaaria​​​ read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy.  tysm!  💛  i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif​ gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly.  oops... 

author note.  this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo​‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves.  while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside.  i hope you enjoy it!   

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened.  You remember, faintly, the mention of a party.  Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc.  He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought.  If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway.  Win-win or whatever.  

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge.  Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean. 

“Zarya’s one!  Zarya’s one—“  You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen.  You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too.  There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch.  “Zarya’s actually one!” 

No one cares.  She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map. 

“Jesus—“  Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue.  You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.  

I need healing!  I need healing! 

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way.  Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though.  There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point.  Stupid.  You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support. 

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked.  So infuriating and yet— nope.  Just infuriating. 

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise.  Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise.  He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face.  You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru.  He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team.  A silver lining, you suppose.  

Your second round starts well enough.  Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta.  Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana.  You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn.  Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost.  (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado.  The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong.  Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter. 

“You winning?” 

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction.  You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.  

(It’s not your own fault.  He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!”  You want to be more mad.  Really, you do.  You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long.  Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn. 

“What?”  Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime. 

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves.  All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.  

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder.  You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days.  You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery. 

It’s a little distracting;  he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual.  You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck.  Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see;  it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over.  You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication.  (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.) 

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so.  You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words). 

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet. 

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya?  She has grav.”  Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon.  Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock.  If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game. 

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void.  Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces.  Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next.  Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,”  says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head.  He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match.  It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.  

“Rip is right,”  you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map.  If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms.  Jungkook chuckles at that.  

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well.  There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested.  Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”  

You don’t turn your head.  Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you.  Sometimes, you love it;  other times, you hate it.  Most times, though, he’s right.  He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame). 

“Can we go top left?”  You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main.  Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team.  Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited.  “You should be back right by the stairs.  You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point.  Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav.  She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you.  As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen. 

“Told you,”  he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore. 

“I was going to say thank you.”  Just not right now.  You can’t multitask quite like he can. 

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display.  “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock.  Thank freaking god.  You can win this, you think.  Easy.  No problem. 

“Go Ana on defense.”  At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth.  You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin. 

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time.  He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat. 

“Do you just want to play?”  You don’t mean it seriously.  You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you.  It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship. 

“Nah, I’m snacking.”  He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.  You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon. 

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions.  He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do.  He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do.  He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t. 

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.  

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair.  You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears. 

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game.  There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back. 

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie.  “We won,”  you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug. 

“Of course you did.”  He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you.  He’d been a great coach. 

“What’re you doing here?”  It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest.  He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair.  (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines.  You don’t care.) 

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.  

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.”  You remember, because you’d been disappointed.  Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,”  he states, like he’s talking to a moron.  You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.  

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen.  Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena.  It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it. 

“Yeah, we,”  Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker.  “Halloween party, baby.  Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises:  (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party?  You didn’t think idols had those.  Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no.  Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.”  It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach.  It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day. 

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face.  It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way.  Why’s he looking at you like that?  Why’s your memory so bad?  Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions? 

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance.  It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage.  A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns. 

“I— don’t remember that.”  You’re lying through your damn teeth.  Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass. 

“But you did!”  He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal.  It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me!  You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate. 

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here.  It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia.  “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular.  You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish. 

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs.  (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs.  You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.)  It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing.  The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames.  Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them;  Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.  

“I don’t think I can pull this off,”  you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious.  (You were, once.  Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.) 

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places.  Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest.  You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it.  (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention.  Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you.  You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp.  A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue.  “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance.  It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway.  “You have to say that.  You’re my boyfriend.” 

“I don’t have to say anything,”  he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten.  It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot.  It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart.  “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then.  He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened.  He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom.  How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure.  All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up;  yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug.  You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.  

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson.  They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay—  that was scary.  I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.”  A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees.  It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?”  You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there.  He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms;  he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh.  His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised;  Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer.  (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.”  Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end.  It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature.  You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee.  Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact.  A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious.  You look—”  You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose.  A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon.  “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it.  Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders.  You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!”  You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself.  All part of his plan, you suppose.  “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.  

“Okay!  Sorry!”  Except he doesn’t look very sorry.  More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you.  You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”  

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie.  You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment.  (Not that you really mind.)  

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip.  It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting.  Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks.  It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love. 

Today, it comes after the fourth count. 

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.”  Well, of course you will.  As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas.  It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams. 

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times.  “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins.  It’s unfairly adorable.  Still, you push.  Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you.  From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted. 

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot.  You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum.  A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to.  You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you;  rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.”  By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful.  The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday. 

It turns out to be the opposite:  one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend.  He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger.  You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another.  For tonight, they’re one and the same. 

“Joker?  Seriously?”  You can’t hide the delight.  It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction.  Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask.  “Don’t sound so excited.”  It’s an actual concern of his.  He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.  

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more.  He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting. 

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky.  You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises.  It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently.  You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared;  you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.”  You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes.  It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes.  It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling.  Bastard.  “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker.  You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter.  He’s dressed this way because you like the character.  

“Oh,”  you say, because there’s not much more to say.  Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it. 

“Yeah,”  he parrots back, a little smug.  

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life.  He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set.  You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better.  (You suppose he is.)  

“Angel, come here!”  He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side.  Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love.  There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).   

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.  

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball.  You don’t mind.  You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.  

“I’m winning,”  he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.  

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh.  Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst.  Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.  

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.”  You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element.  He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some.  It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is).  “How many games have you won?”  Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.”  God, his ego.  You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best.  Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck.  He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you.  To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.  

“Can we play?”  Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks.  You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.  

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs.  Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend.  (How fitting.)  “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch.  “No, you’re just bad at games!”  He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes.  Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink.  In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus.  (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?)  You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily.  Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.”  And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.  

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond.  He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life. 

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”  

“Ahhhhhh, stop!”  It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own.  Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads.  “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!”  You know it isn’t true.  Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines).  But together?  It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.  

You absolutely loved it. 

“Sure, sure,”  the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot.  One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins.  A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour.  You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one.  Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour.  “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.  

“Drink this!”  

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?”  You’re incredulous.  Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl.  It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless.  Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!”  The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too.  “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy?  It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?). 

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it.  Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body.  “Don’t die!”  He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”  

“No, you’re fine.”  He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up.  You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement.  “Your face, oh—  Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane.  You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together.  It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor.  Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms.  You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?”  It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies.  He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile.  “What’re you doing down there?”  

“Just hanging out,”  you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft.  A modern day olive branch.  “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close.  Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like.  It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like.  Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away.  You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness.  “You sound drunk, angel,”  he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek.  It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin.  It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves.  “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,”  comes Jimin from beside you.  There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.  

“That’s the plan,”  Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment.  It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him.  He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation.  When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case.  “Want to head home?”

You do.  You really, really do.   

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are.  Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—”  There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet.  “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway.  “Sorry,”  you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused.  It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.”  He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh.  Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away.  “Here, let me.”  

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time.  (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,”  you tease, clinging to him like a koala.  You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven.  “Or are you the court jester?  That’s what Joker is, right?”  It’s a joke and a bad one at that.  Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.  

