#he might beat you up the first few times but he'll maybe start to believe you a teeny tiny smidge if you keep at it for the next five years

[pornbotnot]

The moment this bastard realised he was in love.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

HIIIIIIIIII I LOVE YOUR WRITING🩷🩷🩷

anyways this is my first time so don’t bully me😭

Can i request hcs with a killer gn reader thats like kobeni from chainsaw man? Like they’re a wimp and a little bit of a crybaby but is good at killing and skilled with weapons specially a knife? You can choose any of the killers!

Have a splendid week and always stay hydrated!!🩷🩷🩷🫶🫶🫶

Don't worry i would never bully any of my dear readers <333

Thank you so much for requesting!!

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

Toby

It honestly shocked Toby when he saw you fight for the first time

He always knew you as sort of a wimp, breaking down into nervous babbles and tears at the slightest hint of conflict

But here you are, almost completely unemotional, and beating these people senseless

It is only once you're done that you begin to panic, which takes Toby aback even more

Toby didn't even have to lift a finger on this mission, because you took care of it all, but now you're....crying??

He rushes to your side and kneels by you on the floor "w-woah hey, are you ok?" He asks

You only manage to get out nervous babbles, which only worries toby more

He ends up calling Tim (because while he may be an adult, he needs a more adultier adult in this situation)

Tim concludes that you're just having an anxiety attack and should be back to normal within a few hours

Tim ends up carrying you back to his car and lays you down in the back seat, while tony watches over you

Toby doesn't leave your side until he is sure that you're ok, and don't need him to comfort you any longer

And from that point on, he doesn't let you do anything that may push your anxious self over the edge

Eyeless Jack

You are one of Jacks most frequent visitors

He is always there, tending to your minor wounds while you panic and shake with fear

He doesn't talk to you much, since you are almost never in a state to talk

But the few experiences he's had with you have always been pleasent

You are always very kind, and he loves the fact that you have basic manners

He is almost never out on the battlefield himself, but he has heard rumor of your skill

Honestly, its one of those things hed have to see to believe

A shy, timid little thing like you?

Killing people?

Emotionlessly, no less?

Yeah, he just doesn't buy it, sorry

However if you were to show him your skill some day (wether that be through a creep videoing you, you training with him, etc) he would be thoroughly impressed

He just didn't expect something like that from you!

Jeff the killer

He's kind of mean to you <//3

Unless youre just really close, he won't go out of his way to be nice to you, even if you are sensitive

If you call him out for it he will say "what are you gonna do? Cry about it?"

And don't think he hasn't seen your meltdowns, because he definetly has

He's not a complete ass, so he won't poke much fun at you for those

Much....

However, if you were to show off your skill one day that would shut him up pretty good

Even if you broke down after the fact, he wouldn't pay much attention to that

He's still in shock from the coolness he just witnessed

From that day on he's a lot easier on you

He won't make fun of you for being sensetive, he will only make an annoyed sigh if you start getting emotional, and he'll help you out more around the manor if you need it

And if you get close to him he might even let you show him some knife techniques

Thats a big maybe though

Don't count on it

[lexxiie]

Hii I'm not sure if ur taking requests rn but if u are could u do Levi or Eren when they argue with they're s/o

sorry if it doesn't make sense

When You Argue With Them

It does make sense, don’t worry! Sorry it took me so long.

Fandom: Attack On Titan

Featuring: Eren, Levi, Zeke

EREN JAEGER

Now, Eren is a stubborn guy. He likes to be right, and most of the time, he genuinely believes he is. His pride only makes this slightly worse, an though he tries to be better, especially because of you, change takes time. He hates arguing with you, but it's really not that uncommon as he is aware that his personality makes it hard not to argue sometimes, still, he hates hurting you.

As I said, he's gotten considerably better at thinking before speaking when he starts to get irritated during an argument, always doing his best to avoid saying something he'll regret.

But on those unfortunate moments when he does fuck up, he'll instantly beat himself up mentally.

Especially if whatever he said ended up making you cry.

He'll immediately apologize, Eren doesn't really feel deserving of you, and those things only make him feel worse, like he's wasting your time by being with you.

And though is rare now, there are arguments where it'll take longer for him to cool down and recognize his mistakes.

But even then, while it might take longer for him to apologize, he'll never go to bed if you are mad at him. His nights are meant to be spent with you, there is not any other way.

It happened once at the beginning of your relationship, and he hated every single second of it. Never again.

He's learnt to apologize first, by the way, before you, he would NEVER.

And if you were in the wrong or just felt the need to apologize to him, he'll accept the apology gladly, being happy that you both can just go back to normal.

LEVI ACKERMAN

Now, Levi is no little kid, nor any sort of manchild. He doesn't see the point in wasting time arguing with the one he loves and is usually very matture at handling these things, however, the fact that he has no interest in arguing, can make it seem like he doesn't care whenever you are mad at him for something, which will sometimes only irritate you more, as if he didn't take you seriously.

As I said, he is a matture guy. If you talk to him about something that made you mad, he'll listen, and if he realizes that it actually was on him, he'll immediately apologize and ACTUALLY change.

However, sometimes, he asseses the situation and realizes that you might not be right, and he'll explain so to you. If you are unable to recognize your own wrongs, he'll just ignore your complaints, which is frustrating to you.

Still, if any of this upsets you enough as to make you cry, he'll instantly feel furious at himself.

He just really feels like he sometimes doesn't know how to interact with people, like he can't form bonds.

And you are one of the very few individuals with whom he feels like he is where he should. So when he hurts you, it feels like a step back, or as if maybe he had been lying to himself and he can't actually interact with you either without messing up like he does with most people.

And that sucks, he doesn't want to be the reason why you are hurting.

Overall, he will usually apologize sincerly, he isn't the type that would risk losing you because of his pride.

ZEKE JAEGER

He can be so mature sometimes, and such a damn manchild some other times... He doen't like to be told that he's wrong. He knows it most times, but has a hard time admitting to it. Zeke holds a lot of pride. He loves you, and does try to be a better man to you, but much like his brother, sometimes he's too stubborn to understand he fucked up soon enough.

He believes he really does know what's best for you, and though he does sees you as an equal, he acts as if he thought he was smarter or more capable than you sometimes.

This becomes even more evident if you are younger than him.

If you point it out, he'll deny it to the bitter end, and he truly doesn't see his own behaviour like that.

If his cynism goes far enough to make you cry, though... He'll feel really bad. Despite everything, he is in love with you. He doesn't want anyone to hurt you, much less himself.

Even if he is unable to actually comprehend how he fucked up, he knows he did.

He is able to apologize, but most of the time, his way to do it is just pretending it never happened, getting you a gift, or just approaching you to hug and kiss you.

Sometimes he doesn't want to bother you any further, so he'll avoid you, he misses you, but believes he's doing you a favor by removing himself from your presence.

Despite the way his attitude comes across, he knows you are way better than him, and does puts you before him all the time. He's aware he's emotionally difficult and cannot, for the life of him, understand why you love him so much.

But rest assured, he loves you even more.

MASTERLIST

[deadbydangit]

With a reader that's a crybaby

Trapper, Trickster, Ghostface, Dwight, Jeff, Claudette

Trapper

Oh God, please. Please just- just stop crying.

Evan really doesn't know how to comfort others.

His upbring made him callus and unable to feel any empathy.

In his book, crying meant weakness; and weakness meant his father would do something terrible.

If you're crying because you're hurt, he'll patch you up, wipe your tears, and sigh.

A few head pats is all you're going to get.

But he means well.

If you're crying because of someone else (as in they said something or hurt you) he'll head out only to return a short while later with hands covered in blood.

No one disrespects his lover.

Despite his cold outward nature, he really hates seeing you cry; he's just not great at consoling.

He really does love you, and it truly pains him to see you so upset.

Give him time and lots of love. He'll eventually come around.

Trickster

He can be kind of a crybaby himself.

More whiny than anything.

"Ugh, Y/N I broke a nail" that type.

He can be selfish and has a hard time sympathizing with other's plights.

If you're upset because you're hurt, well, you're probably going to have to deal with that on your own.

In fact, if he gets hurt he's going to be the one coming to you in tears because he got some minor injury like a paper cut.

If you're crying because someone insults you, then fear not. This man will shower you with compliments in the most poetic string of words you've ever heard.

By the time he's through speaking, you might just be as arrogant as he is.

He'll drown you in gifts, maybe give you a make over.

Might go kill that survivor later, all in your name.

Ghostface

You expect this little shit to have empathy?

Ha, in your dreams.

First, he's taking pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.

This asshole has an album of just you in tears.

Laughing at your misery.

If anything, he's going to tease you so relentlessly, you'll cry even more.

If you get hurt, he's laughing about how you did it.

"Ha, dumbass. I can't believe anyone could be that stupid."

But he'll patch you up after.

If you get really hurt, he's willing to help you walk and get minor things you need.

Lord knows he's been in more than a few scraps that left him crawling.

If it's because someone hurt your feelings, well you're gonna toughen up regardless.

Eventually, this man's teasing would prepare you for any insult hurled your way.

If you are very upset, he'll swallow his pride and try to comfort you. Usually by telling stories or jokes to get you to laugh.

Eventually, you'll forget why you were even crying in the first place.

Dwight Fairfield

He's pretty sensitive himself, you'll find yourself comforting him frequently.

But if you're upset, the first thing he'll do is assume he did something.

He'll sputter out a chain of flustered apologies, probably end up crying himself.

Once he figures out he isn't the problem, he'll be the best damned emotional support you could ask for.

Are you hurt? He's going to patch you up. Kiss every inch of the wound. Tell you how brave you are for getting through the incident.

He'll do everything in his power to make you as comfortable as possible in order to reduce the pain.

Someone hurt your feelings? How dare they!

Threatens to go talk with them, maybe even beat them up.

You know he won't do that; but it's the thought that counts.

Oftentimes, he'll start crying because you're crying. You both cry together, then end up falling asleep in each other's arms.

Jeff Johanson

Oh darling.

This man has a heart of gold and you can't convince me otherwise.

He's the master of consoling.

If you want to talk, he'll listen like his life depends on it.

Because you ARE his life.

Want to cry it out? He'll be there for hugs.

He's a living teddy bear.

Want to talk? He'll listen and offer advice.

You'll feel acknowledged and heard.

Got hurt? Let's take care of those nasty injuries and take a moment to breathe.

He'll kiss every inch of the wound if it makes you feel better.

Someone hurt your feelings? He's going to speak with them.

Not in a violent way like some others. He's a gentle giant and will often come back with the person who made the comment in the first place.

He will be the mediator between the other person and you. Having you work out your differences and finding ways to think of an alternative response to the situation.

Seeing you cry breaks his heart.

But crying and being weak is just part of being a person. He knows that.

Express your emotions, he'll always be there for you.

Claudette Morel

Oh you poor dear.

Are you hurt? What happened?

Concern will fill this girl's eyes as she holds you in her arms.

She'll rock you back and forth in an attempt to quell your sobs.

If you got hurt, you won't have to worry for a second.

She's prepared with an arsenal of herbs and medical knowledge.

She'll patch you up in no time. You won't be hurt for long.

Did someone say something cruel?

She'd been bullied since she was a child. Considered abnormal by other children.

She'll be your moral support, offering advice and listening to you.

[atinylittlepain]

You have convinced me, please let me know which albums of the great Bruce should I listen to first??

If it helps for suggestions:

- I am very much a listen to the whole album person

- I am very much NOT from america

- I regularly cry listening to music because it’s just, so good? 💙

Thank you!

Okay, non, it is time. I've thought very carefully about it, and I think I have a quintessential roadmap to guide you through my beautiful wife bruce's oeuvre. Before I get into that though, I have a few things to say about his music.

To put it plainly, think of each of Bruce's songs as a story - if you ever listen to him talk about his songs, he'll talk about personas and characters populating his albums, he'll talk about trying to capture certain American characters, archetypes and images that are now of the past. He means that, and it is what he does. Maybe this is a reach, or just me being pretentious (hello, let's put that english double major to work) but his songs really remind me of Flannery O'Connor's short stories - and she would often talk about being interested in grace, and capturing it in her writing. And it's not grace in the religious sense - it's a hard-earned, or sometimes hardly-earned grace, found in those that are failing, those that are longing, those that are young and uncertain and at the same time very old, and very tired. I've seen jokes circulating about how Bruce's music makes you realize that you too have a sixty-year-old beat-down midwestern dad somewhere inside of you - and I think those jokes are pointing to that grace, to something that inherently aches inside of us, something very old, and very human. That is my thesis statement about Mr. Springsteen - it's why I love him and why I listen to him and why I'll be sorely sad when he is no longer here with us.

