#going through one of those phases telling myself not to give up this fic

[rise-my-angel]

.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

If we're gonna do this we gonna do it right!.... Song fic (or headcanon; whatever fits your mood) of Silver & Deuce trying to set Lilia & Mama Spade up for a date; cameo of "Kiss the Girl" moment from the OG Little Mermaid >:3c

[Referencing this unofficial blog event!]

*makes a banner that looks like a little kid bashing two of their dolls’ heads together* I decided to use Lilia’s Clubwear look for the banner since that’s the closest thing to “casual clothes” he has. I also threw in some… guest stars, shall we say, to spice up the situation! Kronk voice) Oh yeah, it’s all coming together 😎

I wrote headcanons again since I'm already working on quite a few longer pieces in the background. I went wild with this one, so I hope you enjoy!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Deuce regularly spoke with his mom over the phone about the recent happenings in their lives. What he didn't expect was for her to announce that she was visiting the town on Sage's Island tomorrow. "I've been improving my computer skills, Deuce!" Dylla told him proudly. "I've been doing that instant messaging thing that's all the rage with you kiddos. I even made myself an online friend! I'm going to meet him in town. I'll come see you afterwards, okay?"

Well, that just sent Deuce into an existential crisis. Sure, his mom was a tough, independent woman that could fend for herself, but he had a tendency to fret for her wellbeing, especially knowing what he put her through in his delinquent phase. What if the "online friend" was a total creep or even someone dangerous? She deserved nothing less than the best company (and anyone that so much as looked at her the wrong way would soon find Deuce coming at them full throttle to slug them in the face).

He can't focus during lectures or on his homework at all. Deuce just keeps fidgeting and pacing back and forth, his thoughts wracked with worry. At some point, he can't contain himself and blurts everything out to Ace (first mistake).

Ace decides to pounce on this opportunity to tease his roomie. "Dude, she's definitely meeting a secret boyfriend for a date. You'd better start preparing lines to kiss ass to your soon-to-be-stepdad."

"MY MOM WOULDN'T DO THAT!! N-Not without telling me about it at least..." Deuce insists--but as irritating as Ace is, his immature jokes only feed the paranoia. Was it possibly true? Was his mom seeing an unknown man, considering bringing him into their family?! Those thoughts swirl in his head and cloud his better judgment when he turns in for the night.

The very next day, Deuce makes a beeline to the town to put his nerves to rest. I'm just going to watch them to make sure nothing weird's going on and that mom stays safe!! He's in such a hurry that he barely registers Ace shouting after him, "It was just a prank, bro! I didn't think you'd actually take it this seriously!", nor the startled Silver (+ a bird friend resting on his shoulder) and angry Sebek that he crashes into.

Right as Sebek starts on a fresh tirade (“Watch where you’re going, human!! Have you no regards for your seniors?!”), Deuce shoves right by him with an, “Aaah, I don’t have time for this! Mom’s in a pinch!!”

"What NERVE, running off while you're being berated for your negligence?! GET BACK HERE, I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!!" (And so Sebek gives chase after him)

"Sebek, wait..." (But he's already long gone, and too frenzied in his pursuit, that he doesn't pay his fellow knight any mind.) "... I wonder what all that was about," Silver sighs. I should follow them to make sure things don't get out of hand.

He's a few steps down the road when he hears someone fast approaching from behind. Who should appear but an out-of-breath Ace. "Hey, Silver-senpai! Did you see Deuce going this way?! Sheesh, can that guy run! Took off so fast, I couldn't keep up..."

"I did. He ran into town, and Sebek after him."

"Great! That's all I needed to know, thanks!" And then Ace, too, is gone. (Silver, pure soul that he is, incorrectly assumes the best of him. If Deuce and Sebek both leave campus without getting the right permissions for it, they could both get in trouble. Ace is so considerate to go and help his friend. He's really living up to the Heartslabyul spirit and creed.)

The four boys eventually find each other again in town (Silver trailing after Ace, Ace tracking down Sebek by his loud voice, and Sebek locating Deuce, who is shadily staring daggers at a pair window shopping).

Sebek’s back to shouting at Deuce, Ace is telling Sebek to can it, and Deuce is ignoring them both. "Who's that guy mom's with?! I can't see too well from this far away, but I can't get any closer in case I'm spotted..." Deuce grumbles to himself.

“Hold up, lemme see!!” Ace nosily butts in, squinting at the duo in the distance. “Huh, it kinda looks like Lilia-senpai from this angle, but I must be wrong... right?”

Silver looks where Deuce and Ace are, and his heart nearly stops. "F-Father?!" The word is out of his mouth before he can reel it back in—Sebek’s face is affixed in horror at the slip, and the Heartslabyul boys absolutely lose it.

“Whaaaat?! I-If your dad is my mom’s date… then… th-then… Silver-senpai and I will become stepbrothers?!”

“Forget that!! What I wanna know is, why does Silver-senpai’s dad look like a carbon copy of Lilia-senpai in a different hairstyle and punkier clothes?!”

“WHAT NONSENSE ARE YOU BLATHERING ON ABOUT NOW?! Hold your tongue, cur! You know not of what you speak!! C-Clearly Silver’s father does NOT resemble our esteemed Lilia-sama in any way, shape, or form!!” Sebek bellowed angrily. “TELL THEM, SILVER!!”

“Er… yes, that’s right. I’m afraid I don’t see the resemblance at all. They are nothing alike."

(The Diasomnia duo had been totally blindsided by this turn of events; when Lilia had told them earlier that he was going to meet up with an online friend, they hadn't expected it, in actuality, to have been a date. Silver had thought Lilia was going to meet his long-time gaming buddy, Gloomy Samurai, in person, not a classmate's MOTHER.)

“Are you both sleeping with your eyes open or something?! That SO totally looks like Lilia-senpai,” Ace protests—but Deuce (bless him) is somehow 100% convinced. In fact, this realization just fuels him even more!!

"We should leave. It would be rude of us to intrude on their private time together," Silver tries to suggest--but no, Deuce won't back down at this point.

"Silver-senpai! ... No, future stepbrother Silver-senpai!!" Deuce says very, VERY seriously, "Don't stop me now! I have to do this....!! I have to make sure your dad's the right man for my mom."

Sebek begins to raise his voice again, but (shockingly) Silver puts an arm in front of him, silencing the first year. Silver's expression turns very fierce, matching the hardness in Deuce's eyes. "I can assure you, my father is a good man. He would never bring harm to, nor disrespect, anyone. I apologize, but I won't allow you to remain suspicious of my father. If he wishes to court another, then that should be his prerogative, and I fully support him."

But like a boulder, Deuce's determination is difficult to shift. "Even if it's you asking me to step down, I won't!! This is important to me. My mom is important to me!!"

Those words seem to strike a chord with Silver, whose features soften. "... I understand. If that's the case, then prove your resolve to me, man to man--and I will demonstrate mine." ("Ohoh!! Silver has thrown down the gauntlet!! What do you say, human?! Do you accept his challenge?!" Sebek cries in the background. Ace eyes the situation warily--how quickly his teasing had spiraled into something serious.)

"I gotchu." Deuce slams a fist into an open palm, grin wicked--his delinquent side coming out. "We'll throw down, get our parents to show off their best attributes to each other."

"It's settled then."

"We'll make their date go smoothly!! That way, we'll see just how much of their good points' come out and if they're suited for each other or not."

"Agreed. It is simple."

"It's so obvious!"

"How did you guys even come to THAT conclusion?! You totally skipped some steps there,” Ace groaned (amidst Sebek's way-too-interested chanting). "You guys rubbed your collective two brain cells and that's the best thing you could come up with?!"

The boys shadow Lilia and Dylla for a few hours, but nothing that interesting happens. It’s mostly them talking and sightseeing (plus the occasional bad pun, which sets Deuce's mom into hysterics), not really doing anything inherently romantic. Ace starts to sweat, realizing the hole he’s dug himself into. If they figure out this was all based on a bad joke, then he’d have an upset Deuce and maybe even Silver and Sebek wailing on him. If he doesn’t turn the tables soon, he might be in a world of hurt.

“Wow, would you look at that! They must be really shy!” Ace hurriedly comments.

“That’s strange. Father isn’t normally like this. He’s very free-spirited. I wonder if something is wrong…”

“Maybe Deuce’s mom is such a bombshell that he’s all tongue-tied!!” Ace elbows Deuce in the ribs, only to earn a slight glare back. “We should try to do something to move things along.”

“… I got nothin’,” Deuce confessed.

“Seriously? Alright, I guess it’s up to me then.”

“JUST A MINUTE,” Sebek thunders. “Who died and made YOU the love expert?! How do we even know we can trust your advice?!”

“Uh, news flash numbskull: I’ve actually had a girlfriend before so I’d know the kind of junk chicks are into! Besides, what would you know? All you ever kiss is Malleus-senpai’s—”

“Do NOT use the Young Master’s name in vain!! It is this exact kind of brash behavior that explains why you’re without a partner now!!” Sebek smirked as he folded his arms. “I, on the other hand, am well-versed in matters of love thanks to Lilia-sama’s mentoring and the romance materials I’ve absorbed in my spare time.”

“Like hell you are! Hearing about it and reading it is totally different from experiencing it in real life!!”

While Ace an Sebek squabble, poor Deuce is trying so hard to brainstorm and Silver’s starting to doze of again. That’s when his head bolts upright from a peck on the cheek. His bird friend peers right into Silver’s eyes as if to say, “Watch this!”

The bird flies off and snatches the cap from Dylla's head. There’s a big commotion as both she and Lilia try to retrieve the hat, but the bird easily avoids them and retreats with them closely following. Silver automatically recognizes where the bird is leading them and urges his classmates to come along.

As he suspects, the love guru bird guides them all to a lagoon far off from the town and teeming with wildlife. It drops Dylla's hat into a small abandoned rowboat by the shore, which Lilia scoops up and replaces on her head. He’s not bothered by the chase—his eyes sparkle with wanderlust, and he mouths something to her, waving at the boat. It’s an invitation to ride out with him, which she agrees to.

Lilia bows like a faithful attendant and gestures for her to step on. She does—wobbles at the instability of the water that the boat is upon, and Lilia swoops in, steadying her and leading her by the hand on.

He goes afterwards, nestling between the oars and startling to propel them to the center of the lake. They grow smaller and smaller, until… “Crap, they’re going to go way too far into the water for us to keep up with them,” Deuce curses. “How are we supposed to give them support like this?”

That's when Sebek gets surprisingly smug and declares that at times like these, one should create the right mood with music! "In the old days, the nobility of Briar Valley would sing sweet serenades to win hearts!! This lake is the perfect location for it, as the still waters will carry voices well." ("Oh yeah? And how are we gonna get them to serenade each other in this day and age, dumbass?" Ace asks cheekily.)

"Simple!" Sebek straightens the lapels on his jacket. "I SHALL BE THE ONE TO PROVIDE THE ROMANTIC AMBIENCE!!" This sends Ace into a laughing fit that hits so hard he doubles over, clutching onto his stomach as Sebek clears his throat, preparing for his performance. Silver quietly slips his hands over his bird friend's ears.

Out on the lake, Lilia's pointing to various constellations in the sky and telling the tales associated with each. Dylla's eyes sparkle as he regales her with the heroic exploits of the demigod Hercules, the firefly that fell in love with a star called Evangeline, the star that brought a puppet to life, the great kings of the past, the second star to the right--named for the boy who never wanted to grow up...

Deuce isn't ready for it when Sebek belts out the first note. It's ear-splittingly loud and scratchy, like a poor animal on its deathbed croaking its last word. The boys collapse to the ground, shielding their poor ears and shouting for Sebek to stop.

Dylla grimaces at the sound. "Did you hear something?" she asks Lilia. He simply claims, "No, nothing."

"You're screwing this up!" Ace hisses at Sebek. "There's gotta be some other way for us to make music."

"Wait, I've got it!!" Deuce says--and with the wave of his magical pen... "Come forth, cauldron!" It lands in front of him with a colossal THUNK, and while the rest of the boys stare, Deuce looks pleased with himself. "It can work as drums!"

"I won't be bested by the likes of a human!! If you're going to play the drums, then... then... THEN I WILL PLAY THE VIOLIN!" Sebek summons the instrument with his own magic, only to be stopped by Ace.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! I heard from Epel that you suck at the violin! Can't you pick something else?!"

"THE YOUNG MASTER IS SKILLED AT PLAYING THE STRINGS, SO THAT IS WHAT I, TOO, SHALL PLAY!! I REFUSE TO COMPROMISE ON THIS MATTER!!"

"Tch. You never listen to anyone, do you..." Ace heaves a sigh. "Well, whatever. I'm not about to waste more energy arguing. Just playing the instruments from here won't do much, so I'll use my wind magic to amplify the sound."

“We have percussion, strings, and winds then. All that’s left for a romantic song is… words.” Silver looks at each of his classmates in turn. “I will accept this task, since I’ve yet to be assigned a role. There is one love song I know of from father, so I hope it will suffice.”

The bird on his shoulder tweets, letting the boys know he, too, will lend his help. With the flap of his wings, he takes flight once more, spreading word of their cause to the animals in the surrounding area. They rally like a performance troop, fanning out through the lake and readying for a musical number.

As their discordant song swells up, propelled by Ace's winds, the lake comes to life with sweet birdsong and humming fish. Silver gathers his breath and releases it, singing the words to a song once performed by the friends of a mermaid princess. "There you see her, sitting there across the way..."

"I'm sure I hear something this time," Dylla says, craning her head to look around the lake. "Someone's playing music and... singing?"

"Really? I don't hear it," Lilia says, giving the oars another row. As they pull up from the water, Dylla startles at the frogs that stand upon the oars in a neat line. They look like they've assembled for choir, ribbiting in harmony until Lilia dips the oars back into the lake water.

"Something strange is definitely going on here! How can you not hear it now?" (He shrugs.)

The boat drifts along to an area blanketed by willow trees. Two storks swoop down, parting the leaves for them to enter. When the leaves fall down, they're curtained away from the rest of the world, secluded with one another. There's only each other, and the soft glow of fireflies warming them.

Lilia stops rowing the boat. He checks to make sure the coast is clear, then leans closer to Dylla, a knowing grin at his lips. "Sorry! I didn't want to ruin the boys' fun so I went along with it and pretended to be none the wiser. We should be safe now though--they can't see us thanks to this shroud." He gestures to the willows draped around them.

"My hearing is quite sharp." Lilia cups an ear, as if to demonstrate. "It sounds like Silver, Deuce, and... Ace and Sebek, two of their classmates! Sebek in particular is difficult to not notice--his voice is very loud."

"What are they doing all the way out here?"

Lilia laughs softly. "It seems there's been a bit of a misunderstanding on their part. Someone has convinced them that this--" He waves at the space between them. "--what we have here, is something more."

Dylla face settles into a solemn expression. “Oh no, I’m sorry that Deuce is causing you trouble. He’s probably got it in his head that I'd be happier if I found a new husband and jumped at the first other single parent he knew... Deuce gets overexcited sometimes and doesn’t know when to stop once he’s started. My boy can be as stubborn as a mule, but he shouldn't be putting pressure on you to feel a certain way."

"Don't worry! Silver's doing the very same." Lilia lets his head rest on a shoulder as he looks out at the lake. “I haven’t given much thought to finding a significant other myself. Happiness isn’t inherently tied to marriage after all. It’s something we all seek out and discover for ourselves.”

Dylla finds herself smiling a little at Lilia's words. In all the time she has spoken with him, he's mostly been silly--but he also knows when to pull back and to speak seriously. There's a sense of comfort and security to Lilia.

"It's funny, isn't it? Our children are nearly adults now, yet they're still as innocent as they ever were. They wish for our happiness so much that they've taken it upon themselves to make it a reality. There is a simplicity and a selflessness to that. They mean well, they're just going about it in their own way. We can give them stern talking-tos when we return, no need to get to it now."

"... You're exactly the kind of role model Deuce needs in his life."

"Be careful what you wish for, dear," Lilia says with a wink. "I just might sweep you off your feet. I can't help it if you fall for me, you know? I'm too cute to resist."

"Hahaha, now you're just getting smart with me!" Dylla playfully shoves him in the chest--a little too hard, not recognizing her own strength. Lilia wobbles, the boat wobbling with him. He grips it to steady them both, but they're already teetering, and... SPLOOSH!!

The boat tips over, dumping both Lilia and Dylla in the icy waters. Luckily for them, the lake isn't that deep so while they're sopping wet and shivering, they're still safe.

“Are you okay?” Dylla calls out to Lilia. He responds with a laugh, splashing her with water. It’s a direct hit on her face!! Wiping off the water dripping from her features, she growls, “Alright, I get your game! You wanna play? Then let’s play.”

Back across the lake, the boys’ song had finished. Deuce shades his eyes and gazes at the willow trees. “… How do you think they’re doing in there?” Deuce nervously wonders.

“OBVIOUSLY LIL… Er, I mean, SILVER’S FATHER THAT IS DEFINITELY NOT LILIA-SAMA MUST BE THE CAUSE FOR HER SWOONING!!”

“Man, just say that you think the date’s going well. That’s way too many words for what you actually want to say.”

Silver strains his ears and listens. The soft sounds of nature are punctuated with laughter and squealing beyond the weeping willows. His father, and Mrs. Spade, and the joy they experienced in each other’s company. “I think… we don’t need to worry.”

And so the hectic day ended happily ever after.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC Writer of the Month - July 2023: AlwaysMyChoices

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @alwaysmychoices. We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: AlwaysMyChoices Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? May

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I started playing The Royal Romance in December 2017. I have no idea how I found the app, but I was obsessed with that story. My memories from this time are super vague -- I know there was a connection between Cordonia being based on Montenegro and Croatia (two countries I studied abroad in the next summer), a well-placed advertisement, and a Christmas vacation where I was snowed in with too much time on my hands.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the fandom in January 2018 because I desperately needed to talk about the Royal Romance. I didn’t have any friends who played (and was embarrassed to share), so I started off liking posts from my “real” account (which was a Sims account) and then made this as a “side blog.” Later, that Sims account got abandoned, which is why all of my likes come from a different Tumblr.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

I had three criteria -- it needed to be (1) somewhat punny, (2) dramatic and angsty, and (3) tangentially related to the game. Though I was a Royal Romance stan, I wanted to give myself room for growth, so I didn’t name my account anything to do with the book. The name I really wanted was taken, so I settled for AlwaysMyChoices. But honestly, I love it now.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

My first post is expressing my disappointment that the Royal Romance’s Book 2 wasn’t angsty enough -- and that perfectly sums up my account. Four days later, I posted my first Choices fanfic.

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

13 years. I started writing in 2010 on Fanfiction.net for Percy Jackson. I was very, very young, and it shows in those initial works -- which is pretty ironic because this was the phase in my fanfiction career where I had the most success. I got millions of views on some of those stories, and they’re objectively terrible. After about six or seven years on that website, I went to college and ended up taking a hiatus. I wasn’t inspired to write anymore, which was pretty devastating at the time. Finding Choices brought back my passion for writing fanfiction.

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

Here’s the thing -- I love Open Heart, but The Royal Romance has to be the best. Are there flaws? Definitely. Did the series go off the rails? Eventually, yes. But TRR understood pining. It knew that the readers wanted tender moments with LIs, but they also wanted pain. We wanted tropes, but we didn’t want it to feel tired. We wanted incredible supporting cast members where even the tiniest background player was well-crafted and interesting (and the villain was iconic). We wanted growth and well-structured arcs, and surprising twists. Plus, the LIs checked all the boxes -- the prince bound by duty, the lover’s best friend, the supportive friend turned lover and the woman who had been through pain but always saw the best in people. I wish I could go back and relive that magic.

At the time, I loved writing about TRR, too, but I’ll admit that Ethan Ramsey was made for angsty fanfiction.

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

My first fanfic for Choices was “Come to Bed.” This was when I still wrote in the first person, which feels like a lifetime ago. As for my thoughts, it’s fine. I wouldn’t do anything differently, but I also probably wouldn’t publish it. When it comes to my Choices fics, my biggest complaint is that they’re often too tied to a moment. I wrote them because I read a chapter in whatever book, felt overcome with emotion and inspiration, and put that into my word processor. They’re my reactions more than a story, and aside from a few angsty quotes or steamy scenes, I generally forget about them when the moment passes.

To be honest, I totally forgot about “Come to Bed.” I thought my first story was “Prove it,” a much steamier TRR story. 

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey is my legacy in this fandom, and I’m happy with that. I’m proud of that series. But if it had to be a single fic, it’s either “Him” or “Never Had a Chance.” Both are pairings I don’t often write (Ethan x Tobias and MC x Drake, respectively), and both stories focus on these grand, explosive loves that burn up too quickly but eventually settle into comfortable, platonic admiration. It’s the kind of love that lingers long after the romance has died. 

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

I never expected my Ethan & F!MC "Calling to Say I’m Marrying Someone Else” headcanon to blow up. That was such a pleasant surprise, and I love it to this day. As this fandom has dwindled, engagement naturally decreased, but I have to admit I hoped for a bit more love on “You’re a Devil.” Sexy pining at a Halloween party? The color red symbolizes danger and decadence they can’t accept? I still think it’s great.

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

Angst. I love reading fluff and smut, but I’m really in the zone when I’m writing angst. For me, that’s when characters become something bigger than an idea -- they’re growth and change and cathartic and tragic and triumphant. If I never wrote angst again, I don’t know how I’d ever find that feeling anywhere else.

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Oh yeah. My MCs are generally versions of me with some exaggerated character flaws -- pride for Collins, indecision, and stubbornness for Charlie. I’m not as messy as my MCs, but at my core, I think I want to be.

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Consistency. My issue has always been finding that inspiration and holding on to it. I’m very dependent on the “flow” of writing. When I’m in it, everything is easy -- the dialogue is effortless, the descriptions are perfect, and the pacing is impeccable. When I’m not in it, I’ll write the same thing over and over until I give up. I have a bad habit of letting inspiration come in all-consuming waves without any safety net of pacing or discipline. If I burn out or get distracted, it’s all over.

