#forgetting my own mole all the time like die | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryoculus · 2 years ago

Text

— imagine being loved by me! ⟢

pairing: xiao | alatus x reader

summary: the one where your best friend gives you ten tattoos over the next ten years. the problem? you fall deeper in love each time the ink stains your skin.

word count: 7.1k words

tags: modern au, tattoo artist!xiao, childhood friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, relationship study, non-explicit smut

warnings: emotionally stunted xiao but i fink everyone knows that already, mentions of needles, there's smut but it isn't detailed

notes: this blog's been dead for Months but i thought i'd revive it with this fic that my beloved @delvalentine commissioned me to make! i love u to DEATH, v, i hope i did your requests justice :')

header art cr: yuca7302 on twt

01.

“Ow, fuck! Can you be more careful?!”

“I am careful. You just have a shitty pain tolerance.”

“Wow, that’s not something you should say to your first willing client,” you huff, trying not to pull away as Xiao repeatedly punctures the skin of your forearm with pen ink and a not-so-sterile sewing needle. “My family could sue you if I die from a blood infection, you know.”

Xiao rolls his eyes. “Something this small won’t kill anyone. Plus, you came here on your own volition, so stop complaining.”

“Are you saying you’re just going to let me die of sepsis if everything goes to shit?”

“Pretty much.”

You didn’t know what to expect when your best friend of several years asked if you wanted a tattoo of your favorite constellation. It’s been a running joke between the both of you that the two moles on your forearm looked a lot like two-thirds of Orion’s belt, and that maybe, in another life, you would’ve been born with all three of its stars on your skin.

You should’ve known that Xiao likes to blow your expectations out of the water—whether he intends to do so or not.

It’s sundown when he finishes embedding black pen ink beneath your slightly inflamed skin. Xiao doesn’t comment when you repeatedly complain about how much that fucking hurt, and that you’re never agreeing to do it again, but you don’t miss the way his eyes occasionally flit up to the starry sky before shifting to your new ‘tattoo’ as he walks you home.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget that night. How you admired the amateur handiwork in the soft glow of your nightlight while thinking about the boy who gave you a star fashioned with his own fingers where others would’ve given flowers instead.

But then you remember Xiao is nothing but your best friend, and it’s a little…weird to be thinking about him like that.

Must be the sepsis fucking with my head, you muse before flicking off your nightlight, and the room is plunged into pitch black darkness.

02.

You’re eighteen when you realize Xiao is completely serious about this tattooing business.

It comes as a not-so-pleasant surprise to you one day when your high school’s guidance counselor approaches you while you’re hurrying over to your next class—asking if you’ve seen Xiao around these days because apparently, your best friend hasn’t been attending his classes for a better part of the semester.

Of course, you receive the news with a scowl. While you don’t exactly see him all that much at school because of how different your schedules are, you never expected to find out he’s been playing hooky all this time.

You don’t particularly like sticking your nose into other people’s business—especially not Xiao’s, since you know how he likes to keep to himself better than most. But for some reason, you aren’t able to resist, and end up calling him after excusing yourself from your two-hour Biology lecture.

Once your classes are done, you head over to a nearby tattoo parlor whose address Xiao texted to you right after you squeezed his whereabouts out of him during that phone call. It’s located in one of the more run-down parts of town that your parents would’ve detested Xiao for inviting you to. But whatever prejudice you might’ve had about the denizens of this district all go up in smoke once you meet the owner herself.

“You should’a seen Xiao practicing with our machines a few months ago!” Beidou, as Xiao had sheepishly introduced earlier, barks out a laugh before slinging an arm around your best friend’s shoulders. “Said there’s someone he wanted to give permanent tatts to. I’m guessing you’re the guest of honor?”

“Beidou,” Xiao groans. “It’s not a big deal. I already practiced on her before.”

You don’t completely catch it when Beidou makes an inappropriate joke as a response to what Xiao just said—eyes trained on the fading dot on your forearm. It’s been two years since Xiao gave you your first ‘tattoo’, and even if the receding ink makes it look like one of Orion’s stars are starting to die out, it’s still there.

“Okay,” you say in the middle of their bickering, startling both Xiao and Beidou in the process. “I’ll let him ink me if he wants to.”

Xiao stares at you with brows furrowed. “You sure?”

No, you’re not sure because as much as you want to support Xiao in what seems to be a budding passion of his, you’re certain that your father is going to kill you when he sees a full-blown tattoo on any part of your body. You barely got away with the artificial mole that Xiao did for you a few years back.

“Positive.” You back your words up with an indignant huff before sifting through the pre-made designs on Beidou’s catalog. “You just have to put it somewhere not everyone can see, I guess.”

Beidou snorts out another jarring laugh when Xiao clicks his tongue to alleviate the embarrassment that’s painting his face just a touch of red.

Earlier in the day, you intended to scold your best friend for not taking his studies seriously, but ended up going home that day with a new piece inked onto the skin of your left hip: a little spruce twig that you last remember seeing in your old hometown—years before you even met Xiao.

There’s no particular meaning behind it, apart from a hint of sentimentality and rebelliousness. It’s your first actual tattoo, and one of your best friends gave it to you, free of charge. Even if it hurts ten times more than Xiao’s novice needle method from two years ago, you end up loving it more than you thought. One time, you stare at Xiao’s intricate handiwork in the mirror for so long that you nearly run late for your first class of the day.

(Another thing that makes this particular piece memorable is the process itself.

Xiao is a person who’s always been startlingly precise in everything he decides to put his head into. When you learned that he wanted to become a tattoo artist, you instantly felt like there’s no other path more perfect for him than this.

Yet you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers sometimes trembled as he gave you your first piece—with you lying chest-down on Beidou’s tattoo chair in nothing but your shirt and underwear. It shouldn’t have been strange. Xiao has seen you dressed down like this dozens of times before.

But when all’s said and done, he refused to meet your eyes, and you don’t have the slightest clue why.)

03.

You just can’t stop staring when you see Xiao’s half-sleeve for the first time.

It’s meant to be a phoenix, he said, but you can’t really see it because the patterns are too abstract to make sense of. Still, the azure ink sits nicely on top of his built bicep, and you have to tell yourself that you’re just trying to find the stupid phoenix as an excuse to keep ogling him.

Thankfully, your weird fascination lasts for only about a week until you’re back to shitting on him like you always do.

By some miracle, Xiao manages to graduate high school despite being on probation from his excessive absences. He’s actually smart if he makes the effort to hit the books, but you’re not sure if he’s planning on going to college with how comfortable he is with being one of Beidou’s most in-demand tattoo artists.

You ask him about his future plans at a party being thrown by the previous captain of the football team in his parents’ lavish penthouse somewhere uptown. It took a great deal to force Xiao into tagging along with you as your plus one, and you’re going to make good on his acquiescence by interrogating him about things he normally skirts around.

“I told you, I didn’t take any entrance exams,” he grumbles against the rim of his red cup. “I’m managing just fine working for Beidou, so I don’t see any reason to go to college.”

You’re about to argue that Beidou’s tattoo parlor won’t be open forever, and that he needs to think about broadening his career options until a bunch of girls with linked arms shuffle closer to where you and Xiao were lounging on the couch. You don’t talk to them a lot, but everyone in your grade knows the infamous Pyro Trio.

“Hey, Xiaooo,” Hu Tao drawls with a smirk, pushing up her sleeve to reveal the branches of a cherry blossom tattooed on the delicate skin of her arm. Behind her, Xiangling and Xinyan snicker like it’s some sort of inside joke.

You intend to shift your gaze elsewhere. Clearly, you’re not the person these girls want to speak with. But the sight of the ink on Hu Tao’s skin makes the back of your neck prickle with misplaced irritation. Xiao must’ve been the one who did her piece, which shouldn’t be a surprise. Though he’s this year’s most notable absentee, rumors about Xiao’s handiwork haven’t gone unnoticed among the students in your (now) alma mater.

That doesn’t mean you have to like the idea of your best friend inking other people that aren't you, though.

You decide to excuse yourself from Xiao’s company—given that Hu Tao is giving him plenty of attention already as is. Your best friend utters something you don’t quite catch as you walk away, and you don’t bother turning around to ask him to repeat himself.

(As you stuff your face with shot after shot, you force yourself to just keep dancing to the rhythm of whatever song is blaring to the speakers. You didn’t give two shits about the fact that Hu Tao keeps feeling up the stupid phoenix tattoo on Xiao’s arm. Nor did you care about the fact that your best friend—who’s normally evasive when it comes to casual contact—seems like he doesn’t mind at all.)

The night ends with Xiao begrudgingly getting behind the wheel of your car, since you’re obviously in no state to be driving anyone home. When he announces that he’ll bring you back to your apartment, you slur out a drunken protest—asking if he can take you to the tattoo parlor instead.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Why?”

You huff, curling in on yourself on the passenger seat. “The cherry blossoms you gave Hu Tao were ugly as shit. You can do a better piece on me. Y’know, as practice.”

Both of you know that you’re bluffing. Xiao’s pieces are one of the most intricate you’ve ever seen, even if he is a rookie tattoo artist, and that you don’t have a lot of points of reference to compare to. But instead of taking offense at your mindless jab at his work, Xiao slots the keys into the ignition with a defeated sigh.

“Fine. You mentioned wanting spider lilies a while back,” he says before propping his arm against the car seat as he backed up on the street. It’s the perfect angle to moon over his not-so-phoenix tattoo, and if you were any more intoxicated, you would’ve reached out and squeezed his arm.

“Where do you want it?”

You know he meant to ask where you wanted him to put your prospective tattoo, but the question sends your mind straight into the gutter. Thankfully, you still have some semblance of coherence lingering in your drunk thoughts, and you answer with:

“Right hip. Opposite end of the spruce twig.”

When Xiao heaves another sigh and steps on the gas pedal, you don’t think much of it—still convinced it’s completely normal to expose such intimate parts of yourself to your best friend so he can tattoo a fucking flower just above the swell of your thigh.

04.

“You have been watching way too much anime.”

“Come on! At least I’m not having you tattoo the names of my shitty ex-boyfriends on my ass, right? Just give me my modified Tanjiro hanafuda and Fullmetal Alchemist flamel!”

“...Is this your way of coping with taking up a nursing course? Is it that stressful?”

You whine as you hold your phone closer to your ear, already picturing the look of disbelief in Xiao’s face when you asked when he’s free to give you your next tattoos. You still go to college in the same city, but it’s been weeks since you last saw him.

“You have no idea,” you groan. “It’s like my first year, and I’m already burned out! How is that even possible?”

Your best friend grunts on the other line. “Maybe if you stopped being such a perfectionist, then maybe you’ll learn to be more content. Less stress on your part, too.”

“Ah, no can do. I never do anything that isn’t perfect,” you chuckle. “

“Yeah, I saw you score at the top of your class during your, uh… what was it again? Biochem exam?”

For someone who doesn’t exactly give a damn about anything outside tattooing and other similar forms of artistry, you find it endearing to know Xiao actually remembers all the things you rant about in the wee hours of the morning. You don’t hate biochem, but if you have to draw another chemical configuration, you might just pop a vein.

“Okay, let’s say I agree to tattoo those weird doodles you sent,” Xiao propositions, “do you even have any free days? You usually study on weekends, right? I don’t think you’re free to drop by the shop even if you wanted to.”

Fuck. He’s right. You still have a few major exams coming up in the next two weeks. If you wait that long until you get your silly weeaboo tattoos from Xiao, you would’ve already gotten over your momentary hyperfixation on the TV shows that were salvaging your sanity in the middle of the semester. It wouldn’t feel as thrilling to get them anymore.

“I’m free…” You trail off, eyes darting to the digital clock by your desk then to the course notes you have opened on your laptop. You haven’t studied as much as you wanted to for your upcoming anatomy test, but…

“Right now, actually. Can you pick me up?”

You can hear him frowning. “Don’t you have a car?”

“I do, but I don’t wanna drive when I have plastic wrap all over my body.”

“You’re exaggerating. It’s not all over your—”

“Jesus, get the hint, Xiao. I miss my best friend, and I want to have a quiet evening cruise on his motorcycle before he gets me inked again!”

Xiao falls silent, and this time, you’re having some difficulty picturing what expression he’s wearing on his face. You like to think you’ve startled your un-startle-able best friend, but that’s pushing your influence too much.

“Okay,” he says, more agreeable than you thought he’d be. “I’ll be there in thirty. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

05.

When you introduce your first serious boyfriend in a while to Xiao, you’re a bit annoyed with how prickly he’s being.

Sure, it’s wired into his system to be the snarky asshole everyone knows and loves, but if there’s anyone else who knows about the tragedy that is your love life better than yourself, it’s Xiao. When you finally land a decent guy to settle down with, you at least expect him to be a bit more supportive.

“Actually, we came here ‘cause we planned on getting matching tattoos,” your boyfriend, Yin, explains with a dimpled smile. “Isn’t that right?”

You stifle a soft laugh, a bit embarrassed to agree, but too in love with your boyfriend to protest.

A few years ago, you distinctly remember drunkenly rambling to Xiao about how stupid it is to get couple tattoos especially when relationships these days are built on flimsy foundations.

If you break up, what then? You have a physical reminder of that person on your body for eternity? No fucking thanks!

“Sorry, we’re closed right now, as you can see,” Xiao grunts before jabbing his thumb at the sign he just turned at the door. “You can try some other time, though.”

At the time, you were pissed at Xiao for denying your little request. He always agreed to ink you during ungodly hours of the day, but now he’s playing the ‘shop’s closed’ card just because he doesn’t like your boyfriend?

But then, you end up grateful for his attitude exactly a month later.

“Fucking cheated on me with some bitch from his Physics lecture,” you sniffle on Xiao’s ratty sofa as he makes you some tea in his kitchen. “I can’t believe I nearly tattooed our anniversary on my wrist! I would’ve had to fucking amputate it in the end.”

Xiao sighs before placing a piping hot cup of honey lemon in front of you on his coffee table—crossing his legs together. He doesn’t tell you I told you so, like others probably would if they were in his shoes. Your best friend just stares at you with withering understanding, no matter how stupid the choice that got you here in the first place turned out to be.

That’s one of the many things you loved about him.

“You were supposed to have ‘XV’ inked together, right?” he asks.

You huff before tossing some of the soiled tissues you used into the bin. “Yeah. We made it official on September 15th.”

“Well, if you still want the tattoo, you could just give it a different meaning.”

Scowling, you stare at Xiao as if he just grew a second head. “What the hell are you talking about?” Is he really suggesting for you to get the same tattoo that he denied you and your ex a month ago?

Xiao shrugs noncommittally before taking a sip from the tea he prepared for you. “It’s been fifteen years since we became best friends. That’s worth commemorating, at least. Unless you suddenly don’t give a shit about that, too?”

Your jaw hangs agape at the sudden reminder. October 15th. When you were four, you accidentally spilled orange juice all over Xiao’s teletubbies backpack, and when he forgave you on the spot, you crowned him as your first bestie.

That was fifteen years ago. Holy shit.

He startles when you abruptly shoot back to your feet, earning yourself a perplexed stare from Xiao who just wants you to sit down and drink your damn tea—

“Is Beidou’s shop open?” you ask. “I want her to do our matching tatts.”

Xiao grimaces. “Our?”

You nod brusquely, tugging at his arm. “Yeah, I’m allowed to have matching tattoos with you, ‘cause you’ll never walk out of my life, right, Xiao?”

He’s always been a stubborn little shit, so you don’t really expect Xiao to relent as quickly as he does. You nearly stumble to the carpeted floor when he lets you pull him up—faces hovering so close to each other, you nearly choke on your own breath.

It doesn’t help that Xiao has definitely…put in a few inches of height. Back then, you used to tease him a lot for being taller than him, but now?

“Never,” he whispers so softly, you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren't as close to him as you are. “Now drink your stupid honey lemon tea so we can head to the shop.”

About two and a half hours later, you’re sitting on the vacant seats in the shop’s waiting lounge—a familiar sting still sizzling beneath your ribcage from where you had your first matching piece with Xiao permanently inked. You made him swear to have his own ‘XV’ tattoo made on the same place, and he makes good on his promise when he emerges from the workroom, wearing nothing but his dark-washed jeans.

Unlike yourself, you rarely see Xiao in various states of undress. The most skin you could get out of him on most days is the lean muscle of his tattooed biceps, and sometimes those are enough to have you staring dumbly at him for several minutes.

Now, though?

You learn that he has several tattoos on his torso—spread across his skin like patchwork. It makes you wonder if he did some of them himself, or if he had Beidou work on them for him. Still, despite the plethora of new ink stains to gawk at, his weird phoenix tattoo remains as your personal favorite.

Along with the newest piece he got not five minutes earlier—the tattoo he shares with you.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbles, letting you marvel at the perfect roman numerals just below the jut of his ribs. “It’s a good thing Beidou gave it to us free of charge, you know.”

You giggle. “All of my tatts so far have been free of charge.”

“That’s only because you’re special to me,” Xiao sighs before freezing up in the next moment—like he didn’t mean to let that slip aloud.

You smirk. “Mm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Fuck off.”

06.

Much to Xiao’s disappointment, your shitty taste in men doesn’t exactly end with Yin.

About three months after getting the tattoo to commemorate your fifteen years of best friendship, you meet Kaeya. He’s an exchange student, and you know better than to form any sort of attachment to someone who isn’t going to be in the same continent as you by next year.

But you let him in anyway.

You allow Kaeya to get to know you in ways that not even Xiao is familiar with. The smooth-talking foreigner likes to kiss every single one of your tattoos—lamenting the fact that they’re all inked in spots hidden from view. You laugh every time he brings it up, saying your parents are going to kill you and Xiao if they saw any of the pieces your best friend did for you over the last six years.

“That best friend of yours…” Kaeya muses once he’s done bringing you to paradise and back, smoking a cigarette that makes you wrinkle your nose with distaste. He would’ve been perfect, if only he wasn’t such a chronic chainsmoker. “He’s in love with you, isn’t he?”

You nearly fall off the bed at his bold declaration.

“W-What the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer. Xiao? In love? With you?

Kaeya shrugs. “I dunno, sweetheart. If I was a tattoo artist, I wouldn’t let anyone freeload my craft as many times as you did—even if you are my best friend. Unless I was down fucking bad for you, of course.”

Xiao doesn’t like Kaeya, but the reasoning behind it is a bit different from why he doesn’t like your ex. He knew Yin wasn’t a good match for you. Kaeya, though? The two of you had inarguable chemistry. The only problem was he was a free spirit that didn’t like to be tied down by commitments—something you clearly struggle with.

When you reassured Xiao that Kaeya is nothing but a way to scratch a passing itch, he merely scoffed and told you to do whatever you wanted.

Could his dismissiveness be because…he’s in love with you?

That can’t be right. You’re the one who knows Xiao best. If he hypothetically does catch feelings for someone—much less, you—you’ll surely be the first to notice, right?

Right?

Kaeya chuckles before tracing the XV tattoo along your ribcage with a cold finger—almost like he’s teasing. You roll your eyes before crawling back on top of your midnight lover, kissing him just to shut him up.

When you drop by Beidou's the next day, Xiao is nowhere to be found.

“Didn’t he tell you?” She gapes. “Our boy’s starting his own shop downtown! He had the soft launch and everything a week ago. I was wondering where you were.”

“Uh…”

You’re not sure how to break the news that Xiao has been giving you the cold shoulder ever since you got together with Kaeya. But finding out that he put up his own tattoo parlor without even telling you?

If Kaeya turns out to be right, and your best friend really was in love with you, he sure as hell wasn’t acting like it.

Deciding to play along with whatever game he’s playing, you make an appointment to get a new piece inked under a fake name. Xiao accepts it right away and schedules you for an early evening slot. You make it a point to arrive twenty minutes late just to get a rise out of him.

When he sees you at the entrance to his shop, you almost let yourself feel smug about the unadulterated surprise on his face. Almost. You’re still pissed off that he didn’t invite you to one of the most important milestones of his life.