“You’re drunk.”  He says it more kindly than you expect.  Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve.  You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded.  There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare.  It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought.  You have to tell him.  Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it.  “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down.  As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands.  (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.)  “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?”  You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon.  You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.”  It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that.  You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style.  You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression.  “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does.  You pout, as you so often do. 

“Okay,”  you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder.  You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings.  “Will you wash my hair?”  You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.”  Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).  

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck.  When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips.  You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat.  Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.”  As if that’s meant to stop you.  He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention.  He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,”  you mumble into the expanse of his chest.  He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable.  You think you could live in the feeling of his arms.  (You’re lucky you get to.)  You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most.  “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation.  You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless.  It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.  

He’d explained it to you once.  Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first.  Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t.  JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm.  Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that.  You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.”  You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon.  You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure.  “Gotta get undressed to shower,”  he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises?  It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”  

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.  

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care.  Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow.  You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep.  He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle.  His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck.  You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight.  You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits.  There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest.  He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.”  The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck. 

“We are, angel,”  Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back.  It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame.  “Just need to get you warmed up first.”    

“The shower’ll be warm,”  you say - or think you say, anyway.  It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).  

“Do you want me to stop?”  It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off.  Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat.  “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.”  Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern.  You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.  

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise.  “I never want you to stop.”  

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair.  He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted.  “I love you,”  he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.  

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment.  He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off.  You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders.  You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.  

“Start the shower.”  

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that.  You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away.  The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,”  he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream.  He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip.  You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does.  You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside.  It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you.  You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.  

“Hair?”  You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder.  It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.  

“Patience, baby.”  It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess.  He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue.  (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—”  The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand.  Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it.  It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips.  A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit.  The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump.  Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.  

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair.  “Patience,”  he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist.  He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue. 

“Kook,”  you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess.  There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest.  A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.  

“Relax for me.”  You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.  

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more.  You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish.  (You wish you could see him.) 

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him.  (It was.)  He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense.  Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.  

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures.  With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,”  comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care.  Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls.  He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.  

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard.  Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot;  it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.  

“K-Kook.”  It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.  

“I’ve got you.”  And he does - hook, line, and sinker.  He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave.  It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go.  He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn.  See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service.  Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him.  You should recognise the look on his face.  “Kook?”

“My turn.”  It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward.  There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you.  It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in.  “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.  (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed.  In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine.  It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat.  His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear.  It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure.  “Oh fuck,”  he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.  

“Always so good for me.”  Another thing he says, often and without prompting.  It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet.  “Always so perfect for me.”  

“Because I love you,”  you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.  

“Love you too, angel.”  He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway.  He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted.  He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart.  Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust.  An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision;  it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard.  He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high.  You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings. 

“Kook,”  you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower.  The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm.  You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing.  It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.  

“P-please, Kook.  Please.”  You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his.  He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation.  “Come for me, Kook.  Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars.  Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you.  It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs.  You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.  

“I love you,”  he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.  

“I love you,”  you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours.  “But I still need you to wash my hair.”  It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days.  “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.”  Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements.  He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery.  Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.  

“I thought I was an angel.”  You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks.  Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline.  Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice.  “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”  

You can’t argue with that. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @snackhobi​

[mazuwii]

Name: Sudden Meltdown You= Y/N Ackerman College AU

Fast forward two lessons and I was sitting in the stuffed cafeteria with a fat cake on my plate, trying my hardest to ignore every chaotic thing going on in the huge round hall by chewing on more than I could possibly handle.

"Uh oh, she's stuffing her mouth, why are you mad?" Pieck nudged me. I had no choice but to groan and roll my eyes. Porco and Zeke were sat in front of us, already knowing why I was irritated. "She won't shut the fuck up for one damn second," I mumbled, my gaze averted to Historia standing on the table, barking out bullshit.

Reiner and Annie let out a scoff in sync, both keeping their focus on their phones. Bertholdt laughed awkwardly and played with his fork. "It'll die down soon." He said.

"No, does she think she's some kind of main character or something? Her standing on the table and giving a speech about violence isn't going to stop Eren and Jean fighting like two petty drag queens." I rolled my eyes and continued. "If it did work then they would have stopped arguing by now."

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten used to it." Yelena sat across Pieck and I with her usually half-empty tray. "No, everyone secretly finds it cringe, I can't be the only one."

"Mmm, I don't know Y/N, it seems like you are," Zeke smirked and slightly leaned out of the way. Suddenly, students from our class clapping for her came into my already crimson view. "I just want to drop-kick her damn it." I stabbed the cake, earning a tissue rubbing against my mouth and cheeks.

"Not while looking like a baby who can't feed themselves," Pieck said, wiping the corners. All of our friends chortled as she treated me like a child. "What a supportive friend you are(!)" I sighed and took my earphones out of my backpack so I could block out the blonde's agitating voice.

Why was I getting so mad? I had no idea. Perhaps it was because her words were so repetitive and held no meaning to them. "Maybe you're jealous." Porco smugly said. I responded with a growl. "Of what?"

"I don't know, the fact that almost every guy has had a crush on her or that she's prom queen every year or you aren't as feminine as her or maybe"-

"Shut up. I get it." I grunted, stubbornly crossing my arms and glaring away from everyone. "Don't talk with your mouth open, Pocco."

"Don't tell me what to do! Peepee!"

Ignoring Pieck and Porco, my weakened glower settled on Reiner, who was boringly drinking water, leaning against the chair like a careless kid at a boring lecture. "Rei?" He suddenly stopped drinking, his eyes dragging to me creepily. He hummed with his cheeks full of liquid.

"You okay? I never see you eating nowadays." This was a better subject to start rather than that annoying short drama queen. The tall man grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "I ate too much in the morning so I don't have an appetite right now."

"I don't believe that, you aren't as beefy as you used to be," I snickered, squinting my eyes at him. "I bet Porco must be so happy now." Zeke abruptly said to himself. Our attention darted towards the bearded guy, making him look up and proceed. "He's jealous of Reiner's boobs and tries to grow his"-

"What?! Pfft no, I don't! Where d-did you get that from!?"

"Read it in your diary."

Porco began his usual rampage on privacy and why having Zeke as a roommate was like sharing with an obnoxious monkey, making us facepalm at the two. I turned towards Reiner who blushed slightly. I laughed and shook my head at how shy he could become.

By the time their argument turned into playful insults with Pieck and Yelena reacting to all their crappy comebacks, Bertholdt and Annie left the table with each other, in love as always. I got up from my seat and sat next to Reiner since the seat next to him was now empty.

"You know," He started, "You don't need to be jealous of Historia, you're just as good if not, better than her." The heat in my cheeks radiated my entire face. "At least to me," He added with a small smile, suddenly widening his eyes.

"Oh- sorry was that weird?" He laughed awkwardly. "Not at all, weirdo." I smiled at him, loving the view. How could Annie be staring at her phone when she had such perfection sitting next to her?

"Now come with me, let's both get some milk!" I snatched his hand and forced him up with me. He widened his eyes at how abrupt I was being, not having the heart to say no.