Oh, and length. Those stories are always way too long.

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Omg, yes, all of it. I need to finish With and Without, but I know I’ll be devastated when I do. Then, there are the dozens of notes on my phone, reminding me of all these new stories I’ve abandoned.

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

I am super weird about keeping my fanfic life separate from my real life. It is a barrier I very rarely break, but when I have broken it, I’ve run into the same problems -- because it’s fanfiction, I give no exposition. So, if you’re reading it without any fandom knowledge, you’re lost. With that in mind, I think I would give them a quick recap and then give them “A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey.” It would kill me to be that vulnerable, but I think it’s the best reflection of this account. 

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

So many! Particularly in the fandom, I’ve learned from so many creators. Early on, I remember @boneandfur and @heauxplesslydevoted were such big TRR influences for me. So many amazing creators have deactivated -- even someone who taught me my entire bullet point format for HCs. Now, I’d say I’m pretty inspired by @jerzwriter, @terrm9, @utterlyinevitable, @the-pale-goddess, @mvalentine, and @queenbirbs. I’m definitely forgetting so many amazing people!

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

I would love to see A Weekend With Dr. Ramsey adapted into a mini-series with a devastating ending. 

17- Do you write original fiction? 

Yes, but not as often as I wish. Fanfiction has always been easier for me because I have somewhere to share it. Without that, I find I end up losing steam and forgetting about it. I do, however, have a phone full of story ideas, and one day, I’m determined to do them justice.

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

I am a big reader, an occasional bullet journaler, a dog lover, a movie buff, and a fan of British mystery shows. 

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

The eyes emoji 👀It’s one of those amazing emojis that adds nuance to a text, and I use it way too often.

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

____ I am truly so grateful to be part of this fandom. I know I’m not good at being in the fandom -- I disappear, I suck at answering, etc. But I truly love this group and am so happy to be part of it.

[wdxghosty]

Chapter 1 - Resurrection

Haiii! It's me again bringing you more fics, this is chapter 1 of Ophelia's backstory.

TW!!!- Mid writing

It’s 3:45 am, and I’m in a dark room illuminated by fluorescent light, from screens surrounding my bed. I linked up to all these tubes, I’m constantly getting shots, my mind has been infiltrated by that wretched beating sound coming from the heart monitor. I dont know how I got here, I remember being at the beach with my friends, we got on a boat with a bunch of guys we didn’t know, I think we got drunk. And after that, all I can remember is a splashing sound and I stopped breathing…

did I mention I can’t swim?

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

I grew up with three older brothers they all had their own interests but one of them went through a ninja/samurai phase, and I watched all those shows with him, Ninjago, Randy Cunningham, and Power Rangers Samurai, but my favorite was the one about the turtles.

They had a very passionate fanbase one i was a part of, I made so much fan art, and OCs hell one of my OCs was an obvious self-insert. Well she didn’t really look like me, she was tall, thin, pretty, the most confident person you’d ever meet, she would always be that one person people would go to if they had a problem, she was adored by everyone and hated by those envious of her. Nothing like me at all, I dont stand out in a crowd, I try my best to blend into the background I want to be almost invisible. Hell, she basically is an OC because she’s not one bit like me, comparing the two of us is an insult to her perfect being.

I made her so I could draw fanart of her and Donnie. Stupid right? I would draw the two of them in situations I imagine the two of us in. We’d go shopping together, and I’d give him the montage he deserved in the clothes dont make the turtle, in rise. I’d always be by his side willingly, helping him with anything he needed, in 2012. In the bay-movies, I thought I'd be the owner of his favorite cafe, and I'd always stay in late to make him whatever pastry I thought he’d want that day, and a coffee. When I got the finished product I was so happy sure I couldn’t let anyone see it out of embarrassment, but I was so proud of them.

Hmm… the beating is starting to slow down, and I hear a bunch of people running into the room, I think I’m gonna die. This reminds me of a short comic I made, Ophelia was assassinated by whatever villain and Donnie completely lost it. I wonder if he’d lose it if he knew I was seconds away from dea- everyone stopped talking and an irritating ringing sound replaced the beating.

“Ladies and gentlemen we are now landing in Manhattan New York, please get your bags from the overhead compartments, collect all your things, and thank you for flying with us.”

I rub my eyes open and get up from my seat. “I just had the weirdest dream ever. I was some random girl and I drowned to death, I think?” I take the two suitcases from the overhead compartment, and hand Nasir his.

“You have dreams of drowning all the time, yet you still go to the beach and crash into waves ten thousand feet taller than you. At this point, you’re seeing the future.” Nasir is one of my best friends, and also one of the most useful people I know. If you have a problem with somebody, just tell him and he’ll dig up some shit that’ll ruin their life.

“Oh my god, are you saying I’m psychic!?”

“No I’m saying you’re stupid, Stop standing there and move so we can get off this plane.”

Scoff, “Whatever, I can tell the future.”

“Your delusions cloud the part of you that's actually worth having, common we have to go before the Uber leaves us.”

Oh, I don’t think I properly introduced myself. My name is Ophelia Mafuta Chenett, you might ask “Why did you tell us your full name?” and my answer to that is, that's what the villaness does in every manhwa when they introduce themselves so that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m a soon-to-be freshman at Manhattan Institution of the Arts, (It’s not a real school) After passing the entrance exam I moved across the country to pursue my passion of becoming a fashion designer. Sounds stupid right? Doesn’t it sound like I'm some quirky girl from a 2010’s show? Well, I’m kinda going for that, as the main character of this world I have to keep up my spirits and believe that I can do whatever I want and even live in one of the most expensive cities in this godforsaken country. Oh, I’m also 17 years old, and my birthday is coming up soon so I'm basically 18, other facts about me, I'm from southern California, I have three older siblings, I’m 5’9 but basically 6’2 when I put my shoes on, into alt fashion, and I’m really big on video games especially when they’re story driven. Well, I think that’s it, you guys can just follow along on my journey to become… well, ME, aka perfection. XOXO byyyy!

“Please dont tell me you’re talking to your fictional 1audience again.” Nas slumped into his seat side eyeing you.

“They’re very much real I’ll have you know” She rolls her eyes at him and puts on her headphones.

“Drug addicts are probably so jealous of you, you dont need pills to get high off your ass, you were just born like that. You’re most definitely a crack baby.”

The two of them expected to get to their destinations rather quickly but, the traffic was honestly something that crawled out of the ninth ring of hell. Nasir got accepted into Princeton so he was especially irritated by the traffic. And Ophie got to campus two hours late but still managed to register and get settled in her dorm.

“Well it’s nice to know that all my stuff got here without issue.” then her phone started ringing, she got off her bed to check who called and her heart dropped. “Telli! Please dont tell me you left early, I'll hate it if you left early!”

“Nice to talk to you too Ophe, and no. I’m still in the lair because your plan landed hours ago and you haven't texted called or posted about it, so I knew after you got M.I.A. you’d unpack, and then pass out. We’re meeting tomorrow,”

“Oh… well that's embarrassing. It’s nice to talk to you again Telli, I've been so busy lately I forgot when we spoke last.” She flops onto the bed and gets under her pillows.

“Yesterday, at 5:45 am before when you were getting ready for your flight at 10”

“I’ll have you know I'm African, we usually leave ten hours before a flight, my mom was rushing me out of the house. And I find it shocking someone who’s never left the CITY is talking shit about me.”

“I've been to Tahiti before, what other countries have you been to?” she can feel the sassiness of his bum-ass eyebrows through the screen.

“OH let me correct myself. I CAN’T believe that someone who has never been to an airport IN HIS LIFE is talking about me.” She can hear him laughing his ass off through the phone, “So I think I win”

“No, I’m letting you off the hook. See you tomorrow Ophe.”

“By Tell, kiss kiss.”

She hung up the phone and rolled on her back staring at the ceiling. “Hmm… I’m an adult now. No more mom, no more siblings, just me. AAAH!” She screamed in join and kicked her feet. She hopped off her bed and dug through her bag to find her laptop, camera, and ring light. After clicking record she gets in position. “Ehem. You hear that watchers I’m a grown-ass woman now! and you hoes better prepare for Escapism season 8, watch me as I live out my college dreams! This is gonna be amazing, you know looking past all the exams and homework. Yeah, I know now I’m not special, I'm surrounded by other talented people. But I’m the MC, I’m better than them by default, and I’m special in general, all those current fashion designers that slap a print of a t-shirt and call it a day won't survive here. I have to watch out for the people who actually make their garments, but being able to sew doesn’t mean they’re a good designer and I’m BOTH. Everyone else on my wave length will become an ally or an enemy, but I crush all those who oppose me under the heel of my platform red bottoms rest assured. Well, that’s all for now bitches, see ya!”

She turns off her camera and gets back on her feet, “Well, I guess I'm done for today. I have three more days before orientation, and I don’t have my roommate yet. So I guess I should decorate my half of the room.” she turns her head and sees all the boxes stacked on top of one another.

“Or I could take a bath. She grabs her towel and opens the bathroom door, so she can bathe in boiling hot water while listening to Nightcore on repeat.

After her bath, Ophelia lays in bed scrolling through Tumblr when she starts to think of that dream she had on the plane. “That girl. What was her name?” she thinks to herself. Ophei tries to recall all she can about her, “She was on the bigger side. Short hair. I only ever saw her in muddy browns and greens.” she eventually drifts off to sleep, just to wake up again.”

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

“Sweetheart wake up.” She feels someone nudge her awake, “Hun you’ve been sleeping the whole class period.”

“Oh sorry Ms. Mayflower.” She scatters to put her stuff away and tries to leave the classroom before Ms. Mayflower stops her.

“Bear, sweetheart can we talk?” She pulls out the chair on the other side of her desk, and Bear sits down in it. “You’re failing this class, and I've talked to your other teachers and you’re not doing too well in their classes either. Is everything okay at home, did something happen with Mom and Dad?”

“NO. I um… I'm just not good at school, it’s just not for me.” Bear looks down at her lap fiddling with her fingers.

“Hun, you’re only passing art, but that’s an AP class we’ll have to pull you out if you keep this up.”

“But, math and science are hard. And I always try during PE I just never pass, and Mr. Brown SUCKS. A simile and a metaphor are basically the same thing, and nothing makes sense. And I like history but I never pass the test despite the fact I always get good scores on classwork.”

“Hun I’m sorry but me, including the rest of your teachers, have talked about it.” Tears start to swell up in Bear's eyes, as she stands up. “I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, you’re fine.” she leaves the room tears threatening to fall down her face, when she accidentally bumps into a small girl.

“What the hell is yours!- oh Beary, I haven't seen you all day. You look…cute.” she stares up and down Bear, and she decides to wear the sweet Lolita dress her dad got her today. She got self-conscious and covered it with a jacket but she left it in Ms. Mayflower's room.

“Oh thank you, my dad got it for my birthday.” she uses her arms to try and cover her body.

“Yeah, you look like a baby doll,” One of the other girls said. “You know the things babies throw up on?”

“Aww look at her skirt it has plushies on it. do you sleep with them?”

“No” she whispers

“What was that?”

“No, i dont sleep with them.” she raised her voice

“Oh, well I thought you still slept with plushies, considering no one’s ever sleeping with you.” the girls start laughing and bear laughs with them trying to play it off.

“What are you talking about she's sleeping with the bears on her skirt, dont diss her man!”

The girls continue to make jabs at her dress nitpicking every single part of it to oblivion

“Haha you’re so funny Bailey, but I need to go now.” She tries to leave before the girls see her crying, but she’s stopped.

“Noo, where are you going we’re having so much fun eat lunch with us.”

Isn’t it shocking how much girls preach about sisterhood yet be so cruel to their fellow “sisters”? They’re pestering her trying to get on her nerves, she just wants to leave and they won't let her. Tall and big vs short and thin if they were guys then this would be clear cut, but for women with’s a lot more complicated. One of the girls, the smallest one grabs her arm and tries pulling her.

“Common eat with us bear we know you can eat a lot. Oh! I didn’t mean it like that.” all the girls laugh with her, and Bear starts crying.

“Oh my god bear! Why are you crying?”

“If you keep wailing like that then someone’s gonna call Peta” at that moment she pushes one of the girls to the side but she falls on her ass and started crying. And at this moment the bell rings, and everyone flods into the hall they’re currently in.

“Oh my god! The bear threw Bailey!”

“She’s gone feral!” everyone started staring at her, and some people started recording. Then someone started barking at her, and a bunch of people joined in. so she just ran away. She hid in the girl's bathroom where she cried until the security guards forced her to go to class.

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

Then Ophie woke up with someone patting her back and tears trickling off her face.

...

That's it. Hope you all liked chapter 1 XOXO luv ya<3

[rey-jake-therapist]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗 (i don't know if you do these sorts of chain-letter things, or if you'd prefer not to, but for my part i do like to know which of their works a given author is especially hype on, so consider this an opportunity to gush!)

Well I've only got 6 fics available online so it's going to be easy to answer that LOL I used to have more, all Reylo fics, but one day I took them all off because 1) they were my first and last experience at writing "AUs" aka at playing dolls with characters I never really shipped in their canon universe (sorry for those who like them but I really don't get the popularity of that ship) 2) they were constantly snubbed so I thought I was a hack who couldn't write. Wrong fandom + imposter syndrome = I woke up one morning and went through a destruction phase. I kept the fics in my docs though. There's one I think I could convert into an original story.... One day 🤣

But back to the subject: I'll start to class them by personal preference rather than by fandom, so sorry if it looks a bit messy... Like the inside of my head haha.

Rise and Shine (The Sandman/Sweetbitter crossover)

I wrote this one as a gift for Tom Sturridge 💜 There was a girl on Twitter who had the wonderful idea of putting together a book containing fan art, fan letters and short fics, with the purpose of giving it to Tom when she'd meet him at the Basinkton Con. So I came up with this one shot, where Jake from Sweetbitter meets Dream of the Endless. Definitely my favorite work.

2. Lost Souls (Sweetbitter)

It's an unfinished project but it's my 2nd favorite fic. I just love this story and even though it's quite clear that I lost my audience lately, probably because I spend too much time on my characters' personal story and not enough on the romaaaaance for most of fanfic readers, I like very much the direction it's taking. I'm actually considering dropping it as a fanfic and turning it into an original novel. Lately I've been sick as hell and unable to write a line, but I thought a lot about this fanfiction thing: I don't get the hang of it. I tried, and tried, but I can't seem to grasp what the average fanfic reader wants. And Lost Souls, well, with a few changes I think I can easily make it an original story. Not to mention that "Jake", yikes.... I really don't like that name. Anyway, I love this fic.

3. Dream a Little Dream of Us (The Sandman)

It's my version of "Johanna Constantine, Nuala the Elf and Hob Gadling walk into a bar..." Except it's happening after Morpheus' death, and they're all dreaming. It's a very sweet fic that I wrote for Sandtober 2023 and I like it very much:

4. It's So Cold (Sherlock, platonic Sherlolly)

I warned you it would be messy, didn't I? 🤣 For this one I put myself in Molly Hooper's shoes and tried to imagine remember how it felt to be in love with a man who doesn't love me.

5. Bitter Sweet Lullaby (The Sandman, Dream x OC)

This short "story" is in fact an excerpt from the Sandman fic I began writing several months ago but that I have reworked so it would stand on its own for Sandtober2023.

It tells a part of Dream's past, where a fae named Eleanora, the princess of Faery, made Dream happy. I'm sorry I can't tell you more about her and what happens to her because it would spoil the fun to come, except that she is post Endless Nights and pre-Vortex but pre-Titiana and pre-Alianora.

In this scene I also include Larri Bea’s lovely song ‘Dream’s lullaby’; as it was written specifically for Dream, it gave me the idea of having it sung to him by the woman he loved :)

[semperama]

10 and 18 🙏🙏🙏

Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

To me, if I said a piece of writing "haunted" me, it would just mean that I cannot stop thinking about it/am obsessed with it to an unreasonable or unsettling degree, and yeah, that happens to me with other people's writing all the time!! Both with published fiction and also with fanfic. It's so basic of me, but I definitely felt that way after reading The Secret History by Donna Tartt, and also My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante. And probably others too, but those are the two books that first come to mind when it comes to things that consumed my every waking thought for days after I read them.

For my own writing, hmm. I feel like when I'm haunted by my own writing, it's only during the writing process, and it has a more negative connotation. I often get this feeling where I'm obsessed with the world and the idea of what I'm writing, but when I'm in that phase, I'm usually failing at actually putting words on the page, probably BECAUSE I'm overthinking. I'll lay awake at night drowning myself in little scenarious, but never actually write them down, or when I try to write them down, they don't live up to my imagination. That's a bad place to be!! As fun as it is to be consumed by something like that, I definitely don't do my best work when it's happening.

Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

Oh dear!! I'm so bad at these commentary things, mostly because, as I hinted at above, I think I do my best writing when I'm not thinking too hard about it, so it's often hard for me to go back and talk about how I came up with things or my thought process behind it, because...ideally I wasn't having too many thoughts! But I guess I'll attempt to talk about the opening paragraphs of A Praise Chorus:

Max gives him a birthday card. The envelope is blue, and Daniel thumbs it open carefully to find a picture of two cats in party hats and a hand-scrawled message inside about how he’s over the hill. He laughs and pulls Max into a hug, his mind racing a mile a minute about how—It’s weird, right? It’s so weird. The only people who send him cards anymore are his parents. No one else here got him anything. A lot of them have probably already forgotten it’s his birthday, too focused on their own plans for the weekend, getting laid or getting high.

“Thanks, man,” he says, squeezing Max’s shoulder as they break apart. He can’t look him in the eye. Something itches between his shoulder blades, where Max’s palm rested for maybe a second too long. “Let’s get a drink, huh?”

“I got it,” Max says. Daniel scoffs and waves him off, but later he catches Max slipping a credit card into the hand of a passing waiter. He’s a fucking kid, not even 20 for a couple more months, not even through his second year of F1, and Daniel can afford to buy his own bottles. But Max catches his eye and gives a thumbs up, two bright spots of red high on his cheeks that Daniel would think were sunburn if he didn’t know better.

So, I've recently talked about how the idea of the birthday card saved this fic, because I was totally lost about how to begin it when I first started writing. I originally was trying to open the fic with Max doing the shoey, but I think the reason it wasn't working is because that wouldn't freak Daniel out enough. Which is a weird thing to say about a guy drinking champagne from a shoe, but ultimately I think that's the kind of thing a guy can shrug off as just guys being dudes, you know? Whereas showing up to a San Tropez birthday party with a card of all things is just uncanny enough to send Daniel into a crisis, lol.

I think the part where Max insists on paying for the drinks really drives it home, because again, it'd be totally normal for your buddy-pal to insist on buying you drinks on your birthday, but since Daniel is already off-kilter, it takes on a different kind of meaning for him. I think it sets the tone for the rest of the fic, where Daniel starts to question what's normal and what's not and what it is he's actually feeling. The road to untangling his denial had to start with something he couldn't deny--the birthday card and how it made him feel--and then suddenly it became harder for him to cope with even normal friend stuff.

I hope all that rambling made sense, ahaha. Like I said, I'm bad at this!!

[kogo-dogo]

For the get to know your fanfic writer thing:

17, 76, and 77 (for your wonderful HLVRAI fic HRV), if you don't mind!

17. What I do when I can’t write? I turn myself toward another creative project. I was just telling my fiancée yesterday about how I thrive only if I have multiple projects so if I get stuck on one, I can work on another to keep the momentum, lest I just stop and never finish a project at all. But I do go through phases where my brain just can’t prose, so the creative project isn’t always writing. Sometimes it’s drawing or making a weird physical art or (most frequently) writing/coding bios for my Flight Rising dragons. I have an insane amount of lore for those pixels now, and I just replaced a bunch of my dragons so I can keep going. X_X

76. I have plenty of ideas that got cut out of HRV, but they’re, uh, nothing huge. I had a little scrap document of short snippets of dialogue that would pop in my head, but the only one that was distinct at all was giving Benrey a second monologue and having him mutate just before taking on The Director of HR.

77. My favorite scene in HRV is a hard one, but I had an INSANE amount of fun writing the tram scene and the one with the fucked up HR assistant.

[domoz]

9, 11, and 16 for the ask game! Your choice of fic (or all of them for 16)

(Ask game) 9 - What is your favorite dialogue you’ve written so far?

If I'm restricting myself to just founders stuff (and lbr I dont remember enough about older stuff to be able to quote it off the top of my head) it's probably this bit from this oneshot because the lines are so cold (imo).

"If you want it to stop --" Says Butsuma, forcing Tobirama's face to turn the other direction and digging the kunai in to the other side, a perfect match to the first cut "-- Then stop me. Get strong enough to stop me." But Hashirama can't stand up. There's no sudden burst of strength -- he used that up ages ago. All he can manage is to drag himself a few inches forward through the dirt, fingers just able to reach where a spot of blood (his brother's blood!) has been flung to the ground. "Please." His voice is hoarse, "Please, I understand. Please stop." The look Butsuma levels at him is cold, a frown that says he doesn't believe him. He tilts up Tobirama's head, cuts a final slash into his chin, before letting go. Standing up, stepping back, uncaring of the way his son has dropped to the ground like a puppet with it's strings cut. "Guard your heart or grow strong enough to keep it safe, Hashirama. Those are your options."

11- What scene are you most hyped for this chapter/fic?

For Hand over Hand Over Hand, there is a bullet on my outline labeled "Hikaku's very long and sexy day" which I think about often, and is basically: Hikaku doing what he signed up for to the extreme, and going from Tobirama, to Madara, and back to Tobirama all in a row.

For another fic... the whole second arc of Trust in Reverse, which is a fic where Tobirama and Izuna were forced to marry, with the expectation that it would fail. The arc is all courtly drama and the two of them begrudgingly working together to figure out why it all happened in the first place (and learning to trust each other along the way :)) Not a scene exactly, but most of that fic is in the outline phase.