He fulfills your request in silence—the French word for green inked unassumingly on the underside of your shoulder blades. Xiao doesn’t say a word about his evasiveness, nor does he address the fact that you, his literal best friend, are standing in the shop he’s kept a secret for god knows how long.

When he still refuses to talk, you slam your payment on top of a nearby table—intent on storming out of the building even if he hasn’t wrapped your newest piece in a protective layer of plastic yet. Xiao barks that he doesn’t want your fucking money, and you end up throwing your hands in the air, asking:

“Then what the hell do you want?”

You expected him to blow up in a fitful of rage. He’s never been good at anger management, you knew this well. But instead, he crosses the distance separating the two of you and crushes your mouths together.

“You,” he whispers hoarsely, desperately against your lips. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Kaeya calls you multiple times that night—even leaves a text message asking where you are and if you’re free. You aren’t able to answer any of them though. Not when you’re busy being railed into the next life by your best friend of fifteen—going sixteen—years in the same bed that Kaeya just had his way with you a week ago.

When Xiao’s lips graze each and every tattoo he personally inked onto your pliant body, it’s leagues different from when Kaeya does it. It’s like your best friend is leaving a trail of fire sizzling beneath your skin everywhere his mouth trails along your hypersensitive flesh.

Even the way he makes you fall apart from a blistering orgasm is ten times more intense than every session you had with Kaeya and Yin combined.

There’s no affection nor is there adoration in Xiao’s gaze as he fucks into you—golden eyes fueled by something carnal and zealous, but you knew better than to call that love.

When morning comes, Xiao isn’t here with you, and you don’t know which emotion to feel.

Kaeya, at least, has the decency to leave a note whenever he has to depart early. But all that your best friend leaves you with is a sinking feeling in your stomach, and a glaring realization that you did not want to make when you’re crying all alone in your apartment at the crack of dawn.

Kaeya was wrong. Xiao isn’t in love with you.

You’re in love with Xiao, and you immediately know you’re in deep fucking shit because of it.

07.

It’s two weeks into your mission of complete radio silence when Xiao finally breaks.

You’re in the middle of a pharmacology lecture when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You knew it wasn’t Kaeya because he’d already packed his things last week and headed back to his home country. The bastard even asked you for a quick farewell fuck, but you turned him down right away and gave him a kiss goodbye instead.

When you find out it’s a text message from the same person you’ve been trying to avoid all this time, you’re all too quick to parse through its contents.

Xiao: I'm sorry. Can we talk?

That’s how you wind up standing right outside of his new tattoo parlor.

You haven’t been able to take a good look at it the last time you were here—too frustrated with your best friend to really make sense of your surroundings. But he’s put up his new shop in a pretty good part of town. You wonder how Xiao managed to afford it all.

Then again, he’s been working at Beidou’s shop for years. You knew he had a decent number of regulars, as well as potential clients that are highly interested in his work.

For once, you let yourself be proud of him. Even if he didn’t put your name on the guest list for his soft launch.

Xiao looks a little sheepish when he lets you inside and flips the sign on the front door to give the two of you some privacy. You aren’t faring any better. The last time you saw him, he was balls-deep inside of you—fucking you like you’re the most despicable woman in the world.

“So there’s this…collage piece I wanted to try,” he starts, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Of course when Xiao invites you over to talk, you shouldn’t have expected any actual talking to take place. That’s just not his style. He’d rather make up for whatever mistakes he made by inking another stupid tattoo on your body, but honestly? You’ll take whatever you can get.

When you saw his sketch of a Statue of David peppered with four-leaf clovers, you couldn’t even dream of parsing the meaning behind the piece. The only thing that makes you relent is an old memory of you and Xiao hunting for four-leaf clovers in your mother’s garden—even putting the effort to plant whatever you could find in a pot in hopes that they would grow bigger.

It takes him hours to complete the entire thing. This one is probably the most realistic piece he’s done for you, and you can’t help but watch the intense concentration on his face through the mirror on the wall as he inks it a few inches above the last tattoo he did for you.

You’ve never really realized how…breathtaking he looks like this.

His fringe falling across his pretty gold eyes, the comfortable set of his jaw as he focuses on his work, and the soft slope of his cupid’s bow despite how harsh the words that come out of his mouth can be.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You really are in love with this guy.

When he’s finally satisfied with his work, Xiao puts down his machine before wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow. He already looks so fucking good while he’s working. How is it fair for him to look even more gorgeous right after the entire process?

“Come on, let’s wrap it up,” he says before stretching his limbs. The action makes the cropped shirt he’s wearing ride up his torso a little, and you’re teased with a glimpse of the tattoo he matches with you.

Your heart nearly leaps to your throat, and if it weren’t for the dull sting of your newest tattoo, you would’ve been entranced by the sight of him entirely.

“Sure,” you say, even if your heart is begging for you to just be honest with him. To let him know how you’ve felt all this time because frankly, you can’t keep carrying the weight of your own feelings for much longer.

But then you remember how…apathetic Xiao looked like the night he dared to tell you he wanted you. There was no love to be found in his animalistic gaze, and you fear that he’ll turn you even further away at the slightest hint of more-than-friendly affection from your end.

You can live with this. His fleeting yet heated touches. His deep, piercing stares.

You’ll do anything to preserve what you have with him now—even if that means sacrificing everything else you could still dream of.

08.

Sometimes, you think Xiao is making you hope on purpose.

Sure, your friendship was more or less salvaged after offering your Statue of David tattoo as a quiet apology. You’re back to teasing him for all the most minuscule things, and Xiao is back to being your voice of reason in no time.

These days, though, you don’t really have much time to hang out with him like you usually do. You’re in the last year of your nursing degree, and your shifts at the hospital on top of your regular academic workload render you much too exhausted to catch up with any of your friends. Xiao included.

But there comes a night when he visits you in your apartment when you’re busy studying for a tricky surgery exam—a bucket full of fried chicken, and a bottle of sparkling water in hand. What kind of fiend would turn away an unannounced blessing like that ?

You munch through the midnight snack Xiao brought for you all while forcing him to do your flashcards with you. He knows the drill, anyways. Though he’s been out of school for years, Xiao is still familiar enough with your study habits to be of substantial help during these trying times.

While you’re in the middle of differentiating the different types of sutures, though, he proposes an idea.

“It’s been a while since I inked you with a sewing needle and pen ink, isn’t it?”

You narrow your eyes, taking a swig of your carbonated drink as your gaze flickers to the pseudo-Orion’s belt on your right forearm. The third star has all but faded from view over the years.

“Yeah, why are you asking?”

Xiao rummages through his knapsack for a few seconds before bringing out what seems to be a small sewing kit, and a jar labeled ‘Indian ink’. You gulp in equal parts dread and anticipation.

“I figured out how to make the tatts stay longer,” he says, a gentle smile settling over his face. “You want me to give you a new one? I can even revive good old Orion, too.”

You sigh. Who are you to turn the love of your life down anyway?

Xiao gets to work while you’re lying sideways on your bed, flinching every now and again because he decided to outline the spitting image of the flower vase sitting on top of your nightstand along the curve of your waist.

Unlike your first experience with manual needling, your pain tolerance is much better. The only reason you’re squirming every time Xiao embeds the ink into your skin is because you’re fucking ticklish. All those years of being intimately acquainted with Beidou’s tattoo machine were all the sensory training you needed, it seems.

When Xiao is done with this piece, he pulls you into an upright position, making you hold out your arm so he could resurrect the first tattoo he ever gave you. You roll your eyes, but let him do as he pleases anyway.

At this point, you’ll let him do anything with you.

It’s nearly three in the morning when you’re putting away the dishes and glasses you and Xiao used for the night. He’s kind enough to throw out the trash while you clean up in the kitchen, and when he meets you back in the living room to exchange farewells, you don’t really want him to go.

“You have morning classes tomorrow, right?” he murmurs as he pulls you into a firm embrace, careful not to press down too hard on your new tattoo. “Take care. Don’t burn yourself out too much. All your hard work will be for nothing if you end up keeling over before graduation.”

You can’t help it. The soft timbre of his voice coupled with the fond look in his eyes tears all your defenses asunder. As you look up to meet Xiao’s uncharacteristically doting gaze, your chest twists more and more as you keep yourself from lunging in for a kiss.

“You’re such a pessimist, it’s almost funny how caring you sound,” you chuckle. “Go on, now. Shoo. It’s late.”

Before you can push him out of the door, however, Xiao catches you by surprise when he leans down to peck your lips. You stay frozen in place even as he pulls away—smiling so prettily, you can hardly believe this guy is your perpetually pissed off best friend.

“Good night.”

Unlike the last time he left you all alone in your apartment, you’re filled to the brim with an emotion you can’t quite name. It’s far from the emptiness that made a home in your heart when you thought you were in love with someone who didn’t love you back. But you’re not about to call it happiness either.

Whatever this strange feeling is, you let it sit in your chest for a while longer, and it lingers even when the memory of Xiao’s lips stops prickling against the skin of your own.

09.

On the day of your graduation, Xiao asks you to drop by his shop after the rites have concluded. You tell him that he’s self-centered as fuck, and that this is your day, so if he wants to use your body as a practice canvas again, he’s going to have to wait tomorrow.

You don’t tell him that you’re sulking because he didn’t even show up to congratulate you for surviving four gruesome years of nursing. But you suppose that someone who never went to college in the first place wouldn’t be the best at sympathizing with this particular milestone in your life.

He shows you his latest sketch when you make it to his shop the next morning—and you can’t contain the look of disbelief that colors your features when you realize what it is.

“A bouquet that’ll never wilt,” he chuckles, one finger expertly pointing out the flowers he’s drawn on the neat page. “Orchids and hydrangeas: your favorite. Violets: you press a bunch of these in books every summertime. Pink baby’s breath ‘cause you wouldn’t stop gushing about them at your sister’s wedding.”

You aren’t able to stifle the flattered giggle that spills from your lips. “Can’t believe you actually remember all that. What’s the lily of the valley doing there though?”

“Oh, this?” Xiao hums with one brow raised. “Your mom had lots of them in her old garden. Those are my favorite.”

“And, pray tell, why is your favorite flower going to be permanently tattooed on my body?”

Xiao doesn’t humor you with a verbal answer right away. Instead, he wheels his revolving seat closer to you so that he’s close enough to press your foreheads together. Your breath hitches when his mouth curves into a loving smile you’re starting to get used to seeing.

“Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “Now, are you going to tell me where you want me to ink your eternal bouquet or not?”

10.

You’re a complete sap when it comes to weddings. Everyone knows this.

It’s for that reason that none of your guests are surprised when you end up crying in the middle of exchanging vows with your fiancé. Xiao sighs before taking out a handkerchief from his front pocket, dabbing at the tears streaming down your face. For someone who comes on so tough to other people, you’re awfully sentimental.

“Sorry, sorry—” you sniffle, thanking every single god out there for the invention of waterproof mascara. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

The rest of the session proceeds swiftly. You get to kiss your best friend of more than two decades and call him your husband in front of some friends and family. The matrimonial rites were held in a private resort at the base of a mountain. Both you and Xiao wanted to preserve the intimacy of your wedding as much as you could. After all, you didn’t need all that flashy and grandiose wedding prep to prove to the world just how much you want to spend the rest of your life with Xiao.

Your thoughts stay the same even as he lays you down in the king-sized bed of the cabin you had to yourselves. He sighs in between kisses as he strips you off your wedding garbs. You’re surprised he’s taking his time with you. Xiao has been eye-fucking you since you started walking down the aisle. It was so bad that even Beidou made a few off-hand remarks about the sexual tension during the reception.

“I was thinking,” you breathe as he grinds his hips against yours, “of getting another tattoo. My last one.”

Xiao lifts his head for a moment, one brow arched. “You’re married to a tattoo artist, and you think the tattoo you’re getting after the wedding is your last one? You’re dreaming, princess.”

“Fine. Point taken.” You roll your eyes. “But anyway, I want a dragon tattoo riiiight…here.”

Your husband watches with rapt attention as you guide his hand to the spot you’re talking about—just below the collection of your favorite flowers inked above your waist is a blank stretch of skin. Xiao’s lips twitch into a fond smile as his calloused fingers graze your flesh.

“Still against having showy tatts?” he asks before pressing a soft kiss on the spot you pointed at.

“Mhmm. You see, my dad doesn’t care if I’m married and have my own life. If he sees that I have tattoos, he’s still going to murder me,” you chuckle. “So yeah, tatts are staying under my clothes until he grows old enough and forgets that he hates seeing ink on other people’s skin.”

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

When Xiao ravishes you for the first time as your husband, your chest overflows with love for him. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their best friends by their sides for as long as you did, yet you ended up tying the knot with yours. Although the entire process was more than twenty years in the making, you suppose there’s no point in rushing anything.

After all, Xiao is as permanent in your life just as much as the ink stains on your body.

“Look,” you chuckle once Xiao is done cleaning up in the bathroom and settles down right next to you on the bed, “Kaeya sent us a postcard. He says congrats on overcoming the emotional constipation.”

“Throw that thing away,” your husband grumbles, pulling you away from the pile of postcards on the nightstand. “Why are you even keeping touch with him still?”

“So I can use him as an excuse to get you jealous, and have you fuck me rough?”

“Oh, princess. If you wanted it rough…” he starts with a sigh, rolling his neck with a smirk. You gulp, wondering if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew this time around.

“All you had to do was ask.”

⟢ end notes: it's been a while since i wrote for genshin, so i hope you liked it! thank you sm for reading ^^

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin xiao #xiao fanfic #xiao smut #xiao x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #cryoculus

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lej222 · 5 months ago

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ASLFUA 148 Analysis

I'm so late, but this episode was full of crazy details so I had to go back to the beginning of the story. That being said, be aware of spoilers under the cut:

Let's start with the biggest revelation of the chapter : Miae and Jisu were friends as kids. Many of us saw this coming, but the flashbacks were super cute and raised quite a few questions. In my recent post, I talked about how memories and fate are intertwined in the story. And it feels like I might have been on the right track:

This screenshot is from episode 1! Do we see something strange here? After reading ep148, we definitely do! Miae doesn't simply not remember Jisu, his entire presence was erased from her memories! In all these moments, Jisu was next to her in Jisu's flashback, yet in Miae's memories there's no trace of him at all.

I've said before that Miae clearly tries to reject the fate the unidentified higher power set for her : when she hears its voice, she dismisses it, she forgets her dreams, kicks away the flyers about changing one's car, and it all makes the higher power irritated and more aggressive. From all the signs, it's trying to guide Miae towards Jisu while it says she is too late when it comes to Cheol and she shouldn't have any regrets. Miae ignores and is oblivious to her fate to the point her memories about Jisu were erased! There's absolutely no other way why she has no recollection about him, but remembers everyone else. Memories are indeed tied to fate, and Miae is sabotaging her own destiny! Question is, like I said in my previous post, whether the higher power knows everything best (and some things are set in stone), or Miae will fight it to be with Cheol. Right now, it's impossible for her to remember Jisu without triggering her own fate in the process. More suspiciously, Miae surely would remember a boy who used to be her friend, she herself says it:

Miae remembers the other boy who was her friend, but with the only memory where Jisu appears, we only get a "Who are you?"

Miae called Jisu a magpie in the flashback. Magpies are symbolic animals in Korea, and there's a famous folktale about them, the 'Grateful Magpies'. According to the story, a man one day saw a nest of baby magpies attacked by a large snake. He killed the snake using his bow and arrow, and the parents of the magpies were very grateful. He was later attacked by the wife of the snake and it said he could only survive if the bells of the temple rang 3 times, but it was night. Still, the bells rang and the man survived. He wanted to thank the monks of the temple, only to discover the lifeless bodies of magpies who threw themselves at the bells, along with the parents of the baby chicks. They sacrificed themselves in order to repay the man's kindness.

Aside from the obvious similarity to Jisu's character design, Jisu being called a magpie is also a symbolic choice considering his role in the story.

On the cover of ep148, we see Miae with a bow and an arrow, trying to save the magpies. So in our story Jisu is the grateful magpie who wants to return the favor of her standing up to his bullies. At least he's been trying to. He tried to scold Cheol, but Cheol was not a bad guy. BUT Jisu is aware of something that could get him into real trouble. Jisu has been watching the guy with the mole, Shim, who tried to bully Miae. I'm pretty sure it was also Jisu standing behind him at the physical examination,

he also saw him trying to hit Miae. He even tried to take revenge with the cigarettes. Although I highly doubt Jisu will die, he might get hurt while trying to repay Miae's kindness.

[Miae kicked the boy who confessed to her and bullied both her and Jisu. His tooth fell out and we know one guy in the story who fits the description (Taeuk). Coincidence? Maybe.] -> CORRECTION: it couldn't be Taeuk, the bully had a different name! Shim also has a different name, so it was most likely a random guy!

Jisu sees some men smoking in front of the salon and tells Miae to go inside. One of them (the black-haired one) could be Jisu's father, so the theory that Jisu has a problematic parent might be real.

Jisu being bullied in elementary school is confirmed. We also see him displaying signs of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) from a young age: he appears to be withdrawn, prefers to play alone, appears indifferent to other people, accepts contact if initiated by others but doesn't initiate contact, approaches other children in an unusual way, shows little interest in his peers and doesn't want to play with them, finds hard to understand Miae's thoughts, feelings and intentions.

Looks like Jisu is always being chased by Miae while he wants to run away in every timeline lol. As kids, she was dragging him around to play with them so he wouldn't get bullied, while in the present she wanted to make him study. Poor Jisu never gets a break around her and people were calling him the stalker lmfao

Cheol was the first boy Miae met who didn't use his height to intimidate other children so Miae wanted to show him that she was also capable of protecting herself and others. This is why she fought against the bullies who hurt others, leading to Jisu becoming her friend. I would like to make an important note here: Miae was not imitating Cheol's behaviour, but rather she was inspired by Cheol's noble character. Jisu didn't become Miae's friend becasue she was channeling Cheol, it was because Miae was still her unusual self who acted brave because of Cheol. I received a question about how Jisu must be in love with Cheol because Miae was imitating him, and no, this is a bad take. The story makes it clear Miae and Cheol are different inidividuals, but were uplifted and inspired by each other. Saying Jisu liked the Cheol in Miae diminishes Miae's individual charming and unique qualities, the things that make her unusual in the eyes of other people, similarly to how Jisu is still considered an outcast.

Next chapter Miae might meet up with Cheol, or we will get more Jisu backstory. I wonder if he will play his instruments, he's always listening to music. I guess we will have to wait until next week. :) (Edit: lol I was right he indeed played the guitar😃 how can people hate this kid is beyond me)

#aslfua #after school lessons for unripe apples #theory

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softspiderling · 2 years ago

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we always find a way (to make it out alive) | m.s.s.

Summary: beacon hills holds a lot of bad memories for you. you're still not sure how you let yourself be persuaded to go back.

pairing: Stiles Stilinski x werewolf!reader

warning: reader's parents die, mention of guns

word count: 8,8k (don't even ask, I don't know how it happened)

author's note: hello. i don't want to talk about this, i somehow vomited 8k worth of words about stiles. leave a like/reblog bestie. also, don't forget to come into my inbox to yell at me. thank you to charlotte @stilinskiderek for witnessing my teen wolf obsession rebirth and for listening to my occasional rant.

“We’re going to need to leave in five minutes if you don’t want to be late.”

Theo was standing in the threshold of your room, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. You merely glanced over at him, not even moving an inch. Your feet were resting comfortably on top of your desk as the book you were reading was in your lap.

“I was waiting for you. Wasn’t me who was standing in front of the mirror fixing my hair for like the tenth time. I’ve never seen you this nervous,” you commented dryly, swinging your legs off the desk and standing up.

“I’m not nervous,” Theo said defensively, ducking his head when you reached out to mess up his hair. “I’m just… Tense. It’s weird to be back here.”