Reiner had some issues he never speaks about to people. He's amazing, the way he tries to heal his wounds by healing everyone else's. Out of all the questions I had, I'd have to ask him why. Why he covers his pain up by smiling, which technically is like adding wood to fire.

After taking a croissant and a cookie, I took him out to the benches on campus, no one really goes there now because it was raining in the morning.

Still, I threw my jacket on it and told him to sit down. Before he could decline, I pressed on his shoulders and forced him on it. The jacket was long enough for the both of us so I sat down right next to him.

"Reiner." I mumbled, biting into my cookie and shoving the croissant on his lap. "Y/N... I really"-

"Shut up and eat it, I'm sick of pretending to believe your lies."

His hand shook slightly and his lips quivered, turning his head away from me so that I wouldn't see. My heart shattered into a million pieces upon seeing him try to hide a cry.

"Rei..." I whispered, reaching for his slumped shoulder. "I'm just worried about you, we're besties aren't we?"

"Y/N... I don't deserve anything or anyone." He finally said. Despite the fact it was sad, at least he said something.

"No, please don't tell me this is how you've been thinking?" I bit my lip and remembered how he had PTSD and his room was all for himself, he had no roommate and stays in silence for the whole night, panicking with no one to help.

The silence he was giving me frustrated me more than it should, the fact that he wasn't saying anything about this. Judging by his weight loss it had been at least two weeks. "How long?" I asked carefully.

"Every night..." He finally looked at me. His usually golden, passion-filled eyes were dull with a spike of pain glistening in them. The corners bloodshot as he tried to contain the tears.

"You've been strong for too long, it's ok to cry..." I slithered my arm around his shoulders and gently laid his head against the crook of my neck. His shoulders shook and his breath was shaking as he finally let it out, sobbing into my neck.

From time to time, he'd let out a loud groan by accident, sniffling to lower his voice so that no one could hear but himself. "You matter so much to me, I swear to god, Rei." My fingers raked through his short blonde hair that had grown over time, my other hand rubbing his back.

"I want Reiner Braun. No one else." I told him, knowing why he was putting on the older brother impression all the time.

"He- He's nothing..."

"He's everything to me, why would you want to take away my everything?"

Suddenly, the sniffling stopped and the tears running down my neck halted at my sweater, soaking the collar. His face came into view when he sat up, gazing at me as if I had stated the craziest thing. His bronze pools switched from my left to my right pupil, drowning in my sincerity.

"You know how shit my days here would be without your dumb ass to flirt and make the most himbo jokes?" I giggled, my palm snaking up to his jaw and feeling his stubble gently prick my fingers as I caressed him.

Even though he hadn't said a word, I could only wish I made him feel better about himself because I had not only stated the truth, I exposed myself, my weakness. Although I don't show my appreciation as much as I should, I do need him, life would collapse without the idiot...

"Now, if you take my everything away from me, I'll despise you with every inch of my body," I said, melting when his hand laid on top of mine, leaning into my touch.

"That's not a lot of inches." He mumbled into my palm, making me lightly laugh. "Bastard." He weakly smirked at my playful insult.

"Come here." I sat on my knees so that I was higher than him and rested his head against my chest, my arms tight and secure around him.

"Mm..." I heard his muffled voice say, "Every time you hug me I feel so safe..." My heart skipped a beat, surely I wasn't supposed to hear that considering how low his voice was.

"You won't tell anyone... right?" He said, taking a deep breath in. I could sense him relaxing in my embrace, reassuring not only him but me.

"Of course not, let's just try and get you a break from school, a week should do it... right?" My hand rested on the back of his head even when he moved to face me.

"We have a lot of work for the school play though... the equipment needs building, who'll do the backstage lighting and help with props and what"-

"REI! Relax yourself, himbo. It's only a week."

"No."

"Reiiiii!" I whined, ignoring the thunder that had just struck. "Are you telling me you wouldn't want a week holiday with me?"

"I do, Y/N but we can't." He held onto my waist, careful not to squeeze my sides because he's well aware I'm ticklish there. "I can heal..."

My head unknowingly shook from side to side, "Rei you don't understand, I'm worried for you, healing by yourself... are you sure it'd work?" Silence...

Just as he was about to open his mouth, synced whistling broke our eye contact in the now heavy rain. Our gazes were met by the most annoying trio, Connie, Sasha and Jean wriggling their eyebrows at us. I heard Reiner uncomfortably sigh, cutting his breath off mid-way.

Abruptly, Jean began humming careless whisper out loud with his bothersome voice, Connie singing the lyrics with Sasha weirdly dancing in front of them as if they were in a ninja trio for matchmaking. "Tonight the music seems so LOUD! I WISH THAT WE COULD LOSE THIS CROWD! BABY! IT'S BETTER THIS WAY!"-

"You kids never shut up," We all flinched at the sudden appearance of Levi in the rain, standing proudly at his size. "First of all, it's 'maybe it's better this way', second of all your singing is so bad that the thunderstorm got worse, third of all, Braun and Ackerman, both of you get to class this is not a cheesy ass romance movie!"

Note:

Ok but Sasha Connie and Jean doing careless whisper is 100% canon, like it's too funny not to be true, I’m just chucking this into tumblr LMAO

[manchesterau]

my thoughts after reading my policeman: SPOILERSS of course!! (ignore spelling or grammar mistakes) (this is very ramble-y and not as in depth as it could have been sorrryyy lol, if you want specifics send me an ask after reading this)

okay...so i read the book in 3 days....which....im very proud of myself bc it takes me so long to finish books but that’s not why you are reading this.

im not going to lie to you...i liked the book. i love angst, and this had plenty of it and i liked it. if you like books such as: harry potter, six of crows, red queen, red white and royal blue you will not like this book. i know many people found it boring, which yeah i can see that, but i didn't find it boring at all. but mostly because i love boring books but that's beside the point. 

the book flowed easily, there isn't a bunch of raunchy sex scenes that ive seen people say it has (i...the things ive read idk what book they even read????) and Tom does has backward views on marriage and what it means to be a wife. but he is not overtly sexist or misogynist or abusive, or subvertly those things either. to be frank he's a scared gay man in the 50s trying to not get caught and thrown in jail. that's literally it. (ill go more into detail on him later). but if you want to read this book i recommend you go in knowing that there will be homophobia (the word queer is used as a slur....3 times or 4 but no more than 5), expect outing, expect not supportive characters, and remember to have some compassion (more on this later).

next i want to go into characters: starting with tom, then Marion, then Patrick, and then the other characters. so if you are planning on reading this book or just dont want to be spoiled them....don't read the next bit.

Tom:

I'm going to get this out of the way.........Tom (who we never get to know outside of the two-point of views we are presented with, and who is being played by Harry) is a police officer in the 50s UK. to be frank when the rumors first went around I was mad like a lot of people were, which is funny because when we got those pictures of harry reading the book before all the speculation we were....happy, that he was reading a book about a gay man. now...I don't care honestly. I could call out the hypocrites (i won't) and honestly I'm hypocritical myself. I use to watch shows like svu (if you were to turn it on right now I wouldn't turn it off) and I enjoyed watching svu. I know and have seen a lot of mutuals, people on my dash enjoy cop shows like b99, or who like actors who have played the character of police before. so it would be hypocritical of me to be mad at him (this is just my single black opinion) and then go and turn on svu (which I don't do anymore). 