AND with that, here is my bona fide roadmap to your first trip with Bruce:

NUMBER ONE

Alright, starter album right here, and maybe considered a bold choice by some - BUT, this is an album you can listen to start to finish and feel like you just watched a movie, and I feel that this album captures something essential about Bruce's work, both lyrically and sonically.

my favorite songs from this album

The Promised Land

Something in the Night

Darkness on the Edge of Town

NUMBER TWO

Mannnnnnn this album - I'll be honest with you, it's just fucking fun - some of Clarence's best work (sax man, beautiful man) some of the best imagery, and I believe after Darkness on the Edge of Town warming you up, it's a perfect second listen - it's short, and pretty punchy, but goddamn, it hits.

favorite songs

JUNGLELAND (one of my all time favorite Bruce songs, truly, tears in my eyes when I listen to it, it's that good)

Backstreets

She's the One

NUMBER THREE

So this album is my favorite Springsteen album, hands down, no holds barred. And yes, it is pretty different from any of his other stuff. Bruce recorded these songs on a four-track recorder in his home in New Jersey, with little else - he was in his early thirties, The River had been a smashing hit, and he was depressed. The original intent for these songs was to rerecord them with the E Street Band - however, that did not happen. The songs that did get rerecorded would end up becoming Born in the USA (arguably his most popular album), and the songs that didn't would get salvaged off a cassette he had been carrying around in his jacket pocket, and they would become this album. It's sparse, it's insular, it's unprecedented, and it is, indubitably, my favorite album. (I could make a whole fucking other post about just this album, but I will restrain myself... for now)

favorite songs

My Father's House

Reason to Believe

Atlantic City

And after you've gotten through these three, I would say be free and explore - The River and Born in the USA are pretty infamous - I would say you might like The River more just given the "NOT from america" status, as you said.

favorites off The River

The River (I mean, cmon now)

Drive All Night (makes me cry like a baby)

Crush on You

However, Born in the USA is inarguably brilliant, she's popular for a reason - I'm from fucking Ohio though, so that whole album really gets my gears turning regardless.

favorites off Born in the USA that are, um, less american-y

Downbound Train (all time fave)

My Hometown

Bobby Jean

And, of course, I highly recommend listening to his live albums, there's just something about them - here's two songs to get you started there:

Happy listening, dear anon, I'd love to hear what you think when you start digging in :)

[manwhacrossoverfamilybecauseyes]

Summer Nights

This party is boring.

Keira sighs and leans against the wall. Her brother - Lucas - abandoned her for his beloved girlfriend. So now she's alone.

"Lady Keira," a familiar voice says. The black haired girl looks up and meets the golden eyes of Ijekiel. She smiles at him.

Ijekiel, her brothers love rival, and she became kind of friends. Lucas has no idea, and that's good. Although she would love to see the look on his face once he realises that Ijekiel stole her heart.

Lucas would go crazy.

"Lord Ijekiel!" She exclaims and looks at him with sparkling eyes. "You just saved me from boredom!"

The boy chuckles. "It's not that boring of a party." He looks away from her. His eyes scan the party.

He's probably looking for Princess Athanasia. Keira clenches her hands. She doesn't like losing, actually she really hates it. That's probably the fault of her family who always let her win. Or maybe because she was raised in a way that told to never lose.

Her mother wouldn't accept the fact that she just let guy she liked go. No, Keira is supposed to fight for him, but it isn't worth it. Why would she force a guy who doesn't like her to like him? That's wrong.

"The princess left with the magican a few minutes ago," says Keira. Ijekiel tears his gaze away from the room and looks back at Keira. To her surprise, he doesn't look disappointed.

"Oh... I see," he replies.

She's surprised by that reaction. The normal disappointment is gone from his features. Her heart beats a little faster. Is it possible that he likes her back? Has he finally fallen for her?

"Ijekeil, I don't feel so good," claims Keira suddenly. She has a plan. Tonight is the night.

Worry immediately fills Ijekiels expression. He quickly steps closer. "What's wrong?" He asks.

"I feel a little nauseous," she continues her lie. "Can we go for a walk?"

Ijekiel nods, and the two make their way outside. It's a nice night. The stars are out and clearly visible. It's not cold, but not really hit either. It has the perfect temperature.

Keira smiles as she holds onto Ijekeils arm. Should she say it now?

"Ije-", "Keira-" They both say at the same time. Both blush. "You first," they say in sync again. Both chuckle.

"Okay, you first," says Keira and looks at Ijekiel. She can't wait for what he tells her.

"Keira..." He starts and sighs. It's time. He'll finally confess. She can't wait. She's already planning the wedding. "I know that your Lucas' sister."

The world stops. That's what he wanted to say? He wasn't going to confess? She feels stupid.

"How? I know that he has been hiding that well," Keira questions, confused. Ijekiel sighs. "I saw you two together, I first thought that Lucas might be cheating because you two looked so close, but I don't think you'd do something like that. I followed and learned that you two are siblings."

Again, Ijekiel sighs. "Did your brother tell you to distract me from Princess Athanasia?"

Keiras eyes widen. Is that what he thinks this is? It can't be.

"No! I swear, I'm not working with my brother. I just... I just wanted to be with you," she defends herself and looks to the ground. Ijekiel is quiet, and it makes her nervous.

Then, he puts his hand under her chin and raises her head. "I believe you," sooths Ijekiel her worry. "You don't seem like the type of person to do that, Keira. Even if you were, it wouldn't matter. I quite like being with you."

Keira blushes again. "Well, I really really like being with you," she confesses and smiles. "Err, what I wanted to tell you earlier Ijekiel..." Keira fidgets with her fingers and looks to the side. "So, I really like you. Like in the way you like Athanasia - or liked. Personally I would prefer liked but it's fine if you still like her."

Ijekiel's features seem to soften. "Me too. I really really like you too. Definitely in the way I used to like Athanasia, probably even more."

Keira smiles a big bright smile. "Then, will you kiss me?" She asks. Ijekiel now is just as red as her. "Yes, definitely."

He leans down and presses his lips against hers. Keira smiles into the kiss. She wraps her arm around his neck.

"Ey! What the fuck!" Another voice calls out. Keira quickly pulls away from Ijekiel and looks at her furious looking brother.

The blond girl behind him sighs. "Lucas, just be happy for Ijekiel. He found himself a girlfriend. Why, are you even upset?" She looks absolutely done with his bullshit

.

"That's my baby sister!" Lucas glares at Ijekiels hands around Keiras waist. "Get your hands off her! Don't kiss her!"

Keira rolls her eyes. "Shut up. I'm not a baby."

"You have a sister?" Athanasia sounds surprised. "You said you were an only child! You liar!"

Keira hums. "Yeah, that's my brother in a nutshell." Then, after a moment, she adds. "Both brothers."

Athanasia's eyes widen. "Both brothers? There's more than one?" The blonds head shoots around to her boyfriend. "How many siblings do you have?" She asks loudly.

Lucas groans. "Three. Benjamin, Leilin, and, well, Keira," He admits and then pauses. "Also, my parents are alive. I lied about that, too."

Keira looks at him, surprised. "You said they were dead? Does Mother know? Does Father know?" Her hand goes up to her head. "They'll kill you." She grins. "Oh my, they're going to be furious."

Then a grin shows up on her face. "Unless of course-"

"Don't," threatens Lucas. "Don't you dare try to blackmail me."

Keira rolls her eyes. "I would never dare to attempt to do that, my dear brother," She claims.

"Hold up," interrupts Athanasia. "I think we've glossed over the fact that you lied to me way too fast."

The blond looks at her boyfriend. Anger in her jewel eyes.

Lucas sighs. His head is turned downward, and he looks a bit like a sad puppy. Keira doesn't know how to react to that. She's never seen her brother like that.

"I'm sorry, princess," he says. "I have no excuse for that. I wanted to tell you, I just wasn't sure how."

Keira looks from the fighting couple to her now boyfriend? Is that what he is?

"Ijekiel." She grabs his arm. "Let's leave them alone. I'm feeling better now, how about we dance some more?"

Ijekiel turns his gaze downwards and towards the purple eyed girl. A small smile on his lips. "Yes, let's dance some more."

family trees | masterlist

[duckielover151]

THE ONE PIECE DIARIES

Episode Count: 400

Holy crap. It's been so hard to hold out for the 400th episode to write an update. Everything just got crazy in the last 10 episodes or so. There are so many things to talk about! Strap in for a long one.

Okay. First. Sabaody. A location that is as beautiful as it is horrifying... Honestly, I feel like it took just a little too long for that fact to sink in for the crew. What part of Hachi's "Stand by and do nothing even if someone gets shot in front of you" warning was unclear that things are pretty fucked up here? The government's corruption has escalated even further with this new, up-close look at the human- (and other) trafficking and slavery system. It's honestly astonishing that anyone supports the World Government at this point.

And don't even get me started on the World Nobles. Never has a punch been more overdue yet so satisfying. I want them to storm into this so called "Holy Land" and just start beating up anyone they can find there too. (It's been a minute since I've talked about Enel, but have I mentioned how much I hate god complex characters?)

And then, of course, was the mass introduction of so many important characters... (Supernova is such a cool name for a group of rising stars... Maybe not totally, scientifically accurate... but cool.)

I recognize a lot of those names. The only one I really know much about is Law. I believe I've gotten basically his entire backstory, but I'm excited to see it play out in person, the little details I'm sure to have missed. Kid and Killer are also really familiar names, though I don't actually know that much about them.

I can definitely see why Law and Kid in particular come up so much in the fandom, if their introduction is anything to go by. That fight with the three captains fending off the Navy outside the auction house may not have been the most impressive fight in the series, but it was also a really fun spectacle. Kid, Luffy, and Law have already got a great sort of chemistry and dynamic, and I'm excited to see that grow.

There were a few others who stood out who I'm also looking forward to getting to know better... Jewelry Bonney is an interesting one. She seems to have the ability to age and de-age herself at will, which could be super useful... Though she doesn't seem much like the type for espionage... She seems like someone who really walks her own path. Some of these introductions were a little rushed, but I feel like hers was really good. They got in everything we needed to know about her, including her main policy of not getting caught up in anyone else's bullshit. And the Straw Hats seems to specialize in getting caught up in other people's problems... I'd like to see her team up with our crew... but I kind of get the feeling that she'll end up being an enemy, or at least a hostile rival, whenever they meet again.

Basil Hawkins is the other one who really stood out to me. He's another interesting one who I'm really not sure where he'll stand in the future. He has the potential to be either really cool or really annoying. Fortunetelling has the potential to be a fascinating ability... I'll be interested to see if he pairs it with another talent... and just how much he relies on it. His assurance that it wasn't his time to die because his cards told him so while his crewmate was panicking... isn't exactly reassuring. The concept of fate can be a tricky one in fiction. He seems like a character who might get shot down just to make a point if he relies on it too much.

And! I can't believe I almost forgot about Rayleigh.

Now, the huge backstory element that he revealed... That the Roger Pirates were never actually captured; Gol D. Roger turned himself in because he was already dying of some incurable illness... is something I already knew. But damn, those were some really great reveal scenes. Hell, Rayleigh's reveal scene, where they pause for just that extra second before adding that he's the former pirate king's vice captain (I think I prefer the term first mate, to be honest...) was really great. Kind of gave me the shivers even though I already knew who he was.

There were some really, really great moments throughout his story too... The one where he's reliving Roger's last words to him before turning himself in... It just struck me all of a sudden and made me kind of unexpectedly emotional... to realize that Rayleigh wasn't remembering the scene as his younger self. He was still the old man sitting at the table with the Straw Hats while Roger's comparative youth (and overall vibe) was frozen in time, as it always will be...

I think it really reinforced that Rayleigh's moved on and is living in the present, no matter how much he may have been affected by it at the time. But I think it also raises some questions. And comparisons.

We've already seen other characters meeting Luffy and being struck by the resemblance to Roger. But I think it's going to be these crews' differences that really stand out to me. Because if the Rogers are all still alive and well... it's almost a little disappointing that they're not still out there raising hell in their own ways, even if the crew's disbanded.

I just can't help pondering what it would be like if the roles were reversed. Because while I'm sure Luffy wouldn't want his crew to risk their lives for him... especially if they all knew he was already dying... I also can't picture it going down any other way than his friends storming the execution platform. After everything he's proven he's willing to do to save a friend... I can't help but feel the best way to honor him would be to live their lives by his example. I can't imagine this crew just fading into obscurity, even if they lost their captain.

But maybe that just has to do with the biggest mystery of all. Rayleigh basically comes right out and says that they were all changed forever by whatever they experienced at the end of their journey, whatever the One Piece is... And that they all made a choice when confronted with that knowledge. And maybe the Straw Hats will make a different choice once they find it.

And I sure wish I could say I would have had Robin and Luffy's resolve, to decide I wanted to find it myself, no matter how long that might take... But I probably would have cracked and demanded answers. Whenever it all does get revealed... I feel like the fandom's gonna explode.

[lonewolflupe]

My wholesome, sweetest, dearest Eobe,

I am going to put a cut below this sentence, because I know I am going to ramble, so you might want to sit down and take a cup of caf (or maybe don't; I don't think you should drink caf at this hour, but I'll leave that up to you)!

Massive Vaughn obsession incoming:

First of all, why in the Force am I so obsessed with Vaughn? I'm afraid I can't tell. It's easy to say I love ALL clones, and I think part of that is because of the whole tragedy? I don't know why, but I keep getting drawn to it. And unfortunately, there's a lot of tragic clone stories out there, and I think Vaughn's is definitely one of them.

I headcanon Vaughn as timid, a bit shy, especially in his cadet/shiny years. He is kind, smart and sharp, but he prefers to listen and observe before interfering with any business. It makes him a good listener, and it is quickly noticed by his brothers. They come to him for advice, to talk about their problems, maybe even their traumatic experiences during the war. And Vaughn always manages to put a smile on their faces, to let them walk away a bit 'lighter'. And that's what earns him the rank of Captain, eventually; because he has such a good position with his brothers. They trust him.

And he admires Rex so much (and obviously he's shy about it). Maybe he even starts to stutter around Rex, because he looks up to him, because he's such an example to him; to any clone, actually. Imagine his excitement and pride when he gets promoted to Captain, to step into his idol's footsteps.