“Oh, please. Don’t lie to me. I know you’re nervous and I know why, even though I don’t understand it. It’s just Scott and Stiles.”

“Really.”

You ignored Theo’s pointed look in your direction and turned to put your book in your backpack instead. While Theo was ecstatic to be back in your old stomping grounds, it took him and your brother a while to persuade you to return with them. Your life in Salvador was exactly what you had been building up to, why would you leave it to go back to Beacon Hills? The only thing that you remembered from here was the death of your parents and getting your heart broken in fourth grade. It was safe to say that you weren’t eager to return.

“Aren’t you super nervous to finally see the love of your life again?” Theo teased in a high pitched voice, as predictable as he was, and you only shouldered past him roughly, walking out into the hallway with your backpack in hand. Theo was quick to follow, pestering you for an answer.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

“Oh come on!”

Theo snickered and you knew this was far from being over. You contemplated shoving him down the stairs but it would only be a temporary fix, he’d barely feel it, so you didn’t want to waste your energy on that.

“Brunet guy, moles all over, kind of heavy on the ADHD…”

You only threw a look at Theo over your shoulder, narrowing your eyes at him, daring him to say another word. You had a crush on a guy one time and of course Theo would hold it over your head for the rest of the time. Theo kept nagging you until you reached the front door, where Justin was checking his bag.

“You guys ready? I could give you a lift to school on my way to work,” Justin said, fixing the collar of his jacket.

“When’s my car getting here?” You asked with pursed lips. “I feel like I’m 12 getting dropped off at school by you again.”

“I mean, you could’ve driven yourself if you hadn’t insisted on bringing your own car back to Beacon Hills.”

“Well, it’s called loyalty, Theodore, maybe you could learn a thing or two from me.”

Your voice was biting as you said it, Theo only raised his hands in defense, a knowing smirk on his face and a grin grew on Justin’s face. You sighed internally, cursing yourself for your short temper. Let the teasing begin.

“Oh no, you mentioned the Valentine’s Day of ‘07, didn’t you, T?”

It was the beginning of February when you had started to get the idea of getting Stiles a gift for Valentine’s. He had always been kind to you and always tried to include you when he hung out with Theo and Scott. It wasn’t hard to develop a crush on him, to be honest. He was cute and nice. You were ten, the bar wasn’t that high. You started with leaving Reese’s Pieces with small notes in the pockets of his coat or in his lunch box when he wasn’t looking. Your mother had helped you with most of the notes, since you wanted them to rhyme without sounding too cheesy. The last note, which you had placed on his desk before he arrived to first period, contained a small rhyme about how the color of his eyes reminded you of honey, and to meet you for a Valentine’s picknick at the park later that day. When Stiles stumbled up to his desk a couple of minutes later, he scanned his eyes over the note, unwrapping the honeycomb bar you had left along with the note, taking a huge bite out of it.

“Are you excited to finally meet your secret admirer?” Scott had asked and Stiles grinned toothily at him, almost losing the content of his mouth.

“Yeah! But I’m pretty sure I know who it is.”

Stiles glanced over to you with a huge grin, jerking his chin in your direction and you flushed slightly, waving timidly back at him. You ignored Theo when he slid into his chair next to you, though you could see out of the corner of your eyes that he was hiding a smirk.

“Shut up Theo,” you muttered under your breath, kicking him in the shins under the table. Theo only yelped, glaring at you.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to, I saw it on your face!”

Before Theo could retort, Ms. Davis came into the classroom, starting the first lesson of the day. You turned to the front, your eyes glancing over at Stiles multiple times, watching him as he semi-focused on the lesson, playing with your note in his hand. Around noon, you and Theo raced to the pick-up zone where your mother’s minivan was standing, tumbling into the backseats.

“Hey superstar, hey Theo,” your mother greeted you, leaning over to look back at you as you buckled up. “How was school?”

“Great! I gave Stiles the last note, he was so excited!”

“She blushed!”

“You did?” your mother laughed, winking at Theo. “Well, then I guess the plan’s in its end-phase.”

You discreetly elbowed Theo in the gut, then talking loudly to cover his grunt. “Yep, definitely is! Did you pick up the peanut butter cupcakes from the grocery store?”

“’course I did.”

After your mother dropped of Theo at home, the two of you went home to pack the basket for the picknick. During this time, your heart was almost hammering out of your ribcage and you felt so excited and at the same time you felt like you were about to throw up. When you had the basket all packed up, you made your way over the park with your mom. While you walked over the grass to spread the blanket on the ground, your mother sat down on a bench a couple of feet away. Close enough to be there in a second if something happened, but far enough for you to get the sense like you were there by yourself. It was only a couple of minutes past three pm when you had set everything up.

“Maybe Stiles is just a little late,” you mumbled to yourself, smoothing down your pants, looking around. The park was not as busy as it usually was, some couples walking around, a lone man with his dog, and a handful of kids on the playground. But no Stiles in sight.

After ten minutes, you were growing antsy, telling yourself that Stiles was on his way. After about forty-five minutes, your mother knelt down on the blanket next to you, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

“You okay superstar?”

With a shrug, you plucked at the three-leaf clover you had picked up. “… He’s not coming, is he?”

“I don’t think so, honey. I’m sorry.”

You swallowed quickly, giving your mother a somewhat believable smile. “I’m fine. Let’s just go home.”

“Nah, come on, let’s grab some ice cream on the way home,” your mother said with an encouraging smile. “My treat.”

Together, you packed up all the things and made your way to the ice cream parlor that was just outside the park. Your mother was telling you a story about how her and your dad had spent their first Valentine’s Day, but she suddenly slowed down, glancing inside the parlor. You paused following her gaze, freezing when you looked through the window, your foot stuck mid-air.

Stiles was sitting inside with Lydia, talking animatedly, his ice cream almost falling out of its cone as Lydia only listened half-heartedly, drumming her nails on the table. Despite your assurance to your mum that you were fine, tears sprang into your eyes and you turned on your heel, running the sidewalk back home, your mother calling after you.

You rarely thought back to that day, if you were honest. Most people (read, Justin and Theo) thought it was because of Stiles, and in some ways, it was. You’ve never been humiliated like that before. But really, it was just too painful. That Valentine’s Days was one of the last times you had spent with your mother.

It was only a few days later when your whole world was turned upside down when you were brought out of class by your brother, who had bloodshot eyes, muttering about how your parents were gone. Merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, they were standing in the middle of the grocery store when a robber came in with a gun. Your mother caught a stray bullet to the chest and in a panic, the robber had shot your father as well when he had cried out in shock.

There was a high possibility that you associated Stiles with the death of your parents and in another universe, you might have gotten over that rejection and stayed friends with Stiles; you didn’t even know if he had seen you that day, but alas. You had isolated yourself from most kids in your class except for Theo, and only a few months later, Justin turned 21 and the two of you left Beacon Hills.

Only to return, 7 years later, for whatever reason.

With some disdain, you stared at Beacon Hills High when your brother stopped in front, with the engine still running. Theo was already getting out of the car in the backseat, but you remained frozen in your seat.

“You know you’re going to have to get out at some point, right?”

You puffed out a breath, glancing over at Justin, who looked at you with a mixture of amusement and worry.

“Do I have to?”

Justin paused. “You don’t have to, but you want to go to college, right? Your senior year of high school is kind of crucial for that.”

Right, that.

Pulling a face, you opened the door with a sigh, getting out of the car. Even after you closed the passenger door, Justin didn’t drive off, watching you.

“Don’t forget we have that meeting with the alpha later, don’t be late.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t worry about it,” you said off-handedly and Justin nodded slowly.

“Hey, you know you’re gonna rock it, right sup-”

“Don’t.”

You cut Justin off with a sharp snap and he leaned back in his seat, giving you a glum look.

“I’ll see you later.”

With that, Justin pulled away from the side-walk and you turned to walk inside the building, Theo was just waiting by the entrance. He was raising his eyebrows at you in question, but you only shook your head, walking to the principal’s office. After getting your transfer papers sorted and getting your class schedule, you and Theo walked to the lockers, stacks of books in hand.

“I have science now, but we’ll see each other in Calculus and for lunch,” Theo said as he looked at his class schedule. You on the other hand were trying to put your books into the locker somewhat organized.

“You know you can just throw them in, right?”

“I’m not a heathen, Theo.”

Theo only rolled his eyes good-naturedly, only wincing a bit when the bell rang.

“Alright, I gotta go. Try to make some friends, yeah?”

You only gave him a look, Theo saluted to you before he turned on his heels to walk to his classroom. With a sigh, you gave up on neatly stacking your books and tossed the rest of them in the locker, only grabbing the book for econ and headed to the second floor, where your first class was going to be. You weaved your way through the crowd, already being accustomed to block out loud, unnecessary noise to keep yourself sane. Overstimulation was no joke. Luckily, your classroom was the first to your right when you reached the second floor and you took the desk in the last row. As the rest of the class filed in, you flipped your book open, not paying any attention to the class until the teacher, Coach Finstock, apparently, took to the front. He was waiting for the class to settle down as the classroom door opened yet again. You turned back to your back, tuning out the conversation, the smell of peanut butter and honey suddenly filling your nostrils. Scrunching your nose, you leaned back in your seat when someone dropped in to the empty chair in front of you somewhat clumsily. He stretched his arms, rather obnoxiously, if you might add and it was obvious that the smell of peanut butter and honey that was wafting over to your nose came from him. Unable to sit still, he bounced his leg and you narrowed your eyes at his back, like his restlessness was contagious. He drummed his fingertips on the desk and he just kept fidgeting! Almost like-

“Stiles.”

“Huh?”

Stiles whirled around to look at you because apparently you had said his name out loud. He looked at you with furrowed eyes, before recognition dawned on his face. He opened his mouth, surely to say something along the lines of Oh my god, how long has it been? but Coach interrupted him, knocking on his desk.

“Stilinski, what’s the definition of supply and demand?”

With one last glance over his shoulder, Stiles turned back to the front to face Coach, who was uncomfortably close to his face. Have the teachers always been this weird?

“Supply and demand? Well…”

When the bell rang to signal the end of first period, you were one of the firsts out of the classroom, though you could hear Stiles grapple himself to his feet to follow you. Even through all the noise of a high school, you could hear Stiles’ voice clear as day, calling after you. You ignored, well, you tried to ignore him, but his voice was ringing in your ears like he was right next to you. This has never happened before. Wincing, you quickened your pace and turned the corner, hoping more distance between you would lessen the volume of his voice in your ears, when you ran straight into someone.

Fuck.

“Shit, sorry, I-” you looked up, trying to clear your head to form a fucking clear sentence when you looked into the concerned face of Scott McCall, because of course that was just your luck. Scott raised an eyebrow at you in question, his eyes flashing red for a split-second, making you flash your golden eyes back at him involuntarily.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re the alpha?”

Scott uttered your name, his voice small, and you knew you were being unfair. He never did anything to you, but if he was the alpha, it meant Stiles was definitely involved in his pack somehow.

“You’re one of the betas Derek was talking about?”

You waved a hand at him, annoyed. “Cora was part of my pack when she was in Salvador, or well… Before she came to Beacon Hills and then came back with her brother in tow.” And then you left with your brother and Theo to come to Beacon Hills. It was like a fucking exchange program.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," you said, feeling guilty for snapping at Scott. "It's just... complicated."

Scott gave you a sympathetic nod and you wondered if he knew about what had happened with Stiles, but before you could say something stupid like ask if he knew why Stiles had gone to grab ice cream with Lydia instead of meeting you on that Valentine’s Day, Stiles appeared at his side, looking slightly out of breath. You avoided his gaze, though you kept your chin high.

"Hey," Stiles said, a small smile on his face. The way he said your name made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Really? Still?

“It’s been a while.”

You forced a smile back, trying to keep your voice even. "Yeah, it has."

Scott and Stiles exchanged a glance, sensing the tension between you. "Well, we should probably get to class," Scott said, breaking the awkward silence. "See you around.”

“Wha-- hey, I wanted to catch up with her-” Stiles protested as Scott grabbed him by the arm to drag him along. You could hear Scott whisper distinctly under his breath before Stiles exclaimed a loud: “What?!”

You could only imagine that Scott had told him what he had just found out and with a deep sigh, you straightened your shoulders. Onwards and upwards, right? Before you headed to your next class, you stopped by your locker on the way to grab the books you needed, trying to get your head straight with the class material. Surprisingly, it wasn’t even that hard to keep up. You were worried that transferring in the middle of the school year would set you back a couple of weeks if not months, but somehow you were ahead of the class material, as your school in Salvador kept a much tighter and quicker schedule. By the time lunch period rolled around, you were far more relaxed than at the beginning of the school day, considering you had overcome your biggest fears.

Following the rest of the class, you let them guide you to the cafeteria. After grabbing a sandwich and some water at the counter, you followed Theo’s scent through the cafeteria, but you stopped in your tracks when you saw Theo sitting with - you guessed it - Scott and Stiles. There were a handful of people sitting at their table, you weren’t familiar with most of them, though the head of strawberry-blonde hair stuck out to you. Theo leaned over the side, lifting his hand for a wave and you only gave him a look, before turning on your heel, away from them. You could hear Theo’s chair scraping against the linoleum floor as he pushed it back.

“Hey, what’s her problem?” Stiles asked and Theo only sighed in exasperation.

“Come on buddy, seriously? Keep up.”

By the time Theo caught up with you, you were sitting outside at an unoccupied table, picking at your sandwich.

“Seriously? Next time slam the cafeteria doors when you exit, it’ll be even more dramatic,” Theo huffed as he dropped on the bench across from you. You barely acknowledged him as you opened your water bottle.

“Just trying to have my lunch in peace.”

Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hey, I know you hate Stiles-”

“I don’t hate Stiles,” you interjected, heated. “I just don’t really want to spend all of my free time around him and Scott. What’s wrong with that?”

Finally, you lifted your head to look at him but Theo only narrowed his eyes at you.

“… You know Scott is the alpha right?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I found out this morning. I bet you’re fucking ecstatic.”

“I mean, it helps that the alpha is someone we know and used to be friends with. It’ll be much easier to fit into his pack. But you really need to work on your people skills.”

“Me?” you bristled, but when Theo raised an eyebrow, you puffed out a defeated breath. “Fine. I’ll play nice. But I am not going to be part of their clique.”

“… That’s kind of exactly what you’re going to have to do.”

“Jesus, Theo you’re so annoying,” you moaned, standing up to leave the table. You threw your sandwich wrapper and the empty water bottle in the trash, reluctantly waiting for Theo as your next class was with him anyway. He shouldered his backpack, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Cheer up. I think this is going to be great.”

You gave a grunt of dissent. Luckily, the rest of the school day went by mostly uneventful and by 4 pm, you were walking out of the school building towards Justin’s car that was standing by the curbside.

“Hey, how was your first day?” Justin asked as soon as you got in the car, Theo climbing in the back.

“Pretty sure she is contemplating whether she should become an omega,” Theo quipped, unhelpfully as usual and Justin only looked at you quizzically.

“Scott McCall is the alpha.”

“The floppy haired one? Who has asthma?”

“Had, I guess. And yeah, the very same.”

Justin nodded slowly and it was clear that he had more to say, but he chose not to. He gave you a side eye, knowing the implications but your glare shut him up.

“So, how was your first day at your new law firm?”

Thankful for the topic change, you settled back into your seat as Justin launched into the recap of his day as he drove the three of you home. When you finally got home, you didn’t waste a second to get out of the car.

“We’re gonna leave in an hour or so,” Justin called after you when you were already halfway into the house.

“Yeah yeah,” you said absentmindedly, not even raising your voice. You knew he could hear you. “Just get me when it’s time.” You shut your door behind, wanting some privacy before you had to go show your face again. With a deep sigh, you fell headfirst into your bed, hoping you’d smother yourself. However, you couldn’t even do that in peace, when your phone suddenly vibrated. Rolling on your back, you slipped your phone out of your pocket, to see a new text from an unknown number.

[unknown]: hey, scott decided to hold the meeting at his house, instead of the vet practice, since it’s you

You frowned at the screen when the phone vibrated again with the arrival of the another text.

[unknown]: its stiles btw :))

Irritated, you tossed the phone on the pillow. How did he even get your number? And why was he the one telling you about the change of location, instead of Scott? You really contemplated leaving Stiles on read, but you remembered what Theo had said to you earlier. So you picked up your phone and texted him back.

[me]: Okay, thanks for letting me know

Stiles’ answer was almost immediate.

[unknown]: no prob!!

Your finger was hovering in the air and the question as to how Stiles got your number in the first place grated you.

[me]: How did you get my number anyway?

The ellipsis showed up, meaning Stiles was typing, before they disappeared again. You frowned, staring at the text chain before Stiles finally replied.

[unknown]: got it from cora. hope thats okay.

You groaned bumping your fist against your forehead, because of course it was fucking Cora putting her nose in your business all the way from Salvador. You swiped out of the text chain, opening the one with Cora.

[me]: why tf did you just give stiles my number without warning me first??

[cora]: i thought it’d be funny and i was right

[cora]: give him a kiss from me

[me]: I hate you

[cora]: no u don’t

You glared at your phone and exited the text chain, your phone almost slipping out of your hand when it vibrated again.

[unknown]: i just asked her bc i thought it’d be the most convenient way of contacting you. i wasnt stalking, i promise

[me]: Sure you weren’t.

[unknown]: i couldve asked one of my dads deputies to find out your address and shown up on your door instead

[me]: That’s abuse of power and I’m pretty sure your dad wouldn’t approve.

[me]: But I guess this is better

[unknown]: seeeee

You couldn’t help yourself to smile at the almost easy conversation you had with Stiles, and suddenly you remembered why you had liked him so much. But this was not you liking him again, this was just you trying to brush up on your people skills, like Theo had suggested. You were brought back to reality when your phone vibrated again.

[unknown]: i dont wanna keep you any longer, ill see you later :))

Exhaling, you dropped your phone on your stomach, feeling like you didn’t really have to reply to him. If exchanging only a few messages would have you grinning like an idiot already, how would fare with being a fucking pack with Stiles? God this was going to be so much harder than you thought.

“-ery full moon, just to be together. You don’t have to join us, but I think it would be nice.”

You had tuned out most of the conversation ever since you walked into Scott’s house, figuring Justin and Theo would just tell you the most important information you had missed. Scott’s pack was…. Unconventional, to put it lightly. The first thing you noticed is that the whole pack seems to consist of teenagers. Justin would be the oldest one by almost pushing 30. The second thing is that, somehow, most of the pack weren’t even werewolves, actually, there were only really 2, Scott and Isaac. Kira was a Kitsune, Lydia a banshee and Malia, Derek and Cora’s cousin apparently, was a werecoyote. Allison and Stiles were plain humans, even though Allison labelled herself as a hunter, which really raised the hairs on the nape of your neck, though you deemed her alright. For now.

“Have you guys always been weres?” Isaac asked, his arms crossed as he sat on the arm chair, legs thrown over the arm rests. “I remember you from middle school.”

“No. We got the bite in Salvador. Mariana kind of took us under the wing when we first got there and somewhere along the way, she offered us the bite and we accepted,” Theo said, shrugging his shoulders a bit. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

“And your parents?”

Theo leaned back on the couch, his facial expression not moving a bit but you could tell that Stiles managed to get under his skin with basically the only thing Theo considered his weakness. You figured that the other weres might pick up on his comfort, but it was subtle. Theo was pretty good at masking his emotions.

“We’re not really in contact anymore. They took my sister’s death pretty hard.”

The fact that they barely acknowledged that they had another child went unsaid.

“Justin’s my legal guardian. From both of us, I guess,” Theo added, with a quick glance at you. That lead to the everyone else look at you too and you growled under your breath at the unwanted attention.

“I don’t really have anything to add.”

Theo kicked your foot making you growl, and you flashed your eyes at him, as he merely flashed his blue eyes back at you.