I'm not saying that no one can be mad, I'm not saying that the anger people have at him playing this role is bad or not needed or valid. all I'm saying is.....is that I don't care. I got angry over this months ago, and all that anger I felt I don't have anymore, and I can't tell you why. Harry is playing an abusive demented husband who traps his wife in a simulation, and then he will play a gay policeman trying not to face persecution..........and that's that. nothing I can say will reach him, he's playing these roles and there is nothing I can do. will I watch them (pirating of course) yes.

anyways let's get back to tom's character (do not use my opinion to silence other black people I will find you....don't do that shit weirdo): tom is......tom?? like I literally was expecting the worst when I read this because of what other people had to say. but as I'm reading him through the eyes of Marion (his wife) and through the eyes of Patrick (his...true love, fuck the 50s I hate the 50s) one word came to mind constantly: scared. Tom is very scared that he will be found out and his life will be ruined. His family knows about him, which is why I think his father (more on him later) pushed him to be in the national service (where he was a cook, which disappointed him). you don't realize his family knows and then his sister says something and then you go 'wait....THEY KNEW???' and then you will go 'oh so that's why-' 

tom does have old fashion views that you would expect of any man at that time (gay or not it's the 50s and gay men are still capable of saying sexist shit). when asked by Patrick if women should still work after having a kid he said no it's the men's job to provide, Marion said she would like to keep working, he said no when they do have a baby (they literally never did, and idk why he thought he could be intimate with her for that long to produce a baby lol). that's....the most sexist thing he said in the whole book (there maybe some small things im forgetting but nothing that really stood out). that's it. I know it's not small and that was a legitimate issue in the 50s but yeah. Just in case you were apprehensive about Tom's character being a raging woman-hater, no,....he just wasn't a true feminist yet (???? I don't know that's like..the most this book says about an issue women were facing at this time). It's still bad what he said (you'll see how Marion justifies it in the book and both Patrick and her don't agree and try and challenge him on his view).

i dont want to go too in depth but it is very obvious from the beginning he has no and i mean ZEROOOO interest in her at all (you can tell when it hits him that he needs a wife and he starts to act a littleee different but it's not romantic at alll). 

i feel like my review on tom is shit but like!! we don't really get to know him without bias from Patrick and Marion. I think Harry will play a wonderful Tom (even tho he doesn't not fit the description for Tom...at all....like at alllll).

To summarize Tom: very scared gay man from the 50s who is trying to do everything he can to not be found out. his family knows, even he knew at a young age, and yes he does quit being a police officer but it doesn't happen as soon as id like but then again he wasn't one for that long if you pay attention to the years.

Marion:

😑 

i just...if yall could see the notes i made on her.....

To summarize Marion: SHE IS LIVING IN LALA LAND, TOM LITERALLY SHOWS HER NO ROMANTIC INTEREST AT ALLL, AND WHEN SHE METS PATRICK FOR THE FIRST TIME SHE FREAKING NOTICES THAT HE'S ALL BLUSH-Y AND SHIT LIKE...GIRL.....

this is a note i wrote that sums up her and tom's relationship (which is more like friends then anything romantic i mean god their honeymoon was horrible and he proposed to her....nvm 😑)

listen...i can't lie and say i didn't feel sorry for her up until the end when she (spoilers: she outs patrick to his employer which ends up with him getting arrested). after that...ive never hated a character more in my fucking LIFEEEE like oh my god i was pissed

all she does is have fantasies about him being romantic with her (holding hands, hugging, etc) and none of them come true...BECAUSE HES GAYYYYYY i really....the author could have done a better job because there were so many damn red flags.

she's fucking annoying and whiny and yeah it sucked to be a woman in the 50s but you literally outed someone your husband was in love with and thought that you could just go back to being married like he's not devastated and instead of telling what you did you stayed unhappy and made your husband thing that at any point they were coming for him too.......*****

Patrick:

PATRICKKKKK

Patrick and tom deserved a fighting fucking chance i hate the fuck 50s fuck you 50s!!!! I absolutely LOVEDDD his pov and seeing Tom through his pov like it was just so damn refreshing seeing the world through his eyes and how he navigates his queerness in the society they live in. (the dichotomy between a proud gay man and a scared maybe proud but fear overrules that (talking about Tom here) gay man).

There was a lot more to say on how gay men were being persecuted at this time than how women were treated in this particular book. There were some little things here and there about what was expected of Marion as a wife and of a girl/woman at that time but it wasn't the focus.

I loved seeing the way Patrick navigated through his world of art and creativity. And how Tom seemed to fit right in with him.

I hate the things the author made Patrick go through (outed, sent to prison, stripped of his job, and later on in the present day he has had 2 strokes in his 70s). it felt a bit much but it's not too distracting (Patricks pov takes place in the past as he writes in his journal). 

Patrick and Julia (more on her later) are my two favorites in the whole book (Tom is third bc he's a very multi-facted character, Marion is not even on the list) and I wish we got a lot more of Patrick's pov.

Other characters!! (speed round bc this is wayyy too long):

Syvlie (Tom's sister): SYVLIEEE IM MAD AT YOUU I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU WHYY WHYYY

Julia: JULIAAAAA QUEEENNN (you'll see why i love her at the end) 

Tom's parents: his father is abusive point-blank. or at least i think he's abusive (verbally). as im writing this i am now realizing that the way Tom's mom reacts to him (sometimes crying) is bc they knew he was gay omg wow.

tom's dad is very much a man's man guy?? Picture a sexist man from the 50s....now picture him with a gay son.....yeah, I'm not surprised Tom went into national service then to the police force. you can tell he didn't want anyone to find out about Tom so he pushed him to do what he thought best and Tom went with it, scared. 

overall: please do not go into this book expected things to be all flowers and rainbows...this is a book about two gay men in the 50s yall.....

there is something to be said about the tragedy that is in a lot of queer stories, I'm more interested in how white these stories are (that's a rant for another time). but I don't mind my policeman, and i think stories like this should be told. because this actually happened (here is a link to em forster's story where the author takes inspiration from, he really had an affair with a policeman!!! who had a wife!!!).

the ending is bittersweet, and i couldn't help but curse for what could have been. Marion could have not outed Patrick (which she instantly regretted), she could have gotten a divorce (she even contemplated it), they could have been more secretive, Julia could have not said what she said. I think Patrick and Tom were sadly doomed from the start, I just wish they had more time together because I loved seeing their love (the little glimpse we got) bloom into something bigger than them.

thank you for reading!! here are random screenshots of my notes as i read this lol enjoy!!

can’t*

[tg-headcanons]

Nsfw alphabet with naki?