And then he serves under Ahsoka Tano. I bet his freckled cheeks would beam from being so proud, his eyes would shine from honour. All the boys from the 501st love Ahsoka, for being an amazing Commander, for being such an understanding and compassionate Jedi. And even the shinies that didn't serve under her after she left the Jedi Order know the stories. And Vaughn is assigned as her Captain.

He feels so honoured. He is so proud. He hopes one day, he'll be as good a Captain as Rex is. He's sure he'll get there, serving under Ahsoka. A Captain his men will look up to.

And then Mandalore happens.

And my heart aches. I know I shouldn't get attached to a clone that only appears in one episode. I knew beforehand, when those episodes aired and I watched them for the first time, I knew back then those episodes would be hard and they would destroy me. I could have known they would end in heartbreak, one way or another. I shouldn't have attached myself to one of them like the way I did to Vaughn.

But I did, and here I am, shedding tears for a fictional man that had a few minutes of screentime. And you know what? I am thankful that he died at Mandalore, actually. Because I couldn't have coped if he had been alive during Order 66, his biochip activated. Seeing him go down the Tribunal along with Jesse and the rest of the loyal soldiers of the 332nd Company. Ahsoka's Troopers.

I'm glad he was spared that fate.

...

Alright I am so sorry it wasn't my intention to get this emotional, to get this dark, I just wanted to share my thoughts about Vaughn like I've never done before.

So that was the 'first of all', so here comes the 'secondly':

EOBE I LOVE THIS ART SO MUCH AND I AM VERY UNWELL ABOUT IT AND MY HEART SKIPPED A BEAT (several actually) WHEN YOU DROPPED THIS AND I KEEP ON LOOKING AT HIS BEAUTIFUL FACE AND HIS EYES AND AAAAAAAA-

Alright Lupe, take a deep breath, you can do this. Zennnnnnnnnnnnn 🧘🏻‍♀️ OK I think I'm good to go.

WRONG

HELP

EOBE I KNOW WE TALKED ABOUT VAUGHN AND I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO DRAW HIM BUT NOW THAT YOU DROPPED THE ART I CAN'T BELIEVE IT LOOK AT HIM JUST LOOK AT HIM HE LOOKS SO SWEET AND KIND AND

Yeah I'm sorry I'll continue without the caps lock, I'm just still very unwell about this because I love him so much, my sweet little antenna boi.

But Eobe, he is so beautiful, you made such a stunning drawing (you always do <3) and it means so much to me that you 1) once again drew something because of me, and 2) it is Vaughn VAUGHN my love <333

I also absolutely love that you used my design with the ginger hair and freckles, that means so much to me ❤️ And your addition with the heterochromia only made it better, it's perfect, and I'll be using it whenever I draw another helmetless Vaughn (because he deserves all the love and attention)!

Thankyouthankyouthankyou for drawing my sweet little antenna boi, it means the galaxy to me and he is perfect, your art always makes me smile; those big, shining eyes of those clones looking right into my soul, comforting and warming me. And I know it's because you put a little bit of yourself into it, and thus those clones are radiating a bit of the beauty of your personality, your character.

And I am so happy to call you my friend ❤️ Thank you for this <3

...

Did I mention I love Vaughn and this art piece?

And here he is – Captain Vaughn 🤩

Captain Rex didn’t feel like being Commander, but this is how we got Captain Vaughn, showing his loyalty and kindness only within moments in the 332nd company for Ahsoka (s7e9), so he's one of the underrated clones which would have deserved more sceentime *sigh* ♥️

We never got to see his face, so there’s so much space for head canons, isn’t it? 🥰 His look in this piece is inspired by this gorgeous look (<-) designed by @lonewolflupe 🫶 

I also want to share some process magic while I was working on Captain Vaughn, so ramble incoming 😁 Take a seat and have a caf ☕️ 

It’s always the eyes when I draw. They just lead the main energy of the character and that influences the face. So I sketched line after line and his face got clearer… with some unforeseen vibes! Since I’m not that fixed to templates anymore, there can be more variation, no matter how much I try to catch the right copy paste clone-face angles... or even colors 🤯 

Have a closer look into unusual clone eyes, oh yes 👀

Lupe and I were chatting about his lighter look with freckles in her artwork (a bit Tech color palette with golden and copper tones) and I told her that I don’t know why, but I feel like some heterochromia in his eyes 😀 So his eyes are like this now – not planned and unforeseen, like it is often when art takes over ✨

I really don’t know what the Kaminoans were doing during the cloning process 😂 but we got some varied clones – for example ‚icy eyes‘ Edge from the Tango company, or the blue eyed drunk one meeting Fives in front of the 79s (I named him ‚Blues‘ hehe 😜).

Without guiding my lines along a template, doing everything out of my mind, sometimes I might get either feeling like crooked fingers or odd sight, but this can be the point where the true art magic begins, because I’m not in charge anymore. I can only shrug and surrender to the flow and I love it 🥰

So I don’t know when it happened, but look at him… 👀 WHY does he look a bit like Echo? AND Rex? And there’s something soft in his eyes what reminds me of Kix, too? And it just fits his calm and loyal character!

For Commander Wolffe for example it could never be this face and it would never happen in the drawing process like that, it wouldn’t fit, but… I’m rambling – I could never point to the lines or the moment where things like this happen. Yeah, they’re all clones and share the same face, but faces do shape after their thoughts, experiences and their lives – more frowning or more smiling 😀

Oh, I love this. Not really being in charge while drawing, but achieving so much more without being under the illusion of the concept of control what is we’re all be taught… holy force I’m really rambling and diving

Sorry not sorry, art is my passion I guess and art is my healing thing, too 🤩 I’m proud of you, if you read all this! Enjoy 🫶 

My personal ALT text mission (1 additional ALT text for a previous artwork with each new art posting!):

Captain Gregor's faces part 1 one of my oldest clone drawings, what an improving process since then, I barely can't believe it 🤩

Taglist: @eclec-tech @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @justanotherdikutsimp @ladylucksrogue

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

What would happen in FOM if jason got hurt or they couldnt find him after a fight or something?

Father of Mine – Masterlist

Well, we've seen a little glimpse of Jason returning from patrol a little beaten up before.

But if Jason was missing, Y/N would be freaking out. After trying to call and text Jason 50+ times, she would finally call Bruce:

"B-B-Bruce," Y/N managed to stutter through her panic. "He hasn't checked in with me for hours. He never does this. He always texts or a calls to tell me he's OK."

Bruce didn't need his daughter to say his name; he knew who she was talking about.

"We'll find him, Y/N." It was a promise. "Why don't you come to the manor?"

She looked around her apartment. "But what...what if he comes here?"

"If he's hurt, he'll come to the manor first," Bruce reasoned.

Y/N knew he was right.

If Jason was severely injured, he would do anything to stop Y/N from seeing him in such a state – at least until he could get patched up by Alfred or one of the boys. On nights like those, he always stopped at the manor first – or even one of his safe houses.

And if Jason was missing, it was most likely because he was injured or being injured.

"OK," Y/N sighed. "I'm on my way."

-

An hour later, it was Dick who ended up finding Jason. But not before fighting a dozen lackeys.

Jason was knocked unconscious, secured to a wall with chains.

It seemed like overkill, but Dick could only assume that the criminals of Gotham started to believe Red Hood had super-human strength with the reputation he'd gained.

"Red Hood," Dick shook him.

Jason seemed to be slowly coming to, maybe from recognizing a familiar voice.

"F-Fuck," he groaned through his helmet.

Said helmet had a crack down the center, but it was still intact. However, only one of the eyes lit up and the voice modulator sounded damaged.

"Black Mask?" Dick asked.

He'd recognized some of them.

Though there leader seemed long gone. But not before beating the shit out of Red Hood.

Jason nodded. "The fucker really hates me. Got the drop on me. Don't know how."

Dick nodded and looked at the chains. "Lucky for you, I got the key off one of his goons."

Once the chains were off Jason's body, Dick stepped back.

"Can you walk?"

Jason ignored the question and shakily stood.

From the way he was holding his body, Dick started calculating all the injuries Jason probably had from various patches of blood, open wounds, and the way he was holding his body.

"I'm warning you now..." Dick began. "You've got an extremely worried girlfriend waiting back at the cave."

That seemed to wake up Jason even more. "Fuck. How long have I been out?"

Dick shrugged. "She called it in over an hour ago. Said she'd been trying to get a hold of you for over 2 hours, though."

"What the fuck are we waiting around for then?" Jason snapped.

Dick bit his tongue before saying, "Look, Hood, I'm just trying to make sure you can walk outta this place without collapsing. B is on his way with the batmobile."

Jason was hunched over as he started walking alongside Dick. He was hunched over, which made Dick guess he had a few broken or cracked ribs. And his right leg might be broken.

A few seconds later, the batmobile came screeching to a halt.

"Go," Dick nudged Jason towards it. "I've got my bike."

Without saying anything to Bruce, Jason immediately reached for the comms connected to the batmobile and patched himself into the cave.

"Yes, father?" It was Damian.

"Get Y/N," Jason demanded.

The boy didn't argue and there was a few seconds of silence.

"Jason!? Jason, are you OK?" Y/N was clearly panicked.

'God, you are such a piece of shit for worrying her,' Jason thought to himself.

"I'm fine. I'm OK."

Bruce side eyed Jason, knowing he was far from OK.

"You were gone for so long," Y/N whispered. "I thought-I thought–"

"I know," Jason cut her off. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm on my way to you now. OK? I'm alright. Just...can you take a deep breath for me?"

He waited until he heard Y/N doing as he requested.

"That's good. A few more, OK?"

Y/N did as she was told.

"I'll be there soon, alright?"

He waited for her to respond.

"Yeah. Alright," she finally answered.

"I love you," Jason told her.

He didn't give a damn that Bruce was his audience.

"I love you, too."

Jason hung up.

Dick beat them to the manor with his motorcycle. And he must've warned Y/N about his guesses on Jason's injuries, because she came running to his side of the batmobile as soon as it was in park.

"Can you walk?" Y/N repeated Dick's earlier question.

"I'm fine," Jason's jaw clenched as he tried to fight through the pain.

Y/N moved to wrap Jason's arm around her shoulder, but Bruce stepped in before she could.

"I've got him," Bruce told her quietly.

When they finally got him to the treatment table, Y/N gently took off Jason's Red Hood helmet.

The sight underneath made her feel sick.

The entire right side of Jason's face was bruised, which explained the giant crack in his helmet.

"I'm fine," Jason told her once again when he saw her expression.

Which caused Y/N to cry out, "You're clearly not fine, Jason! Jesus Christ!"

"Y/N, can you go get me a bucket of ice from the kitchen, please?" Bruce cut in. Then gave a look to his youngest. "Help her, Damian."

All the boys knew there was plenty of ice in the cave. But Y/N didn't know that. Clearly Bruce had requested it to get Y/N out of the cave for a moment while they accessed Jason's injuries. Damian would distract her with other unnecessary things to grab while they were upstairs.

"Thanks," Jason muttered, knowing Bruce just saved Y/N from a panic attack.

But Bruce didn't acknowledge it. "Can you take off your uniform?"

Jason shared a look with him for a moment before he regrettably shook his head no.

So Bruce helped Jason remove it for him, having no choice but to use a knife and cut some parts of it off.

Jason sat on the table shirtless with just his black compression shorts.

Bruce sighed at the sight before him.

Jason had three cracked ribs, a broken fibula on his right leg, at least five lacerations that would require stitches, and countless others that still needed to be cleaned. The right side of his face would be covered in bruises for at least three weeks.

Damian did a good job with distracting Y/N, because the two didn't come back down to the cave until 35 minutes later.

And by then, Bruce had already finished all his stitches and Alfred had managed to wrap Jason's leg in a cast.

Bruce and Alfred washed their hands.

"For the broken ribs," Alfred began, "you know the usual practice, Master Jason."

He nodded.

Bruce stepped forward and grabbed the fresh bags of ice from Y/N. "I'll show you how to wrap his ribs," knowing fully well that she would be the one doing it for Jason.

Y/N nodded, grateful to find a way to actually be helpful.

Jason was struggling to meet her gaze as she did as Bruce instructed.

His mind was screaming at him, 'She deserves better than this. It isn't fair that she has a boyfriend who worries and panics her like I do.'

When Y/N was done wrapping, she cupped the side of his face that wasn't bruised. Without even realizing it, Jason leaned into her touch.

"Here," she offered a few pills and a glass of water.

If it was anyone else handing them to him, Jason would've fought it and asked what the hell they were. But with Y/N, he swallowed them without question.

"Can you make it to bed?" She whispered.

But Jason knew if he said no, she would sleep down here with him – no matter how much he or Bruce or Alfred protested.

So Jason nodded and took her hands as he struggled to get off the table.

"Easy, now." Alfred warned.

"We'll take it slow," Y/N told him.

Eventually, they made it to Jason's old bedroom.

---

An hour later, Bruce finally started making his way to bed.

But as he passed Jason's bedroom, he saw light flickering from underneath the door – clearly from the TV.

Bruce quietly opened the door, planning on turning it off so both of them could sleep peacefully.

But what he found was Jason sitting up in bed, wide awake.

And Y/N curled up beside him, fast asleep. Clearly she had fallen asleep as close to Jason as possible without actually touching him, too scared to hurt him.

"Need something?" Jason asked him without taking his eyes off the TV.

