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lokissweater · 24 days ago

Text

a million more novembers

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: its you and megumi’s cute little two year anniversary! a car picnic at a stargazing hotspot in the city— snacks, drinks, your loving baseball man, and gifts galore? yes please!

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUUUUFFF GALOOREEEE AWWWUUHHH!!, sexual themes, mostly sfw except for like one steamy part ;), boobie sucking, grinding, soft loving megumi OFCCC, sliight angst but really nothing, all characters are aged up, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 8.8k

authors note: ANNIVERSARY SPEECCCIIAAALLL I AM CRRRYYIINNNGGG!!! i hope you guys enjoy this little side fun mini chapter of sir gumi and reader’s anniversary day, and their endeavors with yuji and readers best friend :333 wanted to give you guys an extra mlb!megumi chapter in celebration of their LUUUUVVV !!! MWAAAHHHHH I LOOOVEE YOUUUU !!! TAKE CAAAREEEE !!! <3333333

i highly advise you to read the other parts of this series or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

if you could, you’d fake pass out at this very moment so that way you’d be excused by your professor and get the fuck out of your afternoon lecture right this instant.

but you couldn’t, because attendance was mandatory and you’d lose points upon missing out… and you had an exam next week— which is something you normally just grumbled about and dealt with seeing as it was just a part of being in college, except right now? it was criminal to even think about an upcoming exam like this.

because it was you and megumi’s two year anniversary.

and the only thing you wanted to do was be there with him for the entire day… but because of your classes and megumi having abnormal back to back practices again due to the upcoming world series, you both agreed that you’d drive over to the stadium after your afternoon class and leave together for your little date after he was done.

but even though megumi had practice, you wanted to be at the stadium so fucking badly— watching him pitch and swing and just do what he does best one of your absolute favorite hobbies, the way he plays never getting old and actually illegal to even think that something like that could be a possibility.

you shrunk down in your seat, arms crossed as your professor went over topics about something and guidelines about whatever, you usually paying more attention to the material if it was any regular day but wanting to strangle yourself because the education system was preventing you from being with your man.

your phone lit up suddenly with a notification, you smiling softly to yourself upon realizing who it was and sitting up, grabbing your phone to unlock it.

(gumi <3): how’s class baby

you quickly typed back a response.

(you): do you think if i pretend to pass out right now my professor will excuse me and i can just leave

(gumi <3): lol

(gumi <3): you only have thirty minutes left though right?

(you): okay but gumi what does that have to do with me wanting to pretend to pass out so i can go see you faster

(you): and make fan edits of you while i wait

(you): I— I MEAN—

(gumi <3): omg

(gumi <3): you’ve made enough of those

(gumi <3): no more

you quietly scoffed in your seat, thumbs rapidly typing away.

(you): gumi i can’t believe you’re not supportive of my extra curricular activities rn

(you): after EVERYTHING i’ve done for you

(you): after all the times i’ve sucked your dick

(you): and i thought you liked my edits :(

megumi took a minute to respond before your phone buzzed again.

(gumi <3): LOL

(gumi <3): i do baby i’m kidding

(gumi <3): and don’t put that image in my head rn

(you): oh??????

(you): and why not???? ;))

(you): boner alert perhaps??? ;))

(you): maybe today during our cute little date you can take me to pound town in the back seat of your car and make me cum and cry all over your dick gumi!!

you shrunk further down in your seat and snickered quietly, funnily shielding your phone to prevent anyone else seated around you in your lecture from seeing the absurd messages on your phone.

(gumi <3): jesus fucking christ

(gumi <3): why are you doing this

(you): because i loooveee youuuu <33

(you): and i can’t wait to seee youuuu <333

(you): maybe i should go to the bathroom rn and send you a boobie pic :P

(gumi <3): please

(gumi <3): fuck wait my breaks over i have to go

(gumi <3): fuck

you mushed a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from laughing out loud, typing a response.

(you): BAAAAHAHAHAH

(you): OMG IM SO SORRY GUMI

(you): HAVE A GOOD REST OF YOUR PRACTICE OKAY ILL SEE YOU IN A BIT! <3

(gumi <3): do you think if i pretend to pass out coach will excuse me

(you): NO GUMI

(you): GOOOO

(you): GO PLAY GO PLAY

(gumi <3): god

(gumi <3): fine

(gumi <3): i love you pretty baby i’ll see you

(gumi <3): and pay attention

(you): i love you too gumiiii !!! <333

(you): NO PROMISES BYE !!!

(you): SMOOOCCCHHHH

you breathed out softly through your nose and set your phone back down, one leg crossing over the other as you impatiently waited and practically glared at the powerpoint slides in front of you, your ankle bouncing and mind drifting off again— double checking over the list of things you and megumi needed for your date instead repeatedly in case you forgot something.

since your anniversary couldn’t be an all day thing, the two of you planned a cute little car picnic date at a star gazing hotspot out in the hills of the city, a place megumi had actually been to before in his childhood with gojo and his sister, and one he said he remembered to be nice and quiet with a good view of the stars, similar to how they looked like when you all went on that trip in the mountains a few months ago with his dad, yuji, and your best friend— the fact only making you overly ecstatic, since megumi suggesting something like that without a little gruff and huff was always a special rare sight to see.

and the only things megumi literally allowed you to bring were the fuzzy blankets and pillows and such, him forbidding you from buying absolutely anything else like snacks, drinks, and the food, saying that he had it and it was okay— simply only chuckling and lightly flicking your forehead when you grumbled and fought with him over it in the hopes that he would let you take care of at least half of the things.

he did not.

“alright i think i’ll stop here for today and let you guys go a little earl—”

you shot up from your desk and shoved your books in your bag, not even letting your professor finish before you were already up and speed walking out of the lecture hall and down your building, thanking the gods above for the thousandth time that megumi’s stadium was only a fifteen minute drive from your campus, and therefore made it so much easier for you to drive on over without difficulties and pretty much whenever the fuck wanted… which was all of the time.

just as you plopped in the drivers seat and chucked your bag to the passengers side, an apparent buzzing vibrated through the right back pocket of your skirt as you reached in to pull it out, your best friend’s name flashing at the top.

“hellooo!” you answered, swinging the door shut and turning on the ignition, the heater unit blasting through the vents and warming up the spiking chilly temperature in your car.

“hi babe!” your best friend greeted. “how far away are you?”

“i just got out of class! i should be there in about ten if i go over the speed limiiit.” you grinned, putting your phone on speaker and setting it down on your lap, backing out of your parking space.

“SHE SAID TEN MINUTES GOING OVER THE SPEED LIMIT MEGU— what?! i can’t— i can’t hear you idiot you’re across the fucking field!—”

you laughed loudly as you drove out of your campus parking lot, zooming down the street and going the usual route to his stadium.

“oh my— megumi ordered and yelled at me to call you to see how far you were babe.” she sighed. “when is this man ever gonna treat me fairly this is ridiculous— WHAT?! TELL HER WHAT?!—”

“i’m about eight minutes away now!” you laughed. “tell him that please i’m almost there—”

“WAIT SHE SAID SHE’S EIGHT MINUTES AWA— oh my god okay megumi says not to go over the speed limit and to park next to him in the players parking lot.”

“tell him i said watching him play baseball is more important than the law i don’t give a—”

“SHE SAID WATCHING YOU PLAY BASEBALL IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE LAW— oh he’s coming. save yourself and hang up y/n he’s coming— YUJI GET HIM HE’S GONNA TAKE MY PHONE— ARGH STOP!—”

“—go over the speed limit and see what happens.”

a different deeper voice muttered over the line, partially out of breath and one you instantly recognized to be megumi’s as you giggled.

“gumi the speed limit is a social construct and if i don’t get to watch you play for the last thirty minutes of practice i’m gonna gauge my eyeballs out.”

“baseball’s also a social construct.” he deadpanned. “and you watch me play all of the time baby don’t speed you drive like a fucking street racer sometimes.”

“but isn’t it cool and sexy that i do? eehh?” you quipped in a silly way. “and i don’t care how many times i’ve seen you play gumi… i still need to be admitted into a mental facility each time it’s embarrassing.”

he chuckled softly.

“you almost here?”

“yeah! i’m just pulling into the stadium i’m going over to your structure right now.”

“okay.” he spoke. “park next to me please.”

“—megumi i told her that already—”

“can you not eavesdrop—”

“—if it has to do with y/n fuck no—”

“—okay!” you sputtered while shifting your gear to park and turning off the ignition, cutting their bickering off. “i’m here gumi i’m gonna walk to the stadium now.”

“alright i’ll see you baby.”

“i’ll see you!—”

“your phone time’s revoked asswipe give me my device right now—”

“—can you mind your fucking business for two seconds—”

“NO!—”

you winced and hung up the phone, shaking your head amusedly as you grabbed your keys and stepped out of the car before locking it, walking your way over across the parking structure and to the entrance of the stadium, maneuvering through various hallways and corners like muscle memory and politely saying hello to some of the team’s staff that you recognized as you walked.

you passed through the main hall— megumi’s giant glorious handsome portrait still displayed proudly against the wall amongst his other teammates, prestigious awards and trophies in glass frames and casings littering the room from practically top to bottom as you happily moved through the hall, passing by the same bench that you first unknowingly and officially met megumi in while you were embarrassingly crying your eyes out over him— a treasured memory that you swoon over every now and then at the way he kindly gave you his sunglasses to hide your big fat tears.

you hoped that megumi’s management never replaced that freaking bench, as you wanted to put a plaque on it in commemoration of you and your emo man, knowing that if they ever did you’d be at those stadium doors first thing in the morning to grab and take it home with you to keep.

upon opening the doors to the stadium, you continued on down the steps as you looked on ahead and squinted your eyes, distant hollers and the clanking of bats echoing through the otherwise peaceful atmosphere, several players out on the field practicing and pitching but none being megumi as you reached the bottom and went inside the bullpen, expecting to see your best friend sitting there and possibly still fighting with your boyfriend, but faltering instead.

because megumi was sat there on the bench by himself with his baseball cap on… waiting for you, a bouquet of pretty pink tulips in his arms as he looked straight over the field with an emotionless gaze, his head snapping to you once he heard you coming in and standing up, his face gradually warming.

pink tulips were your favorite.

“gumi…” you spoke softly, astonished and mushy inside as you grabbed the bouquet from him, it neatly tucked in brown paper wrap and pretty pink tule with a little matching bow around the stems to tie it off, the paper crinkling in your arms.

“hi.”

“oh my— these are gorgeous baby thank you!” you gushed, your cheeks hot and you absolutely beaming as you swung your unoccupied arm around his neck and brought him in, pecking his slightly sweaty cheek repeatedly as he huffed out a breathy laugh and pulled you to him.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured, cheek lightly resting against the side of your head as you smiled.

“you really didn’t have to gumi you bought basically everything for today…” you spoke softly, bringing your head back a bit to look at him.

he shrugged.

“so.”

you scoffed. “so? you don’t let me do anything and i feel oppressed.”

he snorted, playfully rolling his eyes and kissing your forehead.

dramatic.

“it’s fine baby.”

“okay but it’s not.” you grumbled lowly, and the corners of his lips quirked up, taking a tiny step back as he released you and lifted a hand, gently pinching your cheek.

“you look really pretty.”

your pout slid into a cheeky smile, a cute blush rising to your cheeks.

“thank you gumi!” you readjusted the bouquet in your arms and shyly looked away, his direct dark blue eyes on you still nerve wracking even after two years.

“h— how come you’re not on the field?”

“oh.” megumi’s gaze shifted to his playing teammates. “i wanted to give you the tulips before going back out.”

your eyes softened, chest clenching as you stood up on your tippy toes and gave him a little kiss.

“you’re so nice…” you murmured.

“i—”

“fushiguro i need you back on the field!”

megumi huffed and rolled his eyes at his coach interrupting his time with you, hands reluctantly dropping from your waist as he took a step back.

“m’sorry baby...” he sighed tiredly, lifting his cap up from his spiky hair and adjusting it back on. “practice is almost over i promise.”

you frantically shook your head. “no gumi it’s okay don’t apologize! go please though i don’t want you to get in trouble.”

he nodded, quickly pecking your cheek before stepping out of the bullpen and back out on the field, turning his body slightly just as he reached the home plate and raising a hand to you as a little goodbye, shifting his attention to his coach and the rest of his teammates once he saw you give him one back.

you walked over to the benches then and sat, your eyes happily watching the mock game unfold as you settled your pretty bouquet carefully over your lap.

“please tell me you guys are done it’s fucking cold up here in the stands—”

your head shot to the side and you instantly smiled, your best friend popping her head in from the bullpen entrance and shivering.

“heyyy! oh my god yes come come—” you scooched over and patted the spot next to you, her trodding over and plopping down.

“let me seeeee!” she squealed and nudged your shoulder with hers, gesturing to your tulips as you lit up and turned the bouquet in her direction, her jaw dropping.

“i hate him but he’s good.” she muttered, shaking her head as you laughed and lightly hit her arm.

megumi ran through a few bases, passing by the bullpen and stopping at a base closest to it with remnants of brown dirt puffing and swirling through the air, him looking over his shoulder at you briefly before turning back to the game.

“he does so much for me that i feel like a big fat loser that does mediocre for him.” you spoke worriedly, and your girl friend looked at you bewilderedly.

“are you kidding? y/n you being with him is enough jesus that man is an ogre—”

you flicked her forehead and she cackled, pushing your hand away.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry i’m joking… kind of…whatever— babe you literally do so much let him dote on you like this… that man loves you.”

you pursed your lips to suppress a giddy smile.

“plus after the pain and torture we both went through with your high school boyfriend christ—”

“oh my god don’t remind me.” you mumbled, shifting your attention back to the field. “he sucked so bad.”

she laughed. “and it took you forever to realize that he was a loser y/n… you gave him too much and he gave you absolutely nothing.”

you solemnly nodded, the feeling of miserable regret filling your body.

“granted i think megumi’s also a loser.” she continued, and you playfully glared. “but! he’s a different kind of loser. he’s good for you babe… and you’re super good for him.”

you grinned brightly at her, set your bouquet to the side, and threw your arms around her shoulders, bringing her in a tight hug as she laughed loudly and held you back with just as much love.

“have fun on your anniversary date tonight!” your girl friend exclaimed. “you guys are still going to that stargazing spot right?”

“mhm!” you nodded. “we’re going up in his car and setting up the backseat once we get there.”

“are you guys getting freaky too back there?—”

your head snapped ahead to find yuji leaning against the gate of the bullpen on the other side, your eyes wide and mortified as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestingly.

“h—huh?—”

“eehhh?” your best friend matched her boyfriends expression, her eyes twinkling and mischievous. “valid question yu! what are you wearing under your outfit let me see—”

you yelped as your best friend pulled and tugged at the collar of your chunky knitted sweater, basically shoving her head through to see what you had on and you pushing on her shoulders to try and get her away.

“stop you sicko!—”

“y/n why the fuck don’t you have a lingerie set under here—”

“oh my god shut your mouth right now—”

megumi curiously turned his head over to the commotion by the bullpen, jaw dropping and eyes growing big in absolute dumb struck horror as he watched your best friend basically trying to strip your sweater off of you, and yuji just standing there and watching like a fucking pervert—

“itadori!” he barked, and yuji jumped a whopping fifteen feet in the air, swiveling around to face him.

“oh hey man!— WHAT THE FU—”

megumi hurled a literal baseball at him and yuji dove out of the way, the ball hitting against the gate of the bullpen as you and your best friend jumped at the slamming noise.

“the fuck are you guys doing?!” megumi yelled, arms out in emphasis as he quickly strode over with pinched brows.

he looked to you as soon as he properly reached the bullpen, the collar of your sweater stretched out over an exposed shoulder with your black bra literally peeking out, your pretty eyes wide and downright alarmed as your best friend still had an iron tugging grip on your sweater.

megumi’s gaze hardened, switching to your girl friend.

“get off.”

he looked to yuji, his legs wobbling in fear as he used the gaps of the bullpen gate to lift himself up from the dirt.

“close your fucking eyes—”

“yes sir fushiguro sir!—”

“what?!” your best friend exclaimed. “megumi if you guys are gonna fuck in the backseat she needs to be looking scrumptious—”

his face paled and his cheeks turned a vibrant pink simultaneously.

“why are you guys always like this?” he muttered exasperatedly, stepping inside the bullpen now and pushing her off of you, your girl friend scoffing as megumi pulled your collar back over your shoulder and fixed your sweater for you, your lips clamped shut as you tried your best to refrain yourself from laughing.