HORNY HOURS WITH IDIOT (affectionate)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he’s never quite sure what to do right when it’s over and will probably just wait for his partner to do something. He’ll follow their lead for the most part, but what he really wants is praise and cuddles. He’s one of those ghouls who really needs the post sex cuddle sessions to avoid the emotional drop

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): on himself he likes his teeth, on his partner he doesn’t like anything in particular. He’s demisexual and when he is attracted to someone sexually he doesn’t really break down what specific things he likes into parts. He’s content to just like their body as a whole

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he needs his partner to be patient with him since he doesn’t come very easily. It takes him awhile to get there and he can’t finish without his kakuhou being touched, some ghouls are just built like that but he’s a little embarrassed by it

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): though he’s more used to quick and careless rough stuff, what he really wants is to be pampered. Tell him he’s pretty, touch him gently, fuck him or ride him. Let him lay back and be taken care of, let him know that he deserves it. He’s a pillow prince at heart

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): he has experience, but it isn’t all good. In the past he’s had partners ranging from distant and pushy to downright cruel. Some have been alright, he’s hooked up with people like Miza and Hooguro and really liked it, but others weren’t as kind. Plenty of people have slept with him without caring if he enjoys it, plenty have fucked him through his heat and left him to deal with the emotional drop alone, and Jason in particular was among the worst when it came to downright brutal sex. Naki wants people to give him affection and attention, but sadly Aogiri isn’t the best place to find safe and respectful partners. By now he thinks of sex as something that’s usually painful but can earn him some praise. His partner will need to be very gentle and soft with him at first, he needs to learn that he can set boundaries and that his pleasure is just as important as theirs

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): if he’s bottoming he likes missionary, He’s used to being bent over things in any abandoned building or broken into house he and past partners could find and unceremoniously fucked so being able to look his partner in the eyes and kiss them is amazing. When topping he likes doggy, he hasn’t had much of a chance to be dominant before, and he really likes the feeling of control from time to time

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he’s not going to joke around, and if his partner is joking he probably won’t notice

H = Heat (what are heats like for them? How do they handle it?): some ghouls get lucky and have brief, mild heats, and others get very unlucky. Naki is among the ladder. They’re absolutely horrible, he was unfortunate enough to end up with a heat hormonal disorder and no way to treat it so he suffers with them. They last a whole week, he has horrible cramps, fevers, nausea, unrelenting muscle weakness and insomnia. In the past he’s handled them by trying to find a decent place to hide and wait them out, but most of the time they break him and he resorts to sleeping with anyone to relieve it. It isn’t safe and the type of ghoul who would fuck someone in heat without talking it out with them beforehand isn’t the type to be kind and respectful. His partner will need to sit him down and talk about how he wants to go about it before it happens to be sure they have a plan and don’t cross any of his boundaries, and he’ll honestly be grateful for the sense of security that comes with a safe place to get through it. Just keep him from overheating, bring some painkillers, be gentle with him and maybe ask around among rich ghoul circles for doctors who can treat heat disorders and he’ll fall in love all over again

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he’s very intimate. He always holds out hope that sex will be romantic and kind and even with the kind of people he’s been with in the past he hasn’t given up on that fairy tail Candlelight-And-Velvet sex he wants. Tell him how pretty he is and kiss him and he’ll be melting in your arms

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): considering that he’s homeless, roams with a pack of people, and that it takes more for him to come than it takes others, for Naki jerking off takes more planning than you’d think. He needs to wait until he can find somewhere that he can go in private between missions, often rooms in unoccupied buildings where the White Suits are staying, and then he can relieve himself. Since he needs his kakuhou touched he rubs up against something to stimulate it. If he’s lucky he can find a living room or bedroom with pillows he can use, but if he can’t he’ll fold up his jacket. Between touching his cock and rutting his kakuhou against the pillows he’s able to get himself off every so often before slipping back into the group and hoping no one has questions about where he went

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): blindfolds. You know how when vets treat horses and deer they cover their eyes to make them less nervous? The same thing works on Naki. He’s a little uneasy when getting started and oddly enough, if he’s blindfolded and unable to anticipate movements, that fades away. All he has to do is focus on the sensations of being touched and words of praise, and any anxiety is replaced by euphoria

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): bedroom. For most that seems normal but for him that’s a luxury. A comfy bed? A door for privacy? Lights that can be turned off? That’s living like kings right there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): genuine affection. Nothing gets him hard like assurance that he’s loved and wanted through the simple kindness he craves

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Naki has some trouble with setting boundaries, he assumes his partner will be mad and needs the assurance that there’s nothing wrong with not being comfortable with things. He’s not quite sure where to start so he’d have to say that he doesn’t like anything too rough or mean. Things like bottoming unprepared, impact play or degradation. Biting and hard grips are fine since that’s normal for ghouls to enjoy but things that are purposefully sadistic are off the table. He’s getting better at speaking up when something hurts physically or emotionally, and it feels good to be able to say no without feeling guilty about it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): he prefers to give. Because he’s a ghoul, Teeth Near Dick is a valid fear and one that he’d rather avoid. Though he isn’t opposed to being the one giving head

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he can take a lot, but prefers for his partner to be gentle and slow when he’s bottoming. Though when he’s on top, he’s pretty quick, not so much that he’s trying to be rough, rather he gets caught up in feeling good and ends up fucking like a rabbit

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): he hates them. He knows that “quick fuck” = “not enough time for him to finish” = “not enough time for post sex cuddles” = “huge emotional drop.” He needs to have time, he needs to have the right touches, and he needs to have decent aftercare. Quickies don’t allow for that so he isn’t too keen on them

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he doesn’t really like to. He knows his comfort zone in regards to sex and he knows that he doesn’t do well with pushing its boundaries. He’d rather stick to doing it inside, and if there’s anything new his partner wants to bring into the bedroom it would need to be gradual

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): he lasts a hell of a long time. He goes a round or two before being tapped out, but with how long it takes him to come those rounds can be awhile

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he doesn’t have any. He wouldn’t be opposed to some being used on him as long as they don’t hurt though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he doesn’t like teasing and he doesn’t like to be teased, he doesn’t see the appeal

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): I’m sure this comes as no surprise but Naki cries during sex. He does it when he’s in pain, he does it when he’s feeling amazing, he does it with any strong sensation at all so no matter what it’s just going to happen. It’s normal for him to let a few tears fall while he’s fucking, along with some pretty loud moans. What is surprising is that he’s one of those rare ghouls who purrs during sex. He doesn’t always do it because he needs to feel very safe and very good, but with the right partner he’ll be purring like a kitten

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he likes wearing things that his partner gives him. It’s a task that he can obey, it’s a physical reminder that they care enough about him to decorate him, it’s something that shows everyone who he belongs to. Whether it’s a collar or a suit he jumps at the opportunity to wear something that marks him as theirs

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): 7.5 inches, life may have screwed him over but at least his meat is huge

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): a little below average. Sex isn’t as important to him as romance, rather it’s another expression of romance, so only doing it a few times a month is enough for him. Though he’d be okay with doing it more if his partner wants to, he likes doing anything as long as it’s with them and sex can be amazing

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he doesn’t fall asleep after sex unless he’s sure he’s somewhere safe. He’s used to having to immediately fix his clothes and leave whenever it’s over, but if he has a partner who cares about him, a room that’s safe, and some cuddles to put him at ease, he’ll slowly drift off

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

costumes & confessions

summary: Halloween just might be the time for you to confess how you feel to Pierre, whether you’re ready or not.

warnings: mentions of sex, swears

word count: 2.8k

note from the writer: this is a halloween fic, but it's not heavily reliant on being a halloween fic. like the setting is a halloween party, but it could be read year round. enjoy :) ! / take my survey!