Bruce crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "I'm not sure you understand how worried she was about you..."

"Here we go. I can sense a lecture coming."

"I know what it's like to fight as if you have nothing to lose," Bruce told him quietly. "What do you think I was like before Dick?"

Jason didn't say anything, but finally pulled his eyes away from the TV to look at Bruce.

"But neither of us can do that anymore," Bruce continued. "Because we have people waiting for us to come home." His eyes moved to Y/N. "She is waiting for us to come home."

Jason still said nothing, but looked down at Y/N.

His fingers brushed some of her hair away from her face.

"You need to be smarter," Bruce insisted. "Not for me. Not for Gotham. Not for Red Hood. For her."

"I know," Jason finally spoke.

Bruce was surprised by his response, fully expecting Jason to pick a fight with him.

"I told her I'd quit all of it if she asked me to," Jason confessed as he still looked down at his girlfriend.

"We both know she would never do that," Bruce admitted.

"Maybe she should."

--------

I don't know what came over me, but I guess I was inspired. 😅

[yatsugareboyf]

figure skater nakahara chuuya

i saw this post and i also coincidentally saw the art a few days ago while crying over yuzuru hanyu so let's do this ! idk much abt figure skating so if i got anything wrong / say anything wrong pls lmk

i wanna believe that chuuya as a fs would be like yuri plisetsky. he would be so aggressive with making all his jumps quads and attempting them all the time during practice, but he might not do it during competition if he feels like he can't do it

he started very young, thinking that getting into ballet and ice skating would stretch his legs and make him taller (im half joking), but he's very good very early on

he might be more recreational rather than competitive, but never really refuses when he's offered to compete. might as well yk

like yurio, he has a certain genre or type of flow he wants for his programs. i feel like he would do something like this . something very bold and telling, and hes flexible. he can pull off those back bends and spins

he may be very aggressive, he's a graceful skater. his moves are clean and sharp and it's very satisfying to see him skate. it's like he glides so smoothly on the ice, like the ice is doing his bidding by giving him the most smooth ride. his jumps are cut and dry, and he makes AMAZING SAVES !!

hence his amazing saves, he's dubbed as the gravity manipulator (corny, ik) because it almost seems impossible how he jumps so high and spins so low yet still keep his balance and stamina. like, how?

of course every artist has their flaws, and chuuya's might be his facial expressions . he gets the message of his piece and it reflects in his movements but not on his face , its VERY visible when u know he fucks up a jump or forgets a certain part of a routine. he might make amazing saves that look like it was MEANT to happen, his face says otherwise. hes working on it tho !!!..... he'll get there .

outside the rink, he's very kind to his fanbase and interacts with them a lot in social media. it gets him in trouble sometimes, especially when judges are biased against him due to his "feminine" figure and gives him a crappy score and those hastags pop-up on twitter? yeah. he's ALL OVER THOSE

DO NOT GIVE HIM WINE DURING SPECIAL EVENTS OR BANQUETS DEAR LORD hes JUST like yuuri but hes ready to beat anyone's ass 😭 his manager and publicist steers him away from the bar after ONE incident. they learned their lesson abt chuuya and alcohol

his diet and workout regimen is pretty normal, but he works out a lot more when he can't come to the rink. he values his body and it's strength a lot so he's very mindful of the food he eats (except w wine). hes a beauty to work with

as mentioned above, due to his small stature and slim figure, it's difficult for him to place and score a lot due to biased judges and conflict of interests in what male figure skaters should look like. he's very passionate about defending himself, but secretly wishes he was taller and maybe a bit more buff :( my poor chuuya

as for being his s/o ,,

he would LOVE YOU FOREVER if you come to his competitions. even if u dont wanna come with him to the kiss and cry (because you can't, but he insists you should), just seeing you in the crowd before his program starts gives him such a boost. toss him a gift after his program he'll keep it forever

although chuuya loves you and values his time with you, his time inside the rink is sacred. it's his first love, his safe space, so he won't compromise a lot when it comes to his practice time on the ice. but he has PLENTY of time after that, in which he wishes nothing more than to spend it with you.

come to his practices tho !! though he might be a bit loud and dizzy to watch, he's amazing at what he does and he loves it when two of his most loved things are together. wipe the sweat off his face when he approaches u he'll die inside

tie his hair for him !!!

when you learn all the terminologies in secret and try to memorize what each jump is and which program is for what event and stuff he'll be so happy

"you... you just attempted a quad axel just now didn't you? be careful-"

"you know what an axel looks like ? and you knew it was a quad? marry me"

PRACTICES HIS FACIAL EXPRESSIONS WITH YOU AND IT'S SO FUNNY BUT HE ASKS YOU TO TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY AND HE'S SO SERIOUS ABOUT IT

"what do you think, babe?"

"chuuya, love of my life, i'm saying this with all the love i have for you, but you look like you're trying to shit out the biggest fucking turd ever."

"you could've said so earlier!"

"you were so into it though?"

but seriously, if he asks you to help him then please please please do. he makes up for it by supporting you in your chosen hobby/profession as well !!

if you're a figure skater as well, then congratulations! you're both in pairs now /j

solo or pairs, he'd be super happy to see you compete or even just perform. he thinks you're so awesome and cool

a bit jealous about pairs but he knows TT he's closely considering pairs .

if he is your partner, you're the one lifting him up /j but seriously, he can take on both roles he's amazing

isn't that strict with diets with you but helps you avoid things you shouldn't eat from time to time, but usually he's your enabler when it comes to cheat days and eating off diet ^^

all in all, he's a great figure skater and an even greater s/o .

requests are open! (08/02/22) (note : i'm too shy to tag op in this one TT)

[equizona]

Hey I kept laughing this morning just imagining Lucifer made mc angry and they started beating the shit out of him with a slipper how are the demon brothers reaction to them 😂

Note: OKAY BUT THAT IS AMAZING– Seriously, I'm writing this note before writing the headcanons but I'm already excited to do it because this is such a fun request and I'm sorry that I didn't get to it before now-

Fandom(s): Obey Me!

Character(s): Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Format: Headcanon

Scenario: Reacting to MC hitting Lucifer with their shoe.

Warning(s): Violence

Lucifer[Avatar of Pride]

OKAY BEFORE ANYTHING—

DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH!?

Lucifer is first going to be too shocked to react at all, just staring at the wall as you slap him with your shoe a few times and running off.

Then a second of admiration passes through him because he was not expecting them to be brave enough to do that–

Then the anger comes and he's rushing after them, ready to beat them with a shoe.

You will not survive, I'm sorry.

Mammon[Avatar of Greed]

"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY HUMAN!?"

He wants to help you.. but..

Can you blame him? That's LUCIFER we're talking about. Diavolo knows what he would do if Mammon got involved.

He is cheering for you though.

Just...

Quietly

Leviathan[Avatar of Envy]

Best believe that he's filming ALL of it, and he's posting it everywhere.

He gets kind of envious that he isn't the one who did that, because he wants to be brave enough to do that and it's unfair BUT

It's everywhere now.

With him and Asmodeus as a combined force the video of the human exchange student hitting the oh so mighty Lucifer with a shoe is all over the Devildom.

Diavolo is so grateful that it was filmed please–

Satan[Avatar of Wrath]

RESPECT–

If you didn't have his respect before now you definitely have it now–

He wishes it was him who did that though. Still, he's super proud of you!

He's one of the only three who will help you get away from Lucifer, though it's a big maybe.

He's naming you the 'Anti-Lucifer League' president if you survive.

Asmodeus[Avatar of Lust]

Oh no sweety why would you do that–

You're way too young to die today but it's too late now he guesses.

He'll convince Leviathan to give him the video and then he spreads it like a virus, just in your name.

It's his participation in your funeral.

Beelzebub[Avatar Gluttony]

Oh no are you stupid 2.0

He will pick you up and fucking run–

He loves you and doesn't want you to die yet, so he will try to help you get away from Lucifer's wrath until the eldest calms down.

He will scold you about putting your life in danger like that though–

Belphegor[Avatar of Sloth]

RESPECT– 2.0

You are now definitely his favorite human EVER.

Agrees with Satan to make you their club president if you survive this.

He MIGHT aid Satan and Beelzebub in your escape, but it's a big maybe, and only because his two favorite people you and Beel are involved.

[oddree13]

Steddie Midwest Emo AU

Steddie and honestly Stranger Things as a whole is ripe for a Midwest Emo AU. Maybe I've been listening to too much Front Bottoms or whatever, but I can't get it out of my head.

Because picture Steve leaving the Upside-Down for the last time and unable to cope with life. And Steve really doesn't think he needs the government-mandated therapy but the kids do, so he goes to set a good example. Because even after everything Steve is still trying his best for the Party even if nothing supernatural is coming after them.

The session start of basic, and he's convinced that the person he's assigned should have Eddie or Robin as a patient with how laid back and weird he is, but he's stuck with Tim for the foreseeable future and he'll deal. He deals until Tim one day brings up music therapy and Steve thinks he should just take the guitar Tim hands him and bash it over his head because he's here to process the hell of his life not learn an instrument.

"I'm not going to be any good at it, Tim."

"Who cares? You've got feelings, and yeah you might not have any skill now, and you may never, but it doesn't matter. Some of the most interesting music happens when your passion is bigger than the tools you have to deal with it. Isn't it great?"

And Steve thinks that Tim took one too many tabs in college but he takes home the acoustic guitar anyway.

It doesn't take long for Steve's passion to surpass his skill, and he really finds that he doesn't care. He doesn't care because he cries for the first time scribbling down his feelings about that spring break.

We keep playing with the numbers We are running out of time We are running, we are running But you're a killer and I'm your best friend Think it's unfair, your situation

He shows his shitty song to Tim who encourages him because for the in months Steve actually talked about something real and not just something he thought he should be talking about.

After a few more sessions and a few more songs, Tim passes him a flyer for an open mic night a few towns over.

"Is this mandatory?"

"If I made it mandatory would that make it easier?"

Steve doesn't nod but Tim tells him to go. So he goes and plays three of his discordant songs and some guy stops him after the show to let Steve know he plays drums. He doesn't understand why but he calls the guy a week later. Raul starts to provide the beat to Steve's arhythmic ranting and it's nice to have someone to just make something with that doesn't know what the catalyst is.

The party finds out when they notice Steve no longer picks the kids up from D&D on Fridays. He says it because they have their licenses. Eddie thinks he's lying.

Eddie, Robin, and Nancy trail him one random weekend and are surprised to find Steve's car parked in front of a bar that has a small line of people waiting to get in. Robin thinks maybe Steve just uses live music to escape but something tells Eddie it's more.

They go to the bar just in time for the MC to announce the lineup and just stand in shock as Steve takes the small stage. None of them get are able to voice their many questions because the drum starts, calling the room to attention, and Steve joins in with a simple three-chord strum.

I have this dream that I am hitting my dad with a baseball bat And he is screaming and crying for help And maybe halfway through, it has more to do with me killing him Than it ever did protecting myself And I believe that, yeah, Dad, maybe no one is perfect But I believe that you were pushing your luck

The trio exchange glances, and listen as for the first time they truly hear Steve Harrington express emotion that isn't carefully masked by a veneer. They watch in awe and don't move, afraid that if Steve sees them he'll stop.

After two more songs, Steve lets the crowd know it's his last one, and there's a collective murmur of discontent, but Steve just laughs. A girl in the front calls out asking him to make it a love song, and Steve tells her he doesn't have any of those, but he can get close enough. He checks in with Raul who starts a steady 4/4 beat for Steve. Before playing his guitar he tells the girl it's a song he wrote about 'a summer he tried trying to impress a guy.' As the crowd whoops, Nancy and Robin turn to look at Eddie who doesn't know what to think.

It's "The cops are coming in" type of sobering up It's a girl who'll never learn that I could not give a fuck My friends are happy, I am happy, I have learned to adapt It's a darker kind of humor and I can still hear them laugh

Because Eddie listens to the lyrics and if he didn't know better he'd think Steve was singing about the summer after spring break - the summer they were all coping, sometimes self-destructively. But then that would mean that-

He doesn't get a chance to finish that thought because Nancy elbows him. He looked up and sees that Steve has spotted them, but he doesn't look away. Instead, he locks eyes on Eddie as he repeats his declaration.

And I will remember that summer As the summer I was taking steroids 'Cause you like a man with muscles, and I like you

[gucciwins]

Are you Angel?

Harry gets hurt while on the job and Y/N gets a phone call she was not prepared for.

Word count: 7413

A/N: hello friends, it's been a while :) this is a continuation to my story Trouble Follows. You don't have to read but it will give you an insight of how Y/N and Harry met. I am thrilled to share more of firefighter harry with you. I adore him and I hope you do as well.

please do let me know what you thought of the story and please reblog! <333

Warnings: angst, breakups, hospitals

A firefighter will always run into a burning building with not a hint of hesitation. All their focus is on saving the people stuck inside.

Running towards trouble is second nature to them.

She knew that.

She also knew what it meant to date a firefighter.

The unreliable hours, the non-frequent communication, the many failed dinner dates. The twenty-four hours shifts when he would then arrive home to just sleep.

Harry had begun to give her a constant comfort that he would eventually come home and climb into bed behind her. He would then gently nuzzle his face in her neck, taking in her sweet honey scent. In contrast, she took in the woody ashy smell that seems to be permanently stained on him.

So trust her when she said she knew what she was in for when Harry asked her to be his girlfriend.