“oh my bad. thought the perv in you would thank my services—”

“why the hell would i thank you for stripping my girlfriend in front of the entire fucking team—”

“—y/n i literally think i have a lingerie set in my car i’ll give it to you it’s new i just bought it to show yuji—”

you gasped.

“wait really?! what color? i wanted to wear one but i didn’t want to show up to class with it—”

megumi’s eyes bulged and shot to you, mouth opening and closing like an idiot.

“i think it’s red but i’m pretty sure your tits are bigger than mine lemme see—”

your best friend yanked your collar again and you screamed as megumi grabbed you and pulled you up against his chest, shielding you away from your lunatic girl friend as she cackled and pointed at megumi.

“megumi’s getting a boonneeerrrr!—”

his eyes frantically switched between her and yuji— his hands still tightly clasped over his eyes.

“what kind of sick fucks are you both?!”

you giggled uncontrollably over his appalled menacing face, your laughter muffling up against his uniform.

“us?!” your best friend yelled. “don’t get me started on you! i saw that text you sent y/n last week asking to send a video of her fi—”

“oh god babe don’t finish that sentence also can i open my eyes now you guys—”

“itadori! fushiguro! huddle up!”

yuji timidly seperated his fingers and looked at the group, hands dropping and a wide smile spreading once he realized you weren’t half naked anymore.

“off we go fushiguro!” he quipped, turning and the dirt crackling beneath his cleats as he walked. “boss man wants us—”

“i heard him.” megumi grumbled, arms loosening from their hold around you as they slid and fell at his sides, his face just plain out annoyed and over it, and you smiled sweetly at him.

“it’s okay!” you poked his cheek. “i’ll wait for you here while you guys finish up? or do you want me to go inside the locker rooms already?”

“go to the locker rooms baby.” he mumbled. “it’s cold.”

you nodded, and he placed a hand on your head with the tiniest smile, heading out of the bullpen after and jogging up to the rest of his teammates for regrouping and final announcements.

your best friend swung a heavy arm around your shoulders and you both made your way to the exit just as you grabbed your bouquet again, walking up the steps of the stands and down a few corridors and pathways until you reached the echoey hallway, the teams locker room coming into view as you pushed the heavy door open and went in.

“do you still want my lingerie set?” your girl friend asked, fixing her hair in front of one of the big mirrors. “we could still try and see if it fits but your boobs are huge compared to mine—”

you laughed and waved her off. “it’s okay babe! thank you though… i don’t think we’re gonna do anything like that out in the open and in the middle of nowhere…”

she shrugged, sending you a little smirk through the mirror. “megumi’s a weirdo. so i think you in fact will.”

you shot her a funny glare and walked to your boyfriends locker while placing your pretty bouquet down on the bench— turning the little knob around and hitting the numbers that made up his locker combination, the metal clinking open and you opening it to organize his clothes and equipment like you usually did.

you dragged his heavy duffel bag out and unzipped it, rummaging around a little to find the clothes that he had packed for your date today— spotting his thick black crewneck and gray cargo pants as you took them out and folded them neatly on the bench in front of you, setting the rest of the things he needed to the side and perking up once you heard distant chattering and banter, several players starting to pile in as you shot a few polite smiles, stepping over the bench and plopping down to wait for megumi.

“i said no.”

“pleeeaaasee!” yuji begged, the two of them emerging from the entryway as you lit up at the sight of your grumpy man, his agitated eyes to the floor as he trudged over. “i thought we were best friends fushiguro. brothers if you will—”

“no.”

“pleaaaseee!—”

“what does he want?” you laughed softly, megumi’s eyes coming up and moving to his tidily folded clothes that you had set for him on the bench, his gaze softening.

“nothing bab—”

“wrestle!” yuji wailed, dramatically leaning his entire weight on your best friend in a hug as she dumbfoundedly reciprocated, patting his back. “i wanted to see who’s strongest…”

“babe go change you’re sweaty—”

“not until fushiguro wrestles with me—”

“no.”

“whyyy?!”

you giggled loudly, hand over your mouth as megumi sent you a small close lipped smile and stepped over the bench to his locker, taking off his baseball cap and hanging it inside.

“because it’s stupid.” he mumbled, and yuji scoffed.

“wrestling is the ultimate sport for strategy, discipline and character how could any of that be stupid—”

“yu change i wanna go homeee!” your best friend whined, trying to pry him off of her. “i’ll wrestle with you.”

yuji sprung up and grinned. “will you actually?! i won’t go easy babe i can’t play favorites—”

“yes now move—”

“if i win can you suck my di—”

megumi flung his deodorant at yuji’s head and rolled his eyes as he cried out and pouted, the little container clattering against the ground.

“gumi!” you gasped. “be nice please.”

he sighed softly through his nose, unbuttoning his jersey as he begrudgingly and briefly looked over his shoulder.

“sorry.”

“oh wait what was that?” you girl friend spoke up. “i think you need to speak up a little megumi! can’t hear you.”

“i said sorry.” he spat, and she smiled, satisfied.

“you’re forgiven! thanks!”

megumi grumbled as he shook his jersey off and long sleeve underneath with it, his little chain with his promise ring dangling out around his collar, and you shamelessly and obviously drooling over his bare toned frame then as he sorted through his clothes and got his things ready for the shower— the locker room emptying out now and only one or two players remaining besides the lot of you.

you extended a hand out, wanting megumi to give you his jersey and long sleeve as he shifted his attention to you.

“what baby.”

“i’ll put it in the laundry bin for you!” you spoke sweetly. “so you can go shower.”

his heart squeezed as he shook his head. “s’okay. just wait for me.”

“gumi the laundry room’s just down the hall.” you laughed, taking his uniform from him. “i’ll be quick.”

he pursed his lips, feeling like you’ve already done more than enough for him and him just dicking around and playing ball for hours this entire time, wanting to get your date started so he could spend time with you and give you the things he wanted to give you, and not be around idiot insane people anymore (yuji and your best friend).

“sit down please.” he mumbled.

your jaw dropped.

“i’m being oppressed again—”

“we’ll see you guys tomorrow!” your girl friend smiled, coming over and giving you a hug as yuji went to put a hand on megumi’s shoulder. “have fun on your date! and happy anniversaryyy!”

“thank youuuu!” you responded kindly, hugging her back and swaying funnily, letting her go after and looking to her boyfriend. “drive safe yuji okay?”

“will do!” he smiled brightly, wrapping a friendly arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. “have fun you guys. and don’t get mauled by bears.”

you snorted, the both of you pulling back and waving at each other with final goodbyes before they turned and began walking to the exit, now the only ones left in the locker rooms being you and megumi.

“text me if you have sex in the back y/n!”

“oh my god!—” you miserably dropped your head in your hands as your girl friends vulgar sentence literally echoed throughout the hallway outside, anyone within a one inch radius able to hear it as megumi laughed quietly, the doors to the locker room officially closing.

“your best friend is clinically insane.”

you giggled, nudging him away playfully and him catching your wrist just as you did so, tugging you in and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“no she’s not.” you smiled cutely, your little cheek pressed up against the warm skin of his chest as he looked at you. “she’s honest. and lovely.”

“and deluded.”

“gumi!”

“sorry.”

he craned his neck down and kissed you, every tense muscle in his body giving away and slowly oozing into a state of peace as your soft lips moved with his, megumi finally having you to himself for the night so he could properly get your anniversary going.

he pulled away and patted your head.

“m’gonna shower really quick baby.”

“okay!” you smiled. “can i sit by the shower with you? heh.”

he chuckled and nodded, interlocking his fingers with yours and pulling you towards the shower room— a spacious and modern area with individual stalls and little plushy sofas across from them, megumi leading you to one as you sat down and took his fresh pair of clothes from him to set on your lap.

“remember when i fucked you in here.”

“gumi!” you gasped as your face grew red. “okay but which time because my favorite time was two weeks ago when you bent me over th—”

he laughed, the boyish sound bouncing off the tile walls as he shook his head with a little faint blush to his cheeks, fingers coming down to unbutton his pants and your hands flying to cover over your eyes, him pausing and looking at you quizzically.

“what.”

“i’m giving you privacy gumi. something you wouldn’t know about in regards to me.”

he scoffed.

“kay fine. i’ll stop asking—”

“no!” you yelled, hands clasping together like a prayer. “don’t finish that sentence i don’t wanna know i don’t need to know whatever it is continue doing it—”

megumi rolled his eyes with a smile, taking off the rest of his clothes and you squeaking as you covered your line of sight again, the sound of the shower running with the door closing an indicator to you that the coast was clear for you to look, hands coming down as they settled over megumi’s clean clothes.

and he literally took less than five minutes to shower… or maybe it was because your little endless chattering made the time go by faster or the fact that you always took close to an hour, but he was out of there with a towel around his delicious waist before you could even realize and on the way out to change into his outfit.

megumi straight from the shower was always an interesting sight to see, for the usual spikes in his jet black hair were nonexistent for the time being as his hair just laid flat, and he almost looked like an entirely different man as you stood on the other side of the bench behind him while he sat tying his shoe laces, you drying his hair with a small white hand towel.

“i’m really excited for tonight gumi!” you cheesed. “oh! and i brought my laptop too incase you wanted to watch a movieeee.”

he straightened up from his hunched over position and stood, turning around to kiss your head in gratitude before taking the towel from you and drying off the last bit of his hair.

“sounds good baby.” he grabbed his duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder, keys hooked from one of his belt loops on his pants as he offered his hand out to you on the way out of the locker room, you happily taking it and interlacing your fingers in the hallway, the both of you walking on to leave the stadium with your bouquet in your arm, making a quick pit stop at the laundry room first to toss his uniform and towels in one of the various hampers, leaving and going through the main hall hand in hand after with the building basically vacant now— not a single player, staff, or management member around as you moved your way down corridors to the exit, entering the parking garage.

megumi grabbed his keys and clicked a button upon reaching the players parking lot area, his shiny black car beeping and flickering its lights and him opening the door to the backseat to throw his stuff in, you catching a glimpse of the piles of grocery bags filled with chips, snacks, pastries and such as you smiled, unlocking your own vehicle and opening your trunk as megumi did his.

he swiftly stepped in and grabbed your blankets and a few pillows, transferring them over to his car and you setting your bouquet down in the back, throwing in a few other things.

“oh gumi!”

“hm?”

you opened your drivers side door and reached in, megumi peering around from his open trunk to look at you.

“i got us a little lunchbox cake!” you pulled out a small white cake carrier and showed him. “and a number two candle too so we can light it!”

“oh nice baby.” he calmly smiled, reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulling out his wallet.

you blinked.

“what are you doing?”

he gave you a confused look, opening the folds and taking out a few twenty dollar bills.

“for the cake.”

“what?!” you frantically shook your head. “no i got this for us—”

he scoffed, extending his arm out to you regardless with a pile of bills in hand that was way over the initial cost of the little cake, your jaw running slack.

“oh absolutely not sir i’m not taking that—”

“take it.”

“nope!”

“y/n.”

“nuh uh.”

megumi sighed and retracted his hand. “i’m putting it in your purse—”

“if you put it in my purse i swear to god i’m never letting you see me naked ever again—”

he froze and narrowed his eyes at you, you standing there with a shit eating grin as you tilted your head.

“just get in the car.” he grumbled, slamming his trunk shut and doing the same with yours, you cheering in your head and lighting up over your win as you opened his passenger side door and got in, completely unaware of megumi choosing to take his chances and shove the bills in your purse anyways.

the car ride there was a whopping one hour, seeing as the stargazing hotspot was in the middle of the bustling city where megumi’s apartment was around, your boyfriend making frequent stops at various food places to pick up the food he had ordered for the picnic, and you still fighting with him over the fact that he should let you pay at least half, him just laughing at your huffs and puffs until he simmered you down to a mere grumble with a kiss to your cheek.

“i don’t care how many times i’ve done it there isn’t a limit.”

megumi backed in reverse once he found a good spot for you both on the hill, looking behind through his rear view window with a hand on the back of your headrest.

“but you have to let me pay sometimes gumi.” you sighed softly. “i feel like im freeloading off of your millions and doing fucking nothing.”

he gave you a bewildered look.

“first of all.” he shifted his gear into park. “you do everything so don’t give me that. second of all—”

he unlocked the car and you both got out, the trunk latching open on its own as you walked over.

“you’re not supposed to pay baby.” he stared at you sincerely, a little crease in between his brows. “ever. i don’t care.”

he unhooked the backseats and pushed them down, the trunk now extending even wider and leaving plenty of space for the two of you to set up your picnic, your shoes off and down below next to the car.

“i just—” you struggled, shaking out the blankets and splaying them out. “i worry that it’ll bother you eventually…”

“it won’t.” he responded firmly, yet still gentle. “did your ex-boyfriend make you feel bad about it? is that why?”

you froze.

“no…”

he looked over his shoulder just as he set a pillow down, dark blue eyes staring you down.

“wow i’m so hungry right now gumi are you—”

“i heard what your best friend said during practice about him.” he set a few more pillows down. “she talks like a linebacker.”

you laughed, grabbing the box of fairy lights you had brought and pulling them out, untangling them by sections.

megumi never really asked too in detail about your ex, just because he knew he’d get bitter and bothered by the thought of it, and the only things he really knew was that he was a moron who said you were a blabbermouth and didn’t treat you right at all, your three and a half year relationship with him in high school one megumi wished he could erase entirely.

but now with the way you squirmed and stared off into space in avoidance over this particular topic… he was curious.

just how bad was he?

“did he pay for your dates or did you.”

you fiddled with a little fairy light bulb.

“well— he did… but then we started splitting it… and then i started paying…”

megumi shook his head, reaching for the grocery bags and taking out the snacks he’d bought.

“why.”

you finished untangling the cord and reached up, looping the lights around through the grab handles of the car.

“i don’t really know…” you mumbled. “but i felt bad because he always did initially pay… so i was just giving back. but then—”

you looped it through the last handle and grabbed the battery box.

“i remember one time he asked me if we could split the bill on our anniversary dinner.”

megumi stopped.

“and then every time he did pay for me he would say side joking comments like— ‘are you gonna pay this time? are you gonna take care of the bill? since i bought you dinner are you gonna buy me this?’ blah blah—”

megumi was looking directly at you at this point, eyebrows furrowed and with slightly parted lips as he slowly set up the food and listened.

“and i don’t mess around when it comes to things like money.” you finished off screwing the battery box after putting a fresh pair in, switching the small lever and the fairly lights twinkling to life. “i appreciated so much every time he did pay so i just felt like i was— i don’t know i just felt guilty. his side comments made me feel a little awkward…”

you scooched over and sat back on your ankles next to megumi, helping him with the groceries.

“i remember one time too for valentine’s day, we had gone out to eat dinner and he paid with his usual side comment… but when we got back to his place i had given him his gift and he hadn’t gotten anything for me at all.”

“huh?” he spoke up. “did he give you flowers at least?”

you shook your head, a little sad look on your face.

“he told me my gift was dinner… which again i did really appreciate that he paid. and he never really got me flowers either unless it was for special occasions like anniversaries… so once a year?”

megumi was in complete and utter disbelief.

how in the ever living fuck were you ever with a guy like that for so long? a girl like you whom he literally worshipped the shit out of the ground you walked on, the thought of you being so incredibly sweet and doting and selfless for some dumb fuck who just took advantage of your kindness again aggravating megumi, him chucking the pastries he bought out of the bags one by one bitterly and you blinking at him.

“what a fucking idiot.”

you giggled, nodding in agreement as you both finished setting up, you crawling and sitting down by the mountain of fluffy pillows as you extended an arm out for him.

“that’s why i just get nervous gumi…” you spoke softly, pulling him to lay down next to you as you looked at the beading stars through his open sun roof, the view and landscape of the sparkling city below insane as megumi slid an am around your shoulders, nudging you to lay on his chest. “i don’t wanna end up bothering you or upsetting you about it and repeating the cycle so—”

“oh god baby no…” he looked at you, squeezing your shoulder. “you realize all of that was because he’s a loser right.”

“yeah to an extent—”

“no not to an extent.” megumi cut you off. “i know for a fact he never did anything for you… and for him to do shit like that on top of it is crazy.”

you slid a slow arm across his torso and held him tighter.

“i do what i do because i love you… and because you deserve it. and because i’m supposed to.”

you smiled big, your heart hammering in your chest as you slung your leg across his lap and straddled him then, megumi’s hands instantly coming to settle on your waist as you gave him a cute wicked look.

“i’m tired of talking about him, but you know what else you’re supposed to do?”

the side of his lip curled.

“what pretty baby.”

“make out with me.”

he laughed, a shiny smile on his face as he reached a hand up and brushed your hair over your shoulder, cupping your face after and bringing you down to his level.