“O-kay!” Stiles suddenly yelped, jumping up with hand clap. “How about we get some food now? Time for food, we got a bunch of wolves here, I’m sure you’re starving. I could definitely eat. Scotty?”

“Uh sure, yeah. That’s a good idea actually. Do you guys want to stay for dinner?” Scott asked, an eyebrow raised.

Justin lifted his head, dropping them again. “Sure. It’d be nice to get to know the pack a little better, right?” He looked at you pointedly and you suppressed a grunt.

“Right.”

“We could order pizza, what about Gino’s?” Isaac suggested and Kira shook her head.

“They don’t deliver.”

“It’s fine, Lydia and I can go pick it up,” Allison said, standing up and pulling Lydia with her. She had been looking at you for a while and you gave her a somewhat tight smile. Scott gently touched Allison’s elbow, smiling at her.

“Thanks guys. I’ll go check for drinks and paper plates.”

“I’ll help!”

You coughed kiss-ass into your hand and Theo only glared at you over his shoulder as he followed Scott into the kitchen. Justin stood with a sigh, giving you a rather heavy look as he walked over to Kira, starting up a conversation with her. You suppressed the want to flee the house and seek comfort somewhere, when a scuffle between Malia and Stiles caught your attention. She was rather persistent, trying to push a hoodie into his hands which he vehemently tried to give back.

“-Iles, I don’t want it anymore.” Malia said, annoyed. “Just take it, your stench is taking over my room.”

“You guys are together?” It just slipped out, more than anything, and you fought the blush that was threatening to appear on your cheeks. Malia looked at you for a split second and you feared she’d call you out, before she merely shook her head.

“Not anymore,” Malia replied and you raised a surprised eyebrow at Stiles.

“So you got over your crush on Lydia, huh?”

“How long have you had a crush on Lydia?” Malia grunted and Stiles flushed, but before he could answer, you butted in.

“Pretty sure that’s like 7 years in the making, right?”

“It’s not ongoing,” Stiles insisted. “Lydia and I are friends.”

The embarrassment was rolling off of him in waves you could basically taste it so you figured you’d let him off the hook, even if you didn’t truly believed him. Turning away, you effectively clinked yourself out of the conversation ignoring how Malia was growling at Stiles before she disappeared. You were checking your phone, acting mostly disinterested but you could hear Stiles’ heart beating a mile a minute before he awkwardly sat down next to you.

“So, you know Cora and Derek, huh?”

Glancing up from your phone, Stiles was eyeing you, his face neutral but his eyes twinkling.

“Cora more than Derek. She’s pretty much my best friend apart from Theo that shithead.”

I heard that!

Ignoring Theo from somewhere in the house, you settled back against the couch, dropping your phone on the couch. Stiles perked up as you seemed you divert your whole attention to him.

“I miss Cora. I’m pretty sure she missed me too. Did she say anything about me?” Stiles asked and you gave him a look.

“She said you’re annoying.”

Stiles jutted his lower lip out, a frown creasing his forehead. Was he pouting?

“… She said it fondly,” you added slowly and Stiles brightened up again, straightening his shoulders. It was odd but even though you were the werewolf out of the two of you, he seemed to be acting more like a puppy.

“I knew it!” Stiles crowed. “The Hales seem to think they have an impenetrable wall of grumpiness but I’ve managed to worm my way into all of their heart nevertheless.”

Somehow, you couldn’t really imagine Stiles and Derek getting along.

“Even their psycho uncle Peter?”

Stiles winced at the question. “No, we don’t talk about Peter. I just ignore him most of the time and pretend he’s still dead.”

Right, that happened. You really hoped that the craziness around here has died down or else you’d have to seriously talk to Justin about staying in Beacon Hills.

Pleased, Stiles settled back against the corner of the couch.

An odd scent started wafting over to you from Stiles. It was something you weren’t quite familiar with. It wasn’t completely new but not exactly a common scent either, so it took you some thinking to recognize it, of course it didn’t help that Stiles was talking like his life depended on it.

“- and then he just left for London? I mean, how crazy is that? Werewolf in London, cuz that’s totally gonna work out.”

Stiles snorted and you blinked at him, having missed 90% of what he just talked about.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I kind of enjoy not having Jackson-” Jackson! “- around anymore, believe it or not but he’s gotten 200 times more insufferable ever since he got the bite. But what the hell is a werewolf doing in London without an alpha or a pack?”

You still had no freaking clue what the scent was and you were that close from breaking down. Luckily, you were interrupted before you could grab Stiles to shake him and ask him what he was feeling.

“Pizza is here!” Scott called and you heard tell tale sign of a car coming down the block as Scott opened the door to help Allison and Lydia carry the pizzas in. You moved to stand up but Stiles laid a hand on your shoulder, gently stopping you.

“I got it. Artichokes and extra cheese, right?”

Dumbly, you nodded, sitting back on the couch as Stiles got up, as everyone started swarming around the pizzas. As everyone started dispersing again, Stiles returned with two pizza boxes, handing one to you before he opened his own - classic pepperoni. When you opened your box, it was indeed a pizza topped with artichoke and extra cheese. You hadn’t even bothered to tell anyone what you wanted, you were fine with eating whatever pizza they brought back, but how did Stiles remember your pizza order? Theo could have ordered the pizza for you but Stiles never exchanged a word with Theo after Allison and Lydia left to get the pizzas, so he must have remembered it, back when you used to get pizza at his place. Even now, with you almost graduating from high school, you still had no idea what to make of Stiles.

“Thanks. I didn’t think you’d remember how I like my pizza,” you blurted out and Stiles paused, glancing at you with a mouthful of pizza. He swallowed, almost choking before he answered.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s my ADHD. I can remember a lot of unnecessary things.” His eyes widened. “Not that your pizza order is not important, but-”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted him with a small smile. “I remember small things, too. Reese’s and Honeycomb, right?”

Stiles’ lip parted and there was that scent again, so strong it nearly clouded over the rest of your senses. When you noticed Theo staring over at you with an curious look, you finally realized what the scent was.

Affection.

That was what you were smelling on Stiles.

But you knew that Stiles liked you, right? You were friends before your parents died, it was nothing new. This is like, your friendship blossoming again. You gave him a small, rather shy, smile, before taking a slice out of your pizza. Maybe this pack wasn’t so bad after all. You could do this, right? Being friends with Stiles? That was easy. As long as you didn’t slip up into the crush realm again, everything was going to be fine.

Over the next few weeks, your integration into the pack and their friend group at school was a slow but gradual process. Back in Salvador, you used to study for class with your packmates as it helped you focus on your work. Sometimes it ended up just being you and Stiles, since you were the only ones who took AP English Literature and AP Chemistry. Well, Lydia took them, too, but apparently she was too good for studying with Stiles and you, at least that was what he told you.

“I feel like my brain is leaking fluids,” you moaned, burying your face in your text book. It was nearly four pm and the sun was just blazing outside, while you and Stiles had been studying for the past couple of hours.

Stiles lifted his head off his desk, squinting at you. “Oh my god, same.”

“Do you have a hose in the backyard? I swear, if you’re going to make a dog joke, I’m going to kill you but spraying ourselves down could help with cooling down.”

“Or we could get ice cream,” Stiles suggested and you hummed. “It seems less waterboard-y and we haven’t eaten in like, five hours. I don’t know if you remember but there’s a pretty good ice cream place down by the park, Salt & Straw? And-”

“What did you just say?”

Your tone was sharp when you interrupted him, lifting the text book off of your face as Stiles paused at the hostility in your voice and he glanced over at you, salty nervosity wafting over to you.

“I just figured we’ve been studying for a while, and I could do ice cream. Salt & Straw is the best ice cream place around but if you want-”

“I gotta go,” you suddenly said, your shoulders tight. Stiles’ nervosity suddenly changed, turning sour and you could tell he was upset, but really what the hell did he expect? You avoided looking at him as you collected your things, stuffing them in your backpack, while he was only watching from where he was sitting at his desk.

“Right,” he said flatly and when you looked up at him, his eyes were sad. Turning away, you were glad that he wasn’t privy to all the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling: sad, angry and resentful. Resentful at Stiles because he brought up the very same ice cream place that he was meeting Lydia at while ditching you; angry at yourself for still letting this affect you the way it did and sad, mostly because all of this just took you right back to your parents’ death.

“I’ll see you at school then.”

“Sure.”

Even as you said it, you both knew it was a lie. You barely looked at Stiles when you bid your good bye, holding your emotions at bay until you reached the safe confines of your car. You could feel your claws coming in slowly, pricking the inside of your palm. You were usually really good with your control, the only time you could feel it slipping is when you felt like you lost control over your emotions. Starting the car quickly, you just wanted to get as far away from Stiles as possible, hoping that some distance would help. You were driving around aimlessly before you slowly rolled to a stop. You didn’t even know where you’d gone until you looked out of the window, freezing. This was really the last place you had wanted to go. Justin has been here a couple of times since you were back in Beacon Hills and he’d asked you to come with every single time but you refused. With a deep breath. you slowly opened your car door, shutting it behind you before you walked towards the two gravestones. They were shiny and clean, almost like not a single day as passed since the last time you were here.

“Hey mom. Hey dad.”

You stared at their gravestones for a while, shifting on your feet before letting out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry for not coming sooner… I guess I still haven’t really dealt with losing you…” Clearing your throat, you stared into the distance. “I guess it’s not fair of me to associate him to with your death. And maybe I shouldn’t be holding onto things for so long… But it’s so hard being back here without you guys.” Your sentence broke off when a sob escaped your mouth and when you covered your face with your hands, you finally allowed yourself to cry, really cry and mourn for your parents, your brother and yourself. When the sobs slowly turned into small sniffles, you wiped your wet cheeks with the sleeves of your shirt, exhaling deeply. Weirdly, you felt better now that you let it all out, but it was still a bit embarrassing.

“I’m really lost, mom. This thing with Stiles… It’s so complicated. I don’t understand why I got so upset when he mentioned that ice cream shop… I mean. It’s been such a long time. Why did I get so defensive?”

The silence was deafening and logically, you knew that you weren’t going to get an answer. But it felt good to say things out loud so you could process it.

“Do you think I’m so upset because I might have feelings for him?” you then added quietly, picking at a leaf that was laying on the pavement. “That’s stupid, right? I mean, isn’t this where we left off the last time? Ugh,” you groaned, palming your forehead. Why couldn’t life be simpler. If your mom was actually here, she’d know what to do. But she wasn’t, alas, you had to figure it out yourself. Crushing the leaf in your hand like it had personally offended you, you dropped the crushed bits to the floor.

“I guess it’s possible that I have feelings for Stiles…”

While you felt like a stone had lifted off of your chest ever since you’d gone to your parents’ grave, it seemed like you had resorted to your old ways of shutting everyone out. Especially Stiles. You knew you were being unreasonable, and it wasn’t really Stiles’ fault. Well, mostly not his fault. Valentine’s Day was definitely his fault. But you had to get over yourself, had to learn how to deal with your feelings first before you could find a way to be friends with Stiles. But avoiding Stiles was harder than you anticipated, considering you were in the same pack. And apparently, you and Stiles had been spending a lot of time with each other, the others have noticed.

“Did something happen between you and Stiles?”

You would’ve jumped if you hadn’t known that Scott had been standing behind your open locker door for the past five minutes, waiting patiently until you had closed it.

“Define “something”,” you said, shoving your history book into your backpack, while Scott frowned at you.

“You’re avoiding him.”

You sighed, giving Scott a look. “I’m not avoiding Stiles. I mean, we were just studying for the test. Test is over. No more studying. It’s not like something happened,” you said, a tad too defensively. Scott didn’t look convinced, but you really were in no mood to deal with this right now, pushing yourself off the locker when you were done, so you could walk to your next class. Scott apparently, had other plans, as he continued to follow you.

“You were hanging out all the time and now you’re barely around anymore. You missed our last pack meeting,” Scott pointed out. “You know Stiles is my best friend. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

With a scoff, you turned around, making Scott almost run into you with the way he was following you. “Have you ever thought about the fact that it’s not Stiles that is getting hurt in this situation?”

For the first time, you had stunned Scott speechless. Which of course didn’t last long.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, rolling your eyes so hard you almost gave yourself whiplash. “For someone who prides himself on his detective skills, I can’t believe Stiles still hasn’t figured it out.” You only shook your head, continuing on your way, with Scott calling your name after you.

“What does that mean??”

You weren’t sure what exactly about your words had made Scott back off, but something must have worked, since no one in the pack has tried to bother you about the Stiles thing again. While you still kind of tried to hang out with them at school, you kept your distance from Stiles, who seemed weirdly okay with everything, which… Was fine. Kind of stung that he barely took a breather to check with you but it was fine. You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to take you by the hand.

“I’m going out for a run!” you said over your shoulder as you shut the door, plugging your headphones in. Muffled, you could hear some sort of answer but that was enough for you to start your run. You didn’t really have a set route as you liked to take different paths through Beacon Hills, re-acquainting yourself with the town. Today, you had decided to finally tackle the route through the park. It didn’t take you long until you block where the park was located, though you could feel yourself straining the moves to actually walk towards it, but you persisted, swallowing down the bile that seemed to be travelling up your throat.

The park was fairly busy by the time you reached the gates, too busy for you to walk through with a clear head. You contemplated whether you should jog through it or just cut your losses and turn back home, when you caught Stiles’ scent in the air. It was new, too. What was he doing at the park at nine in the morning? On a Saturday, on top of hat? You followed his scent through the park, trying to stay (mostly) on the path and keeping a low profile when you skidded to a stop. With furrowed brows, you tugged your headphones out of your ear, taking in the situation in front of you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Picnicking. I’m picnicking.”

Stiles spread out his arms and your eyes roamed over the picknick blanket where an assortment of snacks was laid out. It looked enough for a small army, and he was looking at you with a hopeful expression on his face, which… Really made it all worse, as angry tears started brimming in your eyes.

“What the fuck is this?” you snapped at him and his eyes widened, his smile dropping quickly “Is this some sick joke to you?”

“Wha-? No!” Stiles exclaimed, shaking his head. “I just thought-”

“No, Stiles, you weren’t thinking! This isn’t funny. At all. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

You had tried to keep your voice even, but it cracked so obviously, your cheeks were burning in embarassment. Turning away, you blinked the tears away, but before you could make any move to leave, Stiles grabbed you by the shoulder.

“Wait! Please…”

You knew it wouldn’t take a lot to unwind yourself from Stiles’ grip, but he sounded desperate, his heart beating so loudly it sounded like it was right next to your ear.

“Whatever you think this is, that’s not what I’m doing. I promise,” he said quickly, dropping his hand from your shoulder as you glared at it. Stiles fumbled nervously with his hands. “Shit,” he cursed breathlessly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought this would be so much easier…” Stiles took a deep breath, looking at you. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know doing this is like slapping me across the face?” you asked, bewildered.

“No!” Stiles exclaimed. “I didn’t… I didn’t know it was you… My secret admirer. In middle school.”

What?

You only stared at him, too shellshocked to say anything else.

“I thought it was Lydia. That’s why I took her out for ice cream, I didn’t know that it was you.”

“You said you knew who it was and looked straight at me while you said it.”

Stiles winced. “Yeah… Clearly my detective skills weren’t as sharp as I’d like to believe back then… I think got a suspicion when you remembered that I liked honeycomb. No one knows I like honeycomb. And when you reacted so hurt when I brought up that ice cream parlor… I didn’t put it all together myself. I asked Theo and he confirmed my suspicion…” he trailed off, his head low. “I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m sorry I brought up bad memories with the ice cream place… I know your parents passed away shortly after, it must have been pretty shitty. I just wanted to get to know you again. Be close. I missed you. I always thought we kind of lost touch when you moved away, but now I remember that you pulled away even before that… I’m really sorry.”

You gaped at him, your eyes furrowed. He was…. Sorry? Your anger slowly melted away, leaving you mostly confused. “Oh… Um… It’s okay, I guess. It was so long ago. It’s not your fault my parents died and everything related to Beacon Hills just reminded me of them… I’m still working on that…” you gave him a small smile. “It’s really nice that you did this,” you started, wincing when Stiles’ face fell yet again. “But I think I need some more time till I figure out how to be friends with you without all these confusing feelings.”

“Wait, what feelings?” Stiles interjected, frowning.

You flushed. “Oh come on, you have to know.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at you, watching your face for a minute before his face slackened, when he realized. His eyes widened a little and he stared at you, somehow, that made you flush even more.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh.

Stiles beamed at you, for some reason, he looked absolutely fucking pleased. Figured he’d act like an idiot about it. You only rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t let it get to your head. I’ll get over it eventually.”

“Why would you-” Stiles paused, eyeing you in disbelief. “You don’t know. How don’t you know? You’re a were, how do you not know?”

“Know what?” You asked, getting irritated. You didn’t appreciate how Stiles was questioning your abilities. Stiles didn’t reply, he only took a step towards you. Instinctively, you took a step back, making him roll his eyes at you.

“What are you doing?” you asked hotly and he only grinned at you, curling his hand around your waist, pulling you close. Your eyebrows rose a little when Stiles pressed his lips against yours, before you grabbed him by the nape of his neck, kissing him back.

Holy shit.

After a while, you pulled away, a little breathless.

“You all caught up now?” Stiles asked, like the little shit he was, and you frowned at him, poking his chest.

“You like me?”

“Oh great, you are all caught up now.”

“How was I supposed to know??”

Stiles gave you an incredulous look. “Hello? Werewolf? Heightened senses? There’s no way you didn’t smell my affection for you or how nervous I was when I was around you. I thought my heart was beating out of my chest half of the time!”

You were stumped. “I thought you just liked me as a friend.”

Stiles leaned his forehead against yours, muttering obscenities under his breath, but you weren’t listening to him, instead you were listening to his erratic heartbeat, which you had always interpreted normal for him, but apparently, it wasn’t. How did you read all of this so wrong?

“You are never going to let me live this down, are you?” you finally realized, exasperated and Stiles only shook his head, pursing his lips.

“Nope, never. I will forever remind you of this.”

As you looked at Stiles, his eyes twinkling with glee, you realized that maybe forever didn’t sound half as bad.

#stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski fanfic

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je11ybe4r · 1 year ago

Text

random assortment of astarion hc to try to jog my brain into writing again

warning: uh probably gonna be centered around astarion and my durge bc i am what you call obsessed sorry 😞 i'll try to keep them gender neutral as possible so you can imagine for yourself

oh and also probably nsfw warning and assuming non ascended astarion cause i said so ??

let's begin

Body worship. Istg no matter if it's him worshiping you or you're worshiping him. Kissing all your moles and scars and vise versa. Mm lowkey just want that ascended astarion scene for my non ascended Star.

honestly probably not of a cuddler at first despite his cheeky comments about cuddling. I can see him liking the idea but the actual act is a little odd at first. But i imagine he warms up to it and finds himself yearning for more. Stroking your hair and tracing your skin. i also imagine he enjoys soft kisses on his back where only he can feel your presence.

hair petting or scalp massages i think he would die for. honestly any kind of touch he'd just melt into. I just want to give this man head pats like a little cat frrrrr

speaking of cats this slut (lovingly) is such a sunbather like any crack and stream of sun he is soaking it up like a sponge. i imagine he drinks up warmth like it's blood. and this goes to your warmth as well.

especially post tadpole extraction where he can no longer dabble in sunlight extravaganza's, your warmth is delectable. like a warm fire, he loves to feel your skin on his own. Although deep down he feel's guilty, sapping your heat only to return nothing but cold and ice.

nsfw time. i imagine he is such a giver. such a service top. he said wants to give you all he can. such a man of praise, whether he is giving and receiving it. Drinking up your taste.

consent king as well, let's not forget that. he only does things that are explicitly told, but perhaps he pushes those boundaries a smidge by the power of suggestion. though unless you're totally on board, he is patient.

short but this is all i got for now. thank you for coming to my ted talk and if you like my rambles perhaps i'll do more :3

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #my tav #baldur's gate 3 tav #bg3 tav #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #he's my sweet little angle

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hel-phoenyx · 2 months ago

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New Year's Eve, part 15 (we're nearing March but shhhhh)

An ongoing story with @corneille-but-not-the-author and @soupedepates

I'm sat at my desk, like every days since forever. Cops don't get sick leav for emotional turmoil now, do they. Would be better if they did. Less sickos in the police.