16 - Write the next 5 sentences and share. ...For every fic you say? (...I was gonna put a readmore here, but the text editor tumblr assigned me for this post wont allow it. So, sorry if this is annoying long)

Brothers in Bond

Before he could stew on that for too long, the door pulled open with a creak that was deafening in the relative silence of the room. Izuna scowled reflexively, unused to having to squint into the light -- not that it mattered. Whoever this was, they were wearing the same nondescript grey uniform and mask as the shinobi who had captured them in the first place. Two more, dressed the same, slipped in to flank door even as it was pulled closed and latched from the outside. The chain quietly scraped on the stone floor as Tobirama shifted his position to better study the new arrivals. Tight security, Izuna thought with a mental sigh, and shitty interrogation tactics.

Trust in Reverse

There is no greeting, but instead one handed gesture at the papers on the table. "Infrastructure plans." He explains, voice so flat that Izuna can't tell if he thinks if this is serious or all a ridiculous farce. "Utilities. We're inevitably going to have to share, since we're living so close, and moving forward without input from both sides is asking for trouble at this stage." No, he must think it's all bullshit if he's asking for Izuna's opinion on -- he glances down -- plumbing. He's not educated on sewer systems, aside from the one mission he'd taken to the capital that had required him to crawl through them for several hours. This is some kind of trap -- has to be.

Wood Tar, Charcoal, Ginger, and Honey

Tobirama doesn't show a hint of fear at a compound full of active sharingan tracking his movements, nor so much as react when he's searched for weapons. He easily hands over the pack of medical supplies he's brought, only raising an eyebrow at the challenging look that Hikaku gives him when a pack of senbon is pulled from an inside pocket. "You're free to have your own healers examine the contents, it all has medicinal use." He says evenly,the way he folds his arms betraying nothing but annoyance, "And I'm unlikely to need any of it right away." "Take it." Madara grunts with a wave of his hand, already gesturing for Tobirama to follow him. He doesn't have time for this, and Izuna certainly doesn't, either.

In the Corner of Another Room

Izuna can admit to enjoying a little luxury from time to time, but he's still a shinobi born and raised. He can pass as an air-brained nobleman when he has to, and even enjoy it, but excess still makes his skin crawl when he thinks about it too hard. The inn and onsen high up in the mountains is lovely, truly, but the price tag to stay there is most certainly not. Mission success will make this more than worth it, but his nagging guilt at the cost combined with the constant vigilance makes him unable to really sit back an enjoy it all. He could -- his mark isn't due to arrive for another few days, yet -- but Izuna was trained better than that.

Heart of Flowers

Madara slips into his office without knocking. It had taken him a while to figure it out, but Tobirama doesn't actually chew out everyone who comes in unannounced, just those who insisted on loudly interrupting his work. Madara would never pretend that he hadn't before, or that he never would again, but the village had helped him start to be patient in ways he'd never had to be before. He is, in fact, capable of not tearing out Tobirama's throat. These days he doesn't even want to, most of the time.

Fic Trio (Specifically, Ambitious Uses for Hands and Tongues)

His entire existence has whittled down to to the agonizing white-hot pulse of not-quite pain. At some point -- Izuna doesn't know when, he was already starting to lose time even when he was conscious -- the feeling spread, changing from something sharp into a full body prickly-numbness that made it impossible to think or to keep his eyes open. He'd always thought it'd be cold, but he feels warm, almost pleasantly so, except for the uncomfortable points of heat that are pressing into his side. Fingertips, he manages to dredge up after what might have been an age or might only have been moments. Who's touching me? And why doesn't it hurt?

Hand Over Hand Over Hand

He raps on the door anyway, and hefts the bottle he's brought along when it opens and Izuna appears in the crack, squinting meaningfully. He lights up at the sight of it -- it's umeshu, from the same brewer that Tajima used to buy from when he went into court; the cheaper stuff he drank himself, not the fancy gifts he presented the daimyo, and by extension, the stuff he hid under the floorboards that Izuna and Madara got drunk on for the first time. Madara got sick, Tajima forced him to train through it as punishment, and he's all but forbidden plum wine from the house ever since, but Hikaku knows Izuna still has a fondness for the stuff. He'd been planning to give it as a birthday gift, but he hadn't anticipated a need to apologize for all but supplanting Izuna from his previous life at the time, either. Nor did he think he'd be trying to learn about the man who was his rival and worst enemy.

What if Hashirama was Evil

Only when Madara's shadow falls across him does he look up, but his red eyes are glazed and uncomprehending, and his head lolls back to its awkward resting angle after only a moment, too tired or too uncaring to struggle. Madara looks him over more closely. He looks dirty and scuffed up like he's been in a fight, though all of the minor wounds have already stopped bleeding. He hasn't even been properly stripped of weapons, just stopped from moving by the wood wrapping his wrists together and his arms behind his back. Madara grimaces but kneels down and starts going through pockets. Much as he hates the idea of doing what's so obviously been planned for him to do, the fact of the matter is that he's got no information, and Tobirama almost certainly does.

[porcupine-girl]

I can relate to this in two different ways, one of which is closer to what you’re going through emotionally I think but the other of which is probably more useful.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in college. I won’t go into all the details of the in-between, but suffice it to say that just like every god damned person with bipolar disorder does at least once in their life, I was euthymic (normal, basically) for a bit, let my meds lapse, then when I stayed euthymic was like oh it’s fine I’ll get back on the meds if I need them. And then did not.

And for the last couple years of that phase I very much just needed someone to give me permission to need the meds again. To the point that I considered suicide attempts because then someone would see that something was wrong and tell me to get medical help. Because as long as I could hide it, it couldn’t be bad enough to warrant medical treatment. (I know, I know, but depression lies.) Unfortunately this doesn’t have an ending that is helpful to you because what finally happened was that when I was 5-6 months pregnant (a pregnancy that probably saved my life bc I couldn’t figure out how to attempt suicide without hurting the baby) I broke down in my OBGYN’s office and she got me to a psychiatrist and told me yes yes I give my blessings for you to get back on that med while pregnant, please just do it. And you’ve already had a doctor tell you that. But just so you know - I understand how you feel.

What might be useful though is the other times I’ve felt like I needed permission for things, and those are entirely bc of my ADHD. One trick executive dysfunction likes to play is to set up artificial barriers, often fueled by guilt and shame, that you tell yourself will make you more productive but in fact just grind everything to a halt. “I’m not allowed to do X until I’ve done Y.” “I’m not allowed to work on X right now because Y is more important,” “I can’t possibly start on project X until I am Fully Prepared for it which means doing all of Y preparations.”

Obviously sometimes these types of rules are necessary, but some people with adhd have a tendency to set them up when they’re neither necessary nor useful. So for example, for a long time my brain said “you’re not allowed to work on fanfic unless you’ve worked on your dissertation today.” And guess what happened most days? I did neither! All my brain could think about was fic, but I wasn’t allowed to do that, but it wouldn’t switch gears to dissertation.

Finally - and the only reason I ever got my dissertation done - I had to give myself permission to work on whatever my brain wanted to work on that day. And suddenly a dam broke and I was able to get fanfic out of my head to make room for the dissertation and I got both done!

Right now, it sounds like you’re setting up this kind of all-or-nothing approach. “I’m not allowed to Be Disabled unless I have all the disabled merch and am doing everything just right and have fully embraced this identity and dealt with all the implications.” So my advice would be that you don’t need to give yourself permission to do it all at once. Let yourself build this new identity one piece at a time. Work out a schedule to take the meds, but don’t start it yet. Let it sit for a couple days and see if it still makes sense when you look at it again. Buy one item off Etsy and see how you like it.

I’m guessing it will be a lot easier to allow yourself to do one thing, “just to try it out, see how it goes, see if I like it” than to do it ALL. Then each little step will help you get more comfortable with the next one.

If this does not sound like your problem please ignore me! Good luck either way ❤️

Waiting for Permission to Be Sick - Input Requested!

So, I got officially diagnosed with two chronic conditions last week. And the doctor explained to me the details of how these conditions affect my body, and what kinds of symptoms to look out for, and what I can expect life to look like going forward. And I got prescribed meds, and given detailed instructions for when to take them and any side effects I might experience and what to do to help myself feel better if I'm not feeling well, and all of that.

And I just. Haven't done it. I've started taking some of the meds, but not all of them, and like. There's no real reason for me not to? I'm just. Not doing it. Like I've looked up some products on Etsy to have like. Emergency medical info with me so that if I randomly black out or faint again in public, someone could see me and have info know what to do. And I've been looking at pins that say "I have an invisible disability" and aaaaaaaall sorts of stuff. Basically just window shopping for my chronic illness starter kit. But it's been over a week now and I haven't bought anything, and I seem to have convinced myself that I can't start taking my meds until I have all of my Items sorted out and prepared. And like -- there are some actual reasons for this, such as my schedule has been all over the place and my meds need to be taken at multiple times a day at certain intervals, and some with food and some without food, so I need to be able to have that stuff ready to go even when I'm out and about.

But I'm not. Actually doing the work to get everything sorted out and ready? I'm just window shopping. And today, I have been very tired all day because of the rain and because I did too much yesterday, and my head has been hurting because I'm still not over my concussion and I also probably did too much today, even though honestly all I did was go to one class and observe the whole time, and read a couple of emails. And I thought to myself, "well I guess I should take tylenol for my head, and I guess I can give myself permission to do that since my boyfriend is busy and can't tell me to take care of myself --- oh."

I have been waiting for someone to give me permission to identify as chronically ill! Even today I was like "I feel like I've managed to convince myself that I feel worse than I actually do, and I'm actually fine." Even though there would be no real reason for me to be doing that. And like. My head actually hurts! I really did and still do feel tired! And I've seen my test results, and I know that I have a chronic condition. It's been medically confirmed by a bunch of different tests, and multiple medical professionals have been like "yep you've got something wrong with you" (though using more professional and kind words, of course). All of this to say -- I have been waiting for someone to tell me that I am ill and it is chronic and that it is okay to spend money on taking care of myself and things that will make me feel better, even if it is only temporary like the excitement of buying a new pouch that says "This Bag Is Full of Drugs" specifically to keep my medical supplies in, or something to help keep me safe going forward like a medical alert key chain. The only question now is -- what do I do about this? How do I give myself permission to need help or extra accommodations or even just some medication when I never want to admit that I need or want help? I'm so used to being self-sufficient and doing everything by myself that I don't know how to be okay with more problems.

Has anyone else experienced something like this? What do you do? How do you learn to be okay with the fact that your body is not going to go back to the way it was before? I am only 22 and it's hard to accept that my life is not going to look the way I pictured it when I was 18.

[whiskeynwriting]

Watch Me

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

◆

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) dirty talk, spanking, slight degradation (he calls you cockdumb and I’m WEAK), vaginal sex, rough sex, jealous and possessive Whiskey (god YES)

◆

A/N: Okay, I’m about to shock y’all: this is one of VERY FEW Daddy Whiskey fics where we don’t have the daddy kink. We are taking a trip back to the beginning of Whiskey and Babycakes’ relationship, about three or four months in. Don’t worry, it still gets spicy (;

Co-written by @sweetangel0069 because dear lord Anna did you give me some BEAUTIFUL ideas. If you guys find yourselves liking a certain line or description in this fic, it’s damn near a coin toss as to whether I wrote it, or Anna did lmao. Anna, please NEVER stop sending me your incredible thots <3

◆

Agent Daddy Whiskey Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

You know you’re still in that honeymoon phase, still in your own perfect little world the two of you had made together. There was never anything wrong, never any fights, only peace, love, and happiness. You knew it would come to an end eventually, you knew that if you were going to stay together that there would eventually be hardships, but you were ready to face those when they came. Because as far as you’re concerned, Jack Daniels is in your life to stay.

While your age gap was more than obvious, the two of you had plenty of things in common. One of them being your love for loud music and trashy dive-bars. Something about the atmosphere is just so fun; the two of you downing your favorite drinks while dancing to old country songs. To Jack, it was his slice of heaven.

Speaking of Jack…

“Hey!”

“Hey, darlin’.” He returns, his tone displaying his grin. “I’m here, parked right outside.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in just a minute.” You tell him, smiling like a damn fool.

“See you then, sweet pea.”

Once you hang up the phone, you move to get your purse. You were so excited for the date you got ready nearly an hour early, making sure to wear that short dress you know Jack likes. It’s made of denim, the light blue fabric soft and smooth. The dress cinches in at your waist and ends a dangerous few inches past your hip. The sleeves are short, reaching your mid-bicep, and there are three buttons that allow you to choose your neckline, which you leave entirely open, knowing that’s how Jack likes it best. You finished your outfit off with a pair of simple, light brown, open-toed heels, the shade matching your bag.

When you walk outside, you’re delighted to see Jack waiting for you in his vintage Bronco. He has his elbow on the side of the car, his jaw in hand as he waits. His other hand rests on the steering wheel, lightly tapping along to a song. He’s wearing his aviator shades, his black hat matching the tone of his leather jacket. Beneath it, he wears a plan white t-shirt.

“Hey, sugar.” He greets, climbing out of the car to wrap you in a hug.

“Hi, baby.” You happily return, welcoming his kiss when he pulls back just enough to deliver it.

The rest of Jack’s attire consist of dark blue jeans, his flask belt buckle, and brown cowboy boots. You grin, humming happily at how he looks.

“Yeah?” he coos, watching your eyes dip down his figure. “You like what I’m wearin’, sweet cheeks?”

“Mhm,” your eyes return to his, lips curling to mirror his.

“I find myself feelin’ the same,” he flirts. “You look gorgeous, sugar.”

Even though Jack had certain outfits he liked best on you, he thought you looked beautiful in anything. After all, it’s really you who made the outfit look good.

Jack keeps his hand on your bare knee throughout the short drive, his thumb rubbing across the skin your dress had exposed, riding up slightly when you sat down. The top to the Bronco is down, the nighttime breeze flowing through your hair. You feel so at peace, so incredibly happy by his side. Nothing made a night more memorable than spending it with him.

The specific bar he takes you to is one the two of you have visited before. The bar tenders were nice, the drinks knocked you on your ass, and they even had a Jukebox, too. There was also a pool table in the back, the very table Jack taught you how to play on.

“Hey, Jack,”

“Hey there, Charlie.” Jack returns, pulling out a stool for you before taking a seat on one himself.

The bar tender greets you, too, having known you by name for some weeks now. He assumes both your drink orders, and assumes right.

“What do you wanna do tonight, sugar?” Jack asks, turning to you while Charlie makes your drinks.

“Do you wanna play pool again? I’m getting pretty good.” You smirk, knowing he’ll accept your playful challenge.

“You sure you wanna try that?” he teases. “You’re quite new to the game, babycakes. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you on your first independent round.”

You roll your eyes with a grin, grabbing your drink in hand when Charlie sets it down. “C’mon cowboy, I’ll show you what I got.”

And to Jack’s surprise, you’re giving him quite a run for his money. He wonders if you’d been practicing on your own or if you were just a natural talent. Up until now, he’d been helping you out on every turn whenever you’d play. But today, you’re all on your own, and he’s really having to give it his all.

Damn, he grins to himself. My baby’s got a spark.

When Jack’s about to take his final shot, aiming for the eight ball, he hears a few men murmur up ahead of him. His eyes glance up beneath his brow, looking at you from across the velvety green. Further behind you he sees a group of guys standing around, a couple of them turning to scan your form.

“Thanks for giving me the game, baby.” You tease, watching as he misses his shot.

Jack gives you a faux smile, fooling you but glaring at the younger men as soon as you turn around.

“Look at you,” he grins. “Guess I really did teach you well, huh?”

You giggle, reveling in his words as well as your first win. When you walk over to him, he wraps an arm around you, holding his cue stick in the other. His heart leaps from his chest when you give him a celebratory kiss, the hand on your back pressing your body against his. He can feel eyes on you as you do it, the attention only making him smirk against your lips.

She’s mine.

You convince Jack to play another round with you, thinking he’s hell bent on beating you now. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Honestly, he’s not even paying attention to the game anymore. That group of guys is still there, about five of them lurking behind you. Seeing them check you out for so long makes him want to take you home and wrap you in his arms, keep you in bed and never let anyone else look at you ever again. It also makes him want to knock their teeth out.

“Oh, come on! It’s like you’re not even trying!” you tease, winning once again.

With graceful feet and swinging hips, you saunter over to him, lightly patting his chest.

“You’re somethin’, baby.” He says, grinning down at you before his eyes flicker back up to the younger boys behind you. “C’mon, why don’t we go get another drink?”

With his hand on your lower back, he leads you over to the bar, ordering another round for you both. As usual, Charlie whips them up quick, a new drink back in your hand in mere seconds.

As you begin to take a sip, someone to your left clears their throat, drawing your attention. You turn, setting down your drink as you look at the man standing beside you.

“Hi,” he says, smiling kindly.

“Hi,” you return, unfamiliar with the man.

“I saw you playin’ pool over there and I just gotta say, you’re quite a good shooter.”

You smirk, “Oh, thanks. It’s only because I have the best teacher.” You’re referencing Jack, of course, and it makes him smile, heart pounding proudly in his chest. But the guy next to you doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“I guess so.” he grins. “How ‘bout I buy you a drink and let you play a round with me?”

Your eyes widen at his offer, quickly furrowing your eyebrows with one raising high. And while your reaction seems appropriate, Jack’s is anything but. He’s doing everything he can to stay calm. He can’t fucking believe this guy just asked to take you out right in front of him. He knows for a fact he saw your kiss; what an arrogant little prick.

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you. I’m actually here with my boyfriend.” You smile proudly, turning slightly toward Jack.

Jack eyes the younger man and has been since he first stepped toward you, hell, he’s been eyeing him since he first looked at you. Jack’s gaze is mean yet smug, knowing he has what the other men want, what this man wants. He gives him a slight nod, raising two fingers to his forehead in a cocky little salute.

Your rejection, although in the kindest form, infuriates him. He scowls at Jack, and then turns to you, laughing arrogantly.

“Boyfriend? That’s gotta be a joke.”

Jack’s even-expression turns sour at this, his thread of patience officially cut. Your jaw drops, both brows raising in shock. Who the fuck does he think he is?

“He’s old enough to be your dad! There’s no fucking way you’re with him.”

At this point, he’s officially pissed you off. You knew the age gap between you and Jack raised some eyebrows, but neither of you cared about that. The people close to you supported you no matter what, and honestly, your age gap just made the two of you even hotter for each other.

“I’m well aware of his age,” you retort, giving him an unamused frown after you scoff. “And I actually really like it. I’m more than done with this conversation, so you can go fuck off.”

Jack is absolutely fuming, and even though your back is turned toward him for the moment, you can practically feel the anger radiating off him. You feel so bad, he must be so upset. What if he’s embarrassed? Immediately, you turn to him, blabbering out every word you can as you try to piece together some sort of an apology. And while your efforts don’t go unnoticed, they’re certainly unnecessary. Jack isn’t even listening. He just stares at you, stares into you, and before you know it, he’s grabbing you by your arm and hauling you out of your seat.

You’re stumbling along behind him as he struts toward the door. Is he taking you home? Is he upset with you? You’ve never had an argument before, not a real one, at least. You’ve had disagreements, sure, but you’ve never seen him so angry before. You were having such a good night, is he really going to let some stupid guy ruin it all for you?

Just as you’re about to walk up to the door, he turns, leading you down a short hall. At the end of it sits a door leading to the establishment’s only bathroom. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart racing and nearly lurching from your chest. With one push, he opens the door, a second shove forcing you in. You stumble forward, turning to see him locking the door.

“B – baby,” you stammer out. “I’m so sorry! That guy was an asshole! Please, don’t be mad.”

Your words stumble out haphazardly, doing whatever you can to deescalate the situation. But toward the end of your brief ramble, Jack turns, moving forward with sure steps. The bathroom door opened up into another short hall, a corridor to the right of it leading into the small space with a single toilet and sink. As Jack approaches you, your steps move backward, his body quickly pinning you against the wall at the back of the short hall. His body crowds yours against the firm surface, his hot breath in your face.

“Oh, baby, I know that guy is a prick. He pissed me off, but you… you sweet, young thing. The way you told him off got me hard, sugar.” His body moves against you, grinding his hips into yours as his mouth lowers to your ear. “You like that I’m older? Huh? Does my age turn you on, darlin’?”

You realize now that Jack isn’t mad at you, and that any anger he felt has been clouded by an incredibly exciting arousal. The fact that this all turned him on makes you feel needy, submissive, eager to please. An uncontrollable passion overcomes you, consuming both your body and mind alike.

All at once, your lips crash into his, forcing a groan from his throat. Both of your hands reach for his neck, pushing his mouth further against your own. He parts your lips with his mouth, eagerly licking inside. He moans into you when your teeth nip at his lower lip, your lips capturing his tongue and sucking it out of his mouth. He shoves his head away from you, ripping himself from the hold your lips have on his tongue before he returns, diving back inside all over again.

As you continue to kiss, continue to lick into the other’s mouth, Jack moves his hands to your hips. His strong arms force you to the side, pulling you over to the counter before spinning you around. Jack smiles, looking over your shoulder as you gaze at your reflection together. You’re already a mess, your chest heaving with anticipation, your lips already swollen beneath lust-blown eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” Jack always did love to see you wrecked, and in all honesty, this is nothing compared to when you were at home. His eyes dip lower, exploring your exposed cleavage. "My pretty little girl."

"Baby..."

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, strong hands pawing at your ass. “You sexy little thing.”

He groans out, leaning back to hike your dress up over your ass. His hands return, now landing on bare skin. His jaw drops at the sight, eagerly landing a single, harsh slap.

“Watch me, baby.” Jack says, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror, his handsome face on full display. “Want you to watch this old man fuck your pretty little pussy.”