It was just supposed to be a friends with benefits thing. He was out of town more often than not, and you were too swamped with work and other obligations to commit to anything more than a quick hookup. You were friends before you started sleeping together, your easy banter seamlessly translating to a fantastic time between the sheets. But for you, it was much, much more than the agreed upon terms after only a few weeks.

You should have known; your life was far too entwined with Pierre’s for you to not get attached.

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Pierre asked as he let himself into your apartment, a habit he had developed long before your arrangement. You didn’t even turn as you continued stirring the sauce you were making, far too used to him showing up at just the right time.

“I’ve been told that I have to make an appearance at the team party.” You told him and he chuckled, because of course you’d be there with his team, they were the whole reason he knew you in the first place.

“There’s a costume contest.” He hummed, and because you still hadn’t turned to look at him, he wound his arms around your middle from behind and tugged gently until you were pressed against his front and he could drop his head to your shoulder. Pierre got like this often, needy and wanting your attention and if you didn’t give it to him, he searched out for it.

“And?” You prompted, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to feel the hammering of your heart. You knew you should have pulled away from him, knew that you were only setting yourself up for heartbreak, but you chose to ignore rationality once more and sunk into his embrace. If he was going to act like the caring boyfriend, you weren’t going to stop him.

“And we’re going to win it.” He said decidedly, dropping a kiss to your pulse point before standing to his whole height and backing up. You took your time in turning the heat off on the stove and moving the sauce so it wouldn’t burn before finally turning to look at Pierre. He was grinning widely, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from emulating it.

“How are we going to do that, exactly?” You crossed your arms and leaned backwards against your kitchen counter, a challenging look in your eye. Pierre met your look head on, a mischievous glint in his eye and his chest puffed out just a bit more.

“We’re going to have the best couples costume there, obviously.” He stated plainly, as if it was that simple and as if he hadn’t just shattered your world then. You desperately wanted to be a part of a couples costume with Pierre, but you also wanted more. You wanted the couples part, the ability to kiss him as often as you wanted to, the whole nine yards. But you didn’t know if it was a good idea.

Couples costumes were not in the terms of agreement for friends with benefits. And you were already playing with fire.

“Come on, are you hungry?” You changed the topic, turning to grab two plates from the cabinet. Pierre acted then, grabbing forks and meeting you at the sink where the culender held the noodles you had already made. You tried to ignore the nagging feeling you felt that you fit way too smoothly with him in your kitchen.

“Do you not want to do a costume together?” He asked, and you felt the weight of his gaze on you. Instead of meeting his stare, though, you elected to focus intently on the pasta you were scooping onto his plate.

You thought about his question. There really was no reason that you shouldn’t go together. It was just a simple group costume, there was absolutely no hidden meaning behind the fact that he called it a couples costume.

“No, of course I do.” You plastered a smile onto your face, moving to the stove to ladle sauce onto your plate. You repeated your actions with Pierre’s food and, when it became abundantly clear he was looking for an explanation for your hesitation, you met his gaze with a teasing smile. It was a complete contrast to the tiny frown he was sporting, his eyes searching you for answers. You were afraid he’d find them. “Just nervous to see what you’re going to make me wear, Luc.”

You threw the nickname in for good measure, knowing just how much he loved hearing it come from you. It worked, for the most part, and after one last searching look he ducked down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

Oh, you were in trouble. That was for sure.

With the friends part of the evening over with once dinner was finished, the benefits part arrived in full force. He knew just how to take you apart and leave you satisfied, and you loved that you had the same effect on him.

Though, instead of leaving after like he never truly did and probably should have, he helped clean you up and even pulled one of his t-shirts out of your dresser for you to wear with a boyish grin. He tugged his boxers back on and climbed in your bed with you, though this time with a lot less lust on his eyes.

“So, Halloween.” He started and you couldn’t help the laugh that fell past your lips. He had his head propped up with his hand, and you rolled to your side so you could face him.

“That’s what you think about after sex? Was I that bad?” You teased, knowing from the way he fell apart moments earlier that you absolutely were not bad. Pierre rolled his eyes, ducking down to capture your lips in a kiss to get you to stop giggling at him. These were the moments that tugged at your heartstrings the most—just after sex when nothing in the world mattered and it was just you and him together, acting like you wouldn’t go back to being just friends as soon as you left the bed.

“Anyways,” he grinned, clearly amused by your joke just as much as you were. “I think I have the perfect idea.”

“Oh yeah? Better than whatever the other guys can come up with?” You hummed, your previous anxiety having slipped away the more you thought about it. You shouldn’t have worked yourself up as much as you did, you had gone with Pierre to plenty of events as his plus one and not once had you freaked out like you had earlier.

It probably was his use of the word ‘couple’ that tripped you up so much.

“Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy.” He grinned, clearly proud of himself for the idea, and you couldn't help but laugh loudly once again. The image of you and him dressed as the characters from Spongebob drew a giggle out of you, especially since you knew how dedicated he was to his costumes.

“You want to be Barnacle Boy?” You teased, though you were already figuring out the logistics of it in your head. He would be Barnacle Boy, of course, because he was taller. Pierre nodded with a broad grin on his face and it was so infectious your own cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much.

“You can be the Mermaid Man to my Barnacle Boy.” He joked, the hand not propping his head up reaching over to brush a strand of hair out of your face. Your grin softened then, the moment feeling too intimate for you to handle.

“That means I’ll be your boss for the night.” You tried joking, but your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. No doubt Pierre picked up on it, but all you saw on his face was an indecipherable look in his eyes.

“You’re my boss all the time, though.” He teased lowly before leaning in for a slow kiss you couldn’t help but melt into.

You felt anything but in control in that moment.

Halloween arrived faster than you would have liked, and the days leading up to it were spent running from store to store in order to find the right parts to your costume. When Pierre showed up at your apartment to pick you up and take you to the party, you were already in costume, a purple starfish painted on your nose to seal the deal.

“Oh, we’re so going to win.” Pierre commented the moment he saw you, and you laughed as he grabbed your hand and spun you around to get a three-sixty view. When you were standing in front of him again, his gaze settled on your chest under the guise of admiring the seashell bra you wore atop the bright orange shirt. “I like the shells.”

“Keep it in your pants, Dubois.” You teased, slapping his shoulder as you parted to find your phone and wallet to get ready to leave. You also took a moment to compose yourself, because even dressed in a ridiculous Barnacle Boy costume, he still was the most attractive man you had ever seen.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.” He teased as you reentered the kitchen, where he had made himself at home by digging through your pantry for a snack. You rolled your eyes at him, hoping you didn’t look as flustered by his comments as you were.

“You better try, because people are already getting suspicious that something’s going on between us.” By your last count, it was three of the other boys’ wives and girlfriends and at least two of his teammates that said something to you about your close relationship with Pierre, so he had to have gotten something from them as well.

“So what if they know?” Pierre shrugged his shoulders, ducking past you and out of the kitchen like what he said was no big deal. You raised a brow at him, following after to find him standing by your door, holding your coat out for you.

“Pierre, people don’t know we’ve been sleeping together, right?” You questioned, a little mortified at the idea of going to a party filled with people that knew you were sleeping with someone you swore up and down was just a friend.