Not even in the mood to be snarky. Amandine commented on how scarce my witty remarks (well, she called that insults and sarcasm) became, and the new one, Dal, I call him Dal, is looking at me weird. He kinda is the only one I talk to because he's the only one not mentioning this shitty rumor.

Job's getting hard. I have files after files to take care of now that Sigismund's on sick leave, Walpurgis told me that since I was the one patrolling with him the most this days I had to pick up the slack the most efficiently. Ha. Just try to shower me in work, I see you, bastard.

It worked the first few days. Took care of the investigation with the sect, talked with Iekaterina le Patriote, Found some leads, but nothing tangible. Then the work started to die down.

And I had no one to talk through the idle.

I open my Instagram. Hector has a new picture. It's him smiling with a giant hot chocolate (that man always had a sweet tooth), probably sitting on a stool since his head is at the same level as Tyr's. Tyr who is sticking his tongue at the camera with a bored expression, his prosthesis stuck in the middle finger.

He's wearing one of those silly shirts he always had on at some point. This one is saying "Autistic powered fuck machine". Way to give a message.

The caption reads "Since mister @/deepseadragon didnt want to go suit shopping with me I'm taking him out of his man cave to drink and he has no choice. Getting tattoos at my shop after that #diy #ifoneofmycolleaguestrytotouchhimiwillbite #nohiddenmeaningiswear". Hector, my man, you are so not subtle I am surprise he still hasn't realised you crush on him since literal middle school.

Well, this is Tyr we are talking about, are we ?

Something taps on my desk. It's Amandine. She's looking at me with her cold eyes. Again.

"Slacking off ?"

"Shut up."

"Wow. No insults this time. You really are unwell, huh ?"

I snarl.

"Why do you care ?"

Eye roll. What, really ?

"Not everyone is out to get you, Wolffsen."

She leaves with that. Right. Not everyone out to get me. Like I will believe that.

Why am I alone if it's the case ?

My phone rings. Oh, it's Idalia. Saying where I saw her the first time would get me immediate prison, people don't do well with blackblockers. But we kept in touch after that. Got her out of a few situations before Walpurgis thought I got too lenient with her. Saw her ex-wife and kid once, tired woman, scared child. Neither of them liked seeing a cop. Can understand that.

"Hey, my man, haven't seen you in events in a while. U good ?"

Sigh. Don't want to, but I should probably explain myself before I lose my "mole" card to her. She would rat me out to the whole group immediatly and guess who would get beaten up by former comrades, forget about the fact I'm giving them all the intel they need ?

"eeeeeeeh, bad couple of months and too tired to care. Still giving intel when I can dw"

"Yeah, got it. Need to vent ? what about your friend, the blonde giant you told me about ?"

"giving me the cold shoulder. did bullshit."

"Damn, tough. can lend you mine if you want."

That kid in political science that hates cops and right-wing politicians except for the future one he wants to fuck ? Met him on some barricades, didn't like him at all. He has the good ideas and actions but his personnality irates me.

I have a grim laugh. Not a damn chance.

"HA ! no."

"lmao I'm not listening to you. Have my own problems. But yk what, can give you the contact info of my therapist. Zuza says it's good when people are payed to hear your bullshit."

A therapist, huh...

May be a good idea, after all.

ironic I'll be the first Wolffsen to see a therapist. The older brothers would be so pissed. Then again, I am a cop, so even though I bring money on the table, and a good amount with that, they have their syrian pride. Can respect that. Can also respect being a disgrace in their eyes for anything I'll do. Always been singled out anyway.

Alright.

Let's look in searching for a therapist.

Later in the day Hector's second instagram post shows a tattoo design, a dragon curled against a leg, his head resting on the ankle. His professional account shows the same but with effects and without the second slide, a blonde man smiling for the first time since forever.

#lysara #lysara ibruael #hel ocs #hel stories #hel writing #not my ocs #lysara modern au #here we go fenrir looking for a therapist as god intended #and some little advances on the plot but Situation first lmao

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k1rameki · 1 year ago

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THE TIME HAS COME EVERYONE. ITS TIME TO TALK ABOUT MY EXTENSIVE LIST OF TABI HEADCANONS (hcs are under the cut plus this also counts as a little debrief of his human design bc jesus christ i put so much effort into making this man's design it went through a LOT of trial and error before settling on what i got now considering ive gradually made him less and less "human")

also quick thing b4 i proceed – please please PLEASE ask before making things w my tabi design bc ive seen a rlly cool papercraft made w/o my knowledge and that was kinda sucky so ya thats around it (other than the basics of no nsfw and such)

APPEARANCE HCS

first and foremost — hes half japanese because i remember his aside counterpart being japanese iirc and i thought that was really cool and wanted to implement that into my own little hc (also he speaks like a dozen languages bc of another thing i'll go into detail with in a bit

so many different facial features, scarring (theres a very elaborate reason for this tbh), moles, freckles, etc all bc why not?? (freckles is primarily bc of my bestie crow and now im obsessed)

lashes bc why not, give every man a pair of lashes i think theyre pretty

PIERCINGS. so many piercings. this is primarily because i am a very firm believer that tabi gets piercings done because he wants to feel human again so he finds comfort in decorating himself as much as possible for that reason and also the aesthetic

broken horn bc of the mod events, damage beyond repair and whatnot

HE HAS LONG HAIR BC I SAID SO ‼️‼️ i figured considering he's been invisible for so long he never really knew what to do when it came to cutting his hair, so eventually it grew out to around his waist, and he kept that hairstyle ever since (he prefers wearing his hair in a ponytail or smth bc sensory issues when it comes to hair touching his skin)

a lot of tater's hcs infected my brain hehehehehe especially the tail and his hands still being what they were when they were cursed (also. paw beans. /vpos)

HES TRANS ‼️‼️ hes also very dumb and has very little regard for his health and forgets to take his binder off a lot (trust me he gets scolded a lot for that)

GENERAL HCS

hes autistic and has adhd — the autism hc i lowkey stole from crow but the adhd hc ive had for a long long while now — one of his lifelong special interests is performing arts and musicals

chronic insomniac — sleep? never heard of her

plays like 5 different instruments but primarily specialises in piano and guitar

safe food is anything sweet or chocolatey — he has a massive sweet tooth and is obsessed w cookies and pastries in particular which ayana baked for him a lot (ill prolly make a whole other post for her in the near future but guys. pastry chef aya. hear me out)

an absolute boss at board games, especially monopoly, and he constantly loves screwing everyone over

extremely hyperfixated on pokemon and owns a bajillion folders filled with cards worth a buttload of money, and a dozen plushies + figurines (projecting bc pokemon is one of my hyperfixes dont judge me) his fav gen is absolutely johto

his eyesight is pretty bad but like. not bad enough for him to be needing glasses (unlike a certain someone cough cough agoti)

speaking of said certain someone, he and agoti do each other's hair a lot simply because its really fun and provides some stimulation, and also because it helps tabi practice with self care and such

VERY SENSITIVE TO SOUND AND TEXTURES, often times he will probably start crying if something sounds or feels wrong

sometimes he forgets certain words in english and has to resort to using what theyre called in russian

has the goofiest sounding laugh ever and i will die on this hill. when you get tabi cackling he will start rolling on the floor and making the most UNGODLY sounds

can speak like 6 languages fluently and a dozen others in simple conversation (NERD ALERT)

he sucks so hard at writing essays but is (for some reason) really good at maths

despite being the more serious one among his group of friends, tabis a dumbass and does a lot more stupid things than one would expect

#hey everyone long ettie post real #tabi has taken over my mind #UUAUAUAGH GWR #fnf tabi #🦇 human!tabi #digital artwork #my art #battie chronicles

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world-of-fire-and-flight · 1 year ago

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Mirth's Ebenezer: Part 16

A/N: It’s been…a while🥴 I hope no one minds the pivot from The Lair in the Woods back to Mirth’s Ebenezer (which I’m hoping to focus on both of these now that all three Heirs of Tenebris books are out and I have a little more time on my hands while I figure out my next project😎)

Warnings: Rough transition from fluff to full fledged angst (sorry, y'all!), reference to recent violence, anxiety, fear, shock/trauma, handling of weapons, reference to past disaster/attack, swearing, the author completely forgetting that this started off as a holiday piece

My Masterlist | Taglist Info or Taglist Request Form | Mirth’s Ebenezer masterlist

Agent sighed heavily, scrubbing their face with their hand. Another dead end, another error message, another failure.

“Are you coming to bed?” A groggy voice called. Even the exhaustion in their lover’s voice couldn’t mask their irritation.

Agent blinked, breaking the spell cast on them by their Agency-issued laptop and the tens of tabs and programs opened on it. “I…” Shaking their head, Agent turned their chair around and stood. Both of their stiff knees popped and old injuries from their days in the field groaned. “I really should, shouldn’t I?”

Lover hummed, meeting them halfway across the cramped office and pulling them closer to leave a teasing kiss on their lips. “You really should.”

“Have I told you lately,” Agent started, resting their forehead on Lover’s, not daring to open their eyes for the fear that this was all just a dream and that they’d wake up any minute now having fallen asleep at their desk back in their cold dismal office at the Agency. “How much a love you?”

“Not nearly enough,” Lover whispered. “You’ve been too busy trying to catch that mole.”

“You’re not supposed to know about that.”

“And you’re not supposed to bring work home with you.”

“Forgive me?” Agent asked, parting just an inch to see their lover’s expression.

“Only if you take care yourself,” Lover said, turning serious. “You need to sleep—an actual full night of sleep—and eat proper meals and spend time rel—”

The pair jumped, nearly breaking away from each other in full. A blaring alarmed chimed from Agent’s desk. Agent snapped their head in the direction of their computer, their heart hammering against their chest.

Never once had they heard that alarm.

Lover groaned, clapping their hands over their ears. “Make it stop! It’s just as bad as the emergency…” Realization dawned in their eyes as the reality of what was happening sank like a lead weight in Agent’s stomach. “Shit it’s…”

“Yeah,” Agent said, shaking themselves from the shock of it. Darting over to their computer, they quickly silenced the alarm and grabbed their coat from the back of their desk chair, hurriedly shoving their arms through the sleeves.

Lover looked as disappointed as a child who’d been denied dessert.

“I know, sweetheart,” Agent said, cupping their cheek softly, forcing themselves to still long enough to remember themselves and their own situation. “I know. I promise, no matter what, I’ll come home.”

“Be safe,” Lover replied, tears brimming in their eyes.

Agent nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Agent grasped Everette’s shoulder. “We’re not going to die, you hear me?”

Their words couldn’t stop the young hero’s blubbering, and if anything seemed to make it worse. Agent set their jaw, staring hard at the rookie-turned-forced-soldier. “Hey, look at me. Do I look scared to you?”

Everette shook their head. “You’re a heartless, bastard.”

Agent sighed. That wasn’t completely undeserved, but it still stung. Even after all they’d done to help protect a low-life criminal, to root out the mole, people still thought it was them, that they were to blame for this massacre.

“Leave them be, Agent.” Vigilante said, coming around the corner. “We have bigger problems to deal with than whatever rookie here is dealing with.”

“And you thought I was cold,” Agent rolled their eyes. Straightening, they reluctantly agreed with Vigilante and took up their rifle, slinging its strap across their chest. “Find anyone else?”

“Would I be standing here alone if I did?” Vigilante kicked the dirt beneath their feet. “If anyone else is left, they’re in deep cover now. The fire at the Agency’s building has finally been put out and the courthouse is mostly standing. The city’s in total chaos. They did it. The son of a bitch really did it.”

Agent shook their head. “I don’t believe that. This can’t be it. They couldn’t’ve won. Not like this.”

“Yeah, well, we never did find the mole, so…” Vigilante shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Supervillain obviously got what they wanted.”

Agent didn’t believe that. If they could just find who the mole was and figure out why they betrayed them all, then…then they could…

“It won’t bring them back,” they muttered. Agent’s chest tightened. They forced out a tense breath and could hardly draw another. Sinking down to sit beside Everette, Agent repeated, “It won’t bring them back.”

Vigilante groaned. “Not you too. I need someone to have their head on right because it can’t just be left up to me. Hell if anyone knows where Superhero and Mirth are, or if…fuck.” Vigilante swore again, and again, but it still couldn’t quite break the stupor that had overcome Agent. If anything, they’d guess that it had spread to Vigilante too. They were certain of it when next they spoke. “You don’t think—we can’t be the only ones left. Right?”

“I don’t know,” Agent said, their voice and soul hollow. They forced themselves to swallow. Nodding their head as if they could convince themselves of their own resolve, Agent pushed themselves off the ground and stood on shaking legs. “But if we are, we owe it to them to fight. Supervillain can’t win.” They shrugged, growing more confident with every word. “At the very least, we can be a thorn in their side until the calvary shows up.”

Everette took a shuddering breath, sniffling. “You really think that there are other heroes coming?”

Agent snorted. “You didn’t really think this was the Agency’s only branch, did you? There are heroes all over this country—all across the world even. We might not all be under the same banner or agency, hell we might not all even consider ourselves heroes,” they paused, glancing over at Vigilante and offered them a nod. “but we are. There are more of us than we know. There are more people who want to help, who have good hearts, who care about others, who want to do good and be the good that people see in the world, that inspire them to do good too. It’ll sound cheesy and like a shitty motivational poster, but I’m gonna say it anyway: we have hope. All Supervillain has is fear, and if there is anything I have learned watching all of these heroes for the twenty some-odd years I’ve been an Internal Investigator, it’s that hope is stronger than fear. Think about the most feared people throughout history. You don’t see them still standing, do you?”

Everette shook their head weakly. Agent looked to Vigilante. Their eyes were narrowed suspiciously, like they thought the whole thing was dumb. After a second, they nodded anyway.

“And why not? Why are they history? Because the people had hope. Someone, somewhere, had hope, and they held on to it, and they tore down their fears, they defeated the big bad that plagued their people, and they gave them hope, something to believe in. And that’s what we need to do. We need to show this city that there is still someone fighting for them, that Supervillain hasn’t won, and that they won’t win. We just need to give them something to hold on to, just until help arrives.”

Agent looked from Vigilante to Everette and back again. Sweat slicked their palms. They held their breath, praying their compatriots at least believed their speech.

They tried to believe in it themselves, but all Agent could bring themselves to think about were those few precious moments from earlier in the night. A few precious, yet stolen, moments.

They wondered if they had been selfish, if they had gotten to the Agency sooner, if they hadn’t taken that moment to say goodbye.

They wondered if Lover was still awake, fighting their exhaustion and battling against their anxiety, waiting for any word, any sign, any instance of them.

They wondered if a single moment, a single kiss, a single speech, a single hope would be enough to reverse the damage Supervillain had done, and the battle they’d already won. They hoped, with every fiber of their being, that the war could yet still be won.

Turning their eyes toward the eastern sky, the first hues of the sunrise poked through the ashy haze that hung over the city scape.

Perhaps a single hope was all they needed in order to survive long enough for something to happen that would make a real difference—a real, honest difference for the betterment of the city.

Meanwhile at Baron’s Cabin the Woods:

Superhero glanced around the dimly lit basement, taking in the gleaming array in the lantern light Baron had brought with them.

“So, a safe house, huh?” they asked, eyeing Baron skeptically.

“Yeah,” he said. “This is what makes it safe.” Superhero had to admit that he had a point, but didn’t dare say so aloud. Taking a breath, they resigned themselves to being at the mercy of Baron’s plan. “All right, so where should we start?”

Mirth’s Ebenezer Taglist: @heroes-villains-side-blog @selene-stories @violetcancerian @kaiwewi @averyconfusedhuman Just let me know if you’d like to be added or removed (no reason necessary!) You can also add yourself using this handy dandy form 😊

A/N 2: I legit can't remember the last time I wrote for Mirth and I'm so sorry to those of you following along with this series💜

Part 17

#writeblr #heroes and villains #hero x villain snippet #hero x villain community #my writing #Mirth's Ebenezer #Mirth's Ebenezer series

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purplesurveys · 2 years ago

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1642

Was your childhood wasted by something? Normalcy, I guess. Everyone I went to school with had both parents at home everyday, so I thought I was weird, unfair, and confusing that my own dad worked abroad and my mom worked the graveyard shift. All the men in the duplex I used to live in either drank or smoked or both. Every time I went to a friend’s house and saw both parents or a family eating dinner together inviting me to eat with them, it was always a mix of “Why isn’t it the same at ours?” and “This is such a breath of fresh air.”

Would you rather die during an adventure or die like a normal person? When you say adventure, the way I understand it is like falling off a cliff or getting accidentally wiped out by a passing train lol. That said, I’d much rather die in a bed.

Have your parents ever put you on a diet? No, I’ve never seriously needed to be in one.

Have your parents ever tried to commit suicide? I had one threaten to do it but I hate that memory and try to never resurface it.

Do you have a gag reflex? Yeah.

Do you ever fantasize about trying drugs? ‘Fantasize’ isn’t the right word for it...it’s always been just a very vague curiosity to try it. Last year I got to try vaping cannabis oil or whatever the fuck it was and it gave me the most horrible reaction, so I don’t plan on ever taking drugs.

Have you ever put gum in someone’s hair? No, such a crappy thing to do.

Would you rather have sex before you’re married or wait till marriage? Well I didn’t, but it honestly doesn’t matter to me. If my hypothetical next partner wanted to wait, I wouldn’t have a problem with it.

Have you ever not gone to school, just because? So many times. I’ve done it for work too, albeit a lot more infrequently. Do you know anyone who can play the bagpipes? No, I’ve never even seen one in real life.

Have you ever let someone hit you? Playfully, yeah. In the rare times someone hit me intentionally, I always hit back.

Do you own a hand warmer? Absolutely no use for something like that here.

Do you have friends in other states/countries? They were my friends when they used to live here, but we’ve all grown apart since. We remain mutuals on social media but that’s as far as it gets.

Do you ever pay attention during church? Nah. I use the entire hour to daydream or think about what to eat for lunch.

Have you ever broke a window? Nopes.

When was the last time you freaked someone out? Yesterday because I had to give my mom the news that Cooper aggressively bit the entire lower half of my face and it wasn’t looking good. She was out having lunch with my grandma, so I felt super bad that I had to interrupt it the way I did, but then again it was a serious emergency and she would’ve probably been a million times more worried and angrier if I had waited for her to come home before telling her.

Have you ever gone on a date with a weirdo? No.

Who’s the last person you called a bitch? Probably my sister but it’s always as a joke or as a filler word.

Do you drink kool-aid? I’ve never had it before.

Have you ever dropped something hot on your foot? YES, tteokbokki sauce that was fresh out the microwave. Pain you wouldn’t believe, lmao.

Do you watch porn?: Yeah but it’s on a very once-in-a-while basis. I’ll watch if I’m in the mood for it, which isn’t often in the first place. Have you ever missed someone you hated? No. Bridges burned remain burned.

Is anyone in your family disabled? I have an aunt with Down syndrome.

What do you want for Christmas? I just ask for anything BTS-related lol but I always encourage them not to get pressured and to just get knockoffs because it’d be hard to accept authentic (i.e. EXPENSIVE) merch. If they don’t wanna bother with BTS or find it hard to pick a gift, I just ask for either food or soju hahaha.

How many moles do you have? Off the top of my head I can count 6, but I could be forgetting others.