Four months in, she knew she would be here for a long time, maybe forever, if life would allow it.

She was sure; she knew what to expect.

But she didn't, not until she got the call.

The call that would shatter her heart.

The call that would lead her to be sitting in this uncomfortable, ugly brown hospital chair, holding tightly onto his ashy hand. As she prayed on and on to a God, she no longer held close but wished for Harry they were real and would bring Harry back to her.

Y/N prayed for Harry to finally open his eyes and give her a reassuring smile that he would be okay.

That they would be okay.

Until then, she'll wait.

Harry being Lieutenant allowed him to have a consistent schedule. That did not mean there weren't days where he had to pull a double shift or stay back to finish paperwork; he let it pile up.

The one day that was Y/N's was Sunday.

She got him an entire day to lay in bed together and eat all the baked goods she baked for him to try. It was becoming their day. Everyone at the station knew Harry could not be disturbed on Sundays unless it was the end of the world, and even then, they'd have to pry him away from Y/N.

He feels safe in her arms. Harry had never felt that before. Sure, he was surrounded by his firehouse family, but he had never felt so loved in two arms as if she could take all his problems and stresses away. Still, she did exactly that when she would flash him her gorgeous smile and hold her arms open for him to fall into at the end of every day.

Harry knows he's never felt this way, and he won't ever take it for granted.

This Sunday will be different, and she feels it as soon as she wakes up because, in her queen-sized bed, she's alone. No arms wrapped around her waist; no head tucked into her necks as he places soft open kisses to wake her from her sleep gently.

Already, she knows this is going to be a bad day. She feels it in her bones. Having been around trouble for so long, she knows the difference between good and bad. The feelings she has made her want to find Harry and pull him back into bed where she can keep him safe.

Y/N gets out of bed, throwing the warm sheets off her body going to the bathroom to do her morning skin routine, wanting to feel refreshed for when Harry breaks the news; he's going to leave her alone on their day. She knows him well enough; he's cooking her breakfast to make up for leaving her so early in the morning.

She walks out of her bathroom, going straight to her closet and taking out the first sweater she saw. It's a baby blue color and stitched on the left side on top of her heart is: "love me please?" It's Harry's favorite sweater of hers because it's an oversized sweater that fits him well. The only reason she has it back is that he wanted her to wash it and wear it until it got her smell again. Y/N kissed him silly when he told her that, plus she loves that it smells like him now.

Y/N takes one look at her unmade bed and walks away, knowing she's going to crawl back in after Harry leaves her. She walks out and, from the hallway, can hear Harry humming away. If she's honest, she doesn't recognize the song. As she has come to learn, Harry has an interesting taste in music; he has basically heard every song ever to exist. It's a reason they are so good at Four Clovers Thursday Trivia night. She dominates pop culture and films, and Harry takes on music. She's also better at history than him. Their friends love trivia night because their winning always gets them free drinks. It's something she looks forward to each week.

"Morning, H," Y/N says as she approaches him from behind and wraps her arms around his waist. Harry smiles, instantly feeling warm with her arms around him.

"Morning, firebug. Sleep well?"

She mumbles a no, causing Harry to laugh, and she feels it vibrate through her.

"Awe, upset I wasn't wrapped around you." He teases. "I'm making up to you by making breakfast."

She pulls away, spotting blackberries on the counter. "Sure, Jan."

Harry can hear the change in her tone and knows she's still goofing off with him but knows she's upset.

"Angel, come sit. Coffee is ready."

She shakes her head but makes her way over to the chair he pulled out for her. "No coffee. I'll be going back to bed soon." Y/N waits to see if he'll correct her, but he doesn't.

"I'm sorry." He begins.

"No apologies."

"Please let me. I'm leaving you on our day." He pouts.

"As much as I don't want you to go, I'm sure they need you more than I do."

Harry frowns, "I hope you'll never stop needing me." He whispers against her lips before closing the gap. Y/N hums against his soft lips allowing herself to get lost in the moment; she loves his kisses, soft and gentle just as he is despite what his sharp eyes might have one believe.

Harry pulls away after pressing one final kiss on her pouted lips. "I'm sorry I have to go to work, but I know for certain that I can meet you for a late lunch."

"Lunch?" She repeats, arms wrapped around his waist, hoping he was serious with his offer.

He hums. "Yes, 2:30, that bistro with that avocado dressing you like for your sandwich."

"It's a date." She grins, laying her head on his chest letting him hold her tight. He unwraps his arms, letting her go.

"I've got to get going, firebug, but I'll see you later."

"Stay safe, Styles." She tells him as she does every time he leaves.

"Try my best, angel."

With that, he slips his beat-up white Vans with lilac laces and walks out the door; it shuts it behind him. Just as Y/N steps towards it to lock up, it opens back up, startling her. Harry steps back in, and before she can question him, he places both faces on the side of her face and kisses her breathless. Y/N is quick to react, allowing their lips to move in perfect harmony, not as smooth but perfect, nonetheless.

"I--" Harry begins before he clears his throat. "I'll miss you, angel."

Y/N feels the heat rush to her cheeks because, for a moment, she thought he'd say another three words. "And I'll miss you, H. Now get out of here; I don't need you showing up late to our lunch date."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display, hugging her before walking out a skip in his step. She peaks her head out, making sure he gets in the car safely before he drives off. He sits there for a moment, and she knows he is letting his Bluetooth connect as he waits for his drive-to-work playlist titled "it's time" to start playing. He takes a look at his mirrors before backing out and driving. That's when Y/N closes and locks the door.

Time to go back to bed for a few more hours; what else is there to do on a Sunday when she's left alone.

Harry genuinely did not want to go to work today, but it's not like he could say no to his Chief. His Chief was never one to call in favor unless it was an emergency. He didn't ask, knowing he'd get the full story Monday, but for now, he gets on his pants, t-shirt, and boots and hopes there are no fires today.

The only thing is that Harry isn't used to working with the B-shift, sure he knows everyone's name and a little of their lives, but they aren't his usual team. He shakes that off because he knows he would do anything to help a team member and knows they would do the same in return.

Harry is lost in thought, wondering what Y/N was going to do today. He knows she planned to take him to a butterfly pavilion today even told him the outfit she had planned out for it. A pair of jeans that had flowers embroidered all over something she added, saying she thought they looked a bit plain, pairing it with a pastel pink top. Harry was surprised with her style after meeting her various times in different outfits. He was surprised at how soft she dressed in pastels. She may have a bold personality, but her fashion was delicate and warm. It was a nice balance.

He nearly runs into Carols as he made his way to his office, too busy thinking of the girl he left at home. "Sorry, bud."

"No problem, Harry. Surprised to see you here," Carols tells him, everyone knowing Sunday was Harry's day off.

"Chief had something come up and asked me to come in. I should be out of here by eight tonight if we're lucky."

Carlos smiles, "with you around, we usually are."

Harry chuckles, telling him he'll be in his office if he needs anything. He looks around his desk and sighs at how much has piled up already.

Might as well get ahead.

It's a few hours when Harry realizes the house is quiet. He peaks around the window and figures they are all in the common room. It's only one, and thankfully there have been no calls, and if it continues, then he will make it to lunch with his angel.

He shoots her a text.

Angel

13:24 PM

I miss you. Counting down the minutes until I get to see you xxx

Harry clicks send and smiles down at his phone. 2:30 couldn't come fast enough.

As he gets up to stretch and go for a snack in the kitchen, he takes a deep breath because as confident as he may seem, he isn't around the second shift. They don't know him so well, and Harry ultimately is shy. He may be able to hide it, but he has small quicks that others pick up on. Something he knows Y/N spotted quickly, like when he toes his foot into the ground or when he begins to chip at his nails, and Y/N's favorite is when he moves his hands behind his back and sways side to side. She finds it endearing, but others might not think it's leadership material.

He walks into the lounge to cross to the kitchen when a few heads turn to him, but before they can say a word, the alarm rings, and Harry is literally saved by the bell.

Not a second to waste, everyone heads over to the rig and quickly suits up. Harry is Lieutenant meaning he's in charge of the scene today, seeing as their captain and Chief aren't here today. Harry respects all the firefighters and knows this will go well if everyone carries out their job.

It's a factory fire, and as soon as they arrive, Harry can see it's burning fast. He's not sure how many people are there, but he calls in for reinforcements knowing they will need all the manpower they can get.

"This is House 102; please send more units available. The factory fire is burning at a faster rate than we can control. My team is going in now. There are five people unaccounted for; the left side of the building is clear." Harry speaks into his two-way radio.

"Carlos," the young firefighter jogs over, eyes on Harry, no longer staring at the roaring fire. "You're going in with Baz. Stay close and don't go up the second floor; you need to be quick in and out."

"Who's going with you, Lieutenant?" Carlos asks, clearly worried.

"Jameson and Rey are coming with me; stay safe, and if anything happens, just radio in."

"You got it!" Harry pats his shoulder and walks off towards the two waiting men.

Harry knows the men well, he trained them when they came into the house, but they preferred B-shift instead of being with him. One spot was available, and he knew they didn't want to be separated. Rey and Jameson have been dating for two years, but that's a secret only very few know. It's not prohibited, but if it gets more serious, one will have to relocate to a new station. They simply aren't ready for that, and indeed Harry would be sad not to have them around the house or hearing their stories. It just adds a more considerable risk because, at the end of the day, the job is first.

Rey walks towards the entrance with Harry following right behind. Jameson, a few feet back, calling out for anyone in there that needs help.

"Fire department, call out." Echoes out as much as it can as the fire begins to roar louder.

The heat gets worse the further they walk in; they turn right at the edge of a desk labeled "Torres."

"H, there!" Rey shouts, rushing over to a man knocked unconscious and had heavy storage struck over his legs, pinning him down. Harry and Jameson run over, assessing the man before making any sudden moves.

Jameson finds a pulse, weak but there. He gets the extra mask over the man's face hoping it'll wake him up soon.

"On the count of three, we lift," Harry tells the two men standing to a stand as the others do the same.

They nod. "One, two, three." They grunt in unison, pushing the container to a standing position. Harry looks over the man's legs and is thankful there is no blood, but there will be swelling and bruises. "Right, Rey, take him out. We'll keep searching."

Rey nods, lifting the man over his shoulder as he was trained to do, and rushes out of the burning building. Harry and Jameson have just learned a new area when the radio comes on. "Lieutenant Styles, it's Carlos. We found two men; only one remains unaccounted for."

Harry nods. "Got it, no one comes back in. We'll be out soon."

He now leads the way, making his way towards a stairway. There's no fire here, but it's moving faster, and smoke is thick. Whoever is in here might not last much longer without oxygen.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts, voice firm.

"Here.." a whisper is heard, both Harry and Jameson freeze. Once more, "here" is yelled but sounds muffled.

Harry looks around, not seeing anything but fire, and fears the structure will collapse soon. Just as he was about to yell again, he sees a can knocked, and a man hidden under a black rag is seen. Jameson rushes over, helping the man sit up. He's older, well into his sixties. He doesn't look too well; he has a few scapes.

"Right, we need to head out," Jameson tells Harry, helping the man stand up who is fighting consciousness.

"This is Lieutenant Styles; on our way out found the last man. Have paramedics on standby."

"Got it, Styles. Get out quick."

Jameson and Harry get the man up and head to exit. Harry can see the light of day and knows he will be late for lunch, but thankful Y/N is understanding and very forgiving. He'll make it up to her by buying dessert.

Just as they almost reach the door, a piece of dry wood comes falling down, separating Harry and Jameson; luckily, it did not hit them, but now Harry has to find a new way out. It's not looking good.

"Harry," Jameson looks panicked, but Harry stays calm.

"Get him out, now," Harry tells him, looking in every direction for what to do.

"No, I won't-" Harry cuts him off.

"Jameson, get this man out. He needs medical attention. That's an order." Voice full of authority with no room to argue.

Jameson nods and heads out. "I'm coming back for you."

Harry chuckles. He sees a small path, but it'd be a more extended way out. He debates what to do. He could wait, but the longer he stays, the quicker this building is beginning to collapse.

It takes him two seconds to decide to go right and find a new route out instead of staying put. He walks and only gets hotter as the fire begins to surround him. He's good at not panicking, always thinks better under pressure, but this is getting intense. Harry climbs over a crate and bends low to go through this tight space. He sees the exit, it's still a bit away, but he knows he is in the clear.

That's when he hears a big explosion knocking him forward. His oxygen masks flys off, landing a few feet away. As Harry reaches his hand out to get it, he's pulled back. He looks behind and sees he's stuck. There are crates stacked on top of him. The air is thick of smoke, and with no oxygen, it seems like the fire will soon enough engulf him.

Shit.

He's really in trouble now.

Harry presses his radio, holding it, hoping it's still working. "This is Harry," He coughs. "I'm trapped under a few crates. I can't reach my ask. I'm west of the building."

"Harry, hold on. We're going in." Harry hears Jameson reply, but he's fading quickly.

He shakes his head. "Can't go to sleep, but this smoke is too thick to actually see anything, let alone for his team to find him.

"Tell…" He coughs again, and this time doesn't stop for what feels like five minutes but is only a few seconds. "Tell angel, I'm sorry."

A voice comes over the speaker, but Harry's eyelids are fluttering shut, the weight of the crates is too much, and the smoke only gets deeper in his lungs if he keeps speaking.

Harry welcomes the darkness as he sees the one person he was supposed to meet for lunch. She's holding an outstretched hand for him to take and who is he to ever say no to her.