“if you tell me you love me.”

you giggled.

“i love you gumi.”

megumi brought you in then and kissed you, light little smacks and wet lips parting and moving as your noses brushed against each other’s delicately, his thumb running gently over your cheek as you readjusted and leaned in, deepening the kiss and megumi parting his lips wider as a result to drink more of you down.

your hips subconsciously rutted downward, him taking a sharp breath in through his nose as he responded and lifted his crotch up, meeting with yours and grinding sensually with every steamy exchange of your soft plush lips on his, both of his hands quickly going down to grab your smooth thighs and knead them.

megumi suddenly slid a fast hand up your chunky sweater to cup your tit, you squeaking and trying to pull your lips off of his so you could speak, but him only chasing after your mouth and trapping you in.

“wait what if— mmph!—”

“hm?”

he forced your hips down again and you both moaned at the stimulation.

“what if someone walks by there’s a— fuck— there’s a few cars not too far—”

“don’t care.”

“gumi!—”

he yanked your bra cup down and your tit spilled out, his head diving in under your sweater and popping your nipple in his mouth, both of your hips still grinding and rocking against each others as you dazedly tried to look around for any passing people.

you tried to pull off and megumi yanked your other bra cup down, jerking you roughly to him as your weight gave out underneath you and you basically fell on him, his face fully submerged and stuffed in your puffy tits that he nearly lost it and came in his pants.

lewd slobbering sounds filled the car as he sucked and laid his tongue flat all over your boobs, your shuttering gasps and whines making his dick rock fucking solid in his pants as he continued to make out with your chest, relishing in the feeling of your panties running up and down his crotch and your pretty little skirt exposing your ass.

“baby i’m flashing the city please—”

“m’gonna stick my dick in.”

“no!” you whined, your clit pulsing with every rut from his hips. “when we get home when we get home please it’ll be so obvious we’re having sex if we do—”

he bit the fat of your tit and you yelped.

“it’s our anniversary.”

“i— i know gumi but there’s people!—”

he groaned and let your tits go with a pop, head falling back on the pillows as he looked at you with a dead look— knowing you were completely and absolutely right but refusing to believe it because he was fucking horny, the only conscious brain cell that he had left telling him to just wait and that he’d actually cum in his pants if he kept going.

a tiny smirk spread across his face.

“thought you texted me that i could take you to pound town in the backseat of my car.”

you blushed, totally forgetting you did that.

“y—yes but—”

“and that you were gonna send me a picture of your tits.”

“i—”

“you lying to me baby?”

“no!” you sputtered. “no gumi we’re still gonna have sex just not here!”

he laughed loudly and nodded, pinching your cheek as he fixed your bra and pulled your sweater down, sitting up a bit.

“i’m kidding s’okay.” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “m’taking pictures of you when we get to my apartment though.”

“huh?!” you exclaimed, your face buzzing with embarrassment but need at the same time. “what— what kind—”

he poked your side.

“naked.”

your jaw dropped.

“legs spread with—”

“okay i get it i get it!—”

you slapped your hands over his mouth and muffled the rest of his sentence, desperate to get him to stop.

“i have your gift i have your gift open your gift!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and licked his slimy tongue on your palms, you snatching your hands away and giggling as you wiped them on his sweater.

“i told you not to get me anything.”

“too bad!” you grinned, pecking his cheek before swinging yourself off of his lap and reaching into the passengers seat. “close your eyes!”

he sighed softly, a small smile on his face as he complied, hearing slight tissue paper rustlings and things moving before he felt you next to him again.

“okay open!”

his long lashes lifted, eyes growing soft at the ginormous basket you made him— his favorite candies and chips neatly propped up inside with a little baseball teddy bear that had ‘cool baseball man’ embroidered across its jersey, a framed silly picture of the two of you from one of the nights you slept over at his place, various volumes of his current favorite manga wrapped in black tissue paper along with a lego race car set, and a separate shoe box next to the basket— a brand new pair of baseball cleats that he had been specifically eyeing and needing to buy, and knowing that it was ridiculously expensive too as his bulging eyes shot up to your giddy ones.

“baby—” his words got caught in his throat, shaking his head. “baby thank you but you didn’t have to get anything seriously—”

“the fuck.” you snorted. “yes i did! do you likeeee?”

you pushed the shoe box towards him.

“did i get the right ones? these are the cleats you’ve been wanting right?”

he nodded dumbly. “y—yeah but they’re expensive i don’t want you spending this much.”

“gumi money is a social construct.” you smiled. “but my love for you isn’t… it’s bible! happy anniversary!”

megumi looked down and slowly took the little grizzly bear out of the basket, everything you gave him absolutely perfect and filled with the things he loved, but the custom bear with the nickname you always called him— the same one he adored ever since you first said it, somehow pulling at his heart strings more than anything else.

“i love you.” he mumbled. “thank you.”

you beamed, leaning over and pecking his lips.

“because you do everything for me gumi.” you spoke. “i can’t thank you enough for the things you do for me… and i love you.”

a cute pink blush rose to his cheeks as his gaze stayed locked on the bear, feeling his throat closing up from how much you were affecting him at the moment.

he sent you a smile.

“can i give you mine?”

you stopped.

“what? i thought the pretty tulips were my gift?”

he snorted, giving you a look.

“no you dummy.”

he reached under one of the seats, pulling gift bag after gift bag after gift bag from somewhere as he placed them all in a line in front of you, a shocked look on your face as you looked at the amount of tissue paper and packaging that was in your line of sight.

“holy shit.” you flashed him a growing dazzling smile. “are you— for me? actually?”

he nodded.

“guummiii!!” you flung your arms around his neck and pulled him in a tight hug, rubbing your cheek on his head side to side in a silly way before you let go and sat back on your ankles again, him chuckling at your excitement.

“i don’t even—” your eyes darted around. “i don’t even know which one—”

one by one you unraveled each wrapping and tore open each bag, your lap filling up with things that you fucking loved as you tried not to cry between opening each gift— pretty intricate coquette bottled perfumes that you liked to collect everywhere as you knew they were also a pretty penny (so him complaining about his cleats was dumb), cute mary jane pumps and makeup you needed as well as new that you’d been wanting, silver and gold sparkling jewelry that resided in small boxes and wrapped in pretty pink bows, sweaters and cute tops and just fucking everything as you ended up a crying snotting mess at the end of it anyways, him laughing at you.

because each item were things that you needed, things that you knew he couldn’t have possibly known unless he was truly paying attention to the things you were saying and the things you were looking at… this moment proving that he most definitely was.

and a crazy wicked amount too— because some of the items in front of you were even things you had merely mentioned once and done with, accompanied by others that you babbled on about whenever you could.

“gumi we can have sex right now let’s have sex i don’t care—”

he laughed for the millionth time and shot his hands out, literally trying to pull you off of him as you lunged and leaned your entire weight on him, practically fighting him by the end of it as you giggled and tried to get in his pants.

“you’re harassing me.” he mumbled, and you scoffed.

“like you don’t do this to me everyday of my living life— eek!”

megumi bit your cheek and you pushed on his chest to get him away, him not budging as his nibbling travelled down to your neck as you gasped for air laughing at how much that was tickling you, and him knowing that was what usually set you off into a giggle fit, your stomach aching and him dodging your hits and swings, but both of your hearts full from a days worth of complete and utter unconditional love.

and neither of you would have it any other way as you shared the food and pastries you bought, stuffing your faces full of chocolates and mochi specifically as you both had insane sweet tooth’s and weren’t ashamed of it, chatted on about future plans and your excitement for megumi and the upcoming world series, and you elated for the holiday season too that was fast approaching, your little mind already thinking of gifts and plans and decisions because your boyfriend’s birthday was coming up as well.

and you wanted to do everything you possibly could to make it special.

for he made you feel that everyday.

especially now in this moment, the little heart shaped lunchbox cake you bought with ‘happy 2nd anniversary’ in cursive still looking fucking delicious even after you and megumi had just downed an entire pack of brownies, megumi lightning up the number two candle as you pushed it in the cake, and the both of you sweetly pecking lips as you held up the cake in between the two of you and him snapping a picture with his phone— candid and lovely and everything you’d both ever wanted in your lives rightfully yours right then and there.

happiness. love.

and your hearts were swelling with everything you had built for the past two years, and swelling in anticipation for the hopes and curiosity of what else the two of you would continue to build… something you only hoped would last forever and ever and that you got to count and spend even more anniversaries with megumi from this point forward.

with nothing less, nothing extra, and just like this.

for a million more november’s to come.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

Text

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

#spilled ink #writeblr #this is a real story lol #looking back i liked larry as a person SO much more than my ex hollyyyyy shitttt #compulsory heterosexuality will do you DIRTY #edit to correct effies name my apologies to effie and effies family

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runariya · 1 month ago

Text

Touch the Sky (m.)

summary: You turn Jungkook’s military life upside down, and his heart along with it. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolverse, military-verse, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: allusion to minor assault, foul language, getting tasered (third party), fluff, JK's smitten, fluff, catcalling, protective JK, vomiting, aaaaaand fluff, explicit sexual content, oral (f. + m. receiving), protected sex, multiple f.orgasms, multiple (2) positions, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 9.6k

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

It’s getting annoying.

Annoying to the point where Jungkook can’t focus on his workout routine properly, and he reckons his comrades feel the same. They’ve felt it since the day you arrived, silently sitting in the corner of the gym every day, watching, assessing, scribbling on your tablet, keeping a straight face no matter what.

He’d seen it coming, though. One day, as usual, you entered the gym five minutes on the dot after training started, bowing to no one in particular but everyone at once. Your gaze bored literal holes into everyone present, like always, and it was only a matter of time before someone snapped.

Bong was the first, and last, not a week ago, when he saw red. He stormed straight over to you, cornered you, and demanded to know what the hell you wanted and who you were. Jungkook had half a mind to intervene, to de-escalate the situation because, well, frankly, you were, are, just a tiny, petite woman, probably just doing your job. And Bong? Bong was, is, 250lbs of pure muscle and testosterone.

But Jungkook hadn’t even had time to make the decision to walk over before you, without batting an eyelash, tasered poor Bong to the ground and resumed your notes right after, as if nothing had even happened.

But still, after a whole week has passed since then, it’s still annoying. You’re still annoying.

“Chill out, Jaykay.” Jimin, who’s letting his hands hover over the bench press in case Jungkook can’t keep the weight lifted any longer, though that would never happen, grins down at him.

“I am chill.”

Well, maybe he’s not. Not when he’s clenching his jaw so hard he reckons his teeth are seconds away from shattering, though not because of the weight, that’s for sure.

“Ignore her.”

“Who?”

And while Jungkook knows exactly who Jimin’s talking about, and also knows that, yes, he’s definitely aggravated by your stares at this point, he can’t do shit about it. He needs to remind himself that you’re just a woman. Clearly not part of the military, because you don’t greet anyone the way soldiers or others are obliged to, yet you’re still too involved to be here without someone escorting you out.

He can’t fucking think when you’re around. Not that there’s much thinking involved in working out, lifting weights isn’t exactly a task that requires brainpower, but your stares, whenever they find his form, which he can feel on his skin as soon as they land, fuck him up to the point where they make him forget whether he’s supposed to inhale or exhale, leaving him out of breath too soon and causing his muscles to ache like never before.

At this point, he’s sure you could be labelled as part of the gym’s inventory. Not just because you’re as silent as the equipment, if that’s even possible, but also because, if he’s honest, he can’t imagine this place without you anymore. It drives him insane, especially when all he wants to do is walk over and make you talk. Get a reaction out of you, any reaction, really. Maybe even choke you while his di—

His dumbbell freezes mid-push, his eyes incredulously wide at his own thoughts, as Jimin’s leaning over him, face split in half by the most insufferable, knowing grin Jungkook has ever seen.

“Thinking thoughts?”

“Shut the fuck—”

But as if the day couldn’t get any worse, Kang, the base commander, strides into the room, causing everyone, including Jungkook, to put their equipment away. In seconds, they’re standing stiff, saluting and reciprocating the greeting in unison: “Dan-gyeol. (Unity)”

“Resume.”

But nobody processes the command, too confused by the sight of someone in such a high position here.

Much to everyone’s surprise too, if that’s even possible, Kang turns to you. Again, he salutes, which causes you to rise gracefully from the bench and bow silently, as you always do.

Jungkook can’t tear his eyes away, not when your angelic face remains unmoving, nodding to whatever the commander is saying. And even though he’d love to strain his ears, play mouse just this once, to get a clue about what makes you so special, he knows he has to follow orders and resume his training.

While Jungkook stays silent like everyone else, he can’t stop his eyes from drifting to you again and again, like some pathetic little boy checking if his crush is flirting with someone else.

Stop.

A crush? No. He doesn’t do crushes. How absurd.

Though as your mesmerising eyes briefly glance his way, his heart flips him the metaphorical middle finger by rocketing straight out of his throat.

And Jungkook realises now, that he is doomed.

Fuck.

You’re late.

You’re never late, so why are you late this time?

Jungkook doesn’t know, and somehow he doesn’t want to know. Not because he kind of has a bad feeling about it, but because he refuses to acknowledge the possibility that you might not come back ever again. It would make sense, in a way, seeing as Kang came by the last time Jungkook saw you.

It doesn’t help that Jimin’s being a little shit too, unable to keep his mouth shut about Jungkook glancing one too many times towards the gym door.

“One more.” Well, at least Jungkook can pay him back by pushing him just a tiny bit over his limit.

“I can’t,” Jimin groans, clearly struggling to lift the dumbbell one more time. His arms are shaking, and his face is so red that even Jungkook fears he might burst a vein in his eye.

“You can, and you will, hyung.” He didn’t mean to let his frustration out on Jimin, but who can fault him?

He’s what now? 27 years old? Struggling with his emotions, no, scratch that, his hormones over a woman he hasn’t even spoken to once in weeks? He doesn’t even know your name, so why on earth are his hormones going haywire?

Jungkook can’t tell. Just like he can’t tell how many days have passed or how many are left in his military service. But he knows exactly how many times he’s seen you. God, he wants to roll his eyes at himself, at the way he’s acting like a teenager, when he never even got the chance to be one in the first place.

Maybe that’s the problem. He never had the opportunity to experience this kind of infatuation. His busy schedule and the ever-present gold-diggers demanding too much of him didn’t leave space for what others felt years ago.

But when the door finally creaks open, all those thoughts vanish.

And while everyone startles into saluting position, Kang enters the room first, it’s Jungkook’s eyes, though, that can’t look away from your petite form trailing behind Kang, bowing the second you both stand before the soldiers.

“Dan-gyeol.”

“Dan-gyeol,” everyone answers in unison.

You’re so pretty again, your hair styled perfectly, shimmering healthily under the fluorescent lights. Jungkook’s mind starts spinning in circles, stopping only occasionally as he notices new details about you he hadn’t before. Like how your left shoulder hangs slightly lower, probably from carrying your bag on that side. Or the faint tremble in your hands around your tablet. He’s not sure if that’s always been there or if his gut feeling was right all along.

“Private Song Bong. Private Jeon Jungkook. Step forward.”

Jungkook doesn’t like this, not when he can’t even grasp what he might have done wrong for him and Bong to be singled out. Maybe you snitched on Bong for cornering you. Though, to be fair, you tasered him, but still that obviously wouldn’t end well for Bong. Maybe Jungkook’s stares weren’t appropriate. Maybe he’s screwed up too and can’t do anything about the punishment he’ll get for just looking.

“Private Bong, your recent actions are unacceptable. Attempting to assault an outsider, especially a woman, not only violates military code but also brings disgrace to this unit. Your conduct has revealed major deficiencies in character, and as a result, you are hereby removed from your current duties in supply inventory management. Effective immediately, you will be assigned to latrine duty for the next month. Consider this your opportunity to reflect on what it means to uphold the standards of this base and the military as a whole. Dismissed.”

And while Bong doesn’t protest but just steps back in line, Jungkook’s hands turn cold, his eyes switching between Commander Kang and you as he waits for a verdict he doesn’t even know the cause of, all while you’re staring blankly somewhere behind him and the other soldiers.

“Private Jeon.” Jungkook can’t help but gulp violently, though he tries to keep his face as stoic as he was taught. “Your exemplary conduct, unwavering character, and outstanding mental and physical strength have not gone unnoticed. As of today, you are relieved of your current duties in the kitchen and reassigned to the elite training programme for aspiring jet fighter pilots within the special forces. You will accompany me and Doctor ___ immediately to commence your training. This is an extraordinary opportunity, and I trust you will continue to excel and bring honour to this unit. Congratulations, Private Jeon.”

Muscles stiff, Jungkook salutes on instinct. “Chungseong! (Loyalty) I will do my best, sir!”