Do you make your bed everyday? Almost never these days. My bed is super near the ceiling and I ALWAYS hit my head, much to my annoyance. Making my bed would give me 847548934 more bumps so...eh. The good thing about it is since the bed is super high up you can never see my blanket unfolded and my pillows in a heap and all, so I’m honestly unbothered about not making my bed as much anymore.

Do you know how to ride a bike? I don’t.

Do you own any comic books? I have a couple from my super short-lived comic book phase, but I haven’t touched them in years.

What is the nastiest dare you have ever committed? Eating a siomai off the ground.

Do you know anyone who has been raped? Yep.

Are you an atheist? Yes.

Have you ever owned a goldfish? I did as a kid, yeah.

Who was the last person to call you beautiful? Not sure.

How many times have you been stung by a bee? Zero and I hope it remains zero.

What was the last flavor of gum you chewed? Can’t even remember the last time I had gum lol strawberry, I think?

When was the last time you used tape? This morning.

When was the last time you said fuck? Yesterday when I saw how much I was bleeding from Cooper’s bite and when it was slowly dawning on me that I had to abandon all my plans for the day and go to the hospital ASAP.

Have you ever stolen something? Maybe like a pen here and there, but never anything bigger than that.

What’s the last movie you watched? Decision to Leave. It wasn’t my cup of tea though so I was unable to finish. Sorry Namjoon.

Who’s the last person you watched a movie with? I watched ^ that alone.

Where were you yesterday at 5 PM? In the hospital getting five fucking injections and a skin test. Worst time.

Who would you like to kiss right now? Nobody but Korean idols I happen to have the biggest delusion towards loljk

When was the last time you had tic tacs? Years ago.

When was the last time you ate chicken? Last Friday when I had a chicken sandwich.

Who was the last person you told to ‘Shut the fuck up’ to? Probably Tae during his last live?? LOL

Why were you last nervous? Yesterday because I was told that not only 1) did I need to get five injections, and 2) my HMO doesn’t cover animal bites. Everything that happened yesterday was so stupid I feel like it was entirely a dream.

Whose pants did you last take off? Uh, just my own.

When was the last time you were disturbed? Yesterday.

Why did you last feel awkward? This morning. Context: I went to one of my clients’ events which was running the whole weekend – and there was one attendee who confirmed for today and I had to keep her company.

Anyway, she was the one confirmation we had for Sunday so I didn’t have an excuse to ever leave her alone and start accommodating or small-talking other attendees LOL and it was a SUNDAY MORNING, so it was hard for me to keep the conversations coming, hard as I tried. There were a handful of moments we were just stuck in silence because she wasn’t so talkative herself.

When was the last time you got in a fight with your best friend? I don’t think I’ve ever quarreled with Angela since, like, grade school.

Have you ever asked someone for a tampon? No, I don’t use tampons.

Who was the last person you read a book to? I don’t think I’ve ever done that.

Who is the person you say the most naughtiest things to? Probably my ex.

Who was the last person to send you a letter? Andi.

Do you like cupcakes or muffins more? Cupcakes.

Have you ever pushed someone on purpose? Yep.

Have you ever slapped someone in the face? I definitely have, but only because I was hit first.

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wo-onu · 2 years ago

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╰₊✧ ﾟ⚬𓂂➢ [this is my first yan!oc post, thank you for reading!]

* ・✦⇢ contents :: yandere!oc character profile + various headcanons

* ・✦⇢ warnings/cw :: profanities, yandere themes, overprotective behaviour, clinginess, treating darling like a glass.

* ・✦⇢ additional notes :: can be read as gn. also, no particular traits mentioned but it is written with feminine chubby + plus sized reader in mind though not explicitly specified nor mentioned in the post.

TELL ME DO YOU WANNA BE MY LOVER !

yandere!oc character profile + general hcs !

ʚ ﹒ ﹕ ̟乀 park yoonseo :: 박 윤서

— character profile:

name: 박 윤서 | park yoonseo

currently does not have a job; other than letting people handle his properties or whatnot. he gets his money from all his real estate inheritance so he doesn’t need to do anything. has no higher education than past middle school.

age: 24

yandere type: obsessive and clingy yandere

distinct traits: resting bitch face, unbelievably lucky, tan skin, sharp eyes, dyed hair, and mole under left eye.

friends: a childhood friend he can’t forget, and kang haejoon

likes: spicy food, comfortable clothes (buys only high end clothing), ramen, vodka, background noise

dislikes: sweets (bc he’s not good with them), complete utter silence, awkwardness, your parents (he thinks they don’t deserve such a good child like you)

hobbies: working out, watching various tv series

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~ ☆゜general headcanons !

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ has angry pomeranian energy

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ though honestly, don’t be fooled by his sharp eyes and rbf, he’s quite the softie and just a very lonely person who never got to be a proper kid.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ hates how “lucky” he is; it’s a very touchy word and subject for him. treats it like a curse rather than a blessing.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ although i’ve mentioned that he is quite the softie despite his rbf and sharp eyes, he also has an intimidating way of speaking. in a way that, sometimes his tone may sound too harsh or cold to strangers. however, his voice is actually very pleasant; like honey.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ since he is korean and lives in korea, he gets bullied about his darker complexion a lot. though it’s not a complex of his, he is mindful of how it can make people perceive him. however, it is not a complex because he do love his own skin colour and knows that there is nothing wrong with him. after all, he knows he’s an attractive man so why would he care? to him, no matter what, he will always be good looking. (and he is right)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ loved his parents a lot and therefore, always wanted a family. it is unfortunate they died while he was quite young but nevertheless, the happiest memories in his life has always included his parents and how much they made him feel loved and never lacking of anything.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ all his real estate and other possessions are all inherited from his parents as well as his paternal grandparents who took care of him once his parents passed away. sadly, right now, he is the sole survivor of his family as his grandparents also sadly passed two years and a year prior respectively. it devastated him when his grandmother passed a lot, and how it had felt like his grandfather was only following in her footsteps as he lost the will to survive and had his health deteriorate after her passing.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ on the other hand, he also admired that fact because he’s the type to idealise a ride or die relationship.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ oh, despite his intimidating looks, he is also a huge (hopeless) romantic! his venus is in aries therefore he’s inherently a passionate lover. he’s a fiery lover who will not settle for less than an all-encompassing love affair.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ since he is, for the lack of better term, unemployed, he watches all kinds of show. mention a show and he’s probably watched it. even if it’s just for background noise.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ loves spicy food any time of the day. although, in his defence, he neither likes or dislikes sweets, he just can’t handle them well enough to like it. wouldn’t necessarily seek out desserts. favourite food is definitely teokbokki (spicy rice cakes).

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~ ☆゜yandere tendencies !

・✦⇢ as stated in his character profile, he is an obsessive yandere. because of his loneliness; once he falls, he falls real hard and his entire world will basically revolve around them.

・✦⇢ patience is not his biggest virtue. he wants to know whether his darling is in and he wants to know it now. the type to plan out your entire wedding in seconds once he knows you’re into him. whether or not, you feel as passionately as he does. gets too carried away because of his views on love.

・✦⇢ goes above and beyond trying to protect his darling. overprotective to a fault. the darling may be unaware but he is watching over you 24/7. although he doesn’t have the skills to do it, his hired men does and takes full advantage of that.

・✦⇢ however, puts his darling’s words above all and everything else— apart from if it involves your safety. he wants to make you live an easy life; no work, no stress, no going out where you can befall a grave danger.if it’s something you refuse to do, he will listen. just as long as you don’t leave him, a compromise like that doesn’t ultimately bother him.

・✦⇢ absolutely the clingiest person you will ever meet. has to be with you all the time or he will claim he’s withering away. since he can’t be with you at work, he will just always be with you until you reach work and will definitely be there to fetch you from work. will also constantly be texting you when you’re away. though, he will show consideration by telling you whether it’s important or not so it won’t distract you too much from work. will be happy even if you only sent a thumbs up or a heart.

・✦⇢ although i did say that he puts his darling’s words above all, he’s never deterred by your rejections and will only ever go over his head. he will steel himself over and over again with those rejections as he clings and whines to you. (example: you reject getting married after two months of seeing each other? he’s hurt but does that matter? in the end, he will always get you. as long as he has you, he can bring it up again and again. he knows you love him too. so he can be patient. as long as you stay by his side. after all, with your frequency in his own house, are you not basically living the married life?)

・✦⇢ gets rid of everyone around you he doesn’t approve of. since he knows he’s not the brightest person, he just uses his money to do everything for him. as he also doesn’t like getting his hands dirty. if he’s ever stuck, he can just call his only friend to help him out, right?

・✦⇢ especially your leeching parents. doesn’t care for their emotional manipulation towards the person he only cares about. would happily sustain them but he knows you’d never stand for that.

・✦⇢ as for others, he always manages to get rid of them so naturally that his darling never catches on. either jail, sending them overseas, etc. he has all the money in the world, therefore, a lot of disposal at his feet; if he won’t use his own luxuries for and on his darling then what would be the point of having them?

・✦⇢ would bubble wrap his darling if he could. his darling is the only person for him, if he lost you. . . he doesn’t even want to think about the mere possibility. but if ever you’re with him and an unfortunate situation strikes, he absolutely cannot be the only lucky one and survive.

at the end of the day, as long as he has you, he doesn’t mind everything else. he is the most pitiful man you can ever come across, all for you. if he’s so into you and only about your relationship, shouldn’t you be the same? after all, he can provide you anything and everything.

╰₊✧ ﾟ⚬𓂂➢ a/n :: first meeting scenario, additional background info and nsfw hcs will be in another post as this has gotten too long. still kinda figuring out how to layout everything and be better at writing/describing things. it was more nervewracking than i thought. tell me what you all think~ feedbacks are appreciated, asks are always open !

#yandere oc #male yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #male yandere #soft yandere #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere x darling #221221 — 15.34 ♡

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letterful · 4 years ago

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ON DEATH, WITHOUT EXAGGERATION,

or: a few of my favourite poems about dying, being dead, & the ones who are left behind. some melancholic, some upbeat, some morbid, some euphemistic, some sombre, some tongue-in-cheek, some direct, some not, all good. in no particular order:

— “on death, without exaggeration“, wisława szymborska (oh, it has its triumphs, / but look at its countless defeats, / missed blows, / and repeat attempts!) — “the suicide’s room”, wisława szymborska (a lamp, good for fighting the dark / a desk, and on the desk a wallet, some newspapers / carefree buddha and a worried christ / seven lucky elephants, a notebook in a drawer.) — “the letters of the dead”, wisława szymborska (poor dead, blindfolded dead, / gullible, fallible, pathetically prudent.) (can you tell that i’m very fond of wisława szymborska?) — “harlod’s leap”, stevie smith (it may have killed you / but it was a brave thing to do.) — “not waving but drowning”, stevie smith (i was much further out than you thought / and not waving but drowning) — “a meeting”, wendell berry (he has, / i know, gone long and far, / and yet he is the same / for the dead are changeless.) — “the dead”, billy collins (the dead are always looking down on us, they say) — “memory”, hayden carruth (my dear, / how could you have let this happen to you?) — “her long illness”, donald hall (daybreak until nightfall, / he sat by his wife at the hospital / while chemotherapy dripped / through the catheter into her heart.) — “this is a photograph of me”, margaret atwood (the photograph was taken / the day after i drowned.) — “owl song”, margaret atwood (i do not want revenge, i do not want expiation, / i only want to ask someone / how i was lost, / how i was lost) — “the promise”, marie howe (he looked at me as though he couldn’t speak, as if / there were a law against it, a membrane he couldn’t break.) — “aubade”, philip larkin (being brave / lets no one off the grave. / death is no different whined at than withstood.) — “lady lazarus”, sylvia plath (and i a smiling woman. / i am only thirty. / and like the cat i have nine times to die.) — “edge”, sylvia plath (her bare / feet seem to be saying: / we have come so far, it is over.) — “sylvia’s death”, anne sexton (what is your death / but an old belonging, / a mole that fell out / of one of your poems?) — “a curse against elegies”, anne sexton (also, i am tired of all the dead. / they refuse to listen) — “anne sexton’s last letter to god”, tracey herd (i have just lunched with an old friend / saying goodbye and something / ‘she couldn’t quite catch’.) — “ophelia’s confession”, tracey herd (i didn’t drown by accident. it was a suicide. / at least let me call my mind my own / even when my heart was gone beyond recall.) — “tomorrow they’ll cut me open”, anna swir (i have many powers in me. i can live, / i can run, dance and sing. / all of that is in me, but if need be, / i’ll walk away.) — “biology teacher”, zbigniew herbert (in the second year of the war / our biology teacher was killed / by history’s schoolyard bullies) — “dedication”, czesław miłosz (you whom i could not save / listen to me.) — “dirge without music”, edna st. vincent millay (they are gone. / they are gone to feed the roses.) — the rosie probert scene in “under milk wood”, dylan thomas (remember her. / she is forgetting. / the earth which filled her mouth / is vanishing from her.) — “do not go gentle into that good night”, dylan thomas (old age should burn and rave at close of day; / rage, rage against the dying of the light) — “a quoi bon dire?”, charlotte mew (and everybody thinks that you are dead, / but i.) — “myth”, natasha trethewey (you’ll be dead again tomorrow, / but in dreams you live. so i try taking / you back into morning.) — “i watched you disappear”, anya krugovoy silver (are you there? where? / are the others there, too?) — “i am asking you to come back home”, jo carson (my mamma used to say she could feel herself / runnin' short of the breath of life. so can i. / and i am blessed tired of buryin' things i love.) — “the night where you no longer live”, meghan o’rourke (was there gas station food / and was it a long trip) — “condolence”, dorothy parker (but i had smiled to think how you, the dead, / so curiously preoccupied and grave, / would laugh, could you have heard the things they said.) — “death at daybreak”, anne reeve aldrich (i shall pass dawn on her way to earth, / as i seek for a path through space.) — “fear no more the heat o’ the sun”, william shakespeare (golden lads and girls all must, / as chimney-sweepers, come to dust.) — “sonnet xciv”, pablo neruda (don’t call up my person. i am absent. / live in my absence as if in a house.) — “funeral blues”, w. h. auden (the stars are not wanted now; put out every one, / pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, / pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood) — “the drowned children”, louise glück (but death must come to them differently, / so close to the beginning.) — “because i could not stop for death”, emily dickinson (the carriage held but just ourselves – / and immortality.)

#ok to rb!#poetry recs #lit recs #oh happy days!#i'm not a morbid person though; i swear i am not.#but it's been raining and i guess i've been sad so!#should i make another post about poems on being alive? no or no

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor.

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you.

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall.

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud.

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though.

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself.

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for.

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts.

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch.

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours.

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast.

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing.

So, yeah.

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin.

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting.

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week.

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role.

You almost burst out laughing.

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure.

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking.

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop.

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table.

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?"

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud.

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table.

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t.

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression.

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back.

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh.

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty.

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness.

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises.

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never.

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response.

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually.

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it.

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it.

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck.

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you.

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going.

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue.

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's.

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss.

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away.

It started out with a kiss.

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it.

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face."

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over.

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace.

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his.

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name."

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip.

"I doubt it," he purred.

Yeah.

Jungkook was right.

Ah, well.

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms.

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips.

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm.

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand.

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm.

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name.

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed.

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him.

Oh, fuck.

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his.

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered.

Yours.

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk.

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin.

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd.

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick.

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far.

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl.

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin.

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat.

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do.

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled.

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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constancelaufeydottir · 3 years ago

Text

Devilish

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: explicit language, smut, p in v penetration, oral sex(m receiving), murder, mentions of blood, major character death, cheating, MINORS DNI

Summary: Bucky met a woman who bear the name and face of his past lover, and he swore to never let her go again.

Word count: 5687

a/n: This is my entry for @boxofbonesfic Spooktacular Smutfest and I hope it’s not too late 😬 This had been in my drafts for some time and it’s not perfect but I still love it.

P/s: Did I mention this was heavily inspired by Junji Ito’s Tomie? I was tempted to include a snippets of the manga(the one where tomie was dismembered) but then it’s not for everyone so if you’re interested, do check it out!

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

How was this possible?

You shouldn’t be alive, yet he was staring at this picture of you.

A picture of an enticing and beautiful woman stared back at him. She had fox-like features, her eyes were almond shaped with a small mole below her left eye, her lips curled upwards as she smiled like an inviting devil. She was the kind of woman who would steal your heart away with a mere glance.

But you couldn't be alive, because he watched you die.

The vivid image of you dying in his arms was etched in his head even after all these years, haunting him in his dreams every midnight, at 3 oclock sharp—like clockwork.

He remembered the sky was grey that day, and the way your skin resembled the gloomy weather due to the extreme blood loss. He remembered his hands stained red, and your lifeless eyes staring widely into the distance. Everything was either grey or red that day, including his life. And he wasn’t the same man after that day.

Bucky’s thumb hovered on the screen, and swiped right on the tinder profile whose picture was the woman he swore to protect with his life. The woman he had loved with every piece of his heart, and still loved till this day.

Even if there was a slim chance that it could be you, he’d take it. He couldn’t ever forget how happy you made him. Even if you were a selfish, manipulative, and narcissistic woman; even if you cheated on him several times; even if you’d made him commit crimes for you, he’d still do it over and over again if it meant that he was yours and you were his.

It was a match and Bucky initiated the conversation. Yet the woman who looked a little too much like you never replied and it took him some time to convince himself that it was fine, that she perhaps was just busy.

And it wasn’t until a few days later that he saw her on the streets. The woman who wore the face of his deceased lover from decades ago. She was walking alone, head held high as men and women who walked past her threw curious and jealous glances at her. She was very much like you, who used to garner tons of attention when you were in public.

Men wanted to court you, make you theirs, and craved for your attention like they were deprived of love for centuries; women were jealous of your beauty, wanting to be like you so their partner would stop gawking at the sight you or a handful of them wanted to be with you.

You had this mysterious aura where you attract and seduce people so easily that it became a problem in your relationship with Bucky. He’d lost count of the times where he’d come home to a sight of you on top of another man; the times he lost his temper and accidentally killed those who touched you; and also the times where you’d bat your eyelash at him and swear that he was the only one you love.

And Bucky would forgive you every single time because to him, you were his sweet angel and he’d defy even god, even if his pristine wings were tainted with black and he was falling from grace into the dark abyss.

He was in the line, waiting to order his coffee when she walked into the shop. She stood behind him waiting for her turn not knowing the man in front of her had thousands of questions he wanted to ask her. Deciding he should make a move, he turned his head to her. In this close proximity, Bucky experienced the butterflies in his stomach much like when he first met you. He almost forgot how beautiful and enchanting you were, almost.

“Hi, are you perhaps Tomie?” He watched as her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, “I’m James, we matched on Tinder.”

There was a slight flicker in her eyes as she recalled who he was. “Oh, you. Nice to meet you, James.”

“My friends call me Bucky,” he watched as she eyed him up and down, as if contemplating if he was worth her time. Finally she deemed him worthy and threw him a flirtatious smile. What a little minx.

“My real name is y/n,” his eyes widened at the name, cold sweat forming at his forehead while chills ran down his spine.

“I’m sorry, your name is y/n?” He had to confirm.

Was it really you? How did you come back from the dead? How were you still alive? Far too many questions were flooding his head and the quick beating of his heart was not helping at all.

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?” her head tilted.

His hands gripped on her shoulder tightly and she winced at the pain. He was a lovesick man searching for answers only she could provide, and there was this determination and madness in his eyes. “Don’t you remember me? I’m James!”

“Should I?” She snickered in annoyance, “Can you let go of me? You’re hurting me.”

Bucky’s shoulder slumped in dejectance. Of course she couldn’t be you, after all it’s been more than 80 years. After all, he watched you die in his arms.

“I’m sorry, you just looked like someone I used to know, someone I loved very dearly.”

“Is she prettier than me?” she raised her eyebrows—a smirk on her face waiting to be praised—as she twirled a strand of her curls between her fingers.