“Baby,” you gasp out, lips parting in awe at his words. Your fingers grip the porcelain sink, skin shivering with excitement.

Thick fingers wrap around the fabric of your thong, pulling it down your thighs just enough for him to slide inside. He can already feel how wet you are, how turned on you are from him. Jack’s head then drops back down, unbuckling his belt and then undoing his zipper.

“You’re so handsome, baby.” You sigh out, unable to pull your eyes away from the reflection of him.

Jack grins at your words, his lips parting as he pulls himself out. He keeps his head down, lifting his right hand and spitting into his palm. Your inner walls clench at the sight and sound, watching as he grips himself, running his fist over his thick length and using his own spit to lube himself up. Jack’s left hand then grabs hold of your lower cheek, spreading you slightly as he steadies his breath. But you barely have a chance to catch your own before he’s slamming his cock into you. You’re used to Jack’s eager passion, his pace always rough and hard, shoving himself deep, but for some reason, you didn’t expect him to do so here. You’re shocked at the stretch, his length feeling even bigger from behind.

The force of his thrusts nearly make your muscles go limp, your head dropping down between your shoulders as he fucks into you. And he sees this when he lifts his head, both hands now on your hips. He frowns, narrowing his brows. He told you to watch, so that’s exactly what he’s going to make you do. Almost instantly, his right hand reaches around, gripping your chin in hand to pull your face back up. Your eyes return to the lewd image, the reflection of you and him.

“Keep that pretty head up, babycakes. Told you to watch me; watch me fuck you.” he grunts out, his hips snapping harshly against your backside as he repeatedly plunges inside. “Such a pretty young thing, ain’t you, baby? Taking this old man’s cock so well. You’re such a fuckin’ slut, sugar. My slut.”

Jack’s filthy words never fail to turn you on, his voice alone enough to make your center weep. It’s unbelievable, the amount of euphoria Jack’s able to pull from your veins.

You want to speak to him, return the filth that falls so easily from his lips, but all you can manage out are small, breathy moans. He’s so close to you, his chest pressed flush against your back. He hits deep, punching himself against that sweet spot that makes you fucking drool. And all you can do is keep yourself in place for him, taking every single thrust he gives you.

“Oh, look at that. Is my baby goin’ cockdumb already?” he teases, nuzzling his nose against your neck, just below your ear.

You can feel his smirk pressing up against your skin, his heated breaths washing over you in waves. The barely-there stubble along his jawline rubs harshly against your skin, the hairs of his mustache tickling your neck.

His hands wander your body, one of them rising to the cleavage you so proudly show off. Due to your lack of secured buttons, he’s able to slip a hand inside, grabbing a fistful of your tit.

“No bra, huh?” he murmurs, the thickness of him throbbing inside you. He palms at you, sliding his thumb over your nipple. “I knew I could see those perky tits; knew I could see those pretty little nipples showing through.”

Jack’s mouth moves to your ear, nipping at your lobe before licking a stripe up the cuff. He groans, the vibrations from his chest and throat rumbling across your shoulder.

“B – baby, fuck – oh my god,”

“What is it, honey? You not like what I’m doin’?”

Jack’s other hand is wrapped around your midsection, holding you against him.

“No, no baby, I love it. I fucking love it!” you cry out, neither of you caring in the slightest how loud you are.

“Hm,” he hums, mouthing at your neck. “That’s what I thought.”

There’s never been a more beautiful sound than that of Jack’s pleasurable grunts and groans, the punched-out noises making your eyes roll back. You love to hear him, love to hear how fucking aroused he is. And he knows it.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day, sugar. All. Fucking. Day.” he confesses, the hand around your waist retracting and lowering to grab your ass. “You’re my fucking girl, you know that?”

You whimper, nodding your head with closed eyes.

“Let me hear it, sweetheart.” The sudden sting of his hand on your ass causes your eyes to shoot open. “I thought I told you to watch.”

You’re so overwhelmed you completely forgot what he said, swallowing thickly as you try to gain some semblance of your bearings.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He demands, voice incredibly low.

“I’m yours, Jack. I’m yours, I’m always yours.”

“So good, so good, baby girl. You’re so fuckin’ pretty, sugar. Always drawin’ all those eyes, huh? You like that? You like the attention, honey?”

“No,” you whimper. “No, baby. I only want yours.” And it’s true, and he knows it.

It was during your very first sexual encounter that Jack’s possessive side came out, unable to help himself from claiming your beautiful form.

“Mm – fuck.” he groans, choked out gasps punching out from his throat. “Oh, honey, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, okay? And then I’ll take you home, take you home and lick your pussy, make your pretty pussy cum all over my tongue and fingers. Would you like that, babycakes?”

“God, yes. Please, yes.” you immediately beg, turning your head to the side. “Please let me feel it, baby. Let me feel you cum inside.”

Jack groans, a sound that turns into a growl against your neck. He can feel himself shaking, his muscles working to hold both of you up as he begins to cum. You coax him to his peak, grinding your hips back against him until it forces him off the edge. Shortly after your words, you feel it inside, welcoming the warmth as he paints your inner channel white.

You can feel the muscles in his chest and stomach as they press up behind you, grinding his hips against your ass and forcing himself even deeper inside. His ragged breaths make you sigh, your head tilting slightly as he begins peppering your neck with passionate kisses. He slips his hand out of your dress, both arms wrapping tightly around you, his cock softening and sliding out. His mouth trails up to your cheek, smirking against you.

“C’mon baby,” he murmurs, nose nuzzling into your neck as he feels you relax into his loving hold. “Let’s take you home.”

Thank you for reading <3

General Taglist: @anaaaispunk @dihra-vesa @sweetangel0069 @coaaster @pepascalhoe @evyiione @bport76 @tanzthompson @littlemisspascal @mswarriorbabe80 @just-here-for-the-moment @nagassia @phnyx @woomen23 @hotchlover @balekanemohafe @misscampacyn @practicalghost @pedrostories @xxxroxsxxx @thatpinkshirt @weepingsoulstranger @hauntedmama @atjoyfilms @toomanystoriessolittletime @lovesbiggerthanpride @luciandrine @my-blink-romance @pedropascalswife @ms-loverman-066 @beskarprincessjenny @kulicny @tanzthompson @coastielaceispunk @kaqua @heartofjakku @fennccshand @tintinn16 @https-austyn-com @mainstreamheterodox @dinsangelx @greeneyedblondie008 @kirsteng42

◆

Agent Daddy Whiskey Taglist: @takochansugoi @movievillainess721 @thisisdeftheway @amirra88 @https-austyn-com @bbyanarchist @stuck-on-writing @singular-itae @anaaaispunk @punkerthanpascal @theherothesavior @xaestheticalien @pedropascalswife @thewintersoldierswife @kirsteng42

[littlepadika]

Calling Home (5) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues…

Rating: E (18+ only)

Warnings: age gap (legal), dilf!frankie, praise kink, voice kink, size kink, low self esteem, discussion of addiction/ptsd/trauma/triggers, divorce drama, no use of y/n, no beta reader, DDLG🎀, unprotected piv sex, oral m and oral f, hickies galore👅, mild BDSM (cuffs⛓, choking).

Masterlist here

AN: Whatta ride... but all things come to an end🥺. i'm blown away by the support for this fic. Thank you all 💕.

Chapter Five

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankie had his own mental list of stuff he needed to do before you would arrive. He dunged out his closet to make room for your clothes. It was long overdue. He had a lot of things he didn’t wear anymore that needed to go. He went out and bought some more plates and silverware since his two plates and Rosie’s plastic plates would not do. He no longer looked around his home with a sense of loneliness, now he pictured all the places you could fit in. He could see you reading by the window in the living room so he bought a comfy new chair to put there. He noticed your small plant collection in your apartment and thought you’d maybe like a bigger one in the back yard so he bought a planter box.

He was reading your novel, titled Our Little Kingdom, while your candle burned. You didn't give it to him at first. While you were in the bathroom and Frankie washed your dishes, he noticed a stack of papers poking out in the trash. It was your manuscript. When you came back and saw him reading it you tried to take it back but Frankie insisted and you caved. It was good. Frankie wasn't just saying that because he loved you. He could see how great writers had influenced you and still it was uniquely your voice. The story, too, was compelling. He couldn't help but imagine you as the protagonist as she was just as sweet and clever.

You were making good progress on your list. You had put in your two weeks notice and started to applying to jobs in Miami. You enjoyed working with veterans so you hoped you could do something similar again. As two weeks went by you were disappointed you still hadn't heard back from job interviews. Packing was a little more difficult. You didn’t know what was worth taking and what was worth leaving. You knew Frankie had most everything already so it was a matter of picking your most special things. The rest you were slowing taking to Goodwill in batches.

You had completely forgotten you sent your book in to publishers until a flurry of emails came in on the same day.

Frankie woke up in the middle of the night to his phone ringing. He sat up pulling the phone towards him. It was you. Why would you be calling so late? Maybe something was wrong?

“Frankie?” You sounded congested. He heard a sniffle. Frankie furrowed his brow at that.

“Hey. Is everything all right?”

“ They-they-“ you could barely get it out “they rejected me.”

“Who?”

“All of them. All of the book agencies.” You threw yourself onto your bed, hot tears running down your face.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, sweet pea.” Frankie didn’t know whether to be sad or angry. He thought your book was amazing. He sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. “They’re idiots. Every one of them.”

“They’re experts, Frankie.” You felt more tears leak from your eyes. “Maybe I’m just not a good writer. Maybe-Maybe-" You hiccuped and low cry slipped from your mouth. You covered your mouth, taking in raking breaths. It was agony to admit this to him when he believed in you most. You felt like you had let him down. Frankie's heart literally ached in his chest as he listened to your quiet weeping over the phone. He waited for you to continue, feeling his own eyes grow misty.

“Don’t disappear on me, little pea. Let me hear that voice of yours.”

You were unable to speak. Scared of what may come out. You felt like your walls were closing in around you and mocking you. How did you ever think you could be a writer like all your favorite authors? You were so stupid, you thought.

“I let you down.” You said shakily.

“No no no, little pea.” Frankie said quickly. “You could never let me down. I don’t need to a book agent to tell me you’re a good writer. I know you’re writing is beautiful and perfect. Just like you.”

His praise caused another wave of tears from you.

“Daddy…” You bawled.

“I hear you, baby.” Frankie heard his own voice shake with emotion. He never hated the distance more than he did in this moment. He needed to wrap you up in his arms. “Close your eyes, sweet pea. Use that big imagination of yours. Pretend I’m there with you.”

“Imagination isn’t good enough, daddy.” You blubbered, fat tears slipping from your eyes.

“I know, baby.” Frankie’s heart was breaking. “But try for me okay?”

You clamped your eyes shut and tried to focus in on his breathing on the other end of the phone. Frankie did the same, closing his eyes.

“Good, sweet pea. Focus on daddy.” He wished he was there to comfort you, wrap you up in his arms and shield you from the cruel cruel world. “I’m next to you. I’m holding you so tight.”

“Hold me tighter!” You begged holding your pillow pet to your chest.

“Okay. I just did.” Frankie whispered closing his eyes as if it would be more real. “Feel that?”

“Yeah…” A moment went by as you steadied your breathing. Tears eventually stopped falling, drying against your cheeks. Frankie’s steady breathing anchored you.

“I loved your book. It was really really good. And fuck it, I’ll publish it myself.” Frankie couldn't help but raise his voice.

“Silly.” You sniffled.

“I’m serious, sweet pea. Who needs those stuck up assholes.”

“Hmm yeah, you’re right.” You agreed, voice softening with sleepiness. You pushed your face into your pillow. You could still smell Frankie if you really focused. "I miss you, Frankie."

"I miss you, too."

"I still haven't heard from any jobs. And- maybe I'm just not good enough and-" You felt more tears fill your eyes.

"Shhh shhh" Frankie interrupted "Listen to me. You are the best. The right thing will turn up i'm sure of it."

"But it's the only thing left on the list!"

"I know..." Frankie pulled over your copy of the list that you wrote for him. He had crossed things off as you reported to him. "Let's see if they get back to you tomorrow." Maybe he was being too hard on you, making you get a job first. He only wanted to put it on there to give you some independence over the move. He didn't want you to feel like you had nothing to do once you got here.

Frankie waited until your breathing evened out. He called your name quietly. When he got no response he assumed you fell asleep. He didn’t want to hang up. He missed you so fucking much and he felt helpless.

When he woke up the next morning, he said goodbye to Rosalia as usual, called in sick, and started driving north. Fuck the list. You were coming home with him now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course Frankie called you telling you he was on his way. You felt bad for making him miss work but your excitement overpowered any guilt. You set a timer for 14 hours and started packing with new energy. Your eyes were still puffy from your tears last night. But you repeated what Frankie said like a mantra. Who needs those stuck up assholes. There were tons of ways to self publish nowadays. It didn’t have to be through a publishing house.

When you ran out of things to clean up and pack, you watched out the window waiting to see Frankie’s blue pick up. You had changed into sleep shorts and a t shirt. While you had a plan to dress more sexy you ended up accidentally packing that surprise in one of the boxes earlier today. It was getting dark when Frankie finally pulled up. He looked exhausted but still… Frankie. He was wearing his favorite hat and grey t shirt. You ran down to the street to meet him. He’s pulling empty boxes from the bed of the truck when he sees you sprinting towards him.

“Sweet pea!” He smiled as you launched yourself into his arms. “Oof.” You buried you face in his shirt inhaling his scent. He rubbed your back affectionately enjoying having you back in his arms. “Aw… it’s okay. It’s okay now.” He murmured when he heard you sniffle. He oddly felt his chest swell with pride at how much you missed him. He never had to worry about how you felt about him. He peeled your head off him by stroking your head. You looked up at him with a watery smile. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

You snickered at his dad phases. “I’m ready. Well… I still have some stuff I need to pack up. Too heavy.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Frankie kissed you chastely. You pulled him in for more though, fisting his shirt in your hands. “Mmm no no. Work first. Play later.” Frankie pulled back. You pouted but have to agree with his logic. The faster you packed the faster you could leave.

Back in your apartment Frankie got to work taking apart your bed and dresser. You finished packing your clothes and dusting.

“Hey what’s this? It was under the bed.” Frankie walked over holding a gift bag with pink tissue paper sticking up.

“Oh…” You quickly grabbed it away. “That’s supposed to be a surprise. For Rosie.”

“You got her a present?” Frankie was touched by your thoughtfulness.

“Yeah I mean… I figured it might make her like me more.”

“She already likes you, but she can never have too many toys.” Frankie stepped further into your space. You realize at that moment how sweaty he was from moving all the furniture. It was so late at night and you were both exhausted but the sudden rush of his thicker smell made you feel wide awake. “Can I see what you got her?”

You handed the package back over, watching him gingerly move the tissue paper to the side. His eyes softened when he saw the pink unicorn pillow pet sitting in the bag. A mini version of yours.

“Am I too presumptuous making us matching? I don’t know if she likes unicorns and-" Frankie cut you off, dropping the bag and kissing you up against the wall. He wasn't even sure what part of that turned him on, just your sweetness and wanting to be a part of his family. He held your face in his hands, his grip forcing your mouth open. You felt yourself start to grow wet. You loved when he just went caveman on you. Sometimes he didn’t have the words to express how much he loved you so he reverted to touch; to deep kisses and deep thrusts. His hands trailed down your exposed legs so he could lift you up on his hips. You held onto his shoulders as he swung you around. The bed was gone, the couch was gone.

"Fuck. Hang on."

You laughed as he ran you out to the kitchen to set you down on the counter. You pawed at his pants trying to undo his belt, but Frankie was faster, unhooking your bra from under your shirt and then pulling your shirt over your head. He took your hand and placed it over his large bulge between his legs.

“Feel what you do to me…” He gritted through his teeth his chest rising and falling sharply.


“Frankie- oh my god-please let me” You pulled he belt loose. At first he stops you. “I didn’t get to last time. Please?” He bit his lip considering your plea. He really just wanted to give and give and give to you. But he had been mean last time, not letting you touch his cock. So this time he doesn’t stop you as you unbutton his pants and pull him out of his boxers. You licked your lips as his cock fell into your hand, curving up towards you.

You hopped off the counter, getting onto your knees before him. “Take off your shirt… please?” He obliged. You kissed down his belly feeling it tighten against your lips. He watched you with fire in his eyes, his mouth slightly parted. You pushed the rest of his pants and boxers down. You stroked him slowly with both hands.

“You have to tell me what you like…” You held his cock and licked a long stripe from the base to the head making him moan weakly. You repeat the motion adding a few kitten licks at the end, lapping up the stray drops of salty precum. Frankie was struggling to think let alone speak. He gripped the countertop above you, his other hand going to the back of your head.

“Just- go slow.” You followed his instructions, slowly taking his length in your mouth. “Good-good girl.” He clenched his jaw staring down at the sight. Your hot mouth felt like heaven and your innocent eyes staring up at him was just the cherry on top. You took his dick as far as you could before you choked lightly. You were by no means an expert at giving blowjobs but you were frustrated you couldn't go further. Your jaw was already aching from his girth.

“Mm don’t hurt yourself, baby.” He hissed unable to hold his hips still, he jerked a little against you making you whine. “Come back up, remember to breathe.”

You slowly pulled off his cock before going down again. Frankie’s hand on your head gently guided you so you didn’t hurt your throat. You added suction, applying pressure on the underside of his cock. You started to find what he liked based on his sounds. You still couldn’t take him all the way in your mouth, tears gathered in corner of your eyes from the effort. Your hand pumped the rest that wouldn’t fit.

“Oh fuck.” Frankie gasped his hips jerking again making his cock slide back into your mouth. You moved one of your hands to his hips looking up at him to say it was okay. “Are you-you want me to fuck your mouth, sweet pea?” You nodded eagerly. You put one of you hands on his length where he wouldn’t fit. He gathered up some of your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slowly thrust into your mouth. Like he always did, he waited for you to nod and give him the okay. When you did, he couldn’t help the growl that left his throat. Drool leaked from your mouth onto your chest as he sped up using your head more forcefully. You were sure you had soaked through your panties. It turned you on so much to see him take control, use you for his pleasure, but still his grip on you was firm and gentle. Every grunt went straight to your pussy. “Such a good girl letting me use this hole, too.” He rasped. “You’re crying around my cock.”

“Mmhm” You hummed around his dick making him groan. He was close. He was battering the back of your throat. You could recognize the furrowed brow and the tightening of his balls. You intensified your ministrations.

“Good girl, good-I’m gonna cum in your little mouth.” He pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop. “Stick out your tongue, sweet pea.” He ordered. You obeyed, watching greedily as he fisted himself harshly the tip of his cock hitting your tongue. You placed your hands on either side of his tummy, anticipating his load. His chest was flush and his eyes were fluttering shut. When he came he yanked your head up harshly as cum splashed onto your tongue. You loved this perspective, watching his face contort with pleasure. You tried to take every drop but some dripped down your chin. “Swallow.” Frankie ordered roughly still maintaining his grip on your head. You swallowed, his warm cum sliding down your throat.

“Thank you, daddy.” You smiled up at him, wiping some of the stray cum off your chin. He let go of your hair, now stroking your head then your jaw. “Did I do well?”

“So good.” He chuckled and helped you stand, his breath still ragged. You squirmed pressing your thighs together. The move not missed by Frankie. “Did sucking my cock make you wet, sweet pea?”

You nodded shyly before saying “It’s okay though. You don’t have to-it’s late and we have a long drive tomorrow.”

“You’re always looking out for me but what kind of man would I be if I left you all needy. But you have to ask for it, sweet pea.”

“I kinda just want your mouth if that’s okay?” You asked feeling too tired for a full round of sex.

“Of course.” Frankie smiled. “Your mattress is still in the bedroom.” He led you in and helped settle you on the center of the mattress. He pulled your shorts and underwear off, staring at your slick reddened pussy. "You soaked your little panties, sweet pea. Did you touch your little flower while I was gone?" Frankie asked, pulling apart your legs.

"I-I tried to. But it wasn't the same."

"How come, little pea?" His patronizing tone had your cunt clenching. He was teasing you.

"It wasn't your fingers. I needed you." You huffed, trying to push his head down onto you.

"Mmm poor thing." Frankie chuckled, the rich sound giving you goosebumps. He felt his cock start to harden again despite you just sucked the soul out of him moments ago. He slowly licked up your slit moaning at the taste of you. Your head tipped back as he he slowly inserted a finger into you. "Eyes on me." He instructed. You forced your head back down so you could make eye contact. "Play with your tits for me." You obeyed, squeezing the flesh in your hand. He returned to his task, taking your clit in between his lips, quickly escalating your climax. Your hands never stood a chance. He inserted a second finger, curling it against you. They were so thick and long it hit that spot deep inside you it made you gush.

"Oh my god. Daddy-I'm-" You teetered on the precipice your breath caught in your throat. Your entire body erupted in flames as your mouth open in a silent scream. Frankie's eyes widened as your pussy strangled his fingers before fluttering uncontrollably. Your cum dripped onto his hand, he quickly replaced his fingers with his tongue trying to catch it all.

"That's it." He felt you finally take a shaking inhale. "Breathe, sweet pea. Breathe." Exhaustion hit you hard as every muscle relaxed.

"I'm sleepy..." You slurred.

"It's okay. You can go to sleep." Frankie leaned up kissing you, smearing your slick all over your mouth. He returned to licking your pussy less aggressively though. "I got you."

You nodded before drifting off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you dump the last of your stuff at goodwill, packed the truck, turned in your key, and hit the road. You were bouncing in your seat with excitement. You hadn’t ever traveled south of DC. The landscape was beautiful. You and Frankie took turns driving, belting Fleetwood Mac on repeat. You forced Frankie to take obligatory selfies to remember the journey at rest stops or whenever the view was worthy. Over halfway to Miami you paused at a rest stop for a quick nap. Frankie was anxious to get you home and he didn’t want to stay put for too long. He was used to long drives and quick naps, but you weren’t. He didn’t want to exhaust you because there was so much he wanted to show you when you arrived. You laid across the backseat of the truck with your head in Frankie’s lap as the sun was going down.