“Resume.”

It doesn’t take long until Jungkook follows you and Commander Kang out of the gym as everyone resumes their training, his footsteps echoing awkwardly in the corridor, making him too aware of the way only his trainers squeak against the polished floor, but he pushes the thought aside.

This is big. Special Forces.

Something he’s dreamed about but always was told was off the table because of his tattoos. And yet, he’s somehow being escorted to God-knows-where in a wing of the base he’s never even seen before.

Excitement rushes through him, but right underneath it is curiosity he can’t seem to shake. What’s your deal? Who even are you? You’re not military, your lack of a formal greeting protocol and Kang calling you an ‘outsider’ made that clear, but you’ve been given more authority than most. He steals a glance at you, walking slightly ahead of him, your posture as stiff as ever, and not to mention, your face betraying nothing.

Kang stops outside a door and gestures for Jungkook to enter. “Private Jeon, step inside. You’ll be assessed for your new gear.”

Jungkook nods and salutes. “Yes, sir.” He hesitates briefly though, eyes flickering towards you, but you don’t even glance his way. Instead, you stay behind with Kang as he steps through the door.

Inside, another soldier is already waiting, a no-bullshit guy who doesn’t bother with introductions. There’s a computer, several measuring devices, and a distinct lack of comfort in the room as the soldier gestures for Jungkook to strip, and Jungkook just blinks.

“Boxers too, or…?”

“Keep those on,” the guy replies dryly. “We’re not running that kind of experiment.”

Jungkook huffs a small laugh, trying to shake off the awkwardness. He pulls off his shirt, then his joggers, tossing them onto a nearby bench as the soldier starts rattling off instructions, explaining how he’ll be measured, weighed, and fitted for his uniform and jet fighter suit. Jungkook nods along, though half of his brain is still stuck outside the room, wondering what the hell you and Kang are talking about.

The weighing and measuring process is straightforward enough, albeit a little dehumanising. He stands still as the soldier adjusts tools around him, scribbling numbers into a notepad. Jungkook’s not shy about his body, he’s worked hard for it, but something about the clinical nature of it all makes him feel strangely vulnerable and small.

“Alright, time for the cardio resting point assessment,” the soldier wheels a heart monitor over. “I’ll wire you up, then you’ll run in place for a few minutes. Clear?”

“Clear.”

Wires are attached to his chest, and the beeping of the monitor fills the room as Jungkook begins jogging lightly. The rhythm is soothing at first, his heart beating steadily as he focuses on the mirror in front of him, zoning out slightly, until the door creaks open behind him.

You step inside.

Jungkook’s whole body tenses, and he nearly trips over his own feet, though no one seems to notice. Through the mirror, he watches you position yourself against the wall at the back of the room. You don’t say a word, just stand there, observing him. And then, God help him just this once, your gaze starts travelling. From his legs to his torso, slow and methodical, like you’re evaluating him for parts. Jungkook knows it shouldn’t bother him, telling himself it’s probably part of your job or whatever. But it does bother him, and not in the way it should.

He tries to focus on his jogging, but his eyes keep darting to the mirror, catching glimpses of you studying him. When your gaze finally reaches his face, his heart skips a beat. Literally. And the monitor beeps erratically, the soldier frowning beside him.

“Hold up. Your heart rate’s spiking.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it. “It’s a malfunction,” you state smoothly, your voice soft and oh-so melodic, like fucking wind chimes he dreamed about. “He’s fine. Look at his form. Textbook. His fitness levels are well above average.”

It’s the first time Jungkook has heard you speak, a compliment at that too, and it knocks the remaining brain cells out of his skull, causing him to stumble slightly, catching himself just in time, but the damage is done. His cheeks burn as he wills his heart to calm the fuck down. What is he, a schoolboy? So embarrassing, Jeon. Get a grip.

“Malfunction, huh?” the soldier mutters, glancing between the monitor and Jungkook. He doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs and waves Jungkook off the machine. “Alright, you’re good. Get dressed and head to the next station.”

Jungkook nods stiffly, pulling the wires off his heaving chest and grabbing his clothes. You step out of the room before he finishes dressing, which is probably a good thing because he’s pretty sure his face is still bright red.

When he emerges, you’re waiting for him, tablet in hand and Kang thankfully gone.

“This way,” you gesture with your slender hand, not even looking at him. Your voice is still echoing in his head, soft and almost surreal to the point he debates if he’s locked in a dream. Still, Jungkook trails after you like a puppy, cursing himself for how ridiculous he feels and acts.

The next stop is a classroom-like space, though it’s more high-tech than any classroom Jungkook’s ever seen. Screens cover the walls, displaying schematics of fighter jets, and a stern-looking instructor stands at the front. You guide Jungkook to a seat near the centre, then take a spot near the back, again, silently observing. Of. Course.

The lesson begins, and Jungkook tries his best to focus as the instructor dives into the basics of jet fighter operation, rattling off jargon that makes Jungkook’s head spin even more. He nods along, taking mental notes, but it’s hard to concentrate when he can feel your eyes on him. Not in a direct, obvious way, but more like a gentle and subtle pressure, nagging at his consciousness.

He sneaks a glance back at you, and sure enough, you’re watching him. Your tablet rests on your lap, stylus poised, and you’re scribbling something down without even looking down. About him, probably, surely.

What are you writing? Does it matter that his leg bounced when the instructor mentioned G-forces? Or that his jaw ticked ever so slightly when he brought up emergency landings? What could you possibly be noting down about him that’s worth recording?

He catches himself zoning out and forces his attention back to the lesson. The instructor is explaining the mechanics of takeoff, and Jungkook tries to visualise it in his head. Still, his thoughts wander, looping back to you every time.

It’s stupid, really. He barely knows you. But still, he’s completely fixated. Maybe it’s because you’re different. Everyone else on this base is easy to figure out, soldiers, commanders, all operating within the same rigid system. But you? You’re an anomaly. And Jungkook has always been drawn to puzzles.

The lesson drags on, and Jungkook keeps stealing glances back at you. Each time, you’re scribbling something new, your expression as blank as ever and he wonders if you’re even capable of smiling. What would it look like? Would your face brighten like the sun itself, your eyes crinkling at the corners? Would your lips—

Nope. Stop. Not going there.

By the time the lesson ends, Jungkook’s brain feels fried. The instructor dismisses him with a curt nod, and he gathers his things, well, more so himself, glancing back to see if you’re leaving too. But you’re still seated, tapping away on your tablet. He hesitates, unsure if he’s supposed to wait for you or move on.

“You’re dismissed, Private Jeon,” you say without looking up.

Right. Of course you knew he was waiting for you, even without seeing him. He mutters a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” salutes and hurries out of the room, feeling like a complete idiot.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to expect when you appear at the door of his barracks the next morning. All he knows is that you’re there, standing stiff as a post, clutching your ever-present tablet to your chest like it’s a lifeline.

There’s something different about you today, though, something in the way your shoulders seem too tense, your hands gripping the tablet so tightly that your tiny knuckles turn bright white. And that’s when he spots it, the taser, hidden neatly between the edge of the tablet and your chest.

He’s not sure why it surprises him. You’ve made it clear that you’re not above using it when necessary, R.I.P. Bong’s dignity, but something about the way you hold it now, fingers trembling slightly, makes him pause.

You’re nervous. Maybe even scared.

“Private Jeon,” you greet, not quite meeting his gaze. Your voice is the same soft, melodic tone as yesterday, but there’s a barely audible hitch in it that he doesn’t miss. “Follow me.”

Jungkook doesn’t question it, just grabs his cap and falls into step behind you. He’s curious, of course, curiosity seems to be his default setting when it comes to you, but he keeps quiet, sensing that whatever’s going on, you’re not in the mood for him to voice his usual internal debates about your role on this base. Still, he can’t help but notice the way your eyes dart around the hallway, scanning every corner like you’re expecting trouble.

And, surprise, it doesn’t take long for said trouble to find you.

As you lead him through the barracks, a group of soldiers loitering by the common area turns their attention your way. The first mocking whistle cuts through the otherwise silent area, followed by a low murmur of suggestive comments that make Jungkook’s temper flare. You don’t react, not a single flinch, not even a glance in their direction, but Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your eyes turn a bit frantic, your pace quickening just enough to be noticeable.

The second whistle is louder, accompanied by a snide, “Oi, sweetheart, where’s the taser today?” and Jungkook feels something too hot coil in his chest.

Protective instincts kick in before he can stop himself, and he steps closer to you, his broad frame forming a shield between you and the others. He doesn’t say a word, he knows he doesn’t need to, his evil glare, honed from years of performance and discipline, says enough. The soldiers falter, their smirks fading under his gaze, and Jungkook takes a grim sort of satisfaction in the way they quickly turn back to their conversation.

You don’t say anything, but he can tell you’ve noticed. Your pace slows just slightly, and for the rest of the walk, the tension in your shoulders eases a fraction with each step. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make Jungkook feel like he’s done something right.

Finally, you stop outside a plain white door and push it open, gesturing for him to enter first. Jungkook steps inside, taking in the small, functional office. It’s sparsely decorated, just a desk, a chair, and a curtained-off area in the corner that seems to serve as a makeshift changing room or whatever. You follow him in, shutting the door behind you, and hand him what looks like a folded jet suit.

“This is your new gear,” you hold it out to him, again not meeting his eyes. “Try it on.”

Jungkook takes the suit, the smooth, high-tech fabric cool against his hands even where you were holding it seconds ago. “Here?” he asks dumbly, glancing around. He’s not shy, exactly, but stripping down in front of you doesn’t sit right with him.

You raise an eyebrow, the faintest hint of exasperation creeping into your expression. “There’s a changing area,” you nod towards the curtain. “Use it.”

“Right. Of course.” Jungkook wants to slap himself twice for good measure, just because he saw that area himself.

Quickly, he ducks behind the curtain, grateful for the small reprieve. As he pulls off his uniform and steps into the jet suit, he can’t help but wonder why you seem so tense today. It’s not just the soldiers’ comments, he’s seen you handle far worse without batting an eye. No, this is something deeper, something that has your hands shaking and your voice just a touch too steady.

By the time he finishes zipping up the suit, he’s more confused than ever. He steps out from behind the curtain, and you turn to face him, your eyes flicking over him in a quick, professional assessment.

“How does it feel?”

Jungkook shrugs, rolling his shoulders. “Tight, but not uncomfortable.”

You nod, stepping closer to adjust a strap on his arm. Jungkook swears he stops breathing for a moment, the proximity doing things to his heart rate that he’d rather not admit, thankful he’s not connected to the heart monitor this time.

He watches you as you work, the way your brow furrows slightly in concentration, the soft brush of your fingers against his sleeve. And then it happens!

Your mouth twitches. Just the faintest hint of a smile, barely there and gone in an instant, but Jungkook sees it. And it wrecks him.

Oh, he’s done for. Absolutely done for. That tiny twitch of your lips? It’s enough to send his brain spiralling into a mess of thoughts he has no business thinking.

You’re human. You can smile.

He doesn’t know why that thought hits him so hard, but it does. You’ve always been so composed, so insanely unreadable, that seeing even the smallest crack in your armour feels monumental. He wants to see it again, wants to say something clever or stupid or anything, really, to make it happen, but the words stick in his throat.

“Good fit,” you agree, stepping back. “You’ll need to wear it during all training exercises from now on.”

Jungkook nods, trying to focus on your words instead of the way his heart is doing somersaults. “Understood.”

You turn away, picking up your tablet, and Jungkook’s eyes follow you. He notices the way your hands are still trembling slightly, the way you keep glancing at the door as if expecting someone to barge in. And suddenly, it clicks.

You’re scared. Not of him, he’s pretty sure you’re incapable of fearing him, even if you probably should be after the way he’s been staring, but of the soldiers. Of this place. Of what your job forces you to do.

He remembers the way Bong looked at you after the taser incident, the barely concealed fury in his eyes. You’re not just some outsider; you’re a decision-maker. You hold people’s futures in your hands, and not everyone takes that well.

Jungkook feels a pang of compassion, realising how isolating that must be. No wonder you keep everyone at arm’s length, crafting an untouchable facade day in and day out.

“Is that all for today?” he tries, his voice softer than he intends, though he can’t help himself.

You glance at him, surprised, as if you weren’t expecting him to speak. “For now,” your tone’s still cautious but Jungkook now understands. “There’s a briefing tomorrow morning. Be on time.”

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t move to leave. He hesitates, debating whether to say what’s on his mind, but the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“For what it’s worth,” he starts, meeting your gaze, “you’re doing a good job.”

Your hands and eyes still slightly, and for a moment, you just stare at him. Then, without a word, you turn back to your tablet, but Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your grip on it loosens, doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch again, just a little.

As he leaves your office, he can’t help but smile to himself too. Maybe he’s starting to figure you out, and he’s down bad for it.

The day after, you've brought Jungkook before the g-force machine, all sleek steel and imposing mechanics, like something out of a crazed sci-fi movie. Jungkook stares at it, his confidence wobbling slightly for the first time since he started his military service. He’s usually game for anything, but this? This looks like a whole different beast.

The control panel operator, a man who introduces himself simply as Sergeant Kim, gestures for Jungkook to step forward. “We’ll be running a standard g-force tolerance test today,” he explains calmly, though Jungkook's anything but. “You’ll be in the centrifuge, and it’ll spin progressively faster. The goal is to sustain 9 Gs. You’ll need to practice the anti-G straining manoeuvre, tensing your leg and abdominal muscles to keep blood flow to your brain. And don’t forget to inhale sharply every five seconds to stabilise.”

Jungkook nods, trying to keep his nerves in check. He knows what’s coming, he’s read about it, watched the videos instructed. But none of that preparation stops his palms from sweating as he climbs into the contraption.

As he settles into the cockpit-like seat, strapping himself in, he sneaks a glance at you before the door closes in his face. You’re standing off to the side with your tablet, your face, as always, composed, but there’s something in your eyes, noticeable even in this distance. Concern? Maybe curiosity? That ridiculous thought makes his poor heart do a little flip.

“Private Jeon, are you ready?” Sergeant Kim’s voice crackles through the comms.

“Ready,” Jungkook replies, his voice steadier than he actually feels.

The machine comes to life shortly after, and Jungkook grips the armrests as the centrifuge begins its slow but steady rotation. At first, it’s almost pleasant, like being on an amusement park ride. But then the speed picks up, and the pressure in his chest starts to build.

“Three Gs,” Kim announces. “Remember to breathe, sharp inhales every five seconds. And start engaging those muscles.”

Jungkook complies, tightening his legs and core as instructed. He inhales sharply, counting in his head to five, then inhales again. It’s manageable, for now.

“Six Gs.”

Now it’s not so manageable. The weight on his chest feels like someone’s parked a truck on him, and his vision starts to darken at the edges, fearing he might loose consciousness any second. It’s getting impossible to breathe, but he forces himself to stick to the rhythm. Inhale, hold for five, inhale and repeat.

“Good. Keep it up, Private. We’re going to eight Gs.”

Eight Gs feels like he’s being flattened by the universe. Every muscle in his body screams as he fights to keep the blood from pooling in his legs. His fingers dig into the armrests even more, not the least bit fazed bye the prospect of pulling a nail, and he can barely hear Kim over the deafening roaring of his blood in his ears.

“Nine Gs,” Kim announces, and Jungkook swears he’s going to pass out. His breaths are shallow now, too shallow, the strain overwhelming. He forgets to inhale on time, and suddenly the world starts to go black.

“Jungkook, inhale.”

It’s your voice. Clear, steady, crackling through the comms like a lifeline he needed. His body reacts before his brain does, taking in a sharp, desperate breath. The darkness recedes, and somehow, miraculously, he holds on.

“Test complete,” Kim announces, the centrifuge slowing with each spin until it stops and Jungkook’s free to leave this deathtrap. “Well done, Private Jeon.”

Jungkook can barely process the words. His body feels like jelly, and his mind is a swimmy, disoriented mess. But he hears the applause from Kim and a few blurred others in the control room. Then you step closer, your voice soft as you search his eyes, “Congratulations, Private Jeon. You did it.”

He manages a weak smile, the sound of your approval somehow wiggling through the fog in his head. And then, he remembers, because protocol demands it, he salutes sluggishly to Commander Kang, who’s watching from the observation deck.

“Impressive, Private Jeon,” Kang confirms with a nod.

Jungkook barely registers the compliment. All he knows is that his heart is racing, not from the test, but from the way your eyes linger on him for just a second longer, a little softer than usual.

“Follow me,” you instruct him after bowing to the observation deck, gesturing for Jungkook to come with you.