He looked at her, the same face as yours except this one was so much livelier, and with a mole under her eye. Also more beautiful, more charming. He felt like he was sucked deep into this whirlpool as he stared at her.

“O-of course not. You’re so much prettier.” He wanted to get on her good side, wanted to make her his, wanted to be the one she loved.

Her signature flirtatious smile never left her lips, “I know.”

She trailed her fingers teasingly from Bucky’s hand then up to his arm, caressing the metal arm of his which he was no longer afraid to show in the public. Though he couldn’t really feel her touch, he yearned for her to touch him more.

“James, what do you say we go to your place and … have some fun?” She leaned closer towards him, her body pressed against his as she whispered in a low tone in his ears, the sultry and suggestive voice of hers sending a tinge of pleasure down his crotch.

That was how Bucky found himself buried deep in her, on the clean white sheets of his bed. His face contorted in pleasure as he plunged himself deep into her while she lifted her hips to meet with his, sweet moans spilling from her lips.

She was the epitome of perfection. A devilishly beautiful face, smooth skin as if made of the finest silk, her soft body he could knead and touch. Her sweet voice, oh so enticing when she moaned out his name.

As the waves of pleasure hit her, her fingers latched around Bucky’s throat, constricting his air supply; her face inching closer towards his with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Now tell me, am I pretty?” Her voice was laced with a sweet charm, reverberating in his head.

“Fuck, yes!” With that, he let out a strangled cry, the pleasure blinding as he emptied himself in her. Vision clouded by his own high, he watched as black tendrils twisted to form a face on top of her head when she came, it was like a projection of her but with white pupils and an even evil smile. The face smiled at him while fear washed over him, his grip on her hips tightened. He shut his eyes, trying to shake the image away. He slumped on top of her still breathing heavily, chest heaving from post-orgasm, and fear.

Bucky wrapped an arm around her, trying not to think of the haunting black face that resembled yours and hers. He pulled the blanket to cover them both but she was quick to sit up, a disgusted look on her face.

“What are you doing?!” she was shrieking now, pushing his hand that was gripping on the sheets of white. He had an utterly confused look on his face.

“I figured you might be cold since it’s a little chilly in here,” she crossed her arms around her chest, sneering at his ignorance.

“You think I’d cover my body with this cheap cloth?” she poked at Bucky’s chest, “Change them into silk ones, tomorrow.”

“Of course, sorry.” Bucky was quick to apologize. She was as demanding and materialistic as you but he was deeply in love, he saw no flaws in her. “Does this mean you’re going to come here often?”

“Hmm, I don’t know ...” She looked at her perfectly manicured nails, a smile on her face.

Bucky’s eyebrows knitted in worry, he couldn’t let you get away again.

“I’ll do anything! I’ll buy you anything you want, I’ll do whatever you say. Just please don’t leave me, again.” Bucky was desperate, desperate to make her stay.

“Anything?” she smirked devilishly as she cupped his face, eyes wandering across his face, thumb tracing his pouty lips.

“Anything for you, my love.”

The smell of iron permeated the whole space. Bucky looked down at his blood stained hands and realized he was numb to the feeling of killing. It used to scare him, guilt him, made him feel like he was going to get caught and thrown to jail when he first murdered someone. Being brainwashed and ordered to carry out missions killing people is a thing; being conscious and murder people then proceed to wipe out the evidence is another.

He removed all the evidence and traces he left, then forged fake traces so the police wouldn’t be able to track him down. He used to be sloppy, leaving trails of crumbs everywhere, but hey that was in the 40s and he was an amateur back then. Now it felt like something so natural that he’d become somewhat of a professional in this area, he could do this with his eyes closed.

Bucky opened the door to his house to reveal her waiting on the couch, the new couch he just bought because she complained and whined about how disgusting and scratchy his old couch was.

She walked towards him; hips swaying seductively, lips curled into the cruel smile he was used to.

“How did it go? Did you get rid of him?” she asked. No, it must be you. She must be you, because no one would ever ask him to do such things. Only you, only you would be this cruel to demand him to kill someone. Only you would use him like this and completely disregard his feelings.

He looked down at her face, and at this moment her face overlapped with the one of yours in his memory. She was the exact replica of you; having the same sick personality, the narcissism, the mysterious charm, the bad habit of cheating. She was literally you, except the mole below her left eye.

Bucky thought this must be some kind of a sick joke, you must be playing games with his mind to punish him for what he had done. Yet he couldn’t escape this trap you had set for him, and he wouldn’t want to do so too.

This woman, standing in front of him eyeing him suggestively, she must be you. Because no one would be so cruel to toy with his heart like that, and no one could make him fall in love like that.

“Yes, I did.” He watched as you snake your hands on his abs and then his chest.

“Good boy.” Your hands were now at his shoulders, your breasts pressing against his chest, that big doe eyes of yours filled with lust.

The term definitely jogged a long forgotten memory hidden deep in his brain.

His second last kill before you died.

“Good boy.” Your eyes lit up when you heard that he killed that bastard you cheated with on Bucky. He was useless and wasn’t worth your time anyways. No matter how many men you slept with, at the end of the day you’d run back to Bucky’s arms because he was the almost perfect man who’d listen to everything you say and would obey your every order.

“Good boy gets rewarded,” you beckoned him with your finger, to the couch.

He sat obediently—like a dog, your dog—as you knelt on your knees in between his legs while smoothing your hands along his thighs, intending to tease and play with him until he gave in. You looked up at him with those innocent eyes, eyelashes fluttering in excitement. He’d always thought you looked like an angel, yet what you did was not the actions of one. You were a devil disguised as an angel with intentions—far lethal than a devil—whose sole purpose was to lure men in with your innocent looks then set them in their own ruins later, while you snickered at their fall, laughing at how gullible they all were.

Bucky didn’t even realize you had undid the buttons of his pants until he felt your tongue on his cock. You wrapped a hand around his girth as you licked around the head, lapping up the pre-cum leaking and humming at the taste. As you put the tip of your tongue in the slit, teasing the sensitive part, Bucky swore he could feel your smirk. The wet appendage swirled around the crown, more sticky substance dribbled from the tip along with a throaty groan from Bucky. You licked a stripe along the veins of his thick length; his eyelashes fluttered as you continued tracing the veins with the tip of your tongue.

He threw his head back the next second as you took the head in your mouth, gently suckling at it. If he wasn’t watching, he’d thought it was your pussy sucking his cock in; damn you and your sinful mouth. He watched as you took more of him in your mouth, lips stretching around his cock with your lipstick staining the flesh hints of red. He suddenly felt no remorse for killing those bastards. Those filthy men—who you’d welcomed into your embrace—worth no more than another line in his notebook.

You slowly took in every inch of him, the bulbous head hitting the back of your throat, his cock heavy on your tongue. His thighs tensed up, fist balling up tightly when you bobbed your head slightly, cheeks hollowing to create a suction. You kept working on his cock, your hand found his balls and fondled with them as he groaned at the sensation. Rubbing your own thighs together, you felt yourself getting wet and snaked a hand down to your clothed mound, sliding your hands in your pants as you stroke along your folds. His cock hit the back of your throat once again, and this time you took it further down as much as you could until your nose reached his abdomen while guttural moans escaped his lips.

It was torturous, how painfully slow you were going and Bucky was fighting the urge to grab a fistful of your hair and thrust his own way into your mouth, because one wrong move and you would not hesitate to deny him of pleasure for a week. He desperately wanted to make you gag on his cock making those obscene noises but if he wanted to cum, he’d have to be a good boy for now.

When you got faster, bobbing your head on his cock, Bucky knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer. Fingers slithering up his toned abs, you felt his muscles tensed up. He brought his own fist to his mouth, biting down on his hand to relieve some of the pressure building up. You knew his tell whenever he was close and being the devil you were, you took his cock out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting his cock to your lips. Glancing at his frustrated and unsatisfied face, you flattened your tongue, licking him up from the base to the head as your lips curled into a smile; doe eyes staring at his pained expression.

Bucky saw you taking your hand out of your pants, fingers glistening with your own juices as you crawled into his lap, prodding his lips with the slick-coated fingers. He took your fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet arousal as you intently watched. “Does my good boy wanna cum?” He nodded at your words desperately with your fingers still sitting on his tongue and you giggled at his eagerness. “Show me how badly you want it then.”

A sharp pain lashed across his cheek, bringing him back to this reality. His head whipped to the side while your hand which had slapped him still hovered in the air. He looked at you with shock, and fear; fear because he thought he’d done something wrong and you’d leave him any second now.

“Thinking of another bitch, Bucky?” You crossed your arms across your chest, heart fuming with envy.

“There’s no one in my mind, love. Only you.” He gulped, knees weak as he tried to hold himself up.

Your anger dissipated a little, then gestured to him to follow you into the bedroom and he did, not knowing what was going to happen next.

Next thing he knew, Bucky was handcuffed to the bedpost naked with you on top of him. You were straddling him, your exposed cunt rubbing against his leaking cock, pre-cum sticky on his stomach. He let out a low grunt as you rocked your hips, your folds sliding on his length as your hands played with your own breasts. His gaze followed your nimble fingers as they tweaked against the pebbled nipples, plucking and teasing yourself but mainly him. How desperate he wanted to put his hands and his mouth on you, taking those beautiful tits in his mouth as he rolled the hardened buds with his tongue and between his calloused fingers. How sensitive and responsive you were every time he sucked on them, your fingers running through his hair as you arched your body; how easy it was to draw out moans from you with just his skilled fingers and mouth.

Now, however, he couldn’t be having his way with you. With his strength, he could easily break off these bounds but if he did so, there would be consequences and he didn’t want that. He watched as you made small noises of satisfaction when the head of his cock brushed against your swollen nub, your eyes closed drowning in your own bliss.

His breath hitched in excitement when he saw you hovered your hips over his length, your legs on both sides of his body. “Only good boys deserve rewards,” you leaned forwards; palms on each side of his head, face inches away from his with your lips merely touching his, “are you a good boy?”

“Yes, yes! Please,” a degrading smirk painted your face as you witnessed him lost his composure, begging desperately to fuck you, “Please ah—”

He let out a gasp when you grasped his cock and aligned them to your pussy, teasing him again when you dragged the head through your weeping folds, slathering the sticky substance leaking from his cock on your slit. You enjoyed watching him whimper, head thrown back in pain and frustration but couldn’t do anything about it.

You finally decided to end his torture and sank down on his cock all the way, his length buried in your cunt deliciously and you sighed in contentment. Throwing your head back in pleasure, you started circling your hips, hissing as you tried to adjust to the stretch.

The other reason you would always run back into Bucky’s arms was because of how well endowed he was; his cock always stretched your walls to the brim despite him having just fingered you with three of his thick fingers.

“S-shit, so tight,” he grunted, eyes shut tight. Everything was torturing him; your velvety soft walls clamping down on his cock, his own pleasure, the cuffs. His wrists strained within the metal cuffs; rings of red adorned his skin as he restrained himself from exerting too much pressure, otherwise the ‘fragile’ metal would break off. Your long fingernails made little crescent moons on his chest and abdomen as you bounced yourself on his cock, getting yourself off like he wasn’t there; merely a toy for your own pleasure. Your breasts bounces along with the rhythm of your hips, moans and cries occasionally slipping out of your lips.

Leaning backwards, you displayed your glistened thigh to him. You let your hand roamed through your body; his eyes followed your fingers as they found their way down, where you and him connected. Rubbing your fingers on your swollen clit, you didn’t stop slamming hips down on his length.

“Look at you, baby boy. All tied up and flustered.”

He was breathing hard with the pleasure overwhelming, his chest heaving and his eyes shut tight.

He felt you bouncing harder on his length, bracing your hands against his chest; your head drooped, face contorted in intensifying pleasure with your teeth biting down on your lips.

Every inch of him was hitting you in the right spot; your ass cheeks slapping on his pubic bone every time you slammed your hips down, gravity pulling you towards him.

Quick fingers reached down to flick at your clit; you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

With a high-pitched moan, you came; your body convulsing, overwhelmed with waves and waves of climax.

Bucky’s gaze was fixated on you the whole time; you looked like a goddess bathed in euphoria and he, your worshipper, kneeling at the bottom of the altar, ready to tend to any of your needs. He blinked for a millisecond; your body still arched, lips still curled into a smirk but your eyes, they were black. No, not just the pupil, every inch and corner of it was pure darkness, ready to consume him.

He cried out; his muscles tightened as he pumped his seed deep inside you, chasing his own climax. He cried out, in dread; not knowing whether the woman he was still balls deep in was a human, or an entirely different being.

Bucky convinced himself that it was only a hallucination, that his mind was playing tricks with him. Drenched in cold sweat, he laid there hands freed from the restraints, his brain working hard to comprehend what just happened.

You lifted yourself off him, wincing a little as your mixed fluids seeped out of your cunt. You sat on his stomach, the ridges of his toned abs grazing your clit and you let yourself grind on him again.

Bending forwards, you darted out your tongue, licking on the thin layer of perspiration on his pecs. A trail of wetness was left on his chest up to his neck, his exposed skin peppered with the bruising kisses you left earlier.

“Think you can go another round, baby boy?” You nibbled at his earlobe, voice alluring. He said nothing, only moving his hands to grip on your hips as if enchanted.

It happened all too quickly; his trained body couldn’t prevent it from happening, and he questioned if he wanted to let it happen. The huge gash on your face was the evidence of the traumatizing incident earlier.

Your fingers latched onto Bucky’s arm as you strutted along the streets, looking forward to adding another luxury bag or a necklace to your collection.

“You bitch!” A shrill shouting voice came from behind. A woman emerged from the crowd, running towards you hurling degrading terms at you. “You bitch! Fuckin’ stole my man,”

You raised your eyebrows as you eyed the crazy woman with a disgusted face, body turning to Bucky for protection. “Who you callin’ a bitch? And for the record, I did not steal your man,” you giggled as you saw the woman’s face twisted, “he came to me himself, like a dog.”

You pouted, lips jutting out as you mocked her, enjoying her being riled up a little too much. Your perfectly manicured fingers covered your mouth as your snickered, clearly unempathetic. Bucky always knew you weren’t a good person, hell you weren’t even a decent enough person. Manipulating and using men were your forte and you were damn good at it; men followed after you like swarms of bees, yet they all died in Bucky’s hands after you were done playing with them.

“You know what I’m seeing here?” You tilted your head throwing pitying glances at the woman, “I see a woman who wasn’t capable of keeping her own man,” Another mocking chuckle left your poisonous lips. “Tsk, tsk. Pathetic.”

The woman upon hearing your mockery widened her eyes in rage, her face twisting in jealousy. “I’m gonna kill you!” She hurled herself towards you, the knife hiding in her pocket now in her grasp.

Bucky stood there watching her slashed the blade on your face, every slash filled with anger and resentment as she took her revenge on your perfect face.

You shrieked in pain; screams so high pitched that Bucky winced at the brief pain in his ears. Blood gushed from the deep gashes on your face onto the floor; the woman had unconsciously made a huge ‘X’ on the left side of your face, the wound so deep you could see hints of the cheekbones peeking out.

A few people had to help restrain the mad lady from inflicting more pain on you. You cradled your wounded face as hatred clouded your eyes and you shot a piercing glance at the woman. Your sharp glare soon morphed into a sinister smile and you chuckled at her despite your pain—rejoicing when you saw her shiver in terror.

Bucky knew what he had to do later, he knew what the woman’s fate would be soon. But now, he must tend to you first.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder while you inclined towards him.

“No hospital,” you blurted out weakly, having lost a lot of blood; your face and sundress painted red, yet he thought you still looked heavenly, “just get me home.”

He obliged, never one to question your decision and orders.

“Are you sure we don’t need to go to the hospital? The wound is deep, maybe we sh-”

Bucky knew how much your face, your beauty meant to you. That deep gash certainly was going to leave a large scar on your face and it wouldn’t be pretty. But as you reached home, the cut on your face was no longer dripping with blood, your hand that was shielding the wound was removed from your face and you took a cloth to wipe away the dark red blood.

His words died in his mouth as the part where you had a deep laceration was now smooth and clean as before. There was not a single evidence left other than the blood stains to let him know what happened before with the woman was not a dream.

Lips curled into an innocent smile, you looked over at him still holding up the pristine cloth tainted with your blood on your face.

“Is there something wrong?”

He shook his head frantically, fearing that you’d be able to see through his tough facade. And if you could, you’d see a fragile and scared man underneath the mask wanting to be released from this nightmare.

He gave you a strained smile, “Just thinking how beautiful you are.”

You gripped at his chin, your nails digging into the soft skin of his throat. “Such a good boy, always knows what to say.” Smiling eyes staring into his intimidated ones, he swallowed a glob of saliva as your smile deepened into a lustful smirk.

Bucky wouldn’t say he was a man who gets jealous easily (though his body count would beg to differ) yet the green seeping with poisonous jealousy consumed him little by little over the years before you died.

Today, the colour was exceptionally darker, as his heart sank to the bottom of his gut when he had to watch the flirty conversation exchanged between Steve and you. Bucky had wanted to introduce you to Steve for quite some time; wanting the two most important people in his life to meet each other and be on good terms. What he didn’t expect was Steve reciprocating your blatant flirts and sexual innuendos you tossed at him.

You flaunted your mysterious and minx-like charms at him the moment he arrived; the playful touches of your fingers, the fatal smile, that overly friendly giggle. Poor Stevie was completely charmed; a warm and shy smile plastered on his face, his starry eyes dazed.

His tongue poked at the inside of his cheeks as his gaze went back and forth between the two of you who seemingly forgot the brunette soldier.

He wasn’t surprised when he saw Steve and you naked on the couch one night. Your fingers were caressing his face tenderly like a lover’s delicate touch and all Bucky saw was red.

You were a cruel, vicious woman who made his hands drenched with the blood of countless people. And now adding to the already thick coats of sins was the fresh blood of his best friend—the only person who truly accepted him for who he was.

When the knife in his hands plunged into your chest, Bucky genuinely expected pitch black blood like the colour of your heart to seep out of the skin. But to his surprise, it was as red as his blue eyed best friend’s. Each drive of the blade dragged piercing screams from your venomous lips until one particular hard thrust and your voice was abruptly stilled.

An incredule laugh left his mouth as his knees weakened, your limp and bloodied body in his arms, your beauty undeniably astonishing even after death found you. Everything seemed so familiar; the way your melodious voice turned into this shrill screech, your lifeless eyes staring into the distance. And when he looked out the window, the sky was grey, much like decades ago when he first killed you, how ironic. Everything came back in a circle, he couldn’t seem to escape you and this gloomy life.

It must’ve been a punishment, you were meant to come back and torture him, grounding him to make him suffer in this loop of unescapable misery.

He was extremely tired; his muscles were sore after hours of cutting and sawing. Bucky never knew it was this exhausting to dismember someone, let alone two bodies now lying on the floor of his living room. Wiping the droplets of sweat adorning his forehead, he slid down the wall as his eyes trailed over to pieces of limbs scattered. All of this mess he had to clean on his own, if only he didn’t let jealousy consume him and plunge that knife into Steve’s stomach.

Bucky didn’t even have time to mourn for you or Steve; his eyelids grew heavier as he was making continuous sawing motion. He let himself rest against the wall for a while, his eyes threatening to close. The long duration of staring at the colour red got him a little dizzy and desensitized to which he finally closed his eyes, allowing himself a short nap.

“Bucky,” your voice woke him up from a sweet dream consisting of you and him in a little cottage in the woods; and in that dream your limbs were still intact, your cheeks flushed and your lips still warm with colour. “Poor Bucky.”

His eyelashes fluttered as he stirred awake, the state of being called awake had him in a brief moment of dissociation from reality.

“Bucky, look at me,” the voice of the devil who was once tempting and laced with honey.

When he opened his eyes, the gruesome and sickly sight of your mutilated body welcomed him.