In the early morning Frankie finished the drive. His own excitement increased when he was back in the city. You had your head nearly sticking out of the window looking at everything. You couldn’t believe how sunny and warm it was here. Frankie turned down a residential street. “Almost there.” He said. You buzzed in your seat.

Frankie made one last turn into a driveway. You instantly got warm feelings looking at the house. It was painted seagull grey with white trim. It was wonderfully symmetrical with two windows on the first and second floor with window boxes outside the first floor window. The front yard was nicely mowed.

“Your house is so cute!” You hopped out of the car, your legs enjoying the chance to stretch. The air smelled slightly salty being so close to the beach. The sun felt wonderful on your skin. You could have laid down in the grass and just fallen asleep.

Frankie showed you around his house with your hand in his, pointing out random things of importance in his giddy state. You followed him around with bright adoring eyes. Despite looking forward to this moment for a while, you barely looked at anything except for him. You could care less about where the tile for the fireplace came from. You didn’t remember Frankie’s story about how Will messed up his back moving in Frankie’s couch in because it was hitting you over and over again that you were home with Frankie. You didn’t pay attention to the story behind Rosie’s crib because Frankie was here with you. His warm hand holding you close like you may disappear. He was here with that damn cute excited voice as he showed you around his home, soon to be your home.

“Sweet pea? Earth to sweet pea?”

“Hmmm?” You smiled apologetically. Standing in the kitchen, the sun pouring in from the window above the sink bathed Frankie in golden light making him look ethereal.

“I said- we should start moving boxes in before it gets dark.”

“You haven’t shown me everything yet.” You realized.

“What did I miss?”

“Your room…” You swung your entwined hands back and forth.

“Our room, sweet pea.”

“So I won’t be sleeping on the floor?” You laughed.

“Never.” He kissed you briefly. “I just haven’t cleaned up in there and I need to make some space for your stuff and-“

“Frankie.” You quiet his rambling with another kiss. You couldn’t stop kissing him. “Your house is immaculate. That’s the room I want to see.”

He swallowed harshly before he led you up the stairs and down the narrow hallway to his room. While showing you the garden and the other rooms he was giddy but now he seemed more flustered. When you opened the door you could see why. Your candle was sitting on his bedside table. It was the first thing you saw when you walked in.

You immediately break away from him, going to inspect his bedside table. Glimpses of Frankie that made you love him all the more. Your candle, your books, your list, his sergeant pin, and an old alarm clock.

“Was this what you’re so embarrassed about?” You asked picking up the candle. It was almost used up. He averted his gaze. The back of his neck bright red which you recognized as a sign of his nervousness. “Frankie…” You set it down and took both his hands in yours. You couldn’t even convey what it meant to you. He had missed you that much that he burned your candle.

“I have the real thing now.” He said pulling you against his chest, dragging his nose over your cheek in reverence. You hummed in contentment. “This is our room, sweet pea. Our home.” He whispered.

“Our bed.” You added moving his hands to rest on your ass, wrapping your own around his neck.


“Eager girl.” He tutted, kissing just below your ear, squeezing your ass lightly.

“I can’t help it. I’ve waited so long, Frankie.” You tilt your head up resting your forehead against his.

“You’ll never have to wait again, princesa pea. I’m here.”

“Then I want you now.” You tugged him towards the bed. Falling down onto his comforter you were hit by a puff of his scent. Laundry detergent, old spice, and that indescribable musk that was Frankie. You barely got a chance to enjoy it before Frankie is falling on top of you. You laughed as he pulled you up the bed until you’re against the pillows. He's about to rip your clothes from you but-

“Wait wait- I have a gift for you.” His eyes lit up.

“Frankie…” You smiled “You didn’t have to get me anything.” He pushed away from you, walking over to his dresser. He pulled out a small package.


“Here.” He handed it to you.

You sat up. You felt guilty you didn’t get him a gift. You slowly peeled back the tape trying to save the paper. It was wrapped so nicely.

“Come on, rip it up. It’s just paper.”

“No… I wanna save it.” You argued, pulling it open finally. You stared down at the contents in your lap. It was a book with a pink cover and loopy writing. Our Little Kingdom. “Frankie… this is- this is my book.” You felt your eyes swim with tears.

“I know.” Frankie knelt in front of you. “I read it and it was so good. I wanted to get it bound. I was serious when I said want to publish it. I want to make it happen. But if you don’t want to at least we can enjoy it how it’s meant to be enjoyed.”

You flipped through the pages smelling the fresh paper. You reached the end and noticed Frankie had slipped in something as a book mark. It was a torn half of a check. “This is…”

“The check I tore up. I use it as a bookmark so I thought you would-“

You launched yourself at Frankie, a habit you learned from him when words were just simply not enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up, you were surrounded by Frankie’s scent, warm sun hitting your face. Frankie wasn't there. You heard movement downstairs. You threw on the first shirt of Frankie's you could find. You practically skipped down the stairs, heart leaping when you saw Frankie in his PJ pants and nothing else sitting at the kitchen table. His body was lit up in the morning sun, he looked like a goddamn dream. He was shoveling some cereal into his mouth but he stopped when he noticed you. He still looked so sexy to you in this moment, his strong arms and big hand gripping the small spoon. His chest littered with small hickies you made. You blinked a couple of times wanting to imprint this image into your brain forever.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“The sun woke me up!”

“Shit. I would have made you some breakfast or something.”

“That’s okay.” You smiled going to stand in front of him. You kissed him, licking some of the milk from his lips. Your hands rested on his bare golden shoulders. You loved how wide they were and how solid and warm they felt.

“Mmm is this mine, sweet pea?” He tugged at the Fleetwood Mac shirt hanging down to your thighs.

“No, it’s another boys.” You teased.

“Don’t joke about that, little pea.” Frankie warned with a small swipe to your ass.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You giggled. “I was only joking. No one else has cool shirts like you.”

“You want some cereal? I can also make eggs or pancakes or-“

“I want-” You slipped your hand over his pants. You could feel his slightly hard cock sitting below. “This.”

“You already had some last night and you still want more?” Frankie groaned his thighs spreading further around you. “I thought you’d be sore, sweet pea.”

“I am.” You admitted kissing him quickly. “but I still want you.”

“Mmm…” Frankie pulled your hand away watching you pout. “I think you need to eat something first.”

“No I don’t!”

“Come on, I’ll let you sit on your special seat.” He tapped his thigh. You debated this. You decided to do what he asked, not wanting to test your luck so early in the day. You hopped up on his lap wiggling back until his semi hard cock was pressed against your back. Your thighs sitting over his legs, your pussy peaking out from his shirt. Frankie rested his big hands on your bare thighs rubbing the skin back and forth. You closed your eyes enjoying his touch. You could feel his breath against your neck as he looked down at the sight.

“Do I look good on my special seat, daddy?” You asked looking up at him.

“Perfect, my little pea.” Frankie smiled. He pulled the cereal over and you popped a bite in your mouth. You didn’t normally like cereal but since Frankie asked…

“Okay, done. I’ve eaten.”

“Woah I hardly call that eating.” Frankie shook his head. He placed a hand on your stomach, fingers splayed out over the entire width almost. He applied a little pressure which had you squirming again. God his hands were so big and warm just above where you needed him. “I can feel little rumblings telling me you’re hungry, sweet pea.” You rock against him more intentionally making him catch his breath.

“Not for cereal.” You bit your lip.

“One more bite, sweet pea. For daddy?” He rubbed his beard into your neck which never failed to make you to laugh.


You took another spoonful of the soggy cereal before looking up at him for approval. He chuckled as you chewed quickly. You looked so cute with your cheeks full. It made cock ache.

“Good job, sweet pea.” He smirked when you swallowed it all. He lowered his hand down to cup your pussy which was already dripping. You hand flew to his thick forearm.

You melted against him as he rubs your clit slowly. Last night was hurried and desperate but now it was like he had all the time in the world. You listened to him take large inhale against your neck, smelling you.

“You look so beautiful, sweet pea. In my shirt. In our kitchen.”

“Fuck…” You moaned. His fingers felt so wonderful and thick against you. You fucking loved the sound of that. Ours.

“I’m gonna fuck you on our table.”

He lifted you up with ease, pushing your back down on the table. The sun coming through the window bathed your body in soft light. You looked divine. Frankie had your legs spread wide, tongue on that pussy before you could even blink. “Holy shit. Daddy!” Your hands clenched into fists at your side.

“Sweet pea.” Frankie pulled off, lips wetted by your slick. You blushed under his hot gaze. “Why don’t you pull my hair?”

You whimpered as he took your little fist and put it in his beautiful locks. “I want to but… the last person I was with didn’t like it.” You turned your head to the side trying to hide your embarrassment. His hair felt like silk in your hands.

“Hey-“ Frankie gently grabbed your chin and turned you to look at him. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.” He was leaning over you, invading all your senses, but of course the aspect that hit you hardest was his voice. Soft and reassuring. That rich baritone that made you fall in love in the first place. “Pull my hair, baby, I wanna know how well I treat this pussy. You won’t hurt me.”

You nodded feeling your eyes wet with tears. His affection never ceased to shock you. He kissed you, softening your worried look with each stroke of his tongue. When you were relaxed, he returned to your pussy. He was a fast learner for the times, applying the pressure you needed with his tongue while hitting that spot inside your walls with his fingers. Your hands were laced in his soft hair tugging almost unconsciously.

“Fuck-Daddy" You gasped feeling your breath. Your stomach tightened but you still felt like you weren't quite to your breaking point. "I can't- I need- I need-"

"What, sweet pea, what do you need?" Frankie paused, looking at you struggle above him. You grabbed his hand which was holding your hip and moved it to your throat. "Holy shit." Frankie's eyes widened.

"I need you to push me over-" you struggled to think of how to explain it but Frankie started applying light pressure over your throat making your cunt tighten around his fingers. The strain on your airway finally brought you to the edge. He returned to your clit and didn’t let up even as your walls clamped and gushed around his fingers. Didn’t stop as your back arched off the table, your toes curled, and your hands pulled his hair almost painfully. He let go of your throat when you tapped his wrist and your breath returned ragged and sharp, extending your orgasm. You brushed some of Frankie’s hair from his forehead and he looked up, making eye contact, as his lips suckled on your clit lightly. You didn’t say anything for a moment, feeling your body come down from that peak, basking in Frankie’s loving gaze between your legs. You felt boneless.

“I love you.” You murmured. Frankie surged up, capturing your lips in a wet kiss. He pulled back and kissed the happy tears falling from your eyes that you didn’t realize had fallen.

“I love you, too. I’m never letting you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m home.” You wrapped your legs around his waist, needing to feel that promise inside you. Needing his promise filling you up.

“Are you sure you’re not too sore?”

“I’m sure.” You ran your hand through his hair, now addicted to the feeling of it.

Frankie slowly eased himself into your pussy. It was harder without lube. You winced a little once he was fully inside. Fuck he was so big.

"Am I hurting you?" Frankie felt bad and started to pull out.

"No please." You arched your back trying to hold him inside. "I'm okay. I want- I want-."

"Sweet pea..." He bit his lip as he struggled to resist thrusting into you.

"And if I can't walk- then you can carry me." You wiggled your hips. Frankie couldn't help but laugh at that not that he minded carrying you around. "Please, daddy." You asked one last time as you dug your heels into his lower back. Frankie placed his hands on your waist and started fucking into you slowly, withdrawing almost all the way out before thrusting back in again.

“I’m so proud of you… taking my cock like a good girl.” He kissed you softly, moving to kiss a train down your neck to your nipples and back up. "You're home now." You nodded in agreement. "This is our little kingdom, sweet pea.” Your shallow breaths slowly transformed into moans. You felt your muscles relax a little and signaled he could start moving faster.

Needless to say the cereal on the table shook and spilled as he fucked you. Spilled milk on your table. His cum spilled inside you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankie enjoyed hosting so much since Rosie’s birthday he wanted to have a Fourth of July barbecue. With your help he took the decorations to the next level. Hanging fairy lights over the patio, and renting a bouncy castle for the kids. In an act of irrational niceness, you had said it was okay if Laura came by, that way Rosalia would be there too.

Frankie was clear he had no desire to hide you. He wanted to show you off. Still, you dreaded meeting Frankie's ex. Rosalia had warmed to you quickly even preferring you to hold her. You already loved her so much. Today she wanted you to follow her everywhere and watch her play. Frankie was stuck behind the grill but he still could watch his girls playing. You were wearing a lovely red sundress which Frankie was looking forward to stripping off. It brushed your thighs in the breeze and it was perfect height for Rosalia to tug on when she wanted to be picked up.

“You’ve done a great job with the decor.” Laura appeared at Frankie’s side.

“Thanks.” Frankie smiled tightly. Her surprised tone confirmed that she always underestimated him.

“You’ve been happier lately.” Laura studied Frankie.

“I guess.” Frankie shrugged turning one of the hot dogs for something to do.

“It just has me remembering the old days. Before everything with you happened.” Frankie prickled at that last statement. Everything with you. She always put it on him totally forgetting how she also made things worse.

“Frankie?” You appeared at his other side, eyeing Laura warily and doing little to hide your dislike. You had seen from yards away how Frankie tensed up, looking down. You wouldn’t let that slide so you went over. Finally removing your glare from his ex wife you look up at him, laying a reassuring hand over his forearm. “Uh- people are getting hungry. How soon until it’s done?”

“It’s ready now.” Frankie smiled down at you, instantly feeling more at ease. His answer let you know he was okay.

“Great I’ll wrangle everyone.” You smiled before darting back to the crowd.

“Who is that?” Laura frowned. “Someone's babysitter?”

“No.” Frankie shut off the grill facing his ex wife face to face. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Laura sounded skeptical. “She’s 12.”

“She’s a woman.” Frankie corrected her. “A woman I love very much.” He wasn’t going to listen to anyone look down on you.

“You should have talked to me before you brought her around Rosie.” Laura huffed, putting a hand on her hip.

“You had no problem parading your boyfriends around during our divorce.” Frankie shot back quickly looking to make sure they couldn’t be heard. “It’s in the court records so I doubt you want to bring it up.”

“Frankie…” Laura seemed to regret what she said.

“Let’s just… move on.” Frankie said as people started to draw near.

“Papa!” He heard Rosie squeal, toddling towards him.

“Rosie!” He picked her up, his anger instantly melting away. “Ready for your hot dog?”

As Frankie and the others started filling up their plates Laura crept closer to you as you were cleaning up some of the kid’s mess by the pool.

“Excuse me. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Laura.” She extended her hand. She was taller than you. Her face was tight as if she was holding in her sneer.

“Hi.” You decided to be nice, shaking the woman’s hand. You introduced yourself.

“So… you and Frankie. “

“Yes.”

“How long has that been going on?”

“A few months.” You said keeping it vague.

“And it’s going well?”

“Yes.” You grew annoyed by her vague questioning. Obviously it was going well since you were here. Her eyes were the total opposite of Frankie's. Hard and cold and icy blue. You quietly thanked god that Rosalia had inherited Frankie's eyes.

“Hmm he’s not doing that crazy thing anymore?”

“What thing?” You frowned.

“Well one time while we were together he stayed up the whole night because he thought some criminal or something was after us.” Laura laughed cruelly. You wanted to slap her for her lack of sympathy. What was funny about Frankie’s fear? “The psychiatrist said there would be delusions but that was just too much.”

“I think I’ve heard enough.” You snipped, trying to keep at least a polite facade. There were people just a few feet away. You prayed the couldn’t hear.

“Hey I’m sorry.” She schooled her features. “Don’t think I’m cruel. It wasn’t easy being with someone like that. I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Thanks for that. I think I'm good though.” You finished picking up the last pool toy and walked away before Laura could say more. You wanted to turn back and say something mean but you were determined to be the bigger person. You didn’t want to start drama that would hurt Frankie and Rosalia. You spent a good minute in the garage after putting the toys back, positively fuming.

“Sweet pea?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts, joining you in the garage. “Aren’t you hungry?”

"I was just cleaning up.” You said though your hands were empty.

“I saw Laura talking to you.” He watched you warily. Fear lapped at him. What did Laura tell you...“Everything okay?”

“She just… a bitch.” You huffed. Your word choice made Frankie burst out laughing. “I’m sorry I know you married her but how? She’s awful and rude and judgmental.”

“I know.” Frankie quieted his laughter, pulling you into his chest. “It wasn’t meant to last.”

“Because she’s a bitch.” You grumbled into his chest making Frankie laugh again. His tummy bounced against yours with his laughter. You loved it. You thought again about what Laura said. How cruel she had been in the face of Frankie’s PTSD. “If she says one more rude thing I may have to smack her.”

“You’re hot when you’re possessive, you know that?” Frankie smiled tickling your sides. “Come on, we should get back before our guests start to notice.”

“Alright.” You agreed, taking his hand and following him out of the garage. You felt Laura’s eyes on you two when you came back to the yard. Frankie got your burger set up for you before doing his. It’s the simple things that got you going; how giving he is. You tried to hide your blush from the onlookers as Frankie asked you ketchup or mustard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once everyone went home you and Frankie laid out a blanket in the back so you could watch the fireworks happening on the beach a mile away. He was quiet, at least more than he usually is. You didn’t know what to say to reassure him so again you reverted to touch. You placed your hand on his thigh reassuringly.

“Frankie?” You turned to him. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

“No.” He seemed taken aback by your question.

“Okay.” You moved closer to him until you were tucked into his side.

“You mean about Laura.” Frankie said after a moment. “Just- she didn’t say anything to you to make you upset right? She doesn’t get under my skin anymore. I don’t want her to get under yours.”

“She didn’t get under my skin.” You replied. She said nothing to make you insecure, just make you angry at her is all. “I’m just protective of you, you know. It seems like she was awful to you.”

“It’s fine.” Frankie shrugged.

“No.” You moved to sit on his lap, straddling him. “It’s not. You came back from your deployment probably in need of some comfort and all she gave you was judgment."

“She told you about that night.” Frankie hung his head in humiliation. You didn’t deny it. You didn’t want to upset him but part of you knew he should talk about this. Laura shouldn’t be the only one who holds this memory over his head. “It was my first night back. I just- I swore I heard gunfire. I was freaking out. I was probably acting really scary. I thought they came for me and she-Laura called the cops on me.”

“How could she…” You teared up on behalf of Frankie.

“I ran.” He continued, his voice thick. “I stayed a Will’s and calmed down. That was the end of the marriage.” He rubbed up and down your thighs under your dress. It always comforted him. You tried to think of what to say. His wife, the person who was supposed to love him the most, ostracized him and criminalized him.

Frankie was anticipating you to be afraid of him or push him away, but to his surprised you pulled him into a hug, holding his head against your neck like he was a child. He felt a sob rise in his throat and tears wet his eyes. You were so... kind. It was something he was still learning to accept and realize he deserved .

“You’re right.” You took a breath to relax yourself. “It doesn’t matter what she says. You’re mine now. Not hers.” You kissed Frankie on his nose then kissed his mouth.

“Always, sweet pea.” He rubbed his thumb over the area of your brow that furrowed in residual anger.

“I just wish there were some way…” you chewed your lip. “I have these-“ you pulled his dog tags out from where they hung between your breasts. “Reminds me I’m yours.”

“Maybe I need a necklace too.” Frankie smiled squeezing your thighs. That got you thinking…

“Can I try something?” You asked. Frankie nodded looking amused. You tugged at his shirt pulling it over his head. You never got over how broad he was. His toned arms were flexed holding himself up. You leaned forward planting a wet kiss on Frankie’s neck where it met his shoulder.

“Mmm gonna mark me up?”

You nodded and sucked harder till you were satisfied it would leave a mark. Pulling back you admired the red blooming where your mouth had been. It shouldn’t affect you as much as it did but you loved that he had a physical mark from you. He had scars here and there from cross fire and stab wounds. Some he wouldn’t go into detail. You loved them all but for once you wanted him to have a mark born out of love.

“I’m gonna give you a necklace, daddy.” You murmured tracing the path you would forge, down and around to the other side of his neck. You were gonna make hicks all around his neck like a chain. You leaned back down and planted another mark below and slightly to the right.

“Holy shit.” Frankie groaned, tilting his head back. He felt his cock start to harden under your attention. You slowly made your way across his hot skin until you had seven little wet hickies starting to show through the skin. You traced them with your finger, connecting the dots.

Frankie looked down, watching in fascination. His dog tags were a bittersweet thing, symbolizing his commitment to the military, but you wanted them. You wore them proudly, giving him more closure than 100 hours of therapy. But this... this new chain on his skin represented his belonging to you. “Beautiful, baby girl. Thank you.” He kissed you sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You pulled away before he could deepen it. You start to lean down again like you were going to plant another hickie on him. He pushed you back and rolled the both of you over.

“Daddy! I wasn’t done yet.” You wiggled against the soft blanket.

“No it’s daddy’s turn now.” He pushed the straps of your dress down your arms, tugging your neckline down.

“But I already have a necklace.” You felt Frankie’s dog tags lying in your cleavage.

“Now you’ll have two. I spoil my girl like that.” Frankie teased. He kissed up and down your neck before settling on his starting place. When he started sucking it sent a lightning bolt straight to your clit. You gasped. You could feel him hard against your thigh, not fully yet. You rocked your hips impatiently, clutching his head against you.

“Be patient, baby.” He warned, pausing his work. You stilled your hips with a pout. “Good girl.” He resumed. You wanted to be naughty but you knew you’d never win that fight. Problem was you were loving his attention on your neck so much you couldn’t help but start grinding against his leg again. Your hand reached down and tried to stroke his hardening cock. Frankie pulled back, his lips swollen from giving you hickies. He was only halfway around your chest now.