“I haven’t told anyone, but they just kinda guess.” He explained, opening your front door for you. Sighing, you followed after him. You couldn’t be mad, you were the one that left hickeys unabashedly on his neck night after night and when the boys saw that you had matching bruises, even they could put two and two together.

And you really couldn’t be mad as Pierre slipped his hand into yours.

You were fashionably late to the party, so Pierre tugged you around the house to show off the costumes you both worked so hard on. The boys ribbed him for being Barnacle Boy and supplied you with drinks, and you forced him to dance with you when the cheesy Monster Mash came on.

It was all going great. Until Alexandre Texier made an appearance.

“Luc, you finally asked her out!” He exclaimed as he swung an arm around Pierre’s shoulders. You figured he was emboldened by the drink sloshing in his cup, but that didn’t mean you were any less shocked. Tex turned his attention to you, a wide grin on his face that meant nothing but trouble. “You know, he never shuts up about you.”

If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure why that comment was the tipping point. Friends talked about friends all the time, Tex’s comment could have been completely innocent. He was a sweetheart, he probably had no ill intent. Or maybe it was the way Pierre instantly shot down the idea of him asking you out, his offhanded ‘don’t be ridiculous’ followed by a string of French you didn’t understand was like a knife to the heart. But you couldn’t handle it then, and took off without another word through the crowd and to the nearest bathroom.

Pierre shouted your name, and when you didn’t stop for him, another string of French words—curses, you knew that much—fell from his mouth before was chasing after you. His legs were longer and he had the advantage of being a professional athlete, but you had a head start and the added bonus of running from your feelings, so it was nearly fair, and he only caught up to you as you slipped into the bathroom. He caught the door, shooting you a confused look and entering the bathroom himself.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence first. You shook your head, because that was easier than trying to find something to say, and you didn’t exactly trust your voice in that moment. It was clear that something was wrong with you, your arms were crossed and you were frowning, not to mention your near sprint to lock yourself in the bathroom. “You can tell me, you know.”

Why did he have to be so sweet?

“I have to know, Pierre, if you feel something. Because I do, and I can’t keep doing this if it means nothing to you.” You cracked, gesturing dramatically between you and Pierre for emphasis as a few tears slipped down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized how badly your eyes were watering, but it was too late now.

This was not one of your finer moments; dressed as Mermaid Man, crying in the bathroom at some party as the guy you desperately wished reciprocated your feelings stood floundering, trying to find a way to let you down easily.

“Fuck, okay then.” You continued when it became clear that he wasn’t going to say what you wanted. The tears were falling faster, and you were mentally preparing yourself to slip past everyone and out the front door while they all stared at the crying Mermaid Man. “I-I’ll just leave.”

You tried to get past Pierre, then, and make your tearful walk outside where you’d order an Uber and wait since he was your ride, but his hands shot out and suddenly he was cupping your face and he was kissing you like his life depended on it. Your hands gripped his forearms, both to stabilize yourself so you didn’t trip at the sudden movement and to ground yourself to the moment.

You weren’t sure how long he was kissing you, but he pulled away much too soon for your liking, his forehead dropping against yours as you both caught your breath. You waited for him to speak first, too scared to ruin the bubble that had formed around you in the last few seconds and too nervous about what he’d say. After a moment, he brushed his thumbs across your cheeks to wipe away any wetness left there by your tears and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He stood to his full height, then, and pulled you into his chest for a hug. You went willingly; you always did.

“You’re crazy.” He mumbled, and despite the loud music coming from just outside the bathroom, his voice was loud in the previously quiet bathroom. You pulled back slightly, then, and gave him a confused look, a silent plea for him to explain himself. “You’re crazy if you think I don’t feel the same.”

“Really?” You asked hopefully. The kiss you had just shared alluded to his true feelings, plus the way he was looking at you like you put the stars in the sky, but you needed to hear him say it. After weeks of convincing yourself that you were stuck in the friends with benefits role you had been stupid enough to suggest, you needed to hear him tell you how he felt about you.

“From the day I met you.” He told you, a smile making its way onto his face as he watched your features form into a confused pout. While you had always acknowledged that Pierre was attractive, it was only after sleeping with him a few times that you realized that you harboured feelings for. “Then you suggested being friends with benefits, and I was going to take whatever I could get.”

“You should have said something.” You pouted, watching as he grin widened. You weren’t actually mad at him, it was a two way street and you could have confessed your own feelings a long time ago.

“I thought it was obvious, I did ask you to be my Mermaid Man.” He joked, earning an eye roll from you and a grin to match his.

“Come on, Barnacle Boy, let’s get back to the party. We’ve got a costume contest to win.” Once again, Pierre didn’t let you pass by him to get to the door. Instead, he ducked down to capture your lips in one last kiss and to deliver a cheesy comment that made you snort and swat at his chest.

“I’ve already won tonight, though.”

[amara-scott]

Enjoy your dinner.

Movie: The Gentlemen Characters: Raymond Smith x Reader Categories: Teasing

you’re reading part one | part two

Takes place a few weeks before the movie timeline.

...

3rd Person P.O.V.:

Her father knew very well that she did not enjoy these kinds of events. Richlings bragging about their richness to other fat cats. Not to mention the young ones. The ones her age, who did not have to flip a coin to get any of the wealth their parents owned. Dirty or good money, does not matter. It is more dirty than anything else though. And she knew that also. Another reason for her to usually not stay longer than needed.

It has been a while since her father has last asked her to join him and her mother to a dinner party. It was way more just a synonym for let’s see who will embarrass themselves first by drinking too much of the way too expensive bottle of rum. Long translation - but a hundred percent correct. 

And even though she loathed going, she always used the opportunity to make the largest impact possible without trying to say a word. She loved the longing stares and the surprised ones every time she did indeed attend alongside her parents. Today it was just her father though. Her mother was out in Paris, probably spending all the pocket money her loving husband gave her. At least their love for each other seemed honest.

(Y/N) P.O.V.:

When I walk down the stairs to stop in front of a mirror in my hallway, I hear another honk of the limousine waiting outside. I sigh, grabbing a light coat and throwing that over my arm, holding a small clutch in my hand. After locking the door behind me, I greet Mitch with a smile.

“ ’Ello Miss (Y/L/N), hope you are doing well today.” I hold back a roll of my eyes, long forgotten how many times I made him call me by my first name. If I had to guess, probably around 64 times. He doesn’t work for me, he works for my father and my father alone. 

“Very well indeed, how about you, Mitch?” He smiles, about to answer, when a voice from inside the car calls out.

“-You can chat on the way there, we’re late as it is.” Now I do roll my eyes at my fathers words and send Mitch another small smile. He nods, closing the door when I’m in, going back to the drivers seat.

“Wow, darlin’, you look lovely tonight.” I greet him with a kiss to each cheek and buckle up.

“Thank you, is that a new suit? I’ve never seen you wear burgundy red.” He nods, smoothing out the fabric. 

“It is, it is. You’re a smart one. I despised the colour but your mother thinks it looks expensive and high-class. And you know her- there’s no telling her no.” I chuckle along and we get a few small-talk questions out the way before we finally arrive at the mansion. Some old business partner of my father’s. I can’t keep names in mind so I usually go the shy and long time no see route. It usually works.