He stumbles after you, his legs and mind feeling like rubber, partly from the adrenaline, partly from the fact that you just saved his ass in there. You lead him back to your office without a word and when you shut the door behind you, Jungkook finally lets himself relax. Well, until you grab a bin from under your desk and thrust it into his hands.

“Uh, what’s this for?” he asks, confused.

“You’re running on adrenaline,” you explain, your tone matter-of-factly but laced with humour. “It’s going to crash. Give it a few seconds.”

“I think I’m fine—”

You hold up a hand, cutting him off. “I’m going to count down from five. Trust me.”

He blinks at you but nods, too dazed to argue.

“Five,” you begin, calm, expectant.

“Four.”

His stomach flips.

“Three.”

His head feels too light, almost floaty.

“Two.”

His vision tilts.

“One.”

And then it hits. A wave of nausea so intense that he doesn’t even have time to protest before he’s heaving into the bin.

You’re by his side in an instant, one hand on his back, the other steadying his hand over the bin. “There you go,” you coo softly, your touch surprisingly soothing. “Just let it out.”

Jungkook hates this, hates feeling weak, hates the thought of you seeing him like this. But your voice is so calm, so reassuring, that he can’t bring himself to care as much as he normally would.

When it’s over, he slumps back into the chair you pull up for him, wiping his mouth with the tissue you hand him. “That… was brutal,” he mutters, his voice hoarse from all the heaving.

You smile, the first real smile this time. “Welcome to special forces training.”

Jungkook laughs weakly, shaking his head. “Is it always like this?”

“Not always,” you muse, though your tone’s too teasing for his liking. “Sometimes it’s worse.”

He groans, but there’s no real heat behind it. Despite everything, he feels better. Like he’s actually flying. Like he’s touching the sky. And he knows it’s not just the fading adrenaline talking. It’s you.

You, with your stoic face and calming voice. You, who stepped in when he needed it most. You, who smiled at him like he wasn’t just another soldier to be measured and assessed.

As he gazes into your smiling face, still feeling like crap but somehow grateful for it, a realisation forces down on him like 9 G.

He’s truly falling for you.

Jungkook stands in the hallway outside your office, his hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly as if he’s shielding himself from the possibility of rejection before it’s even happened. His thoughts are a mess ever since he first saw you, an ongoing tug-of-war between his nerves and his determination. He paces a little, then stops, running a hand through his short hair, the frustration about its length momentarily distracting him but not for long enough.

“Get a grip man,” he mutters under his breath but his nerves, nor his heart, won’t calm down.

It’s been weeks since you started working together more closely, weeks of seeing the real you, the quiet strength behind your professional mask, the flashes of humour you try to hide, the empathy you can’t quite suppress even when you think no one’s watching. He’s caught himself admiring you more times than he can count, and now it’s all he thinks about.

But this isn’t just a crush, he tells himself. This is so much more. You’re different. Special. And he knows he can’t let this opportunity slip by, not when he might regret it for the rest of his life.

Of course, there’s the little matter of protocol, of the fact that you hold a position of authority in a place where strict boundaries are enforced. But you're not exactly part of the military, and Jungkook knows his service is limited too. If he doesn’t act now, he might never get another chance.

But what if you say no? His brain goes into overdrive, showing him a list of reasons why this could go horribly wrong. He imagines you laughing at him, rejecting him outright, maybe even avoiding him after this. Maybe even snitching on him, causing his removal from the special forces and being assigned to latrine duty permanently.

Then he shakes his head. No. Stop overthinking. He’s Jeon Jungkook. An idol. A soldier. He’s faced grueling special forces training, survived G-forces that would knock most people out, and tackled challenges that seemed impossible. Surely asking you out can’t be harder than that.

“Just do it,” he preps himself, and before he can second-guess himself again, he steps up to your door and knocks.

“Come in,” your voice calls from inside, calm, angelic, and professional as always.

Jungkook takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, straightening his shoulders for some much needed confidence.

You’re seated at your desk, as usual, your tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. And as you glance up, clearly surprised to see him, you set the tablet and coffee down. “Private Jeon. What can I do for you?”

He hesitates for a split second, then, after an internal nod, takes his chances. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You nod, waiting expectantly. “Go on.”

Jungkook shifts on his feet, his nerves bubbling up again, but he forces himself to push through. “I was wondering if you’d… like to go out with me sometime.”

You cock a brow, and for a brief moment, he sees the cracks in your mask, the genuine surprise, the uncertainty. But then it’s back, your professional demeanour snapping into place like a rubber band.

“I appreciate the… sentiment,” you try carefully, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jungkook doesn’t back down. “Why not?”

You sigh, standing up but toying with the things scattered on your desk. “Because it’s unprofessional. And temporary. My contract here has an end date, Private Jeon. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Exactly,” he counters, stepping closer. “That’s why I can’t let this go. I don’t want to regret not saying anything.”

You shake your head, moving towards the door. “It’s not that simple. You don’t understand—”

“I do,” Jungkook interrupts, maybe too desperate but he doesn’t care. “My service ends too. This isn’t temporary for me.”

That makes you pause, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “What are you saying?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his heart pounding so violently he can’t even hear his own voice. “I’m saying, I don’t want to date just for the sake of it. I date for the future, not just the moment.”

You turn to face him fully now, your expression conflicted, mask slipping just a bit. “Do you even realise what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” he confirms without hesitation. “I know exactly what I’m saying. And I know it sounds crazy, but I’m serious about this. About you.”

Your eyes search his face, looking for… what? Truth? Sincerity? Whatever it is, he hopes you find it, because he’s never been more honest in his life.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, though your voice lacks conviction.

“Maybe,” Jungkook admits with a small smile. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.”

You sigh, glancing away, clearly wrestling with yourself. For a long moment, the room is silent except for the faint buzz of the air conditioning, but then, eventually, you look back at him.

“Alright,” you sigh finally, holding one slender finger up. “One chance. But if this doesn’t work, we go back to normal. Agreed?”

Jungkook grins, his heart soaring. “Agreed.”

You nod, reaching for the door. “Good. Now get out of my office before I change my mind.”

He chuckles, saluting playfully. “Yes, ma’am.”

As you leave with that tiny smile of yours, Jungkook stays behind for a moment, letting the reality of what just happened sink in. Then, unable to contain his excitement, he pumps his fist in the air, a triumphant smile lighting up his face.

“Fuck yeah,” he cheers quietly, still grinning like the fool he is.

Life's good as Jungkook lies sprawled on your bed, head propped on your favourite pillow as the opening credits of some drama flicker on the TV screen. The colourful glow of the screen illuminates your beautiful face as you settle beside him, legs tucked under the shared blanket as you lie down with your head on his chest. It’s quiet, comfortable, the kind of peaceful he’s come to associate with you, and his mind drifts back to the first date that really started it all.

He still can’t believe you said yes. The memory of that first date plays in his head like a highlight reel, vivid and heartwarming to its core. You’d chosen a small, unassuming café, your idea, of course, something low-key, hidden even, and away from the base and any other prying eyes.

Jungkook had been nervous in a way he hadn’t been since debut, trying too hard to appear relaxed even if he was anything but. But you’d arrived looking effortlessly stunning in a casual outfit that still screamed you from miles away, smiling shyly as if you weren’t used to being off-duty.

From the moment you sat across from him, every doubt he ever had melted away. Conversation natural, only punctuated by your quick wit and his occasional stumbles when your laughter made him forget whatever point he was trying to make, he fell faster and harder.

By the end of the evening, he’d been so sure of one thing: you were the girl of his dreams. Not the fantasy he’d had growing up, full of vague ideals and superficial notions, but the ultimate, real thing. Someone who made him feel seen, loved, and inexplicably lighter all at once.

And he’d been right. You didn’t just help him fly in the military; you helped him soar emotionally too. For someone who’s spent years chasing perfection and pushing limits, you make him feel like it’s okay to just be. That’s why he can’t stop himself from smiling as he watches you now, your focus on the screen but your hand resting comfortably over his heart like it belongs there.

He’s been thinking about the future more often lately, imagining what it might look like when his service ends and he’s back to being “Jungkook of BTS”. The idea doesn’t scare him the way it might have before, but instead, it excites him, because he can picture you there with him, cheering him and the other members on, teasing him when he’s too nervous or too sure of himself, and being the calm to his chaotic lifestyle.

Jungkook can see late nights at home, your laughter not only ringing in your shared space but his heart too, and maybe someday a little one running around. Maybe even two. Or three. The thought makes his soul sing, and he has to shake his head to stop himself from grinning too widely.

The days following that first date weren’t much different on the surface. Everything on base stayed the same, orders were followed, routines were maintained, but the stolen moments with you were like a secret sea in the desert. Whenever you were alone, professionalism would snap away, and you’d be kissing and giggling like teenagers sneaking behind the school.

Jungkook’s favourite memory is when you’d pulled him into a supply closet under the pretense of finding something and kissed him until he couldn’t think straight, only for both of you to dissolve into laughter when someone, well, commander Kang walked past, oblivious.

And now, here he is with you, on his day off, not with his family or the boys but with you, learning more about you in your own space.

Your apartment is a reflection of you, organised yet cosy, filled with small details that hint at your interests. He’s noticed the stack of random books on your desk, the playlist of songs you probably don’t realise he’s memorised by now, and the way your kitchen counter has an odd mix of military-grade efficiency and homely touches like the mismatched mugs.

You shift beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You’re staring,” you state without looking away from the screen.

He chuckles softly. “Can’t help it. You’re prettier than the drama.”

You’d roll your eyes if you were the type for that, but you’ve told him it’s something you detest to your core. To you, it means not taking the other person seriously and visually dismissing them, something you find deeply disrespectful. So, you just smile that unique smile of yours, nudging him with your shoulder. “Focus. You might miss something important.”

“Doubt it,” he teases. “It’s just another love triangle, isn’t it?”

“It’s about more than that,” you argue, turning your head to him now with mock indignation. “There’s depth here. Themes of loyalty, sacrifice, and the human condition.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “And yet, the lead guy’s about to confess his undying love in the middle of a crowded park. Very original.”

“Alright, Mr. Cynic,” you pout, sitting up straighter. “You’ve got a point there.”

Jungkook cocks a brow at you, nibbling on his lip as he contemplates your words and decides to backtrack a bit. “What’s wrong with a public proposal? It’s romantic.”

“You’re right, it’s cliché.”

“Not if it’s done right.”

You scoff. “There’s no ‘right’ way to embarrass someone in front of a hundred strangers.”

Jungkook grins, sensing a debate. “Okay, hear me out. A public proposal is the ultimate love confession. It’s like shouting to the world, ‘This is my person, and I’m not afraid to show it’. It’s bold, it’s heartfelt, and it’s memorable.”

“It’s pressure,” you counter. “And what if the answer’s no? You’ve just humiliated both of you for no reason.”

“But what if the answer’s yes?” he leans closer, willing his eyes to gleam a bit more for you to fall into his trap. “Then you’ve just created a moment neither of you will ever forget.”

You tilt your head, considering him, eyes switching between his and his lips. “You’re really into this idea, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip for good measure. “Not saying I’d do it, but I get the appeal.”

“You’d definitely do it,” you reply, smirking now, transfixed by his lips like he is by yours. “You’re exactly the type to go all out with a flash mob or something ridiculous.”

He laughs, raising his eyes to yours and his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, you got me. But only if I knew the person would say yes.”

“Safe bet,” you muse.

“Always,” Jungkook agrees softly. He’s looking at you in that way that makes your cheeks heat up, but he senses immediately that you refuse to let him win this round.

“Well,” you continue, turning back to the screen, “good thing I’ll never have to worry about it. I prefer my proposals private, thank you very much.”

“We’ll see,” he murmurs under his breath, grinning when you shoot him a playful glare.

While you’re both silently watching the last minutes of the drama, Jungkook can’t help but picture his future with you, stuck on the image of you in a white dress, of you carrying his children. It’s absurd this early in your relationship, but seeing as he’s had a dry spell for the last few years and you’re now lying beside him, he can’t do anything about the blood rushing to certain parts of his body.

Your body’s so warm against his, leg leisurely draped over his, tiny hand mindlessly tracing his pecs and abs, that it takes all his willpower to stop his cock from twitching even more.

Do you feel the same? You haven’t been intimate up to this point, though your chemistry is undeniable, the pull he feels surely not one-sided. As he strains his neck just a little, trying to sneak a peek at your face, he sees you biting your lips with hooded eyes. Then he feels your thigh clench ever so slightly against his, and he knows you’re struggling too, causing his heart to start beating a little faster, his cock to grow a little harder.

Jungkook lets his free hand wander to yours on his chest, caressing his way up your arm until he reaches your jaw, tilting your head to press the most tender kiss he’s ever shared with you onto your plush lips. He lets himself savour your taste, gently pushing you fully on top of him, hands settling on your ass cheeks as he gets lost in you.

There’s no hesitation in the way you grind your clothed cunt against him, no restraint in the feathery moans that echo from your lips to his. If there’s something Jungkook could wish for, it would be to make love to you seven days a week for the rest of his life.

Your name leaves his parted lips in a husky breath as you trail open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck, his hands sliding up under your shirt, pulling it off and discarding it somewhere on the bed.

Jungkook takes a moment to drink you in, just a short while, before grabbing you tenderly by the neck, pulling you down, and capturing your lips again as he rolls you both over, his shirt gone not long after.

Every time your eyes meet his, peeking through your thick lashes, his heart flips, reminding him how deeply you’ve ingrained yourself in him. Even though he wants to have every inch of you, touch every millimetre of your smooth skin, he settles for your lips for now.

Trousers off, you both help each other out of your underwear with tender touches, staying close, connected by shared breath, unable to separate even for a second. Jungkook’s so smitten, it should be embarrassing, but it’s anything but, not when your eyes mirror exactly what he’s feeling.

Helping you lie down on the mattress, Jungkook kisses his way down your body, over the valley of your breasts to your most sensitive spot, letting his nose brush over your clit, Jungkook takes a whiff, then licks the first stripe up your slit. The taste of you is the best he’s ever had, leaving every favourite food of his far behind as he gets lost between your legs.

Moan after breathy moan fills the room, each one enchanting, making him unable to stop, unable to slow down as he dives deeper, pushing his tongue further into your hot, fluttering walls, wanting more, needing more.

When your delicate fingers brush over his head, gently pressing him closer as your hips lift and stutter with your first orgasm, Jungkook feels like the luckiest man in the universe, lapping up your release like the dessert it is.

He doesn’t mind that his face is smeared with your juices, doesn’t care that he’s out of breath. Fingers caressing your sides, kneading your breasts lightly before settling his elbows beside your head, he kisses your dry lips and sucking your tongue.

He’s rather surprised that, despite your obviously petite frame, you’re able to twist your thighs against his body and send him falling over, straddled by you so quickly he gets a brief whiplash.

Jungkook would have never thought of you as dominant in bed, but as he gazes at you, absolutely fascinated to the point of shock, it becomes clear to him very quickly that you’re not dominant at all, but just intent on making him feel good as well.

The beautiful smile he’s learned to love from the bottom of his heart doesn’t compare to the light, shy blush coating your cheeks, your hands trailing along his body as you slowly lean down to kiss the shock off his face. He’s been kissed before, though nothing compares to this, nothing compares to your kisses, filled to the brim with adoration he can only drown in.

It overwhelms him; you overwhelm him in the best way possible, and he needs to speak his mind, needs to let you know, because he’s done wasting time when it comes to you.

Lifting your head, dwarfed in the size of his hands, he locks eyes with your glassy ones, letting his tattooed thumb trail over your rosy cheekbone as he confesses, “I love you.”

It should have felt difficult to voice, to admit, but he doesn’t feel scared, doesn’t fear rejection even for a split second. And when your eyes light up even more, brighter than when you were coming undone minutes ago, Jungkook knows he’s finally found peace.

“I love you too, Jungkook.”

Sealed by a kiss, he presses your small frame against his, not caring that the head of his cock gets squished between your bodies. Eventually, you break free, just a little, making him feel cold in an instant even though you’re still here, still touching.

“Let me make you feel good,” you husk against his pec, toying with your tongue on his nipple, sucking, blowing, circling it until you’re satisfied with the soft moans escaping Jungkook’s lips and his hips buckling instinctively.

Never has he felt this cared for, never has anyone given him this attention, this love, and he reckons he’s nowhere near done falling deeper in love with you. Especially as you slowly crawl back, inch by inch, your warm hands trailing along his body, your mouth imprinting the feeling of your lips on his skin to the point where he’ll never be able to forget.