Real or not, he goes to her, and soon enough, he falls unconscious, not feeling when his team lifts him out and puts him in the back of an ambulance.

Y/N decided to show up a bit earlier for their lunch date, putting in their order early, wanting to maximize all their time together. She wouldn't see him until late that night, and honestly, she wasn't a fan of being separated on her favorite day of the week.

She sits on a bench right outside, both sandwiches wrapped tucked away in a brown paper bag and a lemonade sitting next to her untouched. It was his favorite, too sweet in her opinion. Still, Harry loved it, especially since he wasn't one to indulge in sweets unless they were hers.

Knowing Harry could be running late, she pulls out a book from her orange tote bag that Harry gifted to her. The book was Beach Read, Frankie recommended it to her then gave her the book saying she needed to read more romance books and not just poetry and nonfiction books. She actually enjoyed it, which surprised her, but even if she didn't, she's too invested to not find out the ending.

She was just starting chapter five when she feels too much time has passed and glances down at her phone.

2:55

25 minutes late isn't bad or unusual even; she decides to put the book away and keep an eye out for him. Usually, when he keeps her waiting, he makes up for it with a long kiss that never fails to take her breath away; she's excited about it now.

Time seems to go slower when she just sits waiting. She debates beginning to eat her sandwich when her stomach starts to growl. It's low, but she would feel bad if she began to eat, and that's when he shows up. She settles for waiting and instead takes a drink of the sweet lemonade.

As Y/N sits waiting for Harry, her phone begins to ring and displays an unknown number but the city's area code. Every bone in her body tells her to prepare for the worst but hopes she's paranoid.

She takes a deep breath before answering and bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Hello, are you angel?" A deep voice man asks.

"It's Y/N. Actually, can I ask who's calling?" She's holding her breath; only one person calls her angel.

"I'm calling on behalf of Lieutenant Harry Styles. Harry has been in an accident and was taken to the hospital. He asked us to call an angel on his way to the hospital. We assumed you were one of his emergency contacts."

Y/N feels her hands begin to shake. "What hospital?"

The man on the phone rattles the information, and she lets it all sink in. He hangs up, and she sits there waiting on the bench for her date that will not be showing up.

Her phone rings again, she answers without looking at the caller.

"Y/N," she recognized the voice; it's Mitch, and if he's calling, then it must be true.

"Mitch," she whispers, not recognizing her own voice. It's shaky, tears beginning to well up.

"Where are you?"

"At the bistro a street down from the station." She replies, hoping he's coming for her.

"I'm close; we'll pick you up and go see him, darling." She nods but remembers he can't see her.

Y/N isn't sure why she's not crying. She feels the tears, but it's like they are stuck; her heart hurts, and she knows that says enough. "We were supposed to meet for lunch. I got worried when he didn't show up, but I didn't think--" he interrupts her.

"Harry is going to be fine, trust me. He's okay, and he needs us there."

Y/N doesn't reply because she sees him pulling in. Mitch is in the passenger seat, Sarah is driving. She doesn't say a word as she swings open the door and settles in the back.

She sets her hands in her lap; she can feel herself trembling. She can feel herself breaking because she won't know if he's okay until she sees him. Mitch can say he's fine, but she needs to see for herself.

Sarah and Mitch share a concerned look; Y/N doesn't notice her eyes looking out the window.

"Y/N?" Mitch begins, voice full of concern. "Do you- are you okay to go see him?"

"Of course." She replies quickly. "He needs me; well, I hope he does."

"Course he needs you. Needs his angel by his side." Sarah tells her calmly, wanting to see her smile, but it doesn't work because only Harry should be calling her that. She shouldn't be on her way to see him in a hospital bed. She should have seen him next to her on that bench as he ate his sandwich and gave her kiss and kiss as she told him stories.

They are silent the rest of the way. Sarah pulls into an empty parking space, and she rushes after Mitch, who seems to know exactly where Harry is as he rushes past the front desk. The only thing that slows them down is waiting for the elevator; she gladly would have taken the stairs if Mitch didn't tell her that he's on the sixth floor. Instead, she waits impatiently for the old elevator that will take her to see her love.

He is going to be okay. He has to be okay. Y/N keeps those thoughts running through her head as Mitch and Sarah guide her to room 613.

Mitch walks in first, holding the door open, Sarah places a comforting hand on her back, and Y/N feels supported and loved, but nothing prepares her for what she is about to walk into.

The constant beep of Harry's heart monitor is the only thing that can be heard in his private room. The beep is steady; it makes her let out a deep breath. The monitor already calming her down, she approaches slowly as if he'd wake if she'd walk any faster.

She sits in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed and pulls it as close as she can.

Y/N just stares at him, taking it all in. He looks like he's resting peacefully like he should originally have been when they started this day together. His curls are disheveled, his face dirty with smoke stains and a few gauzes wrapped around his arms. She can't see much else but knows he's got a road of recovery still ahead of him.

"Hi, Harry," she whispers, her hand slowly reaching under the white sheet to grab hold of his right hand. "I'm right here, okay. Take your time waking up; there's no rush. Just know that I'm not going anywhere."

She pauses, hoping for a reply even though she knows she won't get one. "We can also discuss how I'm sort of one of your emergency contacts."

Y/N presses her lips to his hand. "Need you to wake up, want to see those Rapunzal eyes." She sits back, not removing her hand from his. Sarah has not taken her eyes off of her, Sarah might feel like she might blow up soon, but being at his side, she has begun to feel better.

"Harry, we're here for you. The whole team is outside in the lobby, probably why they sent us to the floor with the biggest waiting area. Even young Carlos is out there, saying you gave them a scare but really hopes you never pick up another B-shift again." Mitch sniffles before stepping out of the room. Sarah walks over to where he was standing.

"Hey Harold, it's trivia night in a few days, and kind of counting on you to get us those free drinks." Sarah chuckles. "It's been a while since we've been in the hospital. I think it was when I made you all donate blood for that ambulance competition. Fun times, now you rest and get better. The good thing is you have the best nurse looking out for you." Sarah glances at Y/N, sending her a small smile.

Y/N sits back in her chair as Sarah sits in one by the window. She knows she's in for a long afternoon and an even longer night.

Harry's head is throbbing.

He's not sure why. The last he remembers is leaving Y/N's house to go for his shift at the station.

They were meeting for lunch; he's sure she wouldn't let him drink any alcohol on the job.

Harry slowly opens his eyes and is blinded by the bright light. He sees a photo of the sunset right in front of him, and a tv hung up; if he's not mistaken, he's in a hospital room, primarily due to being in an uncomfortable bed. The oxygen mask over his face is also a dead giveaway he was in an accident.

He looks around, and he sees he is not alone. His angel is sleeping, a tight grip on his right hand; she looks exhausted. Mitch walks in just as Harry was about to wake her. Y/N mumbles and sits up, pulling her hand away from his to rub the sleep away. Harry wants to tell her to stop knowing how much it actually irritates her eyes, especially when she tubs a little harsher than usual.

"Were you able to find tea, Mitch?" Y/N asks, looking over at him.

"Sarah's bringing it over." Mitch's gaze never turns to her staying on Harry; this confuses Y/N and turns back around in her seat to look at a resting Harry but instead finds his eyes on her.

"Harry!" Y/N scoots forward, grasps his hand in hers. "You're awake. Mitch, the nurse, please."

Harry raises his free hand to take off the mask. He wants to speak, but this won't allow him. "No, love. Got to keep it on."

Harry's eyes close, then flutter open. He stares at Y/N, his eyes kind but defiant. He takes the mask off, coughing a bit; it makes Y/N feel nauseous, knowing he's not doing so well.

"I think you need to keep it on, Harry." She says, "the nurse needs to see it when she comes in soon."

"Hey, angel," he says in a raspy voice. It sounds like he's in pain when he talks.

"Yes?" She asks.

"I'm sorry for scaring you."

Y/N shrugs, "no big deal. I wasn't even scared."

Harry smiles, showering her his dimples since she last saw him this morning. He begins to laugh but stops when it causes him to cough. Y/N lets him settle down before bending down to gently kiss him.

"Now, let that hold you over, and put the mask pack on."

Harry nods. "Anything for you, my angel."

It's a half-hour before the doctor comes in, and by that time, Harry had fallen back asleep, only just waking up a few minutes before the man walked through the door. Mitch alerted everyone outside he was awake and doing good.

Dr. Vazquez walked white coat open, displaying a purple button-up and a bright yellow tie. It puts a smile on Y/N's face.

"Hello, Mr. Styles. Glad you're awake."

"Me too, Doc. Nice tie."

Dr. Vaquez smiles, looking down at himself, "Thank you, my wife picks out my tie every morning before she heads off to work."

"Lucky man," Harry tells him.

"That I am." Dr. Vazquez replies. "You've got a mild concussion, nothing serious, but you are allowed to sleep while you're here. We've got a good team looking out for you. You've got a few burns, but those will heal nicely if properly cared for. A few deep bruises on your leg and one on your rib cage, no blood clots. It will hurt to walk for a few days."

"Nothing too bad, then," Harry sighs, relaxing in bed.

"I've looked at your charts, and it looks like you will be making a full recovery and should be back on the job in three or four weeks. In the meantime, you will need to stay overnight and keep taking in oxygen. I see the nurse changed your mask. Please don't remove this one." Harry nods. "Any questions?"

Harry shakes his head no, "Not at the moment."

"Alright, I'll be off then. I'll come to see you tomorrow midday, and we'll talk about going home. I hear you have a waiting room full of people dying to see; just be aware that visiting hours end at nine, but if you're kind to Nurse Lucy, she'll be lenient to ten."

"Thank you, Dr. Vazquez." Mitch and Y/N say in unison as the man exits the room.

"That's the quietest I've ever seen you, firebug." Harry teases.

"You hush." She lightly pats his arm.

Mitch laughs, "going to go tell them you're allowed, visitors."

Y/N and Harry sit in silence. He can tell she has something on her mind, a slight frown on her face. He wonders if it's about him if she won't be able to handle dating someone who can be hurt by the job. Harry honestly does not want to lose her.

"I'm going to step out," Y/N tells him, looking down at their joined hands, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," Harry sighs.

"You've got lots of people waiting to see you and roughly have an hour to see them all. I'll be close by." She leans down, presses a kiss to his cheek, and walks out before he can reach out to stop her.

She steps out while a few members of his team come in to see him offering her a smile as she passes them. As much as she didn't want to leave him, she needed a moment away, and he needed a moment with his family.

God, Y/N has never felt so scared, and now a minute alone, everything is beginning to set in. She has no idea where the restroom is, and the next thing she knows, she's running into someone, but it seems they recognize her because they say her name, and the next thing she knows, she's crying, sinking to the floor. She feels arms wrap around her.

Shushes in her ear, brushing the ends of her hair. It's calming, but she needs to let all the tears she's been holding in.

"Y/N," she can now recognize the voice as Sarah's, "I'm going to help you stand and sit you in the chair.

Y/N feels herself nod.

She begins taking deep breaths, never letting Sarah pull her hand away. It is the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I got her some water." Y/N hears Frankie whisper handing it to Sarah before taking the seat to the left of her.

"I'm okay," she repeats. "I'm okay."

"Y/N," Sarah begins.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetie." Frankie brushes her hair back.

"I'm supposed to be strong; I have to be strong to do this to stand by his side," Y/N tells them, beginning to let her emotions out.

"No one is expecting you not to cry."

"Bu-" Sarah interrupts her.

"No. stop. Accidents happen, and so do injuries. It's okay to be scared and hurt."

"I want to be strong for him." She whispers.

"You are. You never left his side; you talked to him. You're crying now because you care."

She wipes her eyes with her sweater sleeves. "I love him, and I was so scared that when I got the call, I'd never get to tell Harry."

"Then you tell him as soon as you walk back into his room."

"Thank you."

"Nothing to thank, I care about you, and I know Harry would be grateful to know you're not alone. You've always got us. Now let's grab something to eat, and we'll come back in an hour once all of them go home."

She chuckles. "Alright."

"Text me where you're sitting. I'll pop in to see Harry, then meet you."

"You don't have to," Y/N tells Frankie because she knows she is just as concerned about her friend.

"Are you kidding me? You're my friend first, always."

Sarah and Y/N walk down to the cafeteria. She knows she isn't okay but is feeling better, finally letting emotion out. It was only a matter of time before she let the dam break; she's just happy it was not in front of Harry.

The girls sit in the cafeteria munching on snacks for well over an hour. Mitch sends them a message letting them know all the crew has left and it's time to say goodbye for the night. Frankie wishes her goodnight downstairs with promises to come to see her tomorrow and bring her a change of clothes.

"Let's walk you back," Sarah tells her, linking their arms together.

"Do you think he'll know?" Sarah takes a good look at her and grimaces. "I'll just say I tripped, and it made me cry." Y/N jokes.

"I don't think he'll believe that."

"Yeah, me either." The girls walk out of the elevator as their laughter dies down.

They settle in silence as they make their way to his room, Sarah holding her hand leading the way. Mitch is in the chair she was in for so many hours before waiting for him to wake up. Mitch hears their footsteps and turns his head, but Harry is frowning, looking out the window at the dark sky.

Y/N doesn't know what to say, but one look at him has her heart filling up with relief; he's okay.

He's fine, and he gets to go home soon, and she gets to love him all she wants.

Harry turns his head as she steps forward. "Angel," he breathes out.