Fear consumed him, cold shivers ran down his spine, goosebumps crawling on his skin. From the clean cut of your limbs grew faces identical to yours, each and every passing second the cells regenerate and grow into the very nightmare he was desperate to escape from. Horror washed over him as the realization of who you were dawned upon him; a monster hidden under the shell of a human, a creature who took the form of the woman he loved dearly and whom he killed with his bare hands. Soon, these limbs would grow into a whole new but identical woman as you and they would continue your legacy, manipulating those they seduce into their slaves to be used as they like.

“Are you scared?” your honeyed voice echoed in his head.

“Yes,” he replied shakily as he watched a tiny body slowly growing from your severed head; that signature devilish smile of yours painted your blood covered lips as if mocking his fruitless attempt to get rid of you.

“Good, you should be.” With that you laughed, your newly grown body vibrating with joy.

Bucky felt so tired, hungry, and parched but he couldn’t muster up the energy to even get up from the floor. What was waiting for him was his inevitable death surrounded by the pungent smell of blood, the mocking voices of his lover and the guilt of having murdered his own best friend.

Death came little by little; pain consumed his fatigued body, his weary eyes could only stare at the pile of your limbs regenerating and spitting out mocking words at him. And at last when he felt the last bit of energy leaving his body, he heard you saying, “I shall find you in your next life too, my love.”

#SpooktacularSmutfest21 #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

Chemistry on the Couch

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

submitted by @elevenspeter

Masterlist

“You have a celebrity crush, don’t you Tom?” Graham instigated as he leaned forward curiously on his knee. Tom didn’t have to think twice to know who he was referring to. There was only one girl that had been living rent free in Toms mind since he was a child, and that was you.

“I do. Ever since I was little, I had the biggest crush on Y/n L/n, the actress.” Tom began with a shy smile. “And I mean the biggest crush. To the point where my parents had her movies playing on the TV all day long to keep me from crying. To this day, I could recite all her lines because I have seen it so many times.”

“That’s so cute.” Emily Blunt, another guest on the couch, gushed. “I bet she’d be happy to hear you fancied her.”

“And whats this I hear about kissing the TV?” Graham giggled to himself.

“I-“ ,Tom cut himself off to laugh in embarrassment as the rest of the audience laughed, “I was convinced she was my girlfriend so I would kiss the TV whenever she was on the screen.” He shrugged in his defense as the audience erupted into laughter. “It drove my dad mad because I got saliva all over the television but my mum thought it was sweet.”

“Aw.” Graham pouted. “So you were a big fan?”

“I was obsessed with that girl from the time I was five until I was about 31.” Tom confirmed.

“How old are you now?” Emily wondered.

“24.” Tom stated, eliciting a laugh from the audience.

“How adorable.” Graham looked out at the crowd with a deviant smile. “And that’s exactly what we told her when we asked her to be on the show tonight. Y/n, come on out.”

Tom’s heart stopped momentarily as Graham looked behind him and waved. His eyes slowly went up as the sound of high heels on tile sounded over the roar of the crowd.

“Oh no.” Tom gulped. Strapped into those high heels were mile long legs wrapped in a tight black dress, all topped off with your perfect face. Tom had spent years loving you through a screen, and now you were walking towards him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Y/n L/n!” Graham announced as you came out from backstage with a cheery smile. The audience became deafening as you walked towards the couch but Tom couldn’t hear a thing. His heart had yet to kickstart as he watched you with wide eyes.

“Hi!” You waved warmly to the crowd before hugging Graham hello. Tom looked down in disbelief as you made your way through the guests, hugging each one and greeting them hello. His heart pounded in his ears as you got closer and before he knew it, his life long crush was standing in front of him.

“Hi, Tom. I’m Y/n.” You smiled brightly as you opened your arms to him. Tom nearly jumped out of his seat and gulped as your eyes met his. It might’ve been the lights, but he could’ve sworn your eyes sparkled like they were coated in glitter.

“Yeah.” Tom sputtered, forgetting every word in the English language. The audience laughed at Toms stiffness, but you didn’t. You held his gaze and gave him an assuring smile, silently telling him to relax.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You continued, your arms still open to him. Tom snapped out of his daze and stepped into your arms, resting his head on your shoulder with a child like smile. He was convinced he was dreaming until your lightly curled hair was tickling his face as you embraced, telling him that this was really happening.

“It’s nice to meet you too, darling.” He mumbled happily in your ear. You pulled away but kept your hands on his shoulders, smiling brightly at him when you noticed how red his cheeks were.

“I like your accent.” You told him, keeping one hand on his shoulder as the both of you sat down. All that space on the couch and you chose the spot next to him, something that sent a flurry of butterflies into Toms tummy.

“I like yours too.” He said with a soft smile, never taking his eyes off you. He spent so many years watching you on his television screen, watching you grow up and mature, but nothing could prepare him for the beauty in front of him now. He was enchanted by you, everything about you, and it was making it hard to focus on anything else. He was in a bright room full of people with multiple cameras on him, but all he could see was you.

“Thank you.” You giggled. “You’re Spiderman, right?”

“Yeah, I am.” Tom nodded, mouth drying out. “You know about me?”

“Of course I do. Who doesn’t know about the cutest Spider-Man to date?” You nudged him slightly, his eyes staying glued to your arm as you touched him.

“Did everyone else hear that?” He looked out at the audience with doe eyes.

“We heard it.” Graham nodded with a laugh.

“Just making sure.” Tom beamed, still reeling from your compliment. You were the most heavenly creature to walk the planet in Toms opinion, and you thought he was cute. Just about every dream he had ever had was coming true all at once, and he was loving every second.

“Now Tom, we have a picture that your mother sent in. Look how cute.” Graham gushed as he turned to his monitor. A picture of a young Tom appeared and the audience, as well as all the guests on the couch, fawned over it. In the picture, he was kissing the TV that was paused on a scene from one of your movies. You laughed in delight and absentmindedly squeezed Tom’s hand.

“Aw. We already had our first kiss and I didn’t even know it.” You teased him, scooting a little closer to him on the couch. You hadn’t let go of his hand yet, but he wasn’t complaining.

“I am so sorry.” Tom shook his head in embarrassment and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“Don’t be. As long as I know about the next one, I’ll be fine.” You shrugged, looking at him through your eyelashes. Tom gulped at the thought of a next kiss, especially if you were the one suggesting it. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting with him.

“Now, you two have actually met before.” Graham said as he pointed between the two of you. You looked at Tom in confusion, letting go of his hand to brush a stay curl off your face.

“Have we?” You asked him. He nodded, trying not to let the disappointment of you letting go of his hand show on his face.

“Yeah. We met many years ago at the Secret Life of Arietty premier because you were in the American version and I was in the British version.”

“Oh My God!” Your eyes widened. “Wait, I do remember you! You were so sweet.”

“Was I? I wouldn’t know, I blacked out.” Tom joked, making you laugh cheerfully.

“Tom’s mother graced us with a home video. Now, this was taken after the premier right?” Graham asked as he turned his attention back to the monitor behind him.

“Oh, God.” Tom sighed, knowing exactly what was coming. “This was after the premier when I could not stop bouncing off the walls because I met you. I think my parents recorded it specifically to embarrass me in front of Y/n one day.”

“Lets take a look, shall we?” Graham asked the audience as the home video began to play.

“Who did you meet?” You heard Tom’s mother’s voice from behind the camera. On the screen was a grainy video of teenage Tom, clad in a shiny suit and wide grin. His face was splashed with freckles and acne, he had a mole on his chin, and his teeth hadn’t quite straightened out yet, but you thought he was the cutest thing imaginable.

“I met Y/n!” He gushed, taking a deep breath as if he still didn’t believe it. He was pacing around his kitchen, slightly loosening his neck tie as he went.

“Yay!” He mom cheered. “Where did you meet her?”

“We were at the Secret Life of Arietty premier and she came up to me and she hugged me and we took a picture and she was so pretty.” He rambled, all his words coming out in one breath. You laughed loudly at the video, resting your hand on Tom’s knee as you continued to watch.

“What did she say to you?” His mom asked from behind the camera.

“She said she likes my accent!” He practically screamed as he tugged on his tie. “She said she likes my accent when hers is so pretty. She’s so pretty.”

“Yay! Tommy’s so excited. He just met his dream girl.” His mom chuckled.

“Mum, did you see me? Did you see her hug me?” Tom asked as he bounced up and down. “She smelled so good. Like Christmas.”

The video faded to black and the monitor turned off, the audience clapping as it concluded.

“That was so cute! Tom, I’m gonna die.” You pouted, turning to him and squeezing his knee.

“Please don’t die. We’re just getting to know each other.” Tom laughed, putting his hand over yours and squeezing it. He was never normally this bold, especially not with girls he fancied since childhood, but something about you gave him a confidence he didn’t hate.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. You were so excited.” You gushed, your own flock of butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“I’m having the exact same reaction right now, just internally.” He gestured to himself, making you laugh.

“Really?” You asked, liking his attention more than you thought you would.

“Obviously.” He laughed. “I had the biggest crush on you growing up.”

“I think I have a crush on you now.” You half joked, half meant entirely.

“Oooo, looks like we have a love connection on the couch tonight.” Graham wiggled his eyebrows. “So Y/n, Tom’s seen all your movies. Have you seen his?”

“No, I haven’t.” You shook your head and looked at Tom.

“I have copies back in my hotel room if you want to see them.” He said innocently, not wanting the interaction to end after the show was done.

“How bold of you, Tom.” Graham snorted, making the audience murmur with excitement.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom said quickly, not wanting to offend you. His cheeks were bright red as the crowd misinterpreted his statement. You felt bad for him and shut him up before he could apologize further.

“I know you didn’t.” You patted his arm. “Can we watch them after the show? I’d love to see you in action.”

“You want to?” He asked in surprise, face heating up once again.

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded. “I want to see your work.”

“You hear that Tom? She wants to see you in action.” Graham said wickedly, also trying to start trouble.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re a host, not a match maker.”

“Why can’t the man be both?” Tom shrugged, not particularly mad at the flirting that was going on.

“Careful there, Spiderman.” You warned. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t finish?” Tom shot back, feeling confident enough to test his luck with you.

“I’ll guess we’ll find out tonight, won’t we?” You gave him a once over as you leaned back on the couch.

“Tonight?” He furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing what you meant.

“In your hotel room.” You said simply. “I meant what I said. I wanna see you in action.”

“Okay.” Tom swallowed thickly, trying not to show how nervous he was. “I’ll show you my movies.”

“Awesome.” You smiled brightly at him. “It’s a date.”

“This is my room.” Tom said unenthusiastically as he turned on the lights in his hotel room. “If you see boxers on the floor, they’re not mine.”

“Then who’s are they?” You snorted. “Are you and Jake Gyllenhaal filming Broke Back Mountain 2 without telling anyone?”

“No, no. They’re mine.” Tom quickly corrected. “And don’t bring up Broke Back Mountain around me. I had no idea what it was about before I watched it and I still can’t look at fishing rods without blushing.”

“You’re too cute.” You laughed at him as you slid out of your high heels.

“Thanks.” Tom smiled sheepishly. “I’m gonna get the movie ready.”

“I’ll be right there. I just have to get out of this dress.” You called from the bathroom. “Are you okay with me wearing the hotel robe? I promise I won’t get any makeup on it. Not on the outside, at least.”

“Here. This might be more comfortable.” Tom appeared in the doorway with a hoodie and a pair a sweatpants.

“Thanks.” You smiled warmly at him as you took the clothes. “I won’t get makeup on this either.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t mind if you did.” He shrugged it off. “It’d be a nice little reminder of you.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and let your eyes wander around Toms face, appreciating every line and freckle. He was awfully sweet, and you found that awfully compelling.

“Do you have any face wash?” You asked him, snapping out of your trance before you got pulled in too deep.

“I have soap.” He offered, pointing to a bottle of Dove on the counter.

“You’re such a boy.” You laughed and ran your fingers through your curls. “I’ll just leave this on then.”

“That’s not so bad. Your makeup looks really nice.” He said quietly as he kept his eyes low.

“Thanks. I’ll let my makeup artist know you like it.” You smirked at him as you walked towards the mirror, beginning to gather your hair in a ponytail.

“I’m not so sure it’s the makeup that I like.” He shrugged as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s what’s underneath.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked a little insecurely, looking at him in the mirror as loose curls fell out of your ponytail to frame your face.

“I’ve thought you were pretty since I learned to spell “pretty.”” Tom chuckled, scratched the back of his neck as he shyly watched you.

“Aren’t you dyslexic? I’m sure it wasn’t that long ago.” You teased him endearingly.

“Hey.” He whined playfully. “How did you know I was dyslexic?”

“I might have googled you.” You shrugged, avoiding eye contact as you applied some chapstick in the mirror.

“Did you now?” He asked, taking an even deeper interest in the conversation.

“I googled all the guests that were gonna be on the show.” You shrugged as a light blush painted your cheeks.

“Oh.” Tom nodded, looking away disheartened.

“Don’t sound too disappointed.” You laughed. “Your dyslexia didn’t show up on the first page of google. I did some digging on you.”

“Oh.” He said again in a completely different tone. This time, he was intrigued. You walked away from the mirror and met Tom in the doorway, leaning your arms against the frame as you smiled at him.

“I’m gonna get changed now.” You told him. “Save me a seat.”

“Okay.” He bit his tongue excitedly, giving you a once over before turned to walk to the bed.

“Wait, Tom?” You called putting for him once he was out of sight.

“Yeah?” He came back with concerned eyes. You smirked slightly as him before turning around and touching the back of your neck.

“Unzip me?” You asked, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. Toms chest tightened, feeling a shortness of breath before nodding his head. The way you were looking at him made him forget how to complete an action as simple as raising his hand, but a simple tug of your lips into a smile restored his confidence. He cleared his throat and snapped out of his trance, smiling shyly at you as he nodded.

“Sure.” He mumbled, hesitantly reaching up and grabbing your zipper. He slowly dragged it down your back, a blush painting his cheeks when the lacy black band of your bra was revealed. He pulled the zipper to the end, stopping at the bottom of your spine.

“Thanks.” You turned around slowly and shot him a wink.

“Anytime.” He answered, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. He touched a cool hand to his cheek, trying to draw away some of the heat.

“I might have to take you up on that.” You shrugged a shoulder, knowing full well what you were doing. Tom caught the double meaning of your statement and felt his face redden from the bridge of his nose all the way to the tips of his ears. You smiled slyly at him before closing the door so you could change.

Tom put the disc in the DVD player and got settled on bed, awkwardly shifting the sheets as he waited for you to join him. It didn’t take long before he heard the bathroom door opening, doing a double take when he noticed you hadn’t bothered with the sweatpants he gave you. His eyes were glued to your bare legs that peeked out from the bottom of his hoodie as you made your way towards the bed.

“Nice stems.” Tom quoted a favorite movie of his as you sat on the bed next to him.

“I thought it might be a little too hot for sweatpants.” You said without looking at him, ostentatiously crossing your legs just to give Tom another look.

“I see.” He gulped, sneaking glances at you every now and then as the movie started.

A few silent moments went by as you paid attention to the movie, not taking particular attention to the parts when Tom wasn’t on screen. His heart beat loudly in his ears as that scene in the alleyway came on, keeping a close eye on your reaction. He heard you suck in your breath when the suit slid off, feeling a twinge of pride as an impressed look crossed your face. You scooted a little closer to Tom, running nervous fingers through your curled hair.

“Well damn.” You laughed shyly. “I’ve never seen someone look as good out of a suit as they look in it.”

“Was that a compliment?” Tom looked at you cheekily. “Are you complimenting me, darling?”

“Would you be mad if I was?” You asked softly. The corners of Toms mouth tugged into a smile as he scooted closer as well.

“Not at all.” He shook his head, the movie long gone from his mind. You took this as an opportunity to move even closer to Tom, your hips touching each other now as your bare legs tangled with his clothed ones. You twisted a little in place, leaning into his side as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” You whispered, rubbing his arm gently as you looked up at him.

“Darling, this is just fine.” He answered, resting a hand on your knee and rubbing it gently with his thumb.

“Good.” You smirked, cuddling into his side and resting your head in the crook of his neck. Tom kept his eyes on you, feeling like he was gonna wake up any moment from what surely was a dream. Your attention snapped to him, making him jump a little as you made eye contact.

“Stop staring.” You scolded playfully. “I’m trying to pay attention.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Tom chuckled, moving his arm so he could wrap it around you and hold you closer. You stayed like that for the rest of the movie, just enjoying the embrace of a stranger who really wasn’t that strange at all.

“What did you think? Did you like it?” Tom asked as he walked you to the elevator once the film had ended. You had your arm linked in his, wearing his sweatpants now as your evening together was coming to an end. He walked slowly, trying to draw out his time with you.

“I didn’t watch it.” You chuckled as you answered honestly. “Any of it.”

“Then what have you been doing the last two hours?” He wondered.

“Looking at you.” You smiled shyly. “Only when you weren’t looking, of course.”

“That’s funny.” Tom mumbled as he brushed a curl off your face. “Because all the times you weren’t looking at me, I was looking at you.”

You reached the elevator and felt a sadness in your heart, knowing this was the end of an enchanting evening.

“I promise I’ll watch your movie when I get home.” You told him as you waited for the elevator to come. “And all your other movies. I might stalk you on Instagram too. Do you have Twitter?”

“I do.” He nodded. “If you follow me, I might react the same way I did in that home video you saw. Maybe even worse.”

“I wish I could see that. I bet it’s even cuter now than it was back then.” You smiled, trying to prolong the conversation as much as you could. The elevator dinged, signaling that it was there, but you didn’t budge. You just pressed your back against the wall next to it and looked at Tom as you spoke.

“I bet it’s just as lame though.” He shrugged, playing with one of the ties on the hoodie.

“I think it’s sweet.” You said softly, putting your hand over his. “I think you’re sweet.”

A radiant smile lit up Toms face as he looked down, feeling fireworks in his chest going off with your words. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of your head, leaning forward and fitting his face into the crook of your neck to conceal his blush. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug and letting it linger to say goodbye.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna need your number so we can arrange a time for me to get this hoodie back to you.” You said as you pulled apart, keeping on hand on his shoulder as he hovered over you.

“You see, I’m torn darling.” Tom shook his head. “I want you to keep the hoodie but I also want to see you again.”

You bit your bottom lip and held out your hand, gesturing that you wanted him to hand you something.

“Give me your phone.”

“Okay.” Tom agreed as he pulled it out of his pocket, not even questioning why you needed it. You took his phone from him, smiling at the picture of him and his friends that he used as his background.

“I put my number in.” You told him as you handed it back. “Use it.”

“I will. I promise you I will. I just have to gawk at it for a few hours first until every thing that happened tonight really sinks it.” He joked, making you laugh loudly as the elevator dinged again, rushing you were you just weren’t ready yet.

“Are you gonna come down with me?” You nodded towards the elevator, wanting every second with him you could get.

“After you.” Tom held the door open so you could step inside, going in shortly after you.

“I had a really good time tonight.” You said once the doors closed. “I said that already but, you know, I mean it.”

“So did I.” Tom nodded, sneaking glances at you as the floors climbed down, going much faster than he liked. “A really, really good time.”

“Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Thanks for existing or whatever.” Tom mumbled as he scratched behind his ear and averted his eyes. You giggled happily, giving him one last look as you reached the lobby. The elevator doors opened, but you didn’t get out. You hit the button that closed the doors and turned to Tom, ignoring the confused look on his face as you rested your hands on his chest.

“You know, since you’ve so kindly gifted me your hoodie, it’s only fair I leave you with something.” You suggested with a sultry smile.

“Trust me, darling. The memories are enough for me.” He said as he shyly rested his hands on your hips. You moved your hands further up his chest, letting them rest on his shoulders as you pressed up against him.

“Then let’s make one more.” You whispered, looking between his eyes and his mouth before connecting his lips to yours.

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