When you take, or rather, try to take his big cock into your hand, your eyes glittering in wonder as you realise you need both hands to even come close to giving him proper satisfaction, Jungkook thinks he might unload right there and then. But he forces his orgasm down, forces himself to let it drag out even if it takes hours, just to enjoy this moment.

“Oh god,” you moan almost inaudibly around his cock as you first take him into your mouth, eyes rolling back as if his precum tastes like pure honey, making him twitch against your throat.

And while he knows you don’t like to roll your eyes at him, in this moment, seeing this sight of you, Jungkook would take any eye roll like a trophy. Saliva doesn’t take long to drip down, coating not only his cock but your hands too, pooling at the base of his cock and balls as you give him your all.

Feeling higher than he’s ever felt before, his hands tangle at the back of your head, pushing just a bit more but never too much, your moans around his cock vibrating in sync with his own. And while he desperately wants to finish, wants to let go and bask in everything you are, he knows he needs to fully connect with you.

So, it’s the only sane action that he gently removes your head from him, lips leaving his cock with a satisfied pop. You’re undeniably beautiful, you always were, but seeing your glassy, slightly fucked-out eyes, lips beautifully swollen, and a light sheen of sweat coating your entire body, you look like a fairy granting him his last wish.

“Come here,” Jungkook guides you to him, and you fall into his arms as if compelled by a spell, though he reckons he’s just the same.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself, doesn’t know how to not kiss you stupid, or kiss himself stupid, but he doesn’t seem to have the will to question it any longer. Especially when your hand leaves his short hair, aimlessly reaching for the nightstand and conjuring a condom from the top drawer.

Jungkook takes the cue, blindly accepting the condom from your tender fingers, only checking briefly that it’s the right size, he rolls you both over, rips the packet open, and in no time secures the latex around his still-leaking cock. As your hands caress his arms and abs, your eyes locked onto his, it’s not the sight of your naked body beneath him that makes him want to cry. No, it’s your ethereal face and the look in your eyes that undoes him so gracefully.

“Jungkook?” Your voice is as soft as ever, no tremble present, which makes him so proud. Proud that he’s obviously made you feel absolutely safe, safe in the way you make him feel too.

“Yes, love?”

The nickname makes you smile lovingly, clearly even more whipped for him as you suppress a giggle.

“I really love you,” you breathe, mesmerised to the point where Jungkook’s almost afraid you’re more in love with him than he is with you. Not that it matters, if he’s being honest.

“I love you more.”

The twitch of your brow makes him snicker, causing you to giggle as well. Jungkook captures your lips with a broad smile of his own, aligning his cock with your tiny hole, he pushes his hips in soft, careful rhythms until he’s fully nestled in your warmth. And as you, after a short breath, start to buck your hips against him, it’s his sign to get going, stroking his cock repeatedly against your tight walls. The wet squelches and your tiny cries of ecstasy are music to his ears, heart, and soul.

“Ah, Jungkook, god, there.”

He feels it, doesn’t need you to tell him. He can feel your walls clamp down on him. Still, he keeps going, needs to, both for your sake and his own.

“Come for me, love. Show me how good I make you feel,” he grunts in your ear, drowning in the scent of your hair as he keeps his pace strong and steady.

When you shatter beneath him, nails digging into the strained muscles of his back, Jungkook keeps going. He focuses, restrains himself, riding out your orgasm until your grip loosens around his frame.

“More?” he kisses our lips briefly, though they’re now only loosely parted.

“Yes.”

The moan that escapes your mouth is rather forced, but your eyes are still hungry.

So, Jungkook slips out, settling beside you and gently turning you onto your side as well, pulling you back against his chest. Lifting your leg over his, he pushes his cock back inside you from behind, thrusting into your dripping cunt without mercy while his hand finds your neck and jaw, tilting your head slightly so he can pamper you with kisses.

“Jungk-o-o-o-k,” you mewl as his other hand trails down to your clit, circling it in perfect rhythm with his thrusts.

“Yeah? Feels good?”

“So good. So good, Jungkook.”

And he feels the same, fantastic even, savouring every moment as he gradually builds his own orgasm.

“One more, love, hm?”

Jungkook drinks in the sight of you, your tits bouncing lightly, your eyes rolling back every few seconds, your tiny hands gripping his veiny arm, nails digging into his tattoos as you moan over and over again.

“Yes,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for him to let himself go too, letting his mind and body rise higher as he flies over the clouds with you right by his side.

“Fuck, ___, love, fuck,” he pants. Your walls haven’t stopped spasming around him for minutes, and his thrusts turn erratic as you both come together in a grand finale, gripping each other like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded on Earth.

The orgasm lasts far longer than Jungkook ever expected, though he wouldn’t trade even a second of it, not when you’re this perfect and he feels the same for you.

But eventually, even though he’s touched the sky with you, you both have to come back down. And as reluctant as he is to pull out, getting rid of the condom right after, it’s you he turns to, and always will.

Especially when the giggles you let out as he carries you to the shower are everything he needs for the rest of his life and beyond.

a/n 2: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

permanent taglist: @runariyaluvr , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @https-mei, @xsyruhh , @nemelkawar , @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92

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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

Note

housewardens + Jamil and Floyd with a reader that plays volleyball please

I think of reader as yuu, but it's not needed to be specified, and NRC doesn't really have volleyball as one of the sports that I know of. so whether it's not a thing in their world or just not at their school, I think it'd be cool to see how the characters react to the reader playing during gym, free time, or for some outside of school club or whatever. it'd be amazing if reader could be a libero, because that's my position, but it doesn't have to be specified

but like, js imagine reader is yuu and so they taught one of the students how to play bc it's not at NRC amd now they play literally whenever they can

I don't know anything about volleyball but I tried 🫡🫡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ volleyball player reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

am I crazy to think that Riddle would be into it? seeing as he's somewhat of an athlete himself (equestrian club), he knows the sort of discipline and dedication it takes to truly master a sport

he'll offer to help you organize an ~official~ club, but you don't seem too bothered about it. he finds it endearing that you can wake up in an entirely different world, almost die every other month, and still have the motivation to pursue what you love, anyway

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you'd better be careful around Leona, or you'll end up at morning Spelldrive practice in his place (hehe)

so, you don't have any magic. and? you know how to throw and catch, and that's good enough for him. hell, you're better than most of the magical first years. plus, you're motivated, you're responsible, and Leona Savanaclaw could use someone like you around

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

when Azul sent the tweels to dig up some dirt on you, he wasn't expecting this. like, okay, he underestimated you. he was hoping for something more... exploitable. if only he had a use for volleyball...

oh, well. you're still worth watching, currently useful or not. athletic skill is nothing to sneeze at, especially from a native land-dweller. he might need those legs of yours someday, you know

...wait, that came out wrong

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

no one really bothers looking for Floyd when he doesn't show up to basketball club. not because they don't care, but because it's not worth the time. if he really doesn't want to be found, you just won't find him

of course, the one day Jamil has to leave club early, he walks in on the two of you in the courtyard, playing volleyball

all this time, Floyd had been skipping club to watch you play another ball game just a few minutes away. he's absolutely captivated, too. like a cat with a laser pointer

as unamused as he is, Jamil knows it's absolutely useless to lecture him, so he just... sits and watches you play, too

and, well... he gets it. you're an interesting person, you know?

after that, he figures you may as well join the basketball club

...if only to give you a better place to practice, and to keep Floyd indoors

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

bro if you asked, Kalim would have an entire court built for you. actually, you wouldn't even have to ask. just one mention about how NRC has no volleyball club, and he'd have a team just for you by noon

if you refuse, he's still supportive. and really, really fascinated. he's not as much of an athlete as you or Jamil, which just makes it all the more impressive to him. he'll ask you to explain the game and your position over and over again, even while watching you play

he also just likes hearing your voice, so :)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

if there's anything Vil can admire, it's dedication. another thing? passion. being an athlete, or, really, having any serious hobby, demands both of those things

here's the thing; he could already tell. he didn't have to stumble across you during practice (as if he would stumble at all smh). your form, the way you carry yourself, even parts of your personality were context enough

and while he may not say it, he holds a high opinion of you. you can legit get out of VDC training by just saying you're going to practice

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you may think that Idia isn't going to go for the jock type, but, actually, one of his favorite animes is about volleyball and-

yeah, yeah. you get it. he's smitten

if he ever gets over his crushing fear of talking to you, you'll never get him to shut up. seriously. he already knows everything there is to know about the game, but that doesn't mean he's not going to ask you to explain everything all over again (he's totally fangirling over this). and sevens forbid you give him a demonstration...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

there's probably not volleyball in Briar Valley. right. I just can't picture that. so the first time Malleus observes you in practice, he's amazed, fascinated even. and he has a lot of questions. good ones!

you could probably convince him to play with you, which would be, uh. interesting? actually he's weirdly an amazing player

you could get all of Diasomnia to form a team, somehow. like I know they'd be abnormally good at it

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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always-just-red · 3 months ago

Text

A/N: So I threatened a while back to write MC arresting Sylus since he literally won’t shut up about it. Thought this would be a silly fic but it ended up an angst-driven exploration of how his time with MC is probably finite and ill-fated?? Anyway Sylus is too soft for this, I’m sorryyyy (Sy I love you! I would never do this to you! ‘Didn’t it come from your imagination, though?’ Ssshhhh you don’t know what you’re saying!! 🥰)

To Remain Silent

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus has told you to arrest him one too many times...

Genre: Emotional rollercoaster honestly? Some angst, some comfort (and a lil spice for flavour)

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, vaguely established relationship, gets a little steamy at the end (mostly kissing tbh), artistic licence applied liberally since this would be WAY too risky for MC to actually attempt 😭😭

| Word count: 2.7k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus knows this isn’t real.

You watch him through the glass of his cell, and the subtle tint to it lets you know that he can’t watch you back. He’s sat on the single bench inside, leaning against the far wall, his long legs stretched out before him. His hands are cuffed— tucked away behind his back— but he still looks comfortable. More than comfortable: at ease. At home. Bored.

“You think I can’t feel those pretty little eyes of yours on me?” he mutters, head back, eyes closed. “I’m at your mercy, kitten. Are you really only going to look?”

You tap a button on the glass. “You should start taking this seriously.”

He smiles at the sound of your voice, but his eyes don’t open; there’s still nothing to see. “I’m taking it very seriously, sweetie.”

“I don’t think you are.”

The smile turns even more smug: a confession, all by itself. He sits up and leans forward, like someone who’s found a change of conversation to be interesting. His eyes open— managing to find you, somehow, and— can he see you? No. It’s an educated guess, he’s just selling it with confidence.

Leisurely, he rises from his seat and saunters over to the glass. “Let me see you,” he orders, then bargains: “Please? This is so very—” he toes the division— “one-sided.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, can you? This is hard enough without the windows to your soul baring your heart and your mind to him, like they always do. You should have worn those sunglasses he bought you for that undercover assignment. This is what they’re for, right? Hiding.

With a circular swipe of your finger, the glass before you clears and Sylus meets your gaze.

“Hi,” he teases.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Hey.”

“This is quite some effort you’ve gone to, kitten. And all for me, no less.”

“What effort?” you dismiss plainly. “You practically slapped those handcuffs on yourself.”

It’s not an exaggeration: from the cuffs to the ride here, not a single stage of his arrest has been resisted. The closest he’s gotten to a lack of cooperation was when you’d first restrained and dragged him from his study, where he’d been inclined to point out that the bedroom was the other way.

“Well, I didn’t want to cause a fuss,” he smirks. One of his hands is brought forward, and his handcuffs now hang uselessly from a finger. “Tell me,” he says, letting them swing as he holds your gaze, “what am I to expect now I’ve been so masterfully captured?”

You glance at the restraints, unmoved. “That isn’t for me to decide.”

A door behind you slides open, and— right on time— an altogether more impressive presence joins you before the cell. Sylus glances her up and down as the click of her heeled boots come to a stop; he has never met your captain, but he knows her face.

“You really cashed in all your favours, didn’t you, sweetie?” he observes. He turns to address the woman beside you: “We haven’t been introduced. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Jenna interrupts, her tone as incorruptible as yours.

Sylus’s arm lifts, resting on the glass above you so he can tower over you, despite the partition. “Is that right?” he purrs absent-mindedly, dropping his head so he can speak into your ear. “Sweetie… I thought you could keep a secret.”

He’s goading you into your usual game, but the stakes don’t interest you. “You were wrong.”

You’re at your own table, dealing your own cards. Does he want to play? You think he might. His lips are curving at the delicious prospect of a challenge. You’ve given him a taste of it. He wants more.

Jenna is studying her clipboard, acting oblivious. She senses the impasse. Asks Sylus: “Do you know why you’re here?”

He huffs impatiently. “Enlighten me.”

“Sylus,” you scold.

Red eyes widen a fraction.

You see it.

Good.

…

Sylus thinks this might be real.

You said his name. His real name: the one with sharp, bloody strings attached. The one on all the posters. The one in your precious Association’s archives, linked to stacks of files and crime scene photos, most of which he isn’t even responsible for.

Sylus. You said: Sylus.

It was worthy of a grand reveal— the sort of plot twist that delivered the suspense of so many thrillers— but here you are, speaking it like it’s nothing. Not a slip of the tongue; not a mistake. And it’s different here. He’s not your Sylus. He’s theirs.

Their murderer. Their monster. Their convenient little scapegoat for everything dark and unholy.

The captain is reading him a list, reeling off every crime— each alleged sin. As if he needs a reminder. As if all the time in the world could ever let him forget. “Needless to say, Mr Sylus,” she summarises, “due to the nature of these crimes, you may prove exempt from our standard procedures. A case like this is… unprecedented. Onychinus has much to answer for. You have much to answer for.”

Sylus hasn’t really been listening; it’s all senseless bureaucracy. “You have the wrong man,” he says, because whatever you’re doing— whatever stunt this is— a confession is sure to derail it. You know that, don’t you? You must be counting on it: holding that guilty breath of yours and hoping he’s smart enough to not be Sylus.

You don’t look worried in the slightest. You must have an awful lot of faith in him.

He studies you, waiting for a small, deliberate smile or a moment of weakness. Give him a sign, don’t give him a sign— it doesn’t matter; he’ll find one. His intentions must be clearer than yours, because you step up to the glass to face him.

Do it, your silence says, even though the rest of you is illegible. You want to look? Look.

His eye could light like a crimson fire— could burn the truth out of you— but it won’t. It’s a promise he made what feels like a lifetime ago, not long after you’d met: Your thoughts and desires are yours to give, not his to take.

Even here. Even now. He’s a man of his word, after all.

Impressed? You smile faintly, but there’s no warmth to it. “Captain,” you speak, your eyes not leaving his, “can you give us a minute? Please?”

“Of course,” the woman answers with a nod.

Sylus does not see her go. He hears it: the retreating rhythm of her shoes. He feels it: it’s just the two of you, alone again. Well, the two of you and that ‘hidden’ camera in the far corner of the room. “Whatever game this is,” he grins good-naturedly, his teeth gritted, “it stops. Now.”

“It’s not a game, Sylus. I told you to take this seriously.”

“What are you doing?” he snaps, and that good-natured grin didn’t last very long.

Your hands land on your hips. “My job.” When he scoffs, you continue: “Did you really think this would end any other way? After everything you’ve done?”

He laughs and it’s deeply sardonic. He’s no saint— to try to convince you he was would be a crime worthy of punishments far worse than this. But you know him. You know the line and what stands on each side of it: everything he’s done, yes, and everything he’s been made to take the fall for.

You wouldn’t do this to him. Would you? “You want to play pretend? Fine,” he hisses. He wants to wrap his Evol around that godforsaken camera and annihilate it. “You caught the big, bad boss of Onychinus— congratulations, sweetie. Sure. Let’s say that’s who I am. A man like that has power, right? So what’s to keep him— me— from escaping? Right now?”

“You’re not going to leave, Sylus. Wanna know why?”

He’s sure you’re going to tell him, and you do:

“Because you’re all talk. All smoke and mirrors. You want to go? Go. But there’s not a single person in this building who wouldn’t give their life to bring you back. Someone will catch up to you eventually, and what then?”

“I’ll have a lot of fun, I imagine.”

“You’ll do nothing,” you correct. “Because those people out there? They’re my friends. My family. You hurt them? You hurt me. Make all the threats you want, Sylus— we both know the truth.”

He towers over you, still, but it’s hard not to shrink at your next words:

“You don’t have it in you.”

Your eyes are sharp: whetted with resentment. Sylus is your reflection— your worthy opponent, always— but he just can’t look at you like that.

There’s a quiet hiss as you slide a finger over the cell’s control panel. White, neon light carves through the glass partition: two vertical lines that bleed upwards, either side of him, before bending to meet each-other. The glass between them shimmers, then fades.