It makes her eyes well up with tears again. "I love you," she just lets it out, as if she's told Harry this every day as if she never went a moment not saying it.

"Oh my angel," Harry begins to cry, feeling overwhelmed and incredibly happy. His angel loves him, and although this isn't a perfect day, the moment is.

Mitch and Sarah sneak out quietly, shutting the door behind them to give them their privacy.

"I love you so much. Please come here." Harry replies, voice shaky.

In the next second, she's moving forward, pulling the chair as close as she can as he grabs her hands, squeezing them tightly. She leans down and presses her lips to his chapped pink lips. They move gently, pouring all their love and fears into the kiss. Telling each other that the worst is over and they are together, and they are fine. Y/N pulls back, knowing she can't kiss him as long as she'd like due to his sensitive lungs.

"Harry, I love you, and I was so scared I'd never get to say it."

"I'm sorry, angel; I never wanted you to get a call like this, at least not before talking about it."

"Me either," She sniffles, no longer able to control her tears, "but it happened, and I'm just happy you're okay."

"I'm okay," he repeats. She smiles, taking one of her hands out of his hold to wipe his tears away; Harry can't help but lean his head into her gentle touch. "I'm okay because my angel is always looking after me.

"Harry."

"It's true. I've never been luckier and safer since you came into my life." She smiles. "But there's something we have to talk about." He continues, and by the tone of his voice, it's going to be serious.

"Are you okay?"

"What? I'm fine. You're the one in a hospital bed." Her tone is defensive.

"There's something wrong. I can see it."

Y/n sighs, taking a deep breath. She takes her hand out of his hold.

Harry is quick to mask his hurt.

"I don't like that you're hurt. I hate that we aren't at home in the kitchen dancing around to your Sunday playlist as I bake you a new treat." She says in a rush.

"Hey, love, relax," he says and gestures for her to move in closer. She does so, allowing him to take hold of her hands with a firm grip this time.

"You're upset because I got hurt?" She nods in reply to his question. It's stupid because, of course, he's going to get hurt; it'd be naive to think he wouldn't in his job.

"It's part of the job." He says simply. It's something he wants her to accept and remember. She thinks back to a month into dating when he told her about his ex-girlfriend and how she couldn't handle the unknown of the job each day he left her. Y/N thought she'd be fine, but she loves him, and losing him would be something she could never recover from.

"I know. It's just not easy to see." Her voice was quiet and defeated.

"What do we do?" Harry asks, and Y/N freezes; she can feel her heart beating in her ears.

What do we do?

"What do you mean?" She can feel her hands begin to shake.

"This can happen again." He gestures to him in the hospital bed.

"I know." She says softly.

"Is this something you can handle or not?" He asks very direct. She knows this might not be the first time he's had the conversation, but she just told him she loved him, and he's questioning her. She's allowed to feel this way, but it doesn't mean she can't handle it.

"Y/N," he begins, "I'm incredibly happy with you. I see you and me together for a long time. You're it for me, but this job is my life."

"I know," she repeats. "I would never ask you to give up your job."

Harry stares at her; heartbreak passes through his eyes. "Are you asking me to give you up?

She shakes her and begs for the tears not to fall, but it's no use. She feels them falling and can't wipe them as Harry has a hold of her hands.

"Harry, I love you." He frowns as if fearing the worst. "I love you, and I'd rather love you every moment I have you than let you go now and never know what could have been."

"Oh, thank god." Harry lets out a deep breath. She giggles. "I'm sorry we couldn't have this conversation earlier; honestly, I feared if I brought it up, you could possibly break up with me, and I selfishly wanted to have you longer."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, not if it's up to me. Seeing you laid up is hard but knowing I get to be there for you makes up for it. Also helps that I'm a nurse."

"That it does."

Y/n grins at Harry, leaning in to kiss him, short and sweet for now. Each kiss never fails to make her heart race, and due to Harry's heart monitor, she knows it does the same to him. They sit in silence, staring at each other as Harry traces small shapes against Y/N's cheeks, loving the feeling of her in his hand. Especially when she lets out a soft giggle when he hits a sensitive spot.

"Move in with me," Y/N blurts out after a while of silence.

It shocks Harry. "What?"

"Until you're better. That way, I can be your in-home nurse."

"Only until I'm better?" She nods. "So, you'll give me the boot after." Harry teases.

Y/N can feel her cheeks warming up but pushes through, "Only if you're a bad patient."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display for her, always for her. "Okay, I can be good and naughty only when you ask."

"Harry!" She gasps.

He throws his head back, laughing.

"God, I'm so lucky to love you." His words warm her heart, and she promises to tell him every day from now on.

"Now get up here and cuddle me. I got Mitch to cue up Netflix."

"Are you sure?" She stands slipping her shoes off, knowing he won't be taking no for an answer.

"Going to deprive an injured man of what he wants most?"

"Guess not."

"Good."

Y/N crawls on and lays on his side, carefully resting her head on his chest. Harry presses kiss after kiss for his comfort, knowing he will be okay and has his favorite person by his side. She chooses Legally Blonde knowing it's Harry's comfort movie as much as he tries to deny it.

For an unusual start to their Sunday, it ends right; together in bed, a hospital bed but nonetheless a bed, together arms wrapped tight around each other.

Y/N might not have liked that Harry got hurt, but he's okay, and he will recover.

That's all she could ever ask for.

thank you so much for reading!

please send me a message of what you thought or if you'd like to see more firefighter harry

I adore you. take care xx

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x​ @kai-kai-bookshelf​ @somewhereinthestarss​ @hsinmyheart​ @moonchild1​ @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie​ @fangirls94​ @jinsalpaca​ @ggukkieland​

[animeyanderelover]

Can I request prompt 15, 17, and 133 with Kakashi?🥺 Just all in one little Drabble/HC, whatever you choose!! I love your writing so much💞

When I was only starting this blog, I funnily expected far more requests with Kakashi. But I guess in the end nothing beats the Uchiha🤣. I also tried the first time Hc's for prompts since there were so many.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, stalking, paranoia, manipulation, sabotage, kidnapping, death, ropes

Prompt 15: “Shh princess…don’t cry over this scum, he doesn’t deserve your tears.”

Prompt 17: “You’ve been such a good girl lately. If you continue to behave so well, I might just reward you. Would you like that?”

Prompt 133: “I know the restraints must hurt you. Don’t worry, I’ll untie you as soon as I’m sure you won’t try to run away again from me.”

📖Even if your relationship with Kakashi started with him keeping a friendly distance, once there has been this rush of his emotions you'll notice how he seems to become a more and more important part of your life. From a really close friend of yours to a lover with his own hard work, though gaining a crush on him makes things certainly easier. After all Kakashi is smart and informs himself, be that through him stalking his s/o or befriending her friends and family, slipping in questions on how he can get close. With his growing obession comes sadly also the growing need to protect you and get rid of everyone close to you. The ninja doesn't think of himself as a very bloodthirsty person nor someone to lose control quickly.

📖But when his darling suddenly came one day over to him, bloodshot eyes and tears wetting her cheeks,he panicked instantly on the inside. Letting his darling in and preparing her something to drink that will hopefully calm her down, asking with an almost perfectly calm voice what happened. Kakashi was always a good listener and someone who appeared to understand you, attributes you loved about this man. Only tightening ever so slightly his grip around his cup as he listened to your frustrated rambling of a man you had once called your friend, letting you severely down once again and yet always coming back to apologize and ask for your friendship. Someone who had been already on Kakashi's red list, categorizing this man as someone toxic who only used his precious darling.

📖Silent anger being hidden under a reassuring smile as he grabs your hands in his, squeezing them comfortably before pressing a few chaste kisses against your knuckles. "Shh princess...don't cry over this scum, he doesn't deserve your tears." This man ends up convincing his darling into staying with him for the rest of the day and maybe even the night, it's relatively easy for him to coax you in your currently saddened condition into not leaving, the need to protect and make the one he loves feel better winning over.His darling should find comfort with him, head cuddled on his chest and wrapped in a warm blanket whilst he has a warm and tight grip on her. For now he'll enjoy this, but your little 'friend' has to repay your kindness after using you already so often, Kakashi will make sure of it.

📖Naively believing him even after there were quite a few red flags during the relationship with him, eventually Kakashi snaps. And there are little to no signs for this, he doesn't have a loud outburst, even when his storm erupts he stays calm. His overprotectiveness eventually gets the better, beating every other rational thinking and he locks his darling away from the world. He has no ill intenions, but the sadness and pain of the loss of his father, comrades and sensei are itched into the very core of his heart, having left a sort of paranoia in regards of his love. Kakashi is sane enough to know that it would be rare for someone to just live with this, there will be some rebellion. Hoping you'll be a good girl is a bit stupid and he won't be manipulated, even if you pretend to be nice.

📖It leads to such humiliating and embarrassing situations, shackled and only able to lie on the bed, guarded properly by Kakashi after your most recent try to escape. Rather useless considering that he has his dogs who can easily track you down, not to underestimate his own skills as a former Anbu and talented shinobi either. It has to be quite angering, having to rely on him for everything during this time. Especially when he is feeding his darling, plate placed on his lap as he spoon-feeds you with a disturbingly normal look on his face. As if all of this is not wrong in his opinion. There was merely a sympathetic and slightly guilty-feeling look on his face when he noticed the slight twist of your face when the burning material rubbed painfully against your skin. "I know the restraints must hurt you. Don't worry, I'll untie you as soon as I'm sure you won't try to run away again from me."

📖Kakashi has patience yet you must never test those borderlines or otherwise Kakashi will see the need to bring up a few hidden aces in his sleeves. He keeps his promise though, freeing your sore wrists from the imprisonment of those burning ropes. But you'll never fully escape his watching eyes and the social deprivation the copy ninja brings upon you only worsens things, the only person around being the one who kidnapped you and his ninken. There is a slight reward system with Kakashi, good behavior is rewarded with little tastes of freedom and bratty actions are punished with deprivation of something that kept you entertained.

📖He might even treat his darling sometimes like a doll, like a fragile lovely doll when he feels in a certain mood. Babying his darling and doting a bit on them brings joy to him when he notices that you slowly start getting accustomed to him and the situation and he is dearly careful to not screw up now. Not when he slowly is able to lure his s/o to him, willingly. Even if his methods are not what others would call morals, he's happy once you slowly start returning his affection, hesitantly but visibly. The usual indifference he often carries around crumbles away the more obvious the lovely affections of his darling start getting through him, sincerely this time. "You've been such a god girl lately. If you continue to behave so well, I might just reward you. Would you like that?"

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

What You're Looking For (myg)

Summary: Yoongi's definitely falling in love with you, but he's hesitant to tell you because as an idol, he can't give you what you're looking for.

Warnings: public sex, some possessive behavior, vaginal fingering, little bit of degradation

Word Count: 3633

A/n: A Yoongi commission, hope you enjoy!

Being an idol isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, the money is nice, he doesn’t have to worry about bus fare or how he’s going to eat each week. He can write songs anytime he wants to, has use of all this impressive equipment that his pre-debut self would have lost his mind over. The fame, on the other hand, is something that Yoongi struggles with.

He can’t exactly leave his apartment and go to the store for ramen and beer anymore. He can’t exactly walk to the bus station and go down to the park, feed the birds like he used to. He also can’t take anyone out on a date, which pre-debut Yoongi would have never dreamed of doing, anyway.

But now he’s on the wrong side of his 20’s and actually dating is something he wants to do and can’t, not just because of his fame but also because of contracts. It isn’t as if their manager had sat them down and said absolutely no dating, but it’s certainly implied. Their schedules are tight enough that there’s only a few hours of free time per week, and that’s not on accident, Yoongi knows.

Pre-debut Yoongi had been so focused on music, so focused on making it that now, once he’s made it, he longs for something more simple. Writing lyrics on bar napkins while chatting up a girl, for one. Taking someone out on a dinner date to that diner he likes by his apartment. He imagines that he might take her hand while they walk there, swing it back and forth, make her smile.

He does, in fact, meet you while he’s scribbling song lyrics on a bar napkin, but instead of taking you out on a date, he has to sneak you back to his apartment in a black car, pulling his cap over his face. You know who he is, he knows that much by the blush on your cheeks, but you keep insisting you don’t know much about kpop and he believes you.

Yoongi blames the soju for how he kisses you in the elevator, aggressively, backing you up against the door, but you lean into him, make this little sound into his mouth and the next thing he knows he’s waking up with your bare arm across his waist and he’s panicking because he’s got practice in less than an hour.

“Fuck,” he curses softly when he extricates himself, because you look so pretty and peaceful and he’s got to wake you up and usher you out like some kind of dirty little secret and it makes his heart clench in his chest.

He calls your name, softly, and when you stretch he can see that tattoo on your stomach, the one he'd traced with his fingers last night, and then his tongue.

Yoongi knows he's blushing, can feel the heat in his face, so he turns his face away.

"Um," he starts, and then he hears the sheets shuffle.

"Oh! Sorry, I should go." Your voice sounds husky from sleep and Yoongi almost reaches out to grab your wrist as you pick up your dress from the floor.

He doesn't, and you go with an awkward peck on his cheekbone that he swears he can feel on his skin for days.

Things go on like that, for the weeks he's on break and after, through texts and Facetime calls, for months. It's always rushed and sexy and he always has to go before he wants to, and he hates it.

He finds that the girl he'd thought about taking on dates and holding hands with seems to now have your face, after a while. All his fantasies, sexual and otherwise, start to involve your smile.