My father helps me step outside and Mitch rides off, picking us up later again. Before walking after my father I take a deep breath and exhale, placing a smile onto my face. Fake- but no one seemed to notice the last few times. So no worries there. Walking up the stairs, an arm wraps around mine and I glance up to my right, frowning at the sudden physical contact. James. Yes, the one person I loathed the least. Or you could say - who I actually liked a bit. I grin and bump my shoulder with his as he guides me up to the entrance.

“Hello there gorgeous lady, haven’t seen you around a lot lately.” 

“Well, can you blame me? These types of gatherings do not amuse me much. They rather support my boredom and make me want to drown in expensive alcohol. I don’t want to turn into an alcoholic.” He smirks at my statement but shakes his head. 

“You’re a special one, you know that?” I nod, sighing dramatically. I look up front, where my father is already involved with other suit-wearing snobs.

“I know- I am.” I try sounding posh, but fail miserably, making us both laugh. I still have my arm wrapped around his’ as we get offered a drink and then he is off. Talking business, making connections. A life I would not want to live. That is why James and me could never be more than friends. Even though he might wants change my mind on that one day - I would never accept his advances.

“Well, well, well. If it is not little Miss (Y/L/N) Junior. How are things going?” I turn, taking another sip of champagne as I recognise the slimy man in front of me. His eyes wandering up and down my presence. 

“Oscar- what a nice surprise-” My fake smile widens and I let him kiss my knuckles briefly - even though some of the potatoes I had for lunch earlier wanted to revisit. He must be double my age - I never thought of that. 50 at least.

“Would not be that much of a surprise to you if you would join our parties more often.” So it is his housing we are inside of right now. Good to know...

“Oh, Oscar. You know I am a busy woman. Cannot have fun all the time.” My smile starts to hurt my cheeks but I keep it up. Having held it for longer. My record is 24 minutes and 37 seconds. Yes, I know. Very impressive.

“But you never fail to make a grand entrance, what a gown on you - just lovely. Perfectly fitting for you, an extraordinary woman.” His sickly, slimy words feel like nails scratching on a chalk board but I hold back a flinch, nodding once. Not quite sure how to reply. I glance down at my drink, assumingly and very unconsciously having drank it all.

“Oh, would you look at that- I think I need a refill, it was lovely chatting-” “-Let me get you a new one.”

“No need, Oscar. I will just go myself.” 

“Oh please, I insist-”

“-Here, take mine. I don’t drink Champagne.” I turn to my right, looking at the source of the new voice. A man I have not seen before stands there - a neat three piece in dark blue, adoring his well shaped physique. His dirty blonde hair combed back to perfection. He rearranges his glasses with his free hand before it disappears in the pocket of his trousers. The other one still holding out the glass to me. I realise I held a breath and nod at him, this time smiling genuinely. 

“Thank you-” I drift off, not taking my eyes off his. A little staring contest going on. I accept the drink and take a sip. Not having blinked once. Just like him.

“-Raymond. Raymond Smith.”

“Nice to meet you, Raymond Smith. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

“I know that.” I quirk an eyebrow at his answer, him staying silent though, a small smile grazing his lips. 

“Well, why don’t I give you a little tour? We have a whole new balcony on the east wing-”

“-no, thank you Oscar. I just found a way more interesting activity.” I cut him off, not taking my eyes off of Raymond Smith. I see his lips twitch but he is holding back a smirk. Which makes my smile grow. I only hear a huff and grumbling. 

I then break the eye contact, feeling rather lost now and walk past him, closely past him. My shoulder barely touching his jacket. I can feel his eyes on my back, making me sway my hips a tad more than usual. The things the right man can make you do.

I decide to sit down at an empty table and pick out some of the delicate canapés placed in the center. It looks like a mushroom tartlet and once inside my mouth I nod to myself. One thing that makes me come back to these parties is definitely the appetisers and the drinks. Lot’s of effort goes into them but no one seems to enjoy any. Either because they are busy laughing at jokes that are not funny or because they think others would judge them for eating. I learned to not care, ever, about what someone thought of me because I eat more than them. Their loss.

“Enjoying the food, I see.” I chew quickly and swallow thickly, holding a napkin to my lips as Raymond sits next to me at the round table, taking a tartlet himself. I hum.

“I do, cannot be mad about the food. I am a true gourmet, what can I say. But- you probably already knew that, did you not?” I grin at him, watching his chew and making eye contact with me once more. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“No, did not. I will note it down though.” His teasing tone sparks my interest and I wonder how far I could go. Or what he works as. Why I have never seen him before. 

“Tell me, Raymond Smith, who are you?” I turn toward him, leaning my arm on the table and tilting my head slightly, full attention on him. He wipes his hands at a napkin, eyes cast down as he seems deep in thought. Choosing his words carefully. One of the only men here who do.

“I don’t really exist. I just - like a good dinner party every now and then.” I bite my lip at his cheeky reply, trying to hold back all the things running through my mind. 

“Can I guess?” I lift my head and he nods, gesturing for me to go ahead. He leans back slightly, probably expecting the most cliché answers anyway. So I think again, observing his posture and the drifting of his eyes every now and then. Back over to the big table. A couple people sitting there. He must be here either with his wife or colleague. I shake my head at the wife, he wouldn’t be sitting here with me if he had one. 

“Well, seeing as you’re not here by yourself, you must be the right hand to someone or - maybe you are the kid of a big fish.” He smirks, nodding. One must be correct. I go with my first instinct. “-a right hand man it is.” I look back over to where he seemed to focus earlier. I do know a few of them. One being a partner to my father’s business. Another one the son of said partner. And then - no way. Micheal Pearson himself. The Micheal Pearson. Sticky bush Pearson. But Raymond would not be involved-

“-I see you figured it out.” My eyes snap back to Raymond and I close my mouth, licking my dry lips in the process. I tense up, not knowing if running would be an appropriate reaction. But then again - I never cared about appropriate behaviour that much.

“And I also see you’re taken aback.” It sounded more like a question really. But I only nod, sending him a small smile.

“It is not every day that I cross paths with true gangsters.” 

“I will take that as a compliment. And just for your information-” He leans in closer, elbows on his thighs. “-there are a few more gangsters here than you would like to care.” 

I gulp at his intense eyes, he leans back up and stands to his feet, smoothing out his suit and buttoning his jacket. 

“Well, if you would excuse me, my duties as a right hand man are needed. Have a good rest of your evening, Miss (Y/L/N). Enjoy your dinner.” 

“You too, Mister Smith.” He nods, walking off. I look after him, Mister and Misses Pearson walking off with him and exiting the building. I let out a breath I was holding and sink back into the chair. Not without being haunted by those icy blue orbs.

...

_________________________________

More The Gentlemen Imagines

Full Masterlist

part two

[worldsover]

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

length ✦ 3570

genres ✧ music making; oral fixation; facefuck; subby!Chuu

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Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically.  “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-"  Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo’s face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Swear to god I’m not just writing the cutest idols to write for. I mean maybe I am but also this answer from @nsfwtwicecatcher​ and all the subsequent pictures that I found of Chuu pouting inspired me. Also, this was a longer piece but I kept spinning my tires on it and decided to split it up, so look out for more.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fermata, the aforementioned sequel