Sylus stands on the precipice of the doorway, cool air crawling past him. He stares up at the camera, then down at you. Your arms have folded again as you watch him— a narrative of apathy.

“How about it, Sylus?” you ask bitterly. “Still think you can outrun fate?”

“No.” Not since it started wearing your face. Fate is you, putting a bullet in his heart, and him, waking up so you can do it over and over again. Maybe this is real. Maybe it isn’t. “What do you want from me?” he entreats softly, because you’ll get it— either way.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you sneer, and your hand shoots out, grasping a fistful of his shirt. You use it to drag him out of the cell, closer, lower, so that his face is mere inches from yours.

“No,” he repeats. “Say it.”

Your eyes burn like pyres: so dangerous, so beautiful, so suited to being the death of him. “I want you—” you begin, as they flit briefly to his lips— “to tell me…”

“What?”

“How you cheat at kitty cards.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?

Sure enough, you drop his shirt and burst into laughter— irrepressibly you again. The fire in your eyes has simmered down into something warm, safe, and comfortable, and— gods— you’re even crying. You’re doubled over, holding your stomach as though it hurts. You lift a hand to wipe your wet cheek. “Your face,” you get out between gasps, “oh, your face!”

Yours is not the only laughter, but it’s the only laughter Sylus hears.

“We so got you, Skye!” Tara’s vaguely familiar voice resounds from an intercom.

There’s some confusing static with it— more tittering voices— and Sylus suspects he’s found himself the star of your colleagues’ after-work entertainment. He puts his hands on his hips as he looks up at the camera. “Is the whole office—”

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping away another tear. “Figured it would be good for morale. Good practice, too.”

“Practice?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm with a hum. You’ve apparently gotten a handle on the hilarity of the situation, because you approach him with something close to composure. Meditatively, you smooth down the fabric of his shirt. Straighten his collar. “For when we catch the real Sylus one day.”

He captures your wrists; that’s a lot of tenderness for someone who just tried to give him a heart attack. Maybe he’s a little too rough, because you pout at him in a way that makes him instantly soften his grip.

“You ok, Skye?” you enquire with an ironic smile and an adorable tilt of your head.

His thumbs are feathering over your pulse points, and slowly, he leans in to deliver a message, just for you: “If I say no, will you make it up to me?”

…

Sylus knows this is real.

His mouth is on yours and it’s relentless, desperate; you made him wait for it. How long has he been wanting to trap you against the nearest wall, just like this, so he can kiss you until he forgets just how cold you can be?

He’s been very patient. He didn’t roll his eyes or utter a word of complaint when you’d dragged him to join your colleagues for dinner. It was your victory party, your ‘I made you look like an idiot’ party, but he was his usual, charming self, and your friends all adored him for it. They’d spun him the tale of his ‘arrest’— the planning, the preparation, and your lightbulb moment:

“Hey, guys, have you ever thought about how Skye kinda looks like Sylus?”

Only he could understand how wickedly clever it was. His eyes had sought yours as he listened, lazy, content, and so obviously biding his time. You’d smiled at him. He’d smiled back.

And he’d stayed smiling, even after the party was over and you’d had to walk a slightly-tipsy Tara home. She’d refused a taxi, insisted Sylus escort her— oh, and you could come, too! He’d lent her his arm: humoured every squeeze and chuckled at each remark about the size of it. You’d had to swat her away, in the end.

“I’m just teasing, y’know?” she’d giggled as the three of you arrived at her front door. “Skye knows I’m just teasing. You’re such a sweetheart, Skye. Imagine! You— the leader of Onychinus!”

She’d laughed, much too loud for such a quiet street, and with a less-than-subtle wink, left the two of you alone. Which is how you’d ended up here, in an alley around the back of her building, because it was Sylus’s turn to drag you somewhere.

His attentions have moved lower; there’s a subtle clink as his fingers find the clasp of your shirt collar and he peels it back, exposing your neck. His lips leave yours, trailing down, down— past the line of your jaw and over the soft, vulnerable column of your throat. You gasp as he brushes over a sensitive spot, and you could swear you feel him smile.

He’s always been passionate, but this is a different fire, fuelled by something you can’t ignore, no matter how much you want to:

Relief.

“Sy,” you murmur breathlessly, your hand in his hair, tugging gently. “Sy, stop.”

“Mmm?” he acquiesces, voice sinfully low as the cold evening air takes his place kissing your neck. His eyes shine like blood spilt in the dead of night— lingering on you. He looks drunk.

You lift a hand to cup his face and run your thumb over his cheek. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Sylus. You know that, right?”

Those dark eyes find clarity with your words, full of apprehension for just how naive you can be. The future will turn on you just as quickly as a wild animal someone boasts about having tamed, and aren’t you foolish, thinking you can control something like that?

Besides, that’s his job.

“I know,” he says like he’s supposed to— ever the martyr, following the script. He goes to nuzzle into you again, but your hand is still tight in his hair and he groans as you use it to pull him back.

“I mean it,” you reassert, forcing him to look at you. You don’t care that it’s ridiculous. You don’t care that fate is so hot on your heels that you have to keep running. You’re tired. He’s even more tired.

Isn’t it nice to stop and catch your breath?

Pretend you have time: His gaze is full of faith and oh, the world is going to enjoy punishing the two of you. “I know,” he insists, because this is the second time you’ve fooled him tonight. You feel his hand on your face and you let him kiss you— again, then again— so achingly slow, so arrogant.

The world can wait; he wants to punish you first.

“Do you really want to know—” he distracts as he finds that sensitive spot on your neck again— “how I cheat at kitty cards?”

The pad of his finger is chasing the path of his mouth; it tickles. You whine: “Tell me later, Sy.”

“Ok,” he breathes against you.

Later. There’ll be a later.

Won’t there?

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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tizeline · 11 months ago

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i was just thinking about ur au and thought about how in these frequent meetings with leo in run in the mill specifically during times where there's literally nothing to do, leo would just observe

leo would sit in his table (all alone. on his own.) while watching donnie interact with april. leo would feel sick to his stomach while wishing to interact with donnie the same way. he envies donnie, that he is capable of holding a conversation with a human (out of all people!) and not even putting an effort with own brothers. he envies april, a human, to be capable of showing kindness because thats not what humans are like, right? the baron taught him better. leo should know better.

but at the end of the day, donnie is leo's brother. he's family. i believe in the theory that all leos, no matter the universe, that he always puts his family first, that he cares. and yet, it would seem that donnie himself doesn't want to be family (despite how much donnie wants that as much as his brothers)

and again, they're family! aren't they supposed to get along? leo is discouraged, he is hurt (a vulnerability that leo despised to admit or show to anyone) and instead he feigns anger at donnie

i imagine that over time, leo would eventually realize what april and donnie are to each other. they're family. donnie would put april and splinter first before himself - leo knows what that is like. and finally a common ground between leo and donnie

i find it interesting how you basically made april the catalyst for leo's revelation. anyways sorry for dumping this on you, this is all assumption ahahha not even sure if i got it right. curious to see what you'll do with raph or mikey,,, or u already have done something and i missed it cuz i am an idiot lol

i just adore ur au sm <33 have a nice day !!

Damn Anon, you were pretty much right on the money, I don't feel like I have much to add.

But as a reward, have some angst, here ya go! 🫵

And I'm definitely planning on creating more Raph and Mikey focused content in the future!! I just started thinking of Leo's character in this AU and got all caught up in that lol. I find it easier to focus on one aspect of the AU at a time, so for now I'm stuck in the Leo-Brooding-In-A-Pizzeria-Arc 👍But I'm hoping to explore Raph's character soon :D

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probablybadrpgideas · 1 year ago

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THINGS I AM UNREASONABLY ANNOYED ABOUT BY GAME SYSTEM

D&D: Please put a disclaimer that you are not a universal system. Every time I see someone try to do a political mystery game in D&D, I take 3d10 psychic damage and have to make a death saving throw.

Pathfinder: Look. If i wanted to play a game about fighting Cthulhu there is an extremely famous game specifically designed around doing that. Literally no-one is ever going to say "Wow, I want to play a Cthulhu themed game! Time to stat up a musical halfling from a magical fantasy land!".

Chronicles Of Darkness: Just admit no-one uses any of your rules. You have Social Door Rules and Integrity Conditions and Corruption Levels and I bet at most 50% of COD players could tell me which of those I made up. Just admit people aren't dressing up as Alucard The Bringer Of Shadows because they want to sit down and do calculus.

World Of Darkness: You know that old guy who's still doing his job even though he is way too old to do it any more, but he's now an institution so you can't get rid of him? Like that. The 90s called and they want literally everything about this back.

Call Of Cthulhu: I appreciate the commitment to authenticity, but maybe stop hiring actual disgraced mental asylum directors from the 1920s to design your sanity system?

GURPS: Look. Look. Listen. We both know that you just want to write history textbooks. These are history textbooks with a few stat blocks begrudgingly put in. If you just give me a book on early Chinese history I will read it and go "ah, very interesting!". You don't need to put in a list of character choices. We're all nerds. We'll read them. Live your best life.

Powered By The Apocalypse: I actually can't think of anything wrong with PBTA. That's not a bit, this is literally the perfect system. Take notes everyone else.

Mutants and Masterminds/Heroes System: Your systems have probably the most customizable character creation in the world and you both just make reskins of the Justice League over and over again. Maybe we only need one "thinly veiled copyrighted characters" setting? You can fight over it once you decipher your combat mechanics.

FATE: Ok I won't lie, I have no idea how the fuck FATE works. I have read the rules repeatedly and played three games and I still have no idea what invoking an aspect means. I don't know why. I grasped the rules of fucking Nobilis but this one just psychologically eludes me. This is more a problem with me I guess, but I'm still annoyed.

Warhammer 40k: Have you considered spending less on avocado toast? Then you might be able to afford to charge less for things?

Exalted: Apart from the lore, the setting, the mechanics, the metaplot, the character creation and the dodgy narrative implications, I can't think of anything to improve here.

#rpg #roleplaying games #can't wait to see which of these get me cancelled #ableism cw

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berzahoes · 1 year ago

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manifestation, baby! | tom blyth

summary: fans find out tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes (and she definitely manifested her life)

an: the way i thought about this idea and quickly wrote it down so i didn’t forget it. i used to have an app that made those fake tweets but i’m just tired to make fake profiles 😭 maybe i’ll change it later idk

for the purpose of this imagine, let’s pretend tbosas book was published between 2017-2019

liked by zeglerslove, 444_bri and 35,377 others

tomblythxsnow apparently tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviews books and she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes and she literally manifested her future 😭

lucymygf WHATTT WHATS HER CHANNEL NAME

tomblythxsnow it’s yn’s book corner. she hasn’t posted since 2019 ngl i need her to review a little life because that book destroyed me

nat76_ omg i used to watch her videos!! i’m still subscribed to her 😭 i remember only buying and reading the books she liked because i wanted to be her so bad

j4ckaszlol “if someone ever makes a movie adaptation of this book and casts someone attractive to play snow then i am sorry for the person i become” REALLLLL

graybairdsmockingjay dude the part where she said “i’m calling it now whoever plays young snow will be my boyfriend. movie studios always cast someone attractive as the younger version of a character!” MY JAW DROPPED SHE NEEDS TO TELL ME HER WAYS

“guess what rachel just sent me.” you heard tom say when he arrived to your shared apartment.

“wedding invitations?!” you gasped as you almost stood up from the sofa since you were watching reruns of criminal minds, but tom stopped you.

“no, it’s better!” tom sat beside you and showed you his phone. “why didn’t you tell me you had a youtube channel?” on his phone screen was your review of the ballad of songbirds and snakes, which had become a very popular video over the past couple of days.

you hid your face with a pillow and groaned. “don’t remind me. i just wanted to talk about my books and my family didn’t care. don’t watch it! it’s embarrassing!”

“i think it’s cute. aw look, your dog made a cameo!” he pointed at your old dog you used to have that walked into the frame.

“indi! no, come sit right here. oh . . . and she’s walking away. okay, anyways.” your younger self said in the video

“indi? why Indi?” tom asked you even though you were still hiding from embarrassment.

“after indiana jones. my dad and i loved those movies and he gifted me indi as a birthday present.” you confessed.

“love, don’t be embarrassed. i think it’s cute that you manifested your life according to the comments on instagram,” tom paused the video then cuddled up to you. “i won’t watch it if you don’t want me to.”

“it’s fine, i just didn’t think anyone would find it. we can watch it together.” you uncovered yourself and sat down properly to watch the video with tom. before he pressed the play button and together you watch your younger self review the book.

“i’ve read all the hunger games books at least four times and this one did not disappoint. but i do hope whoever ends up being cast as young snow is someone hot. i’m sorry it’s the rules! and they will be my boyfriend, i’m calling dibs.”

tom smirked at you. “if only younger you could see you now.”

“she would definitely think ‘wow, how did we pull this beautiful man?’ then be confused as to why the hunger games and fnaf is trending in 2023.”

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler and 1,377,389 others

ynlovesbooks told ya. love you tomblyth ❤️

rachelzegler she is THAT girl

ynlovesbooks no u

everdeenx12 bestie he’s EVIL

ynlovesbooks he’s a walking red flag but my favorite color is red 😍

chamaletproblems pls tell me how you did this

ynlovesbooks i figured out who they were casting and kept him hostage until he agreed to be my bf

tomblyth true

#tom blyth one shot #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #tbosas

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hoshizoralone · 23 days ago

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a post where i separate every woman in smash by how i would categorize them in relation to samus if she had a dating sim and they had to be assigned a character type (that im saving here in case i ever want to go back to think about this) . and other samus & smash girls shipping thoughts

firstly i originally posted this on bluesky so if you’re not following me there.. go do that!! @hoshizoralone.bsky.social

explanations for the tropes are as follows:

childhood friend - palutena (kid icarus and metroid game overlaps of which there are many. like come on man... this is a nobrainer)

energetic cute girls - peach/daisy/pyra (daisy is jock leaning)

jocks - wii fit trainer/alex/mythra

mysterious transfer student - sheik/mii gunner/rosalina/lucina (though samus is not in school. but i'm not sure how else to explain this trope. maybe just "mysterious character")

the love interest that openly flirts with the mc - bayonetta

(varying degrees of) nerds, the smart girls - byleth/robin/zelda/isabelle (like lets say they were put into a scenario with samus. they would be the brains of the operation. robin would have had the adam stuff in dread solved immediately)

i don't care - corrin (i really tried to think of what trope she could be but i don't even imagine samus would like her)

not viable (teenagers). these two become a background couple - min-min/leaf (well, i had thought this, but after making the post on bluesky someone told me leaf’s canon age is 11. i had thought she was nebulously teenaged…. so either age her up here, or forget this tier exists)

not viable (babies) - villagers/inklings/wendy/nana

i do think the idea of creating a sim revolving around samus would be fun, only issue is the pression has truly kicked my ass this year and i really am all out of writing ability. i have two other games already sitting in my drafts half finished…