“You’re being naughty…” Frankie chided, lightly slapping your hand away from him. You continued squirming under his gaze though you at least look apologetic. Frankie pulled away. “You don’t want your necklace?” Frankie pretended to be hurt.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” You turned on the puppy dog eyes. “Just- your mouth feels so good.”

“If you’re not gonna behave I’m gonna have to make you behave.” Frankie’s mouth curled into a smirk. Your stomach flipped around in excitement. “Sit back up on your knees.” He ordered. You eagerly sat up on your knees, placing your hands on your thighs. Your dress hung around your waist. Frankie stood up and started undoing his belt. You got excited thinking he was going to let you suck his cock but instead he just pulled his belt from his pants and knelt down again. “Remember just say stop if you want to stop.” Frankie reminds you.

You nodded your eyes dilating, staring at the leather in his hands.

“Hands behind your back, baby.” He instructed. You obeyed your knees widening subconsciously. He tied his belt around your wrists. It’s not tight enough to hurt but you certainly could not move your hands without really trying. Frankie licked his lips, staring down at your vulnerable position. “Good little sweet pea.” He cooed. “Now you won’t be able to be naughty. What do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy.” You whispered feeling your cheeks burn at the depravity of your position. The smooth leather of his belt rubbed against your pulse point and Frankie’s smell filled your nose. You’re out in the open. Sure there was a fence but it still heightened your arousal. You were dripping you were sure of it. He knelt before you again to finish his hickies. He held your hair pulling it back to give himself more room.

You tried to lift up your arms multiple times but got stopped by the belt. You whined as he sucked another mark into you and you couldn’t get any stimulation in this position. Frankie let you moan and whine for him but he didn’t stop his mission. He finally pulled back, his hooded eyes evaluated at his work.

“Look at it, baby.”

You looked down at the curved line of hickies running from collarbone to collarbone. “Thank you, daddy, for my necklace. I love it so much.” You looked at his chest. You were matching now. Your lust was momentarily paused as a fresh wave of adoration washed over you. It was so much deeper than sex. Frankie noticed your change in expression and kissed you softly, bringing you back to the moment.

“You sat still for me so good. Now you can ask for what you want.” He strokes your hair softly.

“I wanna-I wanna suck you cock please?”

“Are you sure?” Frankie smiled. “You don’t want my mouth on you or-"

“No.” You shook your head. The emotions swirling in you from lust to love made you hungry for one thing. “I wanna make you cum in my mouth.”

“Fuck.” He groaned before kissing you hard, licking into your mouth. He never had someone as giving and kind and protective of him as you. He could have cried but there was no need because you were his forever. No yearning just living. He reached around to pull off the belt but you stopped him with a small voice.

“Leave it on.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Frankie stood quickly. You sat up further, your hands still restrained behind your back. Your head was tilted up at him, your dress bunched around your waist, it was the most beautiful fucking sight.

Red blue and white fireworks dazzled the sky above. He picked you up bridal style and carried you inside as quickly as he could while you giggled in delight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things started clicking into place like you were growing along some metaphorical ladder. You were finally where you needed to be. You got a job working at the VA in Miami, running their re-entry program. A small publishing house in Miami loved your book and agreed to publish it for a short run. Frankie took some money out of the Colombia account to cover the rest of the contract. Frankie had the book for sale at the shop pushing it on anyone who would enter. He was so proud of you. And that was all that mattered to you.

Frankie unironically planted sweet pea in the garden, telling you how they are slow to grow, but their delicate flower and sweet smell is worth the wait; just like you. Sweet peas were climbers, with the right support, they would bend to any shape. You knew you could go as high as the sky with Frankie by your side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @floraandfrost @agingerindenial, @heythere-mel, @icanbeyourjedi, @linnie0119, @pedrosmustache, @thisshipwillsail316, @peterhollandkait, @leias-rebelion, @phoenix-of-loki, @prettypedros, @kennedywxlsh, @punkerthanpascal, @the-witty-pen-name, @twentyfirstcenturyfox, @madslorian, @sarahjkl82-blog, @bison-writes, @lightning-fast54, @maievdenoir, @nicolethered, @kenoobiwan, @danniburgh, @janebby, @dihra-vesa, @yespolkadotkitty, @ilikechocolatemilkh, @headinthestarz, @tanyaherondale, @christina-loves, @dobbyjen, @fangirl-316

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ���I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[justagirlsearchingforamuse]

Could you write a reunion fic as a sequel to the Heisenberg 'alone time' that you wrote? While smut would be wonderful, I'd just be grateful for apologetic Karl forced to be humble for once in his life.

(Also im DYING to know what he did, did OC/Reader discover his Soldats or about Rose? Im so curious and itching for more)

Your writing is awesome and I hope to get to read more Heisenberg goodness from you!

A/N: Thanks so much and I'm glad you guys are enjoying what I'm writing, sorry if it took so long and I'll be happy to answer more asks (including angst and fluff) for RE8. Sorry if this is so damn long but hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. Also decided to make it gender neutral as I didn't want anyone to be left out.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, The reader riding Karl, The reader not afraid to talk back to Karl, Stitching, Cursing/Inappropriate Language, Oral, Kissing, Arguing, power bottom' Karl, fluffy smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, Fluff, and nearly 8000 words.

It's been far too long since you have seen that man and you hoped not to see him for as long as you both may live, for a time you thought it was just 2 people with different paths that force them apart but in a way you couldn't be more wrong. You understood and still understand his need to get rid of his troubling and frankly corrupt family, you both shared a dream to run away from the Village and to live somewhere with beautiful sights. To have some form of happiness even if it doesn't last, sure normal life may seem boring but it's all that you both wanted, happiness away from reminders of Miranda and the rest of his seemingly fucked up family. But what it took to for him to get it, his plan that he seemingly thought was so brilliant only made you boil with rage and painful reminders of your past is brought from the dark corners of your memories and into the light of your mind. Children. They're so innocent, good, and pure ... they bring out everything in people, children are something that you hold near and dear to your heart. Children are everything that the world isn't, at least until they're forced to grow up and deal with the cruelty of the world. This wasn't the first time that you had disagreed or fought with Karl in your mind, but what really caused you to boil over was his plans.

A heavy huff slips from your lips as your heavy steps full of anger echoed throughout the factory, your hands are balled into tight fists and your fingers trembled along with your body, you just couldn't fucking take it. You weren't going to stand by and turn a blind eye to sacrificing an innocent child for your happiness, you weren't going to and Karl as usual tried to convince you into it. Make it seem like it'll be worth it in the end. He's stomping after you, following after you like a dog and you can hear him desperately trying to get you to stay, you keep your eyes forward and keep making your way towards the exit. Just as the door is in sight, he reaches out to grab your wrist causing you to gasp before trying to pull out of his grasp, he pulls you firmly towards him and makes you meet his eyes. His green eyes are clouded with ... desperation, they're soft and vulnerable but it didn't phase you. Not one bit. "Come on, (Y/N) ... you know that I'd do anything for you. ... You know I love you ... that's why I have to do this, kitten. You have to fucking understand ...!" He pleads with you, you turn away from his face, that bitter taste still remains on your tongue and his words fall deaf to your ears. "You don't understand! You don't understand at all! You're in your own fucking bubble ...! I can't do this! I can't live with the fact that the man I'm in love with is willing to sacrifice an innocent child for a chance at happiness." You growl at him, your words are breathless and harsh and it stings like poison to his soul, his expression begins to slowly fade into resentment. A look you had never seen before, especially towards you. "Listen to me! ... The fruits of our labor shall come ... but it all comes with a little sacrifice." He barks, his grip on your wrist slightly tightening with his anger rising as he tries to plead with you, get you to understand but you could care less. "Then I don't want to share that kind of happiness or freedom with you at all ...!" You bark back, your words are dripping in poison and there isn't much care behind them, a huff leaves your nostrils and you once again try to get out of his painfully tight grasp but he wants you to hear him. Fuck. "I thought ... fuck ... I thought you fucking loved me. All those nights, all those late-night talks, the passionate love we made ... I guess it meant fuck-all to you, huh? I guess you never gave a fuck about me ... I wanted you to ... I wanted you to understand." Karl seethes, his words are in a low growl and his green eyes are clouded with bubbling rage and fury. Fuck.

"I did love you, Karl. I still do but you have to leave or do something, I don't fuckin' know but there should be a limit to the price you're willing to pay for a chance at freedom. ... I'm not willing to. This ... this brings back too many painful memories, I would never let myself live if I let her die." You almost sob, your anger that was once boiling and alive was now being put out by the melancholy that rested deep within your soul. That baby reminds you so much of ... your history. You never told him about your past and the trauma you somewhat suffer from it that makes you long and ache for freedom. But now wasn't the time. At all. "I can't do that ...! You know I can't ...! You can't leave me, (Y/N) ...!" He shouts at you, desperately clinging to his relationship that is burning, crumbling right in front of his very eyes, he's trying so hard to save it but the thought quickly floods in what if he can't save what you have? His jaw clenches and his throat begins to tighten, breaths become hard to even get out and you can hear his low growl of rage and sorrow echo through your ears. Your throat had tightened the moment he reached out for your hand and now the tears were swelling in your eyes, leaving them uncontrollably. "I love you, Karl. But this is the end of us. The end of our story together." You managed to choke out as his expression softens yet he's stiff, a frown is plastered on his lips, and doesn't seem like it's leaving anytime soon. Regrets plague his mind, "I regret ever opening up to you. Fuck, I never should've let you into my life especially if you were gonna fuck me over and leave me alone." He thinks to himself and immediately lets go of your wrist, he forces on a blank expression and forces his tears to be hidden away, he pushes away his heartache and goes back to the only way he knows how to not fall apart, to not lose himself and to become weak.

"I never wanna see your fuckin' face again. Leave. Don't even think of coming back. You fuckin' ... you fuckin' hurt me ..." He grunts and growls at you, even lightly pushing you towards the door before turning his back on you as he crosses his arms. Fuck. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused." You manage to say in a whisper, wiping away your tears and sniffling to yourself before leaving out that door and never looking back, it was hard leaving him behind to wallow and experience his pain alone that you caused. But you stand by your choice that you couldn't stay if he had to use Rose for his plans. Still, he plagued your dreams, still had nightmares about that man, about losing him in so many graphic ways. You tried to live your life, going to work and just trying to find a way to live without seeing Karl ever again at least you thought. You never forgot him. It was around 2 in the morning and you managed to sleep for just a few minutes until your phone rang obnoxiously loud, ringing and vibrating against your nightstand. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and an annoyed groan left your lips before you picked up your phone, though you had lost his number you knew it was in that village and it meant that he was the only one calling you. You almost want to toss your phone across the room, a familiar bitter taste begins to coat your tongue and you slowly take in a breath staring at the phone in your hand. "God fucking damn it." You curse bitterly, regretfully pressing the answer button on your phone, scratching at your head you answer with a bitter and low "hello" that is answered with heavy ragged breaths. Coughing soon follows after and echoes through the phone. "What the he-" You begin to ask before you're interrupted by his sudden cursing and rage-filled words. "Stupid fucking Ethan Winters ... the bastard ... couldn't even ... finish the job ..." He coughs into the phone, blood pools in his gut, fuck he was ruining one of his favorite shirts and an empty swallowing pain aches through his stomach. But he barely cared.

"The fuck are you rambling about, Karl ...?" You ask harshly, standing up on your feet as you press the phone to your ear, waiting for an explanation. "Oh, fuck off! You wouldn't understand ...! Or care!" He howls back before you can hear him cough once again before a wince soon slips from his parted lips, an agitated expression twists onto your face. "You must've thought I would care if you thought to fuckin' call me. Tell me what's up or I swear I'll fucking hang up." You bark at him, clenching your fists tightly as heavy ragged breaths left your body in the presence of your anger. " ... If you do give a damn ... then your ex is bleeding the fuck out in his factory ... with no knowledge of medicine and shit." He coughs out, he presses his hand firmly onto his large wound, fuck was he in bad shape and Ethan Winters had fucked him up but like a coward left him alive. "I might be there. Keep pressure on the wound and try not to die, dickhead." You huff in a ragged breath before hanging up quickly, in a way you thought it was karma for him wanting to use a baby and possibly murder a baby to get rid of his toxic and frankly not real family.

You sit back down onto your bed with a heavy sigh leaving your lips and a question on your mind. Was it gonna be worth it? He could be trying to trick you, you thought to yourself and really questioned if you should drive there and help him supposedly. As much as you wanted to be bitter, to hold onto that resentment but your heart and soul ached to see that filthy man, it called out to him desperately. Your heart sang to see him, to hear him despite your mind's warnings and reasonable viewing of the situation. Like a dumbass, you listened to your heart and began to get dressed, you threw on some old coat and a pair of washed-up skinny jeans, you grabbed a med-kit and some stitches and quickly rush to drive to the hidden and eerie village. With your foot pressed hard on the gas pedal, you kept wishing and praying that he'd be fine, that the waste of gas and the risk of being pulled over by cops worth it. When you finally make it to the factory, it's grim and dark and seemingly stopped working, the smoke that came from the factory is gone, the noise and the racket that his factory produced every second. You quickly get out of your car, medkit, and tools in your arms as you enter, you can hear his heavy strained breaths echoing through the factory that is now seemingly dead. Lifeless. A series of coughs leave his lips as he sits slumped up against the side of his bed, his blood drips and oozes off his hand, covering his stomach wound as the pain just continued, it still ached and stung like salt on an exposed wound. His head is dizzy with a haze over him, fuck was his head aching like a motherfucker and everything on his body ached and cried out in pain. "Karl ...?!" He hears you shout desperately searching for the man, he could hear the distress in your voice, the panic that came in your hurried and seemingly quick steps. "I-I'm h-here ..." He weakly responds in a low whisper, blood begins to coat his tongue and the unfamiliar taste of iron rests upon his tongue. You hear his cry weakly and you quickly rush to his bedroom, heavy breaths leave your lips in your pursuit to find Karl before he bleeds out or chokes on his own blood. What an idiot ...

He's in seemingly worse shape than when you left, his lips are beginning to become tainted with his own blood, many small wounds were all over him but the most concerning was the one on his stomach. He's coughing and trying to take in oxygen, trying to taste something other than iron on his stomach and he turns to find you, standing there before him. Damn. He forces on a wide toothy grin when he meets your gaze, damn he could feel the tension and could see that dark haze in your eyes, full of disappointment and resentment. "So we f-fuckin' meet again, huh?" Karl coughs out as a short series of chuckles soon follow after, he's trying to keep what little pride he had intact. He couldn't be seen as weak after you broke him, you left him in pieces and chose to leave him because of some stupid sacrifices he had to make in pursuit of the happiness and freedom you deserved. "So we do, asshole ... let me guess, the plan that you were so persistent on working didn't fucking work ... what happened to never come back?" You growl at him, crossing your arms as bitterness seemingly runs through you, you could feel your heart thump in your chest and your hands curled into tight fists. " ... That doesn't m-matter right now. I just n-need your fucking help!" He snaps, his words strained and choked before a series of coughs soon leave his lips. You slowly take in a breath, considering whether to just hand him the medkit and fucking peace out but you know the asshole lacks medical knowledge and would die. You let a deep sigh leave your lips before you kneel beside him, putting one of his arms around your shoulders, and with a loud groan of pain, you set him down on the bed, lying him down on his back and making sure he was comfortable. "I'll only be able to take care of this and stop you from bleeding out. You'll have to be still, Karl otherwise I'll fuck up." You advise him, getting up to go wash your hands and make sure that you don't get him infected whilst you're at it, you come back into his bedroom and open the medkit and begin to get to work on the wound. Karl would've never thought or had the pride to call up his ex, the one person he told himself he'd never need again is forced to put his pride on the side and is forced to let his ex attend to his wounds. All he can do is frown deeply, turning away from you to stare out the window, and all he can think is that Ethan Winters is still out there. He's gonna kill Miranda. That was his job, that was something he spent his life working towards doing, getting rid of that bitch Miranda and stealing her precious power. He's forced out of his thoughts when you begin to rub alcohol onto the wound causing a sharp stinging sensation to shoot through him, he grits his teeth at the stinging and almost burning sensation plaguing his body. "Warn me next time, will ya?" He says before a heavy cough soon follows, you sigh deeply as you continue to rub the alcohol on his wound gently, making sure it doesn't get infected and die from an infected wound.

"Warn you? ... It's just rubbing alcohol not a lighter." You respond, rolling your eyes at the man before you as you set down the towel and begin to pull out your thread and your needle. If he thought the alcohol was painful then he is truly in for a rude awakening. "This is gonna be painful, Karl ... I'll try to be quick with it." You state, somewhat warning him of the pain to come. "Please do ... I can't wait until you fucking leave ..." Karl bitterly spat, still unable to accept the fact that he needed you, that you were right, that he wanted you back into his life because, in his mind, it's better to bottle it up. "I won't treat you if you act like an ignorant dog." You spat back, your eyes meet his for a moment as an expression of anger twists onto your face, he begins to try and speak before a wince fell from his lips at the sensation of the thread going through his skin, he slams his fist down onto the bed and hisses at the pain once more. "Says you, you literally came in here pissed. Maybe just shut up and do ... ah!" He begins to say, his words are filled with anger and irritation before another sharp sensation of pain shoots through him. "Look, my bad alright but it's not every day you want to see your ex who was willing to ..." You begin to retort back at him, giving him a mean glare before he barks back. "You have to make sacrifices for everything! ... Now Ethan is going to get his daughter, probably gonna murder Miranda when I deserved the right to kill her. To watch the bitch suffer and choke on her own fucking blood." He growls, bitterness comes to him like air and he lets out a huff through his nostrils, a bitter and sour expression twists onto his face as he thinks of the fact that Ethan nearly murdered him, he thinks to the fact Ethan is going to steal what he worked so hard to get. "Whether you kill her or he does, she'd still be dead. ... You need to just ... let go of it and be grateful he let you live ... besides can't you finally be free out of that woman's grasp?" You say, less bitterness in your voice than before as another painful wince slips from his parted lips, he sucks in a breath through his teeth and lets out a heavy ragged breath. "That's if that fool can kill her. That's why I needed Rose. I needed her power to help me kill her. I needed it." He growls, slamming his fist against the wall in frustration.

"Did you ...? If Ethan nearly killed you then you severely underestimated how powerful he is ... probably can rival Miranda's power or maybe it's ... it's because he loves his daughter so much, it drives him to keep going." You say, your once bitter expression faded into something more dreary as you are reminded of your past, you would've done anything for that child. He scoffs to himself, turning away from you as you stop stitching him up as a truly bitter and painful expression twists onto your beautiful face. You force his face towards your own and gaze deeply into his eyes, you want him to feel, to see the pain that you felt and he did feel it. "You act like it's so terrible to be human ... it's so terrible to fall victim to your emotions ... that man loves his child just like how you loved me. He would've sacrificed anything for that child, he was willing to try and kill you, he was willing to kill Lady Dimitrescu, he was willing to do it all. That's what being human is. That's what's strong, so fucking strong." You exclaim, slowly inhaling a breath into your nostrils as silence quickly fills the air between you both, you can see the realization in his eyes flicker before him and how he softens in a way. Licking your lips, you push him back and hide that urge that was a habit you had, leaning to kiss him whenever your eyes met his whenever you saw how he softened before you. You missed that so much. You didn't say anything more, you go back to stitching up his stomach wound with an unreadable expression on your face, it was a mixture of pain and frustration and Karl saw it but most of all he saw your pain. It reminded him of his own. He would do anything for you. If you wanted him he would take you back in a heartbeat and he was afraid to admit that. Afraid to admit that he was still weak to you, still weak under your human ways that he used to relish in with you and he was afraid of being open, being hurt, being vulnerable, and falling victim to you in case you left him again. In a way you were weak to him too, stubborn as well but more willing to open up to him, to be vulnerable in front of him, willing to take the bait if it meant you would get hurt again. You were almost numb. To it. The pain that he had caused you but it was still there, stinging you at whatever moment it got and you let it become what you see Karl as. Another reminder of your pain, another man willing to sacrifice whatever for a taste of freedom and revenge. But despite that you loved him.

"I apologize for acting like a bitch when I came in here. I just ... I never thought you'd call or need me ever again and I didn't think I needed you either." You say in a somewhat soft breath, you meet his eyes for a few moments before turning your attention back to his wound and he turns towards you, licking his lips before he runs his finger over his bottom lip. "Thank you." He says smartly with a prideful smile soon curling onto his lips before you roll your eyes at him, you bite your tongue to stop any laughter from coming out. "Come on, you have manners don't you Karl? You acted like a bit of a dick too. Or is it too low of Mr. Karl Heisenberg to apologize?" You tease, a natural warm smile curls onto your lips for a few moments, Karl's heart feels light once more and it pulsates in his chest at the once familiar sight he used to see all the time, he missed that smile. Chuckling, he looks down and can feel the bitter irony taste on his tongue begin to fade away slowly but surely it is. "I apologize for acting like a dick earlier. There. That make you happy?" He says, rolling his eyes to himself before you nod with a chuckle soon falling from your lips, your hair had changed, your fashion sense had as well but you were still the same with that warm smile that made him nearly have a heart attack. "Alright, I should be done in a moment ... I'll clean your wound once again and make sure it doesn't get infected ..." You say once more, your tone has returned to its initial seriousness and he sighs to himself, just when he thought you were letting the mask fall, just when he thought things might be going back to normal. "It's fine, do what you have to do ..." He responds, waving his hand in a motion to allow you to keep doing what you were doing. You continued for a few moments longer, trying to stay focused on stitching his wound up but suddenly thoughts starting appearing in your head, what if things could go back to normal? What if you can be free together now? What if you can share happiness with him? Maybe you were an optimistic fool but having hope that things might change between you two is something that you happily looked forward to.

