#i do that to this one purse because pinterest made me and it’s my favorite weekend bag

[teddypickerry]

this jacket appreciation post because i never remember seeing it on the show. but i saw one picture of it when scrolling months ago and i never stopped thinking about it. the fact that he has his little band pins on it????? THAT IS SO JESS. he’s so cute imma punch a hole. give me that little child thang. anyone personalizing anything makes me so. happy. logan’s ass would never do that.

[hoseoksluna]

SOJU | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. hobi)

genre: heavy angst, heavy smut

word count: 10.4k

summary: jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

playlist: soju / pinterest board: wine

warnings: sex flashbacks, alcohol consumption, jungkook is drunk emotional and a mess, jealousy, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), almost heavy dd/lg themes, plushie used during intercourse, inner child healing, use of a sex toy, oral sex (f. receiving), ass play and nipple play, provocation, dirty talk, hair pulling, dry humping, rough sex, overstimulation, pain felt during intercourse, jungkook instructs reader like the teacher he is, pet names and one particular title used, squirting, praise kink, jungkook is mean and cruel and just so horny

note: i will never forget this fic. never. this is the third part of 'wine' and therefore the very end to this adventitious series. even though, this part has a little bit information and quirks in it from the other two fics, it's fine to read as a standalone, but i do recommend reading all three parts as they interlink and you can beautifully see the process and the change of their relationship. i want to thank the lovely soul who asked me to make this a series because writing this made me incredibly happy—and all the themes i used mean the world to me. i also want to thank all of you for reading and for all the love. i hope you like this as much as i do. please, heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that not everyone can be comfortable with. with that being said, enjoy your reading and let me know what you think, let me know your favorite parts. ᡣ𐭩

side note: drunk 3D jungkook being all mean, dominant and daddy is, quite literally, the epitome of my sexuality.

Jungkook will always be a man of his word.

It’s the foundation that keeps his back straight as he leads you through the crowd. The core of the whole promise is the very strength of his fingers as they clasp around your much smaller hand because he notices, under the washed out lights of red and violet, that you’re the center of attention.

He feels as though he’s dragging the hand of a child like a protective father. Except, he has the impulsive need to cover you with his body.

It’s a blasting alarm within the ear splitting chaos of his mind. Louder than the modern music he cares little for; louder than the song of the hard, quickening beats of his heart that he’s unable to ignore. He promised he’d make it up to you about the party because he’d made you drunk with lust. Now that he’s taken you here, he’d much rather be back home with you. Wouldn’t even have the need to seduce you—he just doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want you to be the apple of everyone’s eye.

Sweat glistens on the planes of his forehead.

Jungkook returns every inquisitive look of people he doesn’t know with a stern furrow of his brows. Figures he needs a drink; figures he needs his hyung, at least one familiar face among strangers.

A strong one, to calm the storm within, and a big hug from the host himself.

He hates people.

Leading you to the makeshift bar of spirits in the kitchen, he has a protective hand over the small of your back as you climb on the bar stool. Watches as your ass lifts over the leather and almost jumps out of his own skin when the outsole of your high-heeled shoe slips on the footrest and you fall back onto the chair with a thud. A precious set of treble giggles billow out of your mouth, followed by a reassuring flick of your hand that you’re okay, and Jungkook’s own hand trembles when he lifts it off your back. While you open your purse to reapply your lip gloss, he hides behind his tight, feigned smile the need to run and calm his breathing.

His irises wander over the contents of that purse of yours. Finds a long brown pencil there, your phone, a pack of cigarettes with a purple lighter and a ring of keys adorned with the tiniest Hello Kitty he’s ever seen. No wallet, no cash tucked beneath. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, hand acting out of its own will—coming over to your long hair, smoothing it down as you focus on lining your lips with another set of glitter and pinkness. Perhaps the gesture is owed to the proudness he feels due to the fact you’re expecting to be provided for throughout the night, wherever it takes you both after this party. Blurred within is the smugness that he’s the reason you’re dolling yourself up again because he couldn’t help but make a mess of your mouth in the car. It makes his cock grow tight in his pants.

He wears the smugness all over his features. From the gleaming cosmos in his eyes, to the smudged kiss stains of all the roses in the world scattering over his nose and cheeks, down to the deepening smirk. He thinks he’d buy you anything your eyes would linger a heartbeat longer on, with snacks included in case you’d get hungry, as he silently praises you for your good behavior, for that smart brain of yours by the brush of his hand down your hair. A sick part of him wants to even get in debt for you for the pure fun of it—the fun being the primal core of your wishes and needs being gratified, for your satisfaction to shine through the veins on your skin like little sun rays, all while having the time of your life on the night out he promised you.

He’s not afraid to admit he’d do anything for you as long as it stays safely stashed within his system. Can’t risk voicing it out. Can’t risk you knowing. Can’t risk shit.

Studying the shape of your lips as you hold up a small heart-shaped mirror, he twirls the ends of your hair as he waits for you to be done to ask you what you want to drink. Is reminded of the way those pillows wrapped around the straw of the banana milk you brought for him the last time he saw you. Of the way they sucked his fingers when he used them for lubrication to rub your clit while he was fully buried inside your tight, dew-sprinkled cunt. He suddenly feels hot under his collar.