it could make for a fun rom hack though. Maybe instead of the chozo giving you power ups its the other girls . And at the end you have to Save The Girls not the animals. Someone make that happen.

~~~~

the above isnt arranged by how much i ship it but the below is. imagine gandrayda (of metroid prime 3 fame) right under samus and then a massive powergap and then the rest of the chart:

two professional girlfailures are facing off head to head in this 500 chapter slow burn sam/palu fanfiction - palutena (palutena is a girlfailure at everything but samus only falls into that category for women. it would be an extremely long time for samus to realize palutena likes her . could they make it work when they're both so busy? read my nonexistent fic to find out)

samus has a one sided crush - peach/rosalina/wii fit trainer. (samus will never confess. peach has mario and samus isnt messing w that. samus thinks she's not cool enough for rosalina. wft is already in a relationship consult the lone wii fit trainer lore)

(in my head samus’s one sided crushes are justified like this:

peach - she is literally so pretty it’s blinding. peak femininity is making samus short circuit

rosalina - parentless lady from space who has been left alone/feels lonely resonates hard

wft - she gives constant positive feedback which i think samus is starved to hear)

i used to love sam/bayo but bayo3 sucked so i kinda dont care about it anymore - bayonetta. sad day.

one sided crush on samus - alex/robin/zelda/lucina

samus-neutral - sheik/byleth/isabelle/gunner/pymythra/daisy/corrin. (they probably wouldnt pass up the opportunity to kiss samus if given one but they're not having their thoughts occupied by her)

one sided childhood crush (thinks she's cool) (not reciprocated) - min-min (samus is sort of like a celebrity. it's sort of like having a crush on zac efron when hes 18 and youre 7)

i consider samus in her 30s so every teenager and baby who doesn't have a cute unreciprocated crush is out of the running - leaf/villagers/inklings/nana/wendy

someone had asked… where’s dark samus. for me as one of the five samus x gandrayda shippers, i think if there was a dating sim and dark samus was in it samus would immediately halt the events of the dating sim to go hunt her down as repayment for everything + the whole killing her girlfriend thing. like she cant exist in this world.

the only other samus thing i ship that isn’t mentioned here already is samus x cortana. it could be cute. i do Naut ship her with any guys. lesbian samus for life

aside from samus x gandrayda which will probably always be my ride or die ship, i think the ship with the most interesting stuff to explore is samus/palutena… they aren’t alike characterwise at all, but it’s just that their series are linked in a metatextual sense, so its fun to imagine them together. in a “we’ve been hanging around each other for a while!” kind of way. well, opposites attract..

anyways that was my post. If you read this and have thoughts let me know. Maybe i’ll draw some stuff in my freetime. Cool thanks love ya bye.

#save tag #i dont wanna tag this but its gonna show up in that tumblr search function anyways right. whatever

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scribblesofagoonerr · 6 months ago

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— Yeehaw' it's cowgirl era!

pairings: leah williamson x reader

summary: readers' in her cowgirl era as she goes to nashville with leah and her family, she tries to contain her excitement, but its' too much to handle at the end of the night.

↪ this is my fav one shot to write, because I love country music!

and as always thank you to @alotofpockets for the help/inspiration to keep going with this fic!

"I'm so tired, why's the airport so noisy?" You grumble in complaint, all you want to do is sleep but with the news around the airport, its' difficult to do that.

You're tired, so tired. You weren't going to miss the chance to speak to your best friend in Australia though.

Stupid time zones really do suck.

"Well, that's what you get when you don't sleep, monkey," Leah chuckles, glancing at you while you are curled up on the floor.

"Its' not my fault though-- Kyra phoned me!" You whine in protest.

Leah chuckles and shakes her head, "Surely you can't be comfy down there?" She wonders, trying to understanding your reasoning to lie on the floor.

"Its' fine," You murmur, keeping your eyes shut and trying to ignore everyone around so you can sleep.

"Why don't you come and sit up here, love?" Berny, Leahs' grandma suggests, "You can't be comfortable down there."

"M' fine here," You repeat, trying to be as polite as possible.

"Shes' fine, Grandma. I'm happy for monkey to sleep wherever as long as I don't have to chase after her," Leah tells the older women, speaking nothing but the truth about the matter.

"What?" Jordan, Leahs' older cousin chuckles.

Leah exhales a sigh and locks her phone from where she's previously scrolling through Instagram, "Monkey likes to do this thing where she bolts, at literally any single chance that she gets. So as long as she's not making me run after her then I'm fine with that," She explains to them both.

Jordan blinks her eyes in confusion, "Uh, er, what?"

"Don' make me move, I'm comfy!" You whine from your position on the floor still.

"See?" Leah gestures to you with an amused smile, "Be grateful shes' not trying to pet the dogs over there." She adds.

"That was one time!" You exclaim in protest.

You try pet a few dogs' in the airport and suddenly everyone starts to make a big deal out of it, pft.

All you wanted to do was say hi to them.

You like animals, so what?

"I have so many questions right now," Jordan remarks.

Leah chuckles amusedly, "Well, we might be here a while then."

"The floors' not comfy anymore," You complain, huffing in annoyance.

"I thought you said it was?" Leah teases you at your own expense.

"Well now I'm not and everyones' been too loud," You whine in frustration, scrambling to get up from the floor, "Everyone needs to shuuuut up!"

"Uh, Le, is she okay?" Jordan turns to look at Leah in concern.

"Oh, yeah, this is just monkey being well, this is just monkey being her normal self-- Ooft, I didn't think you'd literally flop yourself down on me there," Leah groans as she feels your whole body weight completely slump down on her.

You let out a yawn and rest your head on her shoulder, "You make a comfy pillow, so deal with it." You state.

"But, you know..." Leahs' words are cut short by you.

"Shush, you're bein' too loud, Le," You grumble, not happy with her continuing to yap in your ear when you just want to sleep.

"Oh you poor baby," Leah mocks you.

"Mean Malfoy," You murmur under your breath, but it's still loud enough for the blonde to hear.

"What-- Whos' Malfoy?" The blonde's completely thrown off by the namedrop of a certain character.

"You are," You don't hesistate to admit.

"What? I am... I am not--" Leahs' still in disbelief to even realise that you'd managed to drop off to sleep while using her shoulder as a pillow, "Oh, she's asleep. Would you look at that?" She mutters.

"Must've been tired," Berny chuckles, amusedly.

"I still-- I... I don't look like him," Leah is still continuing to have a full blown crisis over the newfound nickname, "Do you guys think I look like Malfoy?" She questions, confused.

"Hey, monkey. You're quiet," Leah pokes her head around the door to check in on you, after not hearing much from you since you had all arrived at the hotel, "Whatcha up to?" She questions.

"Watchin' Black Widow," You pause the current film your watching and peer your head up from your iPad, "Wouldn't it be so cool to have Widow Bites?" You wonder.

That would definitely be so cool.

Apparently Leah thinks different by her facial expression.

"I think I'd fear for everyones' safety around you with them things," Leah remarks, shaking her head in disagreement, "What would you even use them for anyways?" She asks.

Shrugging your shoulders, you fumble with the strings of your hoodie, "Hurt my enemies and stuff, ye know'?"

"Enemies?" Leah questions in amusement.

"I got 'em, Le. Loads of 'em!" You tell the blonde.

Leah continues to look at you bewildered, "Right, oookay then. Well, we're gonna get ready to head to the festival soon, so are you ready to go?" She wonders.

"Uh huh, just watchin' this to kill the time-- Ooh! I still need one of them fancy hats!" You exclaim in realisation, jumping up from the bed.

"Slow down there cowgirl," Leah chuckles, making the reference to the jumper that you're wearing, "I've got you covered." She gestures to the cowboy hat which she just so happens to have in her hand before she plonks it on top of your head.

"Yeehaw! Howdy there partner!" You beam a wide grin as you try and put on the perfect accent.

The blonde continues to laugh in amusement, "You are something else sometimes, monkey," Shaking her head, she slings her arm around your shoulder, "C'mon, lets' go and find my family." She adds.

"Whatcha mean by that?" You turn your head to look at her in confusion.

"Well, you've heard the phrase 'one sandwich short of a picnic', right?" Leah explains to you as the two of you start to head out of the hotel room.

"Uh huh," You nod your head slowly in understanding.

"You're that sandwich, monkey," Leah states as she smiles.

Now its' your turn to look at the blonde bewildered, "What? I--"

"Anyways, let's go before we're late!" Leah interjects, tugging you in the direction to go and meet her two family members down in the lobby of the hotel.

"Whoa!" Your eyes are lit in excitement as you take in the sight around you of the festival, "We're in Nashville!"

"We are indeed, monkey," Leah chuckles in amusement, using her usual nickname for you since your well, a cheeky monkey.

The blonde also has another nickname though, menace, but that's usually referred to when you're being well, a typical little shit in her eyes.

So, most of the time... You guess.

You still to look around at the atmosphere in awe, "Whoa! This is so cool!" You whisper in awe, not actually believing you were here right now, "Like, I can't believe we're here-- It's so awesome, isn't it?" You turn to the blonde for her answer.

"I can see somebody's excited, huh?" Leahs' grandma, Berny chimes in as she watches you take it all in.

"Hey!" You gasp excitedly, spotting a girl nearby who just so happens to be wearing the same boots as you are, "That girls' got the same boots that I've got! We're totally matching!" You can't help but squeal.

"That's bound to happen here monkey," Leah remarks as she rests her hand on your shoulder and you sense that she's got something to say, "Listen, I know you're excited to be here, but I don't want you to be running off at all, alright?" She questions, knowing just what you're like.

"C'mon Le, I know that. I'm no idiot!" You dramatically whine.

"I didn't say that, but you know, sometimes you get distracted--" Leahs' words are cut short when you do in fact get distracted.

It's only a matter of seconds before it would happen.

"Look, they've got Churros!" You gesture over to a nearby van that's selling them and try to walk off in that direction.

"Ah, ah, no you don't," Leah's quick to yank hold of you by the back of your jumper, "See? This is exactly what I mean!" She states, firmly.

"But there's Churros, Le-- Churro's are life!" You all but insist, you couldn't get enough of the sugary treats.

"Don't even think about running off, menace!" The blonde is quick to warn you seeing that it looks like you're keen to bolt in that very minute, "I can see that look in your eye!" She adds.

However, the blondes' made the rookie error of letting go of you as they start to walk over to enter the arena where the music would be, at least the blonde still thinks you're following behind her.

Only for her to turn round and her eyes' widen when she realises you had not followed her at all, but went wandering off because of course, when there's Churros around... It's an easy decision to make.

So you bolted, running right in the direction for them without even second guessing it.

"Where the hell has she gone?!" Leahs' throwing her hands up in the air and looking fed up already, not even making it near the arena yet and you're already up to your old tricks, "I swear to god, I need to put a tracker on that girl!" She grumbles under her breath.

Both Berny and Jordan can't help but laugh, "You've got your hands full there, huh?" Her cousin jokes.

"Yeah, you're telling me," The blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, "I need to go find her, I'll be back." She huffs, very much not in the mood to deal with your antics.

And here Leah thought you will be tame tonight...

Ha, no.

"Good luck, love," Her grandma tells her, amusedly.

Leahs' shaking her head in annoyance, wandering through the various food vans' to get to where you where, currently being served the battered sweet treats, "There you are, menace! C'mere!" She states, annoyed.

You whip your head round and give the blonde a cheeky grin, "Le, look. Check out all the Churros I got! Do yer' want one?" You offer one out to the blonde, completely unaware of how peeved she is.

"What, no, I do not want one. What I want is for you to stop wander off," Leah looks at you in disbelief as she is quick to yank hold of the back of your jumper, "C'mon, now!" She states, firmly.

"Sooo, you don't want a Churro then?" You repeat the question, clearly not getting the idea of how annoyed Leah was, "Oh well, more for me then..." You shrug your shoulders and continue to shove it in your mouth.

Keeping a hold of you in one hand to not make the same mistake for you to run off again, Leah uses her other hand to rip the Churro out of your hand and toss it in a nearby bin, "You know you shouldn't be eatin' that many. You're going to get sick!" She tells you.

"But they're so good though!" You whine in protest.

Leah shakes her head, "No, no, that's enough of them. I'm not dealin' with you being sick. You know what you're like with that much sugar!" She states, firmly.

"COUNTRY GIRL, SHAKE IT FOR ME, GIRL," You sing along to the lyrics of the song that's currently being performed at the top of your lungs, having the best time of your life, "SHAKE IT FOR ME!"

If there was a table to stand on top of right now, your damn sure that you would be standing on it and pumping your fist in the air.

"Enjoyin' yourself there, monkey?" Leah glances at you and smiles, although slightly concerned for the impending sugar crash that's going to follow anytime soon.

"Hell yeah! I'm in my cowgirl era right now!" You scream in response, swaying to the music and continuing to live in the moment, "I never ever wanna leave this place!" You exclaim.

Leah laughs slightly and shakes her head, "Stay here, alright? I'm goin' to get some drinks-- Don't even think about moving!" She warns, following what happened earlier on when you went on an adventure for Churros.

"Ooo, drink. I want one!" You insist, whipping your head in the blondes' direction, "I'll take a vodka coke, please!" You declare.

"Sure, nice try. How about we hold the coke, eh?" Leah remarks, amusedly, "Legal age is 21 here, sorry, monkey." She pats you on your shoulder.

"Boo!" You huff in protest at the news, "C'mon, the rules don't have to apply to me!" You tell her.

Rules are there to be broken, right?

Definitely.

"Yes they do," Jordan chimes in.

"Pft, says who?" You scoff and roll your eyes at the older women. Your definitely not a rule follower most of the time, "Rules don't mean nothing to me."

"Me, because the rules really do apply in this case, monkey. I'm not being the one bailing you out of jail," Leah tells you, laughing in amusement.

You can't help but huff once more, "Meanie, complete meanie, Malfoy."

"I do not look like Malfoy!" The blonde exclaims.

"Yer you do, carbon copy of him," You remark cheekily, sticking your tongue out at her.

"You little-- I'll be back. Stay put here, don't even think about moving or I'll follow through with the threat of that tracker!" Leah warns, wagging her finger in front of your face, "Stay." She repeats.

"Woof," You reply to the blonde by barking, being completely, well, being completely you.

"Le? Pst, Le!" You not to gently nudge the blonde in the ribs as you start to get bored in the middle of a performance and want her attention, "Le... Leeeaaah!" You continue be that lovely irritating twerp that everyone seems to put up with.

"What?" Leah turns to face you confused, "What's up, monkey?" She questions.

"Hi," You can't help but snicker in amusement, just winding her up for the sake of it.

Mission success when you see the facial expression is unamused.

"Your such a pest sometimes," The blonde grumbles, shaking her head before she takes a swig of her drink.

You smirk and take the opportunity to be even more of a pest per say, "Malfoy's cranky." You murmur, just loud enough to still be heard.

Leah's head whips around in your direction, "I heard that, you little shit!"

"Language!" You gasp dramatically and widen your eyes, "You said a bad word!"

You feel a swat around the back of your head, "You're a menace sometimes."

"Le, love, don't hit the child," The blondes' grandma chides.

"She's not a child, she's a literal devil," Leah remarks, scoffing as she scowls at you as if to be cautious of your next move.

"Regardless, don't hit Y/N," The older women states.

You can't help but stick your tongue out at the blonde, "I win!" You exclaim, doing a little victory dance in your spot where your sat.

"I can ground you again, so be careful with your next move!" Leah warns, giving you a pointed luck.

Where's the fun in that?

You faux hurt and rest your hand on your chest, "Who, me? I didn't do out. You can't prove anything," You play innocent in front of Leah's family members.

"I was right, you really are a devil sometimes!" Leah murmurs, shaking her head in disbelief, "A complete menace to society."

"Yeah, but you still keep me around, right?" You can't help but grin cockily, letting out a sudden squeal when you feel an arm wrap around your neck and pull you down slightly, "Agh! Lemme go, lemme go!" You whine in protest.

Soon enough the wave of the sugar rush soon turns into a sugar crash.

Eating a bunch Churros was really, really not a good idea.

Although they were too good to not eat, so definitely worth it at the time in your opinion.

However, now, it is a completely different story now your energy is starting to wear off.

The state being where you somehow manage to slump off your chair down to the floor and curl yourself into a ball on the ground in front of Leah and her family.

You just want to get comfy, and the ground seems acceptable.

No judgement here, alright?

Leah's a bit drunk from the alcohol but seeing you in the way that you are and shes' sobering up pretty quick, "Monkey, what an earth are you doin'?"

"I'm tired," You murmur in half asleep state, finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

Leah exhales a sigh and shakes her head, "Why don't you come back up here and sleep on the chair, like a normal person?" She suggests.

You barely are shaking your head in response due to the tiredness, "No thanks, I'm comfy here."

"That can't possibly be comfy though?" The blonde continues to look at you in disbelief.

Jordan can't help but look over at the chaos and chuckle slightly, "Are you okay, kid?" She asks.

"M' tired and the grounds comfortable," Your voice is just loud enough to be heard, as your eyes flutter shut as your just content enough to listen to the music, "Night night."

"Monkey, come on. The grounds dirty and cold, get up please," Leah looks at you in bewilderment, trying to get you up of the floor where's there no doubt several amount of things you definitely shouldn't be lying in, "Monkey, come on. Up here." She repeats.

There's not much response from you, because somehow bizarrely, you have managed to get curl yourself up in a ball and fall fast asleep.

The soft snores are a dead giveaway that you are indeed out cold.

"Is she... Is she really asleep?" Jordan looks completely baffled.

Berny peers over at you and chuckles, "It appears she is."

"Monkey can sleep anywhere. I've never seen her fall asleep in the middle of a festival though," Leah snorts in amusement, before she takes pity on you and moves off her seat to crouch down and gently scoop you up into her arms, settling back onto her seat with you nestled against her.

It takes a few minutes before you shift in your sleep, burying your face in the blondes' neck and letting out soft snores, which make all 3 women smile in amazement.

"Shes' out for the count so it seems," Leah murmurs, swaying to the beat of the music and softly patting your back to allow you to still stay asleep for the rest of the concert, "Hopefully she can make it all the way through the acts tomorrow before she sleeps." She jokes.

Another day in Nashville, a whole lot more for you to see.

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