"Alright, I'm done. You shouldn't bleed out and die and ... I'd say try not to fuck up your stitches. But I should be going if I am not of any help to you anymore, Karl ..." You say lowly, reaching out to seize your medkit before he suddenly grabs your wrist, just like the last time you saw him causing you to nearly jump at the sudden grasp on your wrist. He realizes what he's doing from your somewhat distressed expression and lets go of your wrist quickly. "I'm sorry for ... that. But ... I'll probably need more medicine or more care to make sure I don't fuck up my stitches." He rambles, allowing himself to be vulnerable for just another moment, licking his lips his eyes meet yours once again and you see that familiar desperation in his eyes. But this time, you thought what if you stayed and so you set your medkit back down and let a deep breath leave your lips, you somewhat missed the familiar sound of his factory working and working tirelessly. "I hope you aren't planning on stopping Ethan. I'm sorry but it's just fucking stupid ... let him take care of Miranda and let him have Rose then you have what you want. Freedom. Happiness." You exclaim, sitting on the opposite end of the bed beside him with legs resting on the mattress. "I ... I want to. ... Miranda has caused so much pain, so much agony to me ... she doesn't see me as her son, nor will I ever see her as a mother. She's just ... she's just a crazy bitch who decided to steal a fucking baby and hope it could be a vessel for her fucking precious little Eva." He growls bitterly, a sour expression twists onto his face as he crosses his arms, still bitter to the core and revenge is still tainting his mind, no thought of freedom or happiness crossed his mind. Just Miranda. "I know. All she cares about is finding a body for Eva ... but you could finally be happy away from that crazy ass woman. Besides ... this plan has already been a huge failure." You exclaim in a gentle sigh, licking your lips before taking in a breath and so many memories flood back to your brain whenever you stare at something. Even this bed has so many memories.

"I ... I haven't failed. Besides blame Ethan for ruining an otherwise amazing plan. So much for working together." He spat, rolling his eyes at the thought that he was possibly bested by a mere human makes his blood boil. "This plan has nearly cost you your life and cost you a chance at even getting a sliver of freedom." You explain, another sigh leaves your lips as you stare down at the mattress beneath you, silence fills the room once more because Karl's pride won't allow him to see that maybe he had failed in his plan. "You even lost me ..." You muttered lowly almost in a whisper but Karl heard it and his expression twisted from bitter to disheartened and remorseful. "Look, I get that I hurt you and I hate it. But I needed to do it ... I needed to try and get rid of her! Get some kinda control over my own fucking life! I am done with being another experiment for her to use for her wishes! I ... I just want to be free ..." He exclaims, all manner of emotion is pouring out of him and seeping through his mask of charm, taking in a slow shaky breath as his throat tightens and memories flicker of his family, his real family. His mother, her warm smile that is reminiscent of yours, her warm comfy hugs and just remembering it had tears traveling down his cheeks as he clenched his jaw firmly. Your expression softened at the sight before you, a saddened and pitiful frown curls onto your lips as you can sense his pain, he really lost his life to being Miranda's experiment, to being her slave. A soft breath leaves your lips and you rest your hand upon his shoulder, expressing comfort as he inhales another shaky breath, pain is what became of him and he tried to fix himself only to become more broken.

"Karl, listen to me ... you're allowed to be happy ... you're allowed to smile, allowed to be angry, you're allowed to be happy." You coo, your words are gentle but powerful and your eyes are sincere, warm, and delicate to his eyes. He turns to you, eyes slightly puffy and an expression of pain is twisted on his face, letting a gentle breath when he looks at you, when he gazes into your eyes for a few moments, he's reminded of happiness, he's reminded of warmth, he's reminded of love and family. He still loves you. His eyebrows furrow before he wraps his arms around you, clinging to you desperately as he buries his face into you, still pain torments him when he can and it destroys his life. It destroyed his relationship with you, it destroyed everything around him and it almost destroyed him, he would've sacrificed everything just for freedom, just to have his life be his own. He sees it now, it comes to him painfully raw and honest and he almost hates it because of how he hurt you, the one damn good thing in his shitty miserable life. "I hurt you. I fucking hurt you and you came back for me? I ... I don't fuckin' deserve you ... at all ..." He exclaims, his words muffled into the fabric of your clothes as he can feel your arms wrap around him, your hands gently massage him and the simple gesture puts him at peace and ease. "I came back because as much as you hurt me ... you don't deserve this, Karl ... despite how I left you, I still care so much about you. Hell, when it's you I listen to my heart rather than my fucking brain. With you, it's different ... with you, I could never forget you. At all." You confessed with a soft sigh leaving your lips at the end of your words, your hands move to his long untamed grey and brown locks, you gently run your fingers through his locks and you nearly chuckle at the unique texture of his hair. "I didn't either, butterfly ... I hurt you and I see how I fucking hurt you, hell I didn't care if you left me I was still going to continue to plan despite how it hurt you. I'm an asshat. I wouldn't want to remember me if I did that." He exclaims, a gentle smile curls onto his lips as he stares up at you with a familiar smile that warms your heart, it leaves it jumping in your chest and leaves your stomach with butterflies.

"It's good that you see that and I hate that hurt you too ... I know that I left feeling so bad, so bitter about this whole fucking plan ... but this plan the only good thing it brought to you was bringing me to find your nearly dead ass." You chuckle, a wide smile curls onto your lips as a peaceful and joyful expression is plastered onto your face, another chuckle leaves your lips as a warm familiar smile remains on your lips. He can't stop himself from smiling as well, savoring these moments you share of nothing but pure joy, and he can't help but cup both sides of your cheeks. His fingers gently caress your cheeks, his smile warms your heart and your soul and the familiar sensation of his hands against your cheeks made you melt before him. Silence fills the room as he admires you, your beautiful features, and everything along with it. "Out of everyone in the world, I could never hate you ..." He chuckles almost like a giggly child at a toy store, a wide smile remains plastered on his face and his soul is singing, calling out for you and his heart thrashes wildly in his ribcage. You let out a gentle breath and suddenly his lips are pressed gently against yours, your stomach is crowed and flooded with butterflies, your heart is pulsating in your chest, and everything is calling out to Karl. Moments after, he pulls away from your lips with a somewhat worried expression on his face, he questions was he moving too fast, did you not want him but his thoughts are put to stop when your lips collide passionately against his. It came to you so naturally and once the thought appeared in your head, your heart followed along with it along with your body, and here you were passionately kissing the man who you hadn't seen in over 6 months. He groans against your lips, savoring and relishing the familiar sensations that came as his eyes flutter close, he was such a fool, such a fool to not see that he was risking the only thing that mattered for a chance at even getting freedom. He was but a child ...

Groaning against his lips as you began to clutch a fistful of his hair, the kiss quickly grew deeper and more heated, heavy breaths left both your lips as you gently devoured each other's lips, greedy for the sensations it brought you both. Groaning into your mouth once more, Karl's hands slip your jacket off of you, he throws it to the floor and buries his lips into your neck, kissing and sucking lightly at the sensitive skin earning a soft gasp from your lips at the sharp sensation. "Karl ..." You say in a ragged breath, hands still entangled in his locks of hair as he continues to kiss and suck on your neck, your body begins to heat up with arousal and your body begins to ache for Karl. "Damn ... I just can't get enough of you, can I?" He chuckles, grinning devilishly at you as his eyes glance at your lips once again, he pulls you into another heated kiss that has his tongue prying your lips apart. His tongue enters your mouth, his tongue grinds against yours and your tongues begin to dance erotically together causing both of you to moan against each other's lips at the tingling sensations that spread across your tongues. Karl's arousal begins to show with the bulge that swells in his pants, he continues to kisses you, moaning and groaning at the overdue sensation of a warm body against his. Pulling away from your lips, heavy ragged breaths leave both of your lips and he can't help but notice your flushed cheeks as a breathless expression remains on your face. "Do you want this ...? Do you want me, (Y/N) ...?" He asks in a ragged breath, his hand cups one of your cheeks, as he gazes intensely into your eyes, lust, and desire, clouded those beautiful eyes of yours and it was one of his favorite expressions on your face. "I want you so much ... I want nothing but you and your naked body to be mine ..." You answer, smirking devilishly at the man before you as a low chuckle soon leaves your lips, grinning widely at you he kisses your lips once again, cherishing the smooth and delicate feeling of your lips.

"Mmh, your lips feel amazing, darling ... I missed all of this, the kisses, the touches, the way you worship me ... I missed it all so much." He purrs lustfully as a chuckle soon follows after, taking in a breath he pushes you onto your back earning a gasp from you before he gets in between your legs. He stares at the tank top you wore, it hugged your body perfectly, and hell it exposed a lot of skin, though it was basic it was enough for him. You'll always be enough for him and more. "Arms up, darling ..." He chirps, you raise your arms, and off comes your tank top and your torso was immediately met with multiple kisses and bright hickeys that decorated your skin. Wrapping your arms around his chest, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, he lightly sucks on one as his other hand explores your torso, caressing your skin gently and with care. Your heart is thrashing, pounding in your ribcage, and heat floods through your being, arousal comes with that and it leaves you aching so terribly with a need for sweet release. Heavy ragged breaths leave your lips, licking your lips as you can only think of Karl, what he was going to do to you, what you were going to do to him. He takes your nipple out of his mouth, trailing kisses down your stomach as he gets lower and lower until he reaches your bothersome pants, letting out a growl he harshly pulls your pants down and throws them somewhere before he immediately buries his face into your crotch. His tongue moves gently, caressing all your sweet spots as the heat begins to boil up deep inside of you, you relished and savored the moist heat that caressed you in such amazing ways. Moaning against you, his hands wrap around your thighs to keep you from moving too much but he thought it was all about making you feel better, tonight was all about what you wanted, whatever you wanted you will have it. "Oh, Karl ...! Hah ... shit ... shit ..." You moan shamelessly, your hands clutch and grasp at his long locks of hair as heavy breaths are pried from your lips along with whispers of his name falling from those beautiful lips of yours. "Enjoying it, darling ... am I being good for you? Am I a good boy? Tell me I'm a good boy, kitten ..." He purrs erotically, his words roll gracefully off his tongue before he buries his tongue back into you, kissing, licking, and sucking on all of your sweet spots. "Good boy ...! Oh, so good ... fuck I missed your mouth so much ..." You whine needily, clutching at the sheets beneath you as you lick your lips, waves, and waves of heated ecstasy washes over you in sharp and powerful waves.

"That's it ...! Fuck, don't stop ... don't stop fucking me with that tongue of yours ...!" You cry out in a series of moans that are soon followed by ragged breaths, you grind your hips against his mouth eager and aching for some form of release, eager for more of the ecstasy he gives you. But he suddenly stops as he can barely hold himself back from taking you right here and right now, he begins to unzip his pants and fights to get them off. An annoyed expression twists onto your face as you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, grabbing him by his shoulders and turning him around towards the bed as you push him onto the bed with a devilish grin. "It's my turn, love ..." You chuckle as you begin to straddle his lap with your arms pressed into his chest and you begin to take him inside of you as a heavy breathless moan of his name leaves your lips the moment his thick cock fills you. It throbs and twitches inside of you, making you nearly jump at the sensation before you take all of his thick throbbing cock inside of you, the way he fills you is like no other, his cock stretches you and fills you perfectly. The way your walls clung and hugged his thick throbbing cock drove him insane, a heavy groan left his lips at the tight heat that surrounded and embraced his throbbing cock. "Oh, fucking hell ...! Shit ... so damn tight and ... hot ... come on, darling ride me nice and hard. Leave me at your mercy ..." He purrs devilishly as a long chuckle soon follows after, lust clouds his remarkable green eyes, his hands reach up to cup your flushed cheeks as a warm joyful smile curls onto his lips. You smile back at him, joy washing over you like a breeze as you rested your hands upon his shoulders and began to chase eagerly and joyfully after your sweet and euphoric release. Your hips grind and roll against his lap, heavy breaths are pried from your lips as heat begins to build and rise through your body, Karl's heavy ragged breaths can be heard along with yours as he wraps his arms around your neck. A low "fuck" leaves his parted lips as his eyelashes weigh heavy on top of his shut eyelids, sharp electric sensations of bliss shot through him every time your hips went lower. Burying his teeth into his bottom lip, a heavy groan leaves his lips at the blissful heat that envelopes his throbbing eager cock, all he can do is stare in awe at your expressions of bliss and ecstasy. It's so amazing.

"Mmh, baby ... you're so goddamn beautiful ... so exquisite. Come on, tell me how much you love me ... show me how much you've missed me ..." He purrs with a devilish smile on his lips, biting his lips soon afterward he places his hands on your hips gently moving them back and forth just to speed things up a bit. Your cheeks quickly become flushed at his words as you lightly squeeze onto his shoulders, heavy breaths still leaving your parted lips as you begin to throw your hips up and down onto his thick throbbing cock. It presses and drives into you eagerly, lightly hitting your sweet spot causing whines of Karl's name to be pried from your lips, licking your lips you entangle Karl into another heated passionate kiss that is so full of tenderness and consideration. "Karl ...! F-fuck ...!" You whine needily as you pull away from his lips, your eyes flutter at the bliss that courses through you as the heat floods through you. Your teeth grind against your bottom lip gently before you begin to slam your hips down onto his throbbing cock that perfectly curled onto your sweet spot as it repeatedly hits that sweet spot making his name fall from your lips again and again. "Oh! Karl ...! Mmh, Karl ...! It's so fuckin good, Karl ...!" You moan breathlessly, throwing your head back at the ecstasy that washes over you in burning relentless waves, skin hitting against skin echoed through his bedroom as your moans and heavy breaths are Karl's melody. Groaning deeply, his hands move lower onto your ass cheeks, wrapping his fingers around the area he lightly squeezes them with a chuckle following after, it's not a minute before he's nearly arching his back and a long whine is pried from his throat. "Fucking hell, sweetheart ...! Ooh, hah ...!" He whines deeply as waves and waves of ecstasy washed over him, he couldn't be happier and everything in his being felt like it could cry of joy. "Karl ... I'm gonna ... oh fuck ... fuck ... gonna c-cum!" You manage to say, heavy breaths fill your throat and your heart thrashes and pounds erratically in your chest, thighs tremble and shake against his legs, and your entire body throbs and aches. "Kiss me, oh please kiss me ... tell me how much you love me ..." Karl rambles in a series of heavy breaths as he wraps his arms around your torso, leaning in for another heated kiss as you continue to slam your hips down as hard as you can moaning shamelessly against his lips. Your entire body trembles and pulsates erratically as you had boiled over, heat travels through you along with sweet sweet ecstasy that left you nearly screaming his name against his lips. Pulling away from his lips as heavy ragged breaths leave your lips, you gaze intensely, it's not moments before your name falls breathlessly from his parted lips and his expression of joy quickly fades into one of ecstasy and relief. Sharp powerful sensations of ecstasy shot through him relentlessly as began to cling to you, wrapping his arms around you clinging to you and to what for a second feels so much like a damn dream.

Wrapping your arms around him, you find serenity in his cool embrace and you find serenity in the idea that things are gonna be okay, that things are gonna change from today to hopefully years from now. You smile into his embrace before pulling out of his embrace, moments later as you gaze into each other's eyes once more, passion and warmth clouded his green eyes. That look in his eyes like he was just so ... happy and like you're the one thing that matters in his erratic and wild world. "So ... Karl, what's next for us? ... After Miranda is dead and all that bullshit ...?" You question with a curious smile resting upon your lips, you rest in his embrace and he can't help but chuckle at your words. "Whatever it is that is next for you ... whether it's fucking staying here or leaving for better places ... you go and I'll follow." He answers warmly and confidently as a chuckle soon follows after his words. "Oh, so I made you my loyal dog, have I?" You chuckle, beaming at the man before you as he can't help but chuckle once more at your words. "In a way, yes you have ... made me weak for you ... made me unafraid to be myself around you. ... You are incredibly special to me, butterfly ..." He says in a gentle breath, smiling warmly at you as you can't help but flush different shades of red at his words. "You're even more special ... I love you more than you will ever know Karl ... and I've loved you all this time ... I hope I will never stop loving you. That no matter how bad things get that we will get through it together." You exclaim in pure joy as you both end up smiling sheepishly at each other before you rest your head in the nape of his neck and he wraps his arms around, hoping for a more optimistic and brighter future than he could've ever imagined.

[sylverstorms]

Miranda x Mia---- Eternal

A Ko-Fi commission I wrote for the wonderful @saltwatereulogies. Thank you so very much for the support and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Drip. Splatter.

The first sound you’re aware of is that of the occasional waterdrop crashing onto the same humid, uneven floor you’re lying on.

The second is the sound of her voice.

“Rise and shine.” she says, somewhere off to the side. You are still too disoriented to pinpoint exactly where.

You’re not dizzy enough, though, to not immediately realize you’re trapped. The way the light behind your captor shines makes it all the more obvious, casting large shadows in the shape of your prison bars across your small, moldy cell.

“Y-you…” you struggle to talk. Your throat is too dry and your temples pound like a war drum. It feels like you’ve collided with a truck. And yet her voice commanding you to sleep is the last thing you remember.

“I haven’t formally introduced myself. Though I’m sure your friend has told you about me.”

You blink to make your vision focus yet it’s hopeless. She is but a dark blur to you –am I hallucinating or are those wings?

“My name is Miranda.”

Suddenly, that name snaps everything into focus so sharply you could get whiplash. You’re on your knees the next second, just about ready to leap at her. She’s the one. The one Chris warned you about. She may look like an angel but she is a devil.

“I don’t care who the hell you are! What do you want from me?!” you demand.

“Your cooperation in my experiments, for starters.” she says it calmly, but she is no fool to believe you’ll just agree to that, you can see it in her crystal-blue eyes.

“Ha! As if!” you retort.

“Well. That answer will change when I have Rose.” The name of your daughter makes every nerve ending in your body kick at once.

“What. Like Ethan will just hand her over to the likes of you?”

“Actually.”

A slow smirk crosses her full lips. Then their shape changes to match yours. All of her does, until you are left looking at a perfect mirror of yourself. Only, there’s no way you look quite that good inside of this shitty cell.

“He’ll hand her over to you.”

When she laughs, it is your own voice haunting your ears.

-

-

She has your daughter. She has your everything in her hands. So, she has your cooperation, as well.

Miranda doesn’t really talk when she comes to collect blood samples for whatever experiments she needs them. Your initial cries and questions were muted the second she told you the more helpful and less annoying you are, the more inclined she’ll feel to bring Rose to you for a while.

In the end, you do let yourself be her docile little lab rat.

Until you literally can’t take the silence anymore.

“Was it really… that easy?” ‘To enter my home and take my daughter’ you want to add but you can’t even get the words past your throat.

She seems to understand, though. “Effortless.” she isn’t being cocky as she says it. In fact, she seems almost surprised herself. At least, from the angle you get of her face, while she’s studying a strange rock-like substance under a microscope.

“How the hell did Ethan not figure out you aren’t me?!” That moron. He just gave your daughter to her. That clueless moron!

For a split second, you see her lip twitch in what could, perhaps, be a withheld smile. “I was there for a day, so. Seems like your husband doesn’t know you quite that well.”

Is it really fair to blame him for not knowing you, though? With the secrets you’ve kept from him? The distance? The trauma from the shared nightmare you experienced coming back to you every time you even looked at him?

God, Rose really is the only thing that kept you together, isn’t she…

It’s easy to hate the accursedly beautiful bitch outside your cell. It’s easy to blame Ethan for not even suspecting something was amiss with you for a whole damn day.

It is not so easy to blame yourself as much as you do them.

-

-

Miranda replies when you ask her things, so you ask her about herself. To your surprise, she does not shroud her motives from you.

She has lost her daughter, she tells you, and the only way to get her back is through yours. For the first time since you met her, you see emotion clearly expressed in her eyes and voice. You recognize how she longs to be with her child again.

You can understand the never-ending grief of a mother losing her offspring. You know if anything happened to Rose you would rather fling yourself off a cliff than live a life without her.

And apparently, that is what she tried to do, too. She tried to die –and discovered life instead. That is what she calls it, anyway. All you can hear as she explains is that she found –and founded— the Mold. The same one that ruined your husband and you.

One more reason to hate the psycho witch.

And yet.

When you try to reach for the rage you previously held for her, you find that it’s gone. You’re bitter, you’re exhausted, you want to cry and above everything you want to see Rose again. But you don’t loathe her as you should.

“What do you mean… the only way to get Eva back is through Rose?” you dare ask after several minutes of silence.

She turns to look at you, eyes as piercing as they are blue. “Technically, the trade is simple.” Maybe you’re losing it from the stress and lack of sleep, but you think she almost hesitates for a second. “…a life for a life.”

As soon as she speaks and the meaning of her words registers in your mind, you’re gripping at the rusty iron bars with all your might, rattling them, shouting profanities at her. You are back to hating her all over again. It’s much simpler this way.

Until… she walks over and grabs your hand over the metal. Her touch is oddly warm for such a glacial heart. You cannot tell what she does to you, but it feels like an aura flowing through your system that silences you. Calms you. You do not want to be calm.

“I wasn’t finished.” she speaks. “That is where the experiments with you come in. By running tests on your blood and Rose’s and using my DNA as a medium, during the ritual I can trick the Megamycete into giving me what I want through a form of mitosis. Essentially, cell duplication that will not override the existing vessel.”

To be honest… you lost her midway through the very first sentence. You were quite good with biology back in the day but right now, in the state you’re in, science is going right over your head.

“...Is there an English version of that.” you ask.

Her mouth curves into that almost-smile again. It would be quite gorgeous, actually, if she hadn’t kidnapped you, infiltrated your home as you and abducted your daughter.

“If the tests succeed, you get your daughter back, I get mine from cloned DNA and Mold cells.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice as she says it.

And now, assuming she’s telling the truth, you want those tests to succeed more than you want to get out of here. Her hand leaves yours and the weird calm she blasted into you dissipates with it.

“Wait. So…” Realization strikes you like a thunderclap. “So these tests are for me?”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you, you crazy b—blonde.” You rattle the iron bars again, a tad weaker than before. She does smirk over the microscope, this time. “How likely are the tests to succeed?” you ask impatiently.