Pre-debut Yoongi only fantasized about music, about standing on a stage belting out his truths, cutting pieces of himself to bleed onto paper so that someone would see him, finally, so that someone would know him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have scoffed at him for wanting only one person to know him, one person to see him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have called him an idiot, for falling in love.

You never imagined yourself in a situationship with an internationally famous rapper, despite the fact that you weren't overly familiar with his work when you'd met.

You certainly can't call it dating, since it culminates in having a few drinks and hooking up at his apartment or, during one particularly hazy night, in the backseat of a hired Escalade.

He's often out of the country, and on occasion he'll call you in the middle of the day, which is the middle of the night for him, ask you how you are, and eventually, what you're wearing.

You're trying not to look too far into it, not read into how soft his voice sounds when you Facetime and he tells you how beautiful you look, not think there might be something more in the way he wraps you in his arms after sex, plants soft kisses on the back of your neck.

It's fun, it's casual, and there's no reason to need more.

There are other guys that you've had similar situations with, and this is no different.

Maybe it's Yoongi's face that floats in front of your eyes when you're just about to fall asleep, but he doesn't have to know that.

You find yourself stopping yourself from texting him first, and you tell yourself it’s because he’s so busy but you know it’s because you feel too much.

You know his schedule, he emails it to you once a month, and while that seems like a good sign it isn’t as if after months of hooking up, you’ve ever had a conversation about where your relationship stands.

So, one Friday night, you know he’s in town and you know he’s free and when he doesn’t text or call, it feels like bees are buzzing under your skin.

Instead of staring at your phone in an effort to will it to ring, you call a friend and plan a girl’s night out. That’s what you need, anyway, a night where you can drink with your friends and flirt with men you’ll never see again.

You don’t need Yoongi’s low mumble in your ear, making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world.

Yoongi tells himself he doesn’t spend every moment of his free time with you, but he definitely does spend the majority of it at least thinking about you. The way your skin feels under his hands, the slow tilt of your crooked smile. The way sometimes you snort when you laugh too hard and you’re not even ashamed about it.

He babbles all of this out to Jimin and the younger just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hyung, you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi feels his face flushing. “N-no. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Hm. Okay, hyung.” Jimin says dryly, and Yoongi shoves him playfully with the heel of his hand.

“You going out tonight?” Yoongi asks, suddenly, and immediately regrets it when Jimin’s eyes light up.

“Are you gonna come with me this time?” Jimin bounces on the couch excitedly and Yoongi groans.

So that’s how, between the need to stop sitting at home and daydreaming about you and Yoongi’s inability to say no to Park Jimin’s pout, Yoongi ends up at a club.

A loud club. A crowded club.

He orders a whiskey at the bar, people shouldering up against him to order as well and God why did he do this, anyway?

Jimin disappears somewhere within half an hour and he’s stuck looking around the bar for him awkwardly.

Yoongi recognizes you by the line of your jaw, and it’s a rush, the pleasure that shoots through him, the butterflies in his stomach, better than the glass of whiskey he’s been sipping.

You don’t see him, and he wonders if he should go up behind you, plant a kiss on your shoulder, but in the end he doesn’t wade through the sea of people, just watches you sway to the beat, talking and laughing with your friends. It’s interesting, seeing you out and about like this, somewhere he doesn’t have to hide you, and longing spears through him because as much as he hates clubs, he’d like to take you to one, see the way your body moves to the music, how your eyes light up when you laugh.

As he’s watching, entranced, a man puts his hand on your hip, stands from the bar, and Yoongi’s hands grasp the bar hard enough to whiten his knuckles. He’d never considered himself a jealous person, had never been so in past relationships, but there’s this little ball of something vile in his stomach and it isn’t just the whiskey.

He knocks the rest of his drink back, orders another, tries to focus on the bartender but he can see you in his peripheral vision and when you move he turns his head to follow you as the man leads you out onto the dance floor.

It occurs to him that he’d never had a conversation with you about exclusivity. He hasn’t seen anyone else since he’d met you, but he’d been gone more than he’d been with you and maybe you were seeing someone else. Maybe it was this guy, with his hand on your hip so familiar.

Yoongi doesn’t feel angry, exactly, but there’s a rock in his gut and his throat seems to have closed to a pinhole when he takes a gulp of his new drink, watching you dance.

You sway your hips slow, as if moving to a beat in your head instead of the music, and Yoongi would smile if he felt physically able to do so, watching the man behind you with both hands on your hips now, fingers splayed out.

Yoongi has this awful image, wonders if you’d let him put his hands on your hips like that somewhere more private, and he finishes his second drink too quickly, slams it down on the bar. The bartender blinks at him and Yoongi mutters out an apology, orders another.

Three drinks were his usual limit in crowded places like this, throughout the night, and now that he’s downed them within a couple of hours, things are a bit fuzzy around the edges. He tells himself he should stay seated, wait for the alcohol to hit his system, but he’s up and walking toward you on the dance floor before he can talk himself into staying on the bar stool. He’s only unsteady for a moment, a lifetime of enjoying alcohol has given him a good tolerance that he’s grateful for tonight.

Your eyes widen when you see him, a ghost of a smile playing along your lips.

“Can I cut in?” Yoongi asks, and it seems like a stupid, formal thing to say at a club that was blasting hip hop, but it makes you smile wider.

Yoongi doesn’t even look at the man, doesn’t hear his mumbled response, just replaces his hands on your hip with his own.

“That your boyfriend?” He knows he sounds like a petulant child but you laugh and it lessens the tightness in his throat.

“Mm, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You answer, coyly, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying to the music.

“That so?” Yoongi leans down, presses his mouth to your collarbone. He wants to suck a mark there but he resists. “Do you want one?” He mumbles it against your skin and you make a sound in the back of your throat.

He can’t hear your response, can’t touch you like he wants so he takes your hand and you follow him without a word.

When he pushes the door to the men’s room you tug on his arm, though.

He looks back at you and you scrunch your nose and pull him into the women's bathroom instead.

"There's an etiquette to hooking up at a club, Yoongi."

He laughs and finally that knot in his stomach loosens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. The women's room is cleaner."

You beckon him into a stall, locking the door before backing him against it, kissing him hard, nipping at his bottom lip.

He moans into your mouth, it's been weeks since he'd been able to kiss you, touch you, and he's enjoying it until a flash of memory of that other guy's hands on your hips, fingers splayed, pops into his mind.

He calls your name, softly, and you pull away to look at him, this little pout on your mouth that he has to resist kissing.

"Are you seeing anyone else?"

You'd been fiddling with the buttons on his shirt but you freeze at his question.

"Not really," you reply, and the air feels thin suddenly and Yoongi trails the fingers of his right hand along your spine.

“That’s not really an answer,” Yoongi retorts, and his ears feel hot.

You only smirk, unbutton part of his shirt so that you can slide your hand inside to feel his skin.

“You jealous, Yoongi?”

He scoffs, and then his breath hitches when you place your palm on his bare chest. He pulls you closer by your waist and you lean into him.

“You’re jealous,” you say confidently, moving your hands to unbutton his slacks, and Yoongi’s mouth goes dry.

“I am,” he admits, feeling flushed all over.

“Why’s that? Territorial?”

Yoongi thinks it’s unfair of you to be asking things like this when he’s tipsy and horny, half hard from your kisses and your hands on his skin, but he puffs out his cheeks and lets out a breath through his nostrils and answers anyway.

“No,” he manages, it’s a croak because you’ve slipped your hand into his slacks and underwear, pressing your palm against his cock.

“Hmm. Well in that case, I got asked out tonight, think I should give him a call?”

“No,” he says again, empathically, taking your wrists and moving his body to pin you against the side of the stall instead of allowing you to pin him.

Your breath catches, your eyes dark with lust when you look at him.

“Why not?”

You want him to say it, Yoongi knows you well enough for that, has spent months learning all about who you are, he knows that much, but it’s hard to spit it out, especially like this, in a club bathroom stall with music booming overhead, muffled slightly by the bathroom walls.

Instead, he kisses you, hard, moves his hips against yours, shows you how hard you’ve made him and you whine into his mouth, clutch at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Want you,” he murmurs, and it isn’t an answer but it’s closer than silence and it’s as close as he can get right now.

“I know you want me,” you breathe, something exasperated in your tone.

Yoongi doesn’t have a condom, had no plans on coming out to meet anyone, and bemoans as much to you.

When you rummage around in your purse and pull one out, smirking, then he is mad, even though he’s not sure he has any right to be upset.

“So you came out to get laid tonight?” His voice is calmer than he’d expected with how his heart is pounding.

You shrug. “So what if I did?”

“You’re lucky I was here,” Yoongi says darkly, and your smirk only widens.

You don’t move a muscle, just tilt your chin up at him. “Why is that?”

Yoongi bunches your dress around your hips, roughly pushes your thong aside so that he can cup your pussy. He slides two fingers inside when you spread your thighs, moaning loudly.

He doesn’t respond to your question, kissing along the side of your throat and nipping at your earlobe instead.

“You’re lucky,” he murmurs, “because no one can fuck you like I do.”

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin, and he kisses your throat again, sucking and biting there to make a mark. You’re loud, rocking your hips against his hand.

“I bet everyone can hear you moaning like a whore for me,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.

“Yoongi,” you rasp, trembling.

“Hmm?”

He can’t deny it’s a rush, the way you’re shaking, desperate for him, all but begging him to fuck you. He always feels so out of control with you, the way you make him feel, the longing in the pit of his stomach, the way he’d follow you to hell if you’d asked him. He knows how easily you could break him, and he’s afraid of it but he keeps chasing you anyway. It’s nice to see that he can have some manner of control over you, too.

“Please,” you plead, and he pulls away from your throat, wonders about the logistics of fucking in a bathroom stall. It certainly wasn’t his normal scene, but he figures it out, wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting your ass to press you against the wall. Applying the condom is the awkward part but you’re panting, clutching at his shirt, kissing along his neck and he manages.

Your hands move between you, guiding his cock into you and he groans so low in his throat that it almost hurts.

“Always so wet for me,” he says into your ear, and you buck your hips, almost unseating yourself until he rights you with his hands on your hips.

“Fuck,” you curse almost mournfully and he can’t help but chuckle as he starts to roll his hips up into you, the angle making him spear into you deeper than he ever had before. All of your hookups had been quick but none against the wall. Yoongi thinks he likes it, loves the way you look with your dress bunched up, your tits heaving against his chest, makeup sweating off.

“Look at you,” he groans. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you agree in a short breath. “Yes, yes, please make me come, Yoongi.”

Your dirty talk makes his balls draw up and he thinks it might be over before you do but that’s okay, he’s good with his hands and his fingers.

Then you tug on his hair, your teeth gritted. “Harder,” you demand, and Yoongi’s eyes widen.

It’s quick after that, he’s fucking you hard and fast against the door, your ass sliding up and down with a squeaking sound.

He’s close and he lets his mouth run away with him, your cunt clenching around him.

“I want you to be mine,” he gasps. “Not just your body.”

“Yoongi, I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t stop,” you whine, and he isn’t sure you’re listening. Part of him hopes you aren’t, because if you don’t feel the same way he doesn’t want to know, at least not yet.

And then, just as he spills inside you, it comes bursting out of him like a dam has crumbled.

“Y/n, I’m falling in love with you.”

You kiss him, then, taking his face in your hands, your tongue sliding against his and he keeps rolling his hips into yours as you pulse around him.

It’s thirty seconds before he starts to come down, and a full minute before the horror of what he’s said starts to descend upon him.

Lowering you to the ground is more awkward than it should be since he has to pull out of you first, but you giggle when he puts you down on the floor, stumbling a little on shaky legs.

After you each adjust your clothes, you open your mouth to speak. “Yoongi-”

“Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t say anything.”

You frown, little wrinkles appearing between your eyes. He wants to kiss them.

“But-”

“Jagiya, please,” he all but begs, and he’s never called you a pet name but it slips out and he wants to disappear through the floor.

“Yoongi.” You say, fiercely. “Stop it.”

Yoongi groans, covering his face with his hands.

“I want to be yours, too.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers, his face flushed.

“You do?”

“I do.” You’re smiling, widely, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen you smile like that. It makes his heart soar.

“What about that guy?” He knows he’s pouting so he doesn’t fully uncover his face.

You laugh. “What guy? He just asked me to dance.”

Yoongi drops his hands from his face. “You...you made me think…”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted from me. I had no idea you had feelings for me.”

“I’m in love with you,” Yoongi says incredulously. “I’m crazy about you. I’ve been crazy about you forever.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” You insist.

Yoongi laughs, loud and open, his heart feeling lighter, but it’s a short reprieve. His face falls.

“I’m just...I’m gone so often. I can’t give you what you want, what you’re looking for-”

You silence him by kissing him, just a peck on the lips. “Yoongi, you’re what I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

That rush is back, the fluttering in his chest and his stomach that he’s come to associate with you.

“Yeah?” It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing he can think of to say, looking down into your eyes and he’s sure he’s got the goofiest grin on his face.

But you grin back and it makes him feel better.

“Yeah.”

He still doesn’t get as much time with you as he likes and sometimes he still worries that you might meet someone else while he’s away, but you call him every night that you can, facetime him, and he keeps the butterflies, keeps the rush that reminds him of you, even when he’s busy making music or onstage.

You're always happy to reassure him that you've found what you're looking for, and you don't need anything more.