“Quite.” she replies, flat once again.

“…And if they don’t?” you hate how your voice shakes there, at the end.

She looks at you, dead in the eyes, as she answers: “I am getting my daughter back either way, Mia.”

You can’t believe it. You cannot believe you’re thinking this, but you hope the crazy bitch knows what she’s doing.

-

-

Miranda is… despicable, but she is a woman of her word.

She brings you Rose for hours at a time and in exchange you help her outside of your cell. You thought your daughter would be in a worse condition, considering who keeps her, yet she’s healthy as ever, well-fed and clean. The worst part is, she laughs every time Miranda comes close and she even reaches out for her.

“No, my darling, don’t do that.” you tell her, tucking her tighter in your arms, before the woman behind you notices what’s happening.

Except it’s too late. “Ah, I see.” Miranda speaks, coming up to you from behind. She’s tall enough to lean over your shoulder and wave at Rose, who moves both hands towards her. “A lady of taste.” the woman praises and the lightness to her voice almost makes her sound like someone else. Someone normal.

“Stop it.” You turn your child away from her. “She’s just confused because you’re lit up like a Christmas tree.” You motion with your chin at her getup.

Miranda chuckles. “What. She senses our bond. Rose feels safe with me.”

Safe with the monster who wants to sacrifice her to get her own child back. You cannot swallow that thought down. “But she’s not, is she?!” you snap.

“She is.” Miranda reverts to her cool facade, glancing down at your daughter. “I will never let anything hurt her. And when she gives me Eva back, I will make sure she grows up bathed in luxury.”

It’s the Mold, you’re sure of it.

It’s the Mold’s fault that you believe her.

-

-

You were supposed to see Rose today. Instead, Miranda comes into the cave alone, looking irritated. You start to worry. Nothing phases her without a good reason. What if—

“Where’s my daughter?!” you demand, eyes wide.

“We have a problem.” she tells you. Your blood goes cold in your veins. “A problem named Ethan Winters.”

“Ethan?” you gasp.

“He is trying to get Rose back and according to reports from the Lords under me, he cannot be killed. His hand got cut off and he just reattached it. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” she’s certain that you know. You can see it in her steely eyes.

“I— why would I—”

“Before you think to lie to me, hear something else. I bear good news, as well.” Miranda says. “I have succeeded in my experiments. During the ritual, I can guarantee Rose will remain unharmed and unchanged.” the edge of her lip curls up as she delivers the news. You almost cry from the sheer relief.

You almost leap forward and hug her, yet you remember who she is and that she caused this mess in the first place.

“But my conditions have changed.” her voice is a sword that cuts off your happiness just like that. You knew it was too good to be true. “For me to save Rose, you will tell me how to permanently get rid of Ethan Winters.”

…What?

She wants you to… trade your daughter for your husband? How the hell can I do that?!

“He has ruined too much for me to let him walk away happily now.” Her jaw is tight enough to sprout new lines on her flawless face. She wants him dead and she always gets what she wants. “He has killed colleagues of mine. Spat in the face of a damn-near god. I will have his head.”

The corners of your eyes sting with welling tears. Your body is far more honest than you in making a decision. Nobody is too important to sacrifice when it comes to your daughter. Not yourself. Not Ethan. And Miranda knows this better than anybody else. You loathe how she knows.

“Give him to me, Mia. And in a few days this whole thing will be over.” she continues in a significantly softer tone, getting closer to you. Her wings shift, the very edge of black feathers brushing your arms.

“You want me to aid in killing the father of my child?!” you sob, grabbing at her clothes. You’d expect her to shove you away, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even blink.

“You have been so cooperative and so brave.” she soothes, gold-taloned fingers coming underneath your chin. “Make one last sacrifice for me. Help me murder Ethan so Rose can live. Help me and I vow to be her eternal guardian angel. Hers and yours.”

She could just force the answer out of you. She’s touching you and you know she has that power. But she doesn’t do it and it’s far worse this way. She wants it to be your choice.

You look away from Miranda’s icy eyes and her promises of everything.

And you tell her.

-

-

You do not ask about Ethan. All that’s in your mind is the ceremony.

For the entire morning, you cannot breathe. You trace notes in her lab and pace around until you literally feel like you’ll explode—

And then Miranda comes in. She is radiant, smiling from ear to ear, glowing with pure joy. She looks every part the goddess she pretends to be. The golden circle usually adorning her back is gone, her long blonde hair is left free to flow like fine strands of silk past her square shoulders.

“It is done!” she tells you, a hand extended for you to take. “Come. I’ll take you to Rose and you will be the first to meet Eva.”

Her hand is warm when it closes around yours. Black wings shroud you both. There is a gravitational pull around you that’s so intense you shut your eyes and grab onto her biceps for dear life.

“You can look, now.” she speaks once the world is stable again. Your gut is churning, yet every bit of exhaustion and discomfort vanish the second you see Rose. She is safe within the first of the two golden cribs in front of you, bathed by the soft sunlight that disperses across the luxurious, dark-tiled chamber you’re in.

You run towards her, lifting your daughter in your arms and kissing her forehead over and over. She laughs at you, blue eyes crinkled. My love. My everything, you think. Everything was worth it for this moment. And you would do it all again, to ensure her safety.

Miranda’s steps, regal and authoritative, come to a stop near the other crib. You lean closer, take a look… to see another little angel there, sleeping peacefully. She resembles Rose, yet she resembles Miranda, too.

“Oh my God.” you breathe. “You really did it.”

“I did it and you and Rose made it possible, Mia.” she says. Your child extends a tiny hand towards her. She removes one of her claws and lets her finger be taken in your baby’s grip. “You don’t have to leave. She loves me already.” A proud smile curves her lips.

You hate how it looks like a sunrise.

You hate it even more that you understand why Rose is so charmed.

“Her mom can grow to love me, too.” Crystal eyes look into your own. “There is no place safer than by my side. Stay and we will raise them together. You won’t have to fear disease or death with me. You and Rose will have every little thing you could ever want. Forever.”

You don’t want your child to be co-patented by this selfish megalomaniac, who is the killer of her father. But. Then you stop to consider what you have been through until now. Nightmare after nightmare; this vicious cycle does not look like it will be broken. One thing or another will haunt you and hunt you wherever you go. You don’t want that life for Rose.

You won’t accept that life for Rose.

“…we will stay. But you can forget that part about me growing any fonder of you than I am now.”

Miranda nods, but something in her expression is so damn cocky you want to smack her. “Oh, what’s that, Rose? You can tell your mother is lying, too? My genius girl.”

Your jaw drops. She is my genius girl!

Miranda then touches your chin and tilts it up. You don’t want to be any closer to the gorgeous fucking witch, but when she stops there, hovering just over your mouth for a skipped heartbeat, looking down at you with those crystalline eyes of hers, you’re paralyzed.

Her lips slide over your own for just one slick, hot second. When she pulls back, she caresses Rose’s cheek and winks at you.

“I hate you.” you say, yet it holds no real bite. God, you’re exhausted.

“That’s alright. We have all the time in the world to change that.”

[secretlyblue12]

day 11: Mineshaft

I'm starting to run out of ideas of what to type before fics so oof XD This one's more lee ranboo because,,, why not

Ranboo wasn’t doing well, anyone would be able to tell that just by looking at the hybrid. He wasn’t taking care of himself, had dirt and soot all over him from his nonstop mining, and bags beneath his eyes where he refused to take a break even to sleep. Phil knew he would have to step in eventually, though he had been holding on hope that Ranboo would know his own limits, so when he saw Ranboo come back to mend his pickaxe, he stopped him.

“Hey, Ranboo can I talk to you for a second?” He asked, trying to come off nonchalant, but Ranboo didn’t pay him much mind.

“Can it wait, I found a new cave I was wanting to explore but needed to just pop in real quick so my stuff didn’t break. If it’s important you can send me a message on our communicator and-”

Phil stopped him before he could brush him off entirely. “It’s actually, um, well you’ve been mining a lot and I wanted to know when the last time you slept was.”

Ranboo paused, turning to look at the birdman with a confused look in his eyes. “W-what?”

“That last time you slept or ate a meal somewhere other than underground?” He pushed, not dropping the topic even when Ranboo shifted uncomfortably on his feet and tried to stutter out an excuse.

“I-I haven’t been tired. And I’m fine to eat while mining, it doesn’t bother me.” He said, confirming exactly what Phil had already known.

With a heavy sigh Phil made a decision he hadn’t wanted to need to. “You’re not going back out to the mines until you sleep in your bed for a full night and eat something in the house. You can’t push yourself like this, mate, it isn’t healthy.” He wasn’t surprised when Ranboo protested either, mumbling something about being independent and how he could take care of himself. Phil raised an eyebrow to that, “Like you have been? A strong wind could blow you over Ranboo. Come on, I’ll make you something and then you can go to bed.”

Ranboo didn’t follow Phil when he started to walk over to the house though, and the man had to do a double-take to realize that Ranboo was standing in the middle of the snow pouting at him.

With a sigh, he walked back over, grabbing Ranboo’s wrist and walking both of them to the door, only a little surprised with how Ranboo was whining and trying to pull his hand free. It was obvious he was tired, and that had been affecting his mood recently. Phil had been a parent to three kids, he knew all about how important naps and proper rest and meals were, so none of Ranboo’s complaints landed too hard. He had heard them a thousand times over when Tommy had gone through a phase of refusing to shower or brush out his tail.

They made it inside, and Ranboo had stopped talking or looking anywhere near Phil altogether. Oh, the silent treatment then.

Phil put on some soup to heat up, leaving Ranboo to sulk in the doorway. The fact he hadn’t tried to leave was a blessing in and of itself. He waited for it to heat up before setting the bowl on the table and giving Ranboo an expectant look.

The lanky hybrid just huffed, looking to the other side of the room.

Two could play that game then, Phil decided with a devious plan. He’d just start pulling out tactics he used on Wilbur and Tommy growing up, both of them had a stubborn streak a mile long, and he could get those two to cave then he was sure it would work on a fussy enderman.

“You know, I was thinking about going mining myself, but the longer you make us sit here the longer it’ll be before I can go.” He said, pretending to sound more annoyed than amused.

Ranboo’s head whipped around to look at him, his mouth opening and closing as he debated if staying so obstinate was worth it. Just as Phil expected, the hybrid let out a grumbled ‘vwoop’ and a string of frustrated chirps before mumbling out “Why do you get to go mining and I don’t! That’s not fair.”

“I get to mine because I come home and take care of myself,” he said, crossing his arms and waiting to see what Ranboo’s next move would be.

He shuffled on his feet, fidgeting a bit with his hands before shaking his head. “I take care of myself too, you’re just- you- that’s not fair.”

“Maybe I’ll just go mining now, then,” Phil said, another memory popping up in his head. Tommy had always needed an extra push before he caved in, and the memory stuck out in his mind. “And you’ll have to sit here while I go mine all by myself, and you won’t be able to leave until you can show me you’re taking care of yourself.

Ranboo huffed again, not looking at Phil as the man snuck closer and closer. “I know just what I want to mine, too. I can see it right in front of me.”

The hybrids ears twitched, and Phil watched confusion spread across his face. “What? That doesn’t even make sense, how can you see it if we’re in the house?” He looked over to Phil, who was standing in front of him now, “Phil?”

Mm,” The older hummed, raising his hands so he was ready to dig into Ranboo’s ribs any second, “Yep, I’m going to go mining right here, Maybe I’ll find some bullshit? Or where you got that attitude from.”

He sprung before Ranboo could make sense of his words, digging his fingers in between the bones and laughing when Ranboo immediately crumbled under his hands. “Ah! I- Wahait. Thahat’s not mihihining Phihil! Youhu’re tihickling me!”

Phil chuckled evilly, “Oh, does it? This is a serious mining mission, I don’t know why you would be laughing at me. Should I be mining for laughter instead if you think it tickles?”

Phil moved a bit higher up, listening carefully to the shifts in Ranboo’s laugh from cackles to higher-pitched giggles and chirps. “I see, here we have squeaky laughter. I think I’ll want to stock up on some of that.” He said, keeping at the spot just to watch Ranboo’s knees start to buckle under him. He wasn’t sure if it was because the enderman hybrid was just really ticklish, or if it was just another sign of how little he had been taking care of himself.

Ranboo, on the other hand, was going mad. The feelings were spreading all throughout his body, sending tingles and particles everywhere. He couldn’t even find the strength to push Phil’s hands away. When he realized how heavily he was leaning on the other just to say standing, he knew he was screwed, but he didn’t want to give up yet. He grabbed onto Phil’s wrists, though he couldn’t push them away. Just having them in his grasp felt comforting in a way, as if he had some control over the current situation.

Phil only stayed there until it seemed like Ranboo was getting used to the touch, his laugher getting more relaxed the longer it went on, then he moved them down to squeeze at his hips. It was a bad spot for both Tommy and Wilbur, and while it was a good one for Ranboo it wasn’t as intense as his ribs.

Ranboo folded in two, putting his head in the crook of Phil’s neck and trying to muffle his squeaky cackles. “This is a good spot too, then. Hmm, I’ll only need a little bit of these and I should be good to look for something else.” He said. He could feel how Ranboo was starting to fall and didn’t want to over do it.

He kept at it until Ranboo started shaking his head, before moving his hands upward once again, past his ribs and to the hybrids neck, making soft and sleepy giggles take over as he fluttered his fingers gently across the sensitive skin. “This is a nice spot though,” he said, more so to himself than with the intention to tease Ranboo anymore. He could feel the taller melting into him, and decided to wrap it up nicely with gentle back tickles that would turn into him just rubbing the enderman’s back.

He kept at it until Ranboo pulled away, a hand fisting at his eye sleepily.

Phil pulled him over to the table, sitting him down on shaky legs and pushing the now cooled soup closer to him. “That was a successful mining trip if I do say so myself. Eat, then go to bed, you can mine again tomorrow if you really have to, but don’t think I won’t go back for a second trip if you pull things like this again.”

Ranboo blushed, particles buzzing around his head as he picked up the spoon. “Fine,” he mumbled half-heartedly.

Phil stayed to make sure he got into bed, okay, not letting him crash on the couch, and practically carried him next door to his own house to get a proper night’s rest. He turned out the light, Ranboo having fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and smiled to himself. At least he knew that tactic would still work, though he might have to bring it back for Tommy and Wilbur at some point if they kept their nonsense up.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Fathering a Phantom ch2

I just wanna Talk, I swear

Here we have the chapter 2 for that fic from earlier! Once again, here ya go @five-rivers @floralflowerpower and @uwuplasmiusuwu

“Cole I’m going to murder someone,” was the first thing that Toby said to his husband upon arriving once more in their temporary sanctuary. Cole paused mid throw of his javelin, electric sparks crackling up the polearm, and turned to look at his husband. Toby’s wings were ablaze, his nails sharpened into claws, and his eyes a colorful storm, as though he couldn’t decide what to turn into for maximum lethality. Cole set down his javelin and wrapped around Toby in a hug.

“Who are you planning to murder, sunshine? And should I join in? I haven’t gotten into a good fight since we got here, which is a shame.” Cole coalesced from a mass of clouds into something a bit closer to his original body when Toby relaxed in his embrace, running his fingers through shimmering feathers made of embers. “You really do look like a star like this, by the way.”

“There was, I think, a war forged around here who fired a bunch of rockets at a child! You know that liminal kid I told you about?”

“Oh right, we’re rare in this realm, huh?” Cole’s face scrunched up in confusion and he arched a brow. “I thought the liminal around here beat up the tyrant ruling the place when he woke up?”

“I didn’t exactly ask about what must’ve sucked when I half blew up the metalhead.” Toby flew over to the couch and flopped face first into it. “Now I gotta track him down.”

“Why only half? Sounds like someone you’d take out in one go if you had the drop on em.”

“Well, do you wanna traumatize a kid of unknown cultural origins? He’s so small, and his friends were clearly still living humans. I dunno if he’s seen someone die before, let alone a ghost getting Ended. If I recall, committing murder is a bad way to start a friendship with a child.”

Cole snorted and gave Toby a pat on the shoulder. “Alright, fair, Sildar didn’t like me much after that rescue. But hey, now you can put that on your to do list! Murder, the answer to most problems.” Toby laughed, phasing through the couch when Cole sat on him. “There he is, my giggly celestial chandelier.”

“Do you even remember what a chandelier is? I know you broke like three of them over someone’s head, but I forget whose head.” Toby put out the flames in his feathers and stretched, satisfied when his spine popped a few times. “It’s nice to still be able to do that.”

“I’ll be honest, being a cloud has made the sound of your joints popping kinda gross to me. It sounds like you’ve still got a flesh and blood body.” Cole sat up, scratching his head. “Do you still have a humanoid body? With like, meat and bones and stuff?”

“Probably, yeah. We’ll see, cause if so that’ll come in handy with helping out this liminal kid. Said his name is Danny Phantom.” Toby paused, the feeling of his feather being torn an odd and upsetting one. “Speaking of whom, I should go meet up with them. Think you can find this ‘Skulker’ guy while I educate some kids?”

Cole kissed Toby on the cheek and gave him a thumbs up. “Will do! I can’t promise there’ll be much left of him afterward though, I’m not a fan of idiots who attack kids.” Toby smiled and in a flash of light and beat of wings, he was gone. Cole nodded to himself and grabbed his maul, crackling with electric arcs, and opened up the door to their temporary Sanctuary. “Now then, who the fuck is Skulker?”

After having a small debate about where they couldn’t go and why, team Phantom finally ended up at the indoor roller rink that was partially destroyed by a giant ghost crab a while ago, and sat down at a table that Danny cleared of debris with an ectoblast or three. “Ok guys, I think this is a good enough place to call him up.”

“Are we sure it’s a good idea to call him at all?” Sam held up the feather she’d kept in her pocket, turning it about to watch the golden flame dance. “He took down Skulker pretty fast and it usually takes you a good half hour to do that, Danny.”

“Skulker specializes in attacking Danny is all, Sam. We’ve got the weapons to handle pretty much any ghost we normally deal with, and Danny took down the king of ghosts. I’m pretty sure he can handle anyone else.”

“Plus, Toby wrecked Skulker pretty bad. If he wanted to fight, I’m pretty sure he would’ve started a fight.” Danny condensed his ectoblasts into one ball of ectoplasma and stretched it out into a pole. “Imagine all the cool stuff he could show us!”

“Alright, if you say so.” Sam snapped the feather in half, surprised by how easy it was to do, and grabbed her ecto-pistol. For a moment, there was silence. Then the sound of wingbeats filled the room and Toby appeared above the rink as though landing from a long flight.

“That’s a spell I’m not used to casting frequently in a day. Heyo kids!” Toby waved, tucking his wings by his sides while walking closer. “Sorry for the delay, I was talking to my husband. So, names again just to be sure: Sam, Tucker, and Danny, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. What do you mean spell, exactly? Do ghosts have magic ontop of the other ghost powers now?” Tucker spun the lipstick laser around in his fingers, remembering Desiree’s magic and Freakshow’s staff.

“Anyone who can do magic keeps the ability in death, usually. I’m not dead though, I’m Deathless.” He spread his wings and spun around, thumbs pointing to his chest. “I was born awesome like this, and so was Cole. But, based on your faces you weren’t born like this?”

“No,” Sam said, gesturing at Danny. “This is a recent thing, it’s been since about…” Sam paused, her gaze landing on the wall behind Toby. “March of last year, so 14 months.”

“Yeah, god, we’ve been doing this for over a year now, haven’t we?” Tucker, who had held up a camera to record everything Toby was saying, slumped a bit in his seat and sighed. “Feels like it’s been like this forever and like it happened yesterday.”

Toby stared at them all like they’d each grown extra limbs in odd places – Danny even checked to make sure he hadn’t done that while feeling both old and young at the same time due to how little time had actually passed – before zipping over to Danny and holding his hands just over the teen’s face. “Oh my gods, you’re a baby.”

“I am a teenager, thank you.” Danny gently pulled Toby’s hands away from his face, a brow raised. “What, is 14 infantile to angels, feather man?”

“You’re only 14 months dead, Danny, that makes you a baby ghost.” Sam snorted and Tucker covered his mouth to try and hide his laughter. A snap of Toby’s fingers and flowers began growing in Tucker’s hat, and seeds appeared above Sam, growing into flowers as they fell all over her. “If you’ve had regular interactions with that metal head, no wonder your aura’s all aggro.”

“Skulker’s not exactly the worst of the ghosts we’ve had to fight over the months,” Danny said.

“Oh yeah, that’d have to be either Walker, Spectra, or Vlad. It’s really a toss up between Spectra and Vlad, if you ask me.”

“Vlad wants to kill Danny’s dad because he sees his mom as a trophy that was stolen from him, while Spectra tried to kill Jazz just to depress an entire school so she could feed on the misery to look young.” Sam brushed away the flowers and weighed two in her hands. “Yeah, those around the same level of grossly evil.”

Toby’s wings ignited at some point while Sam was talking, and the sunlight streaming in from the hole in the roof grew somewhat brighter. He reached into a bag he had strapped to his waist and pulled out a book and a pen, his smile all teeth. “Tell me, please, a list of all the adult ghosts who have attacked you children? I’d like to have a discussion with each of them.”

“If we give you their names,” Danny said before Tucker could answer, “do you promise not to go slaughtering them all? I don’t need to know ghostly body language at all to know that flaming wings come from a place of anger and imminent violence.”

“When did you read a thesaurus, Danny?”

“Sam, I’m insulted: I know tri-syllabic words. I can even say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“I promise not to slaughter all of the ghosts you inform me hurt you in the past few months, yes. Names?” When Tucker listed off names, Toby wrote them down with an inhuman speed, and Danny exchanged a look with Sam, worried about how exactly that deal might be loopholed around. “Right,” Toby chirped while slamming his book shut, “I’m here to answer some questions of yours, not just ramble about myself and assemble a… list of people to talk to. Got any?”

“So many that I don’t even know where to start.”