He’s a slave to flashbacks. Always has been.

The celestial concoction of your needy moans and his, kept safe within the confines of his car, loop in his brain. The look of agonized lust when he bit your bottom lip in a heated kiss that he soon alleviated with the swipe of his tongue, with the suction of his lips that begged him to take more of you. Jungkook hears it as if there wasn’t any music at all, as if its thrumming wasn’t enveloping the corridors of his panic-stricken heart. He hears your words, embellished by those giggles of yours, in his ears all over again: “Stop, you’re making me horny. We should go inside.” His own, too: “You dance better for me when your panties are wet. I know you do.” Sees again, as if the moment is happening again and you’re standing in front of him, the way you reacted to his hands warming up your sides in the cold after you stumbled out of his car. Sighing softly, glossy eyes whirling upwards to the drowsy sky full of quivering stars, tipsy on the desire he’s obsessed with awakening in you while being tipsy just the same. The smile rising on your lips when he asked: “Show me how you’re gonna dance for me.” The way you moved your hips in such a silly way that squeezed his heart until it was difficult to breathe.

He’s fucked. Knows he is. Has known it for a while now.

You’re the origin of the chaos within his mind. The body of it itself. He has a teeny-tiny version of you in his mind that lives there, and lives there well because he feeds her, brushes her hair and gives her kisses, despite the storm.

He could never tell you—how much he thinks about you daily.

To a certain extent, he almost did the last time you came around, in a frenzy of sensuality and pent-up desire that consumed him. Prayed you didn’t see it for the way it really was.

It’s not just lust, and it’s more than just a friendship.

He figured as much—doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do with it. 

Not a single one. Especially not when you pucker your lips at him and screw the applicator back into the tube. 

He doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t ever want to lose the sight of that pucker of yours. And he fears that if he tells you of his weakness for you, he might never see it again.

So, he opts to keep things safe, keep things casual. That is until he eventually bursts.

That’s another promise, too. 

He pulls on one of your strands. Your head knocks back, eyes wide at the audacity of it all. He laughs at your reaction.

“Can you stop?”

Jungkook does it again just to see the shock written over your face, full on belly laughing.

“What the fuck?” You slap his shoulder, the impact so small he barely feels it. “You want me to pull your hair, too?”

He grabs his stomach. “No, what I want to know is what you wanna drink.”

You purse your lips in feigned anger, fingers outstretched by the back of his head to play-pull his hair or perhaps slap him into oblivion. If you could manage it. 

He doesn’t think you could. 

He goes around you to sit beside you on the bar stool, studying the bottles of liquor his hyung bought. Is ignorant to the way you’re studying him, to the way the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly at the discovery of the current situation in his intimate parts. 

Pulls out one to acknowledge himself with it. Asks you if you wanna drink it. 

You don’t say anything. 

When Jungkook lifts his eyes to scold you for not paying attention, all the words get hitched in his throat. You’re grinning from ear to ear. All those damned words are forgotten immediately. 

“Are you hard?” you whisper, flushed at the face, glossy eyes glimmering, ever so excited about your discovery. 

He feels himself twitch. Hides it by cupping himself discreetly. 

Averts his eyes. “I’m always hard around you,” he mutters, twisting the bottle open. “I’ve gotten used to it.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he pours you a shot, but he focuses on the way your breathing gains speed. Fights the smile threatening his lips caused by how easy it is to provoke you. 

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re hasty as you ask, looking around you, inspecting which room you could use to drag him into and relieve him of his problem, but he assures you it’s no problem at all with a curt shake of his head. 

Strangely, he found a way to like the tension in his pants. Thinks it digs deep into the depth of the moment—simply makes it more exciting. 

“We just got here,” Jungkook says flatly, screwing the lid back on. “Don’t be rude.” 

He filled your shot to the brim not necessarily with the intention to make you drunk as fast as he can, but to watch your eyes widen the way they do so sweetly. And you don’t disappoint him at all when you do just that, the smile on your lips blossoming still. An aura of shyness envelops you in softness due to his disapproving words and Jungkook realizes he grazed your submission by reprimanding you. While it magnifies his smugness, he feels a little bit bad for you. Knows how much it turns you on when his fatherliness looms out, but blames you for it nonetheless. You rouse it in him.

You may have never told him about your father wounds, but his instincts sensed it in you—sought it out like its own child and cradled it in his arms, promising to never let go.

Promise. There it is again.

He wants to spend the rest of his life promising you things. Doesn’t matter what. He just wants the security, the cord of trust, that you’ll be here; that you’ll be here for a long time. It truly doesn’t matter if he promises you things internally or outwardly.

Jungkook cups your chin. Wants to say something. Wants to reassure you that you can take the shot, encourage you a tiny bit. But what you say to him dries up his throat completely.

“You don’t want a blowie?”

Your words were a mere silky noise, but he heard you. Curled his fingers tight into fists in order not to bend you over the bar stool and take you right then and there in front of everyone.

Decides he will provoke you right back.

“You don’t want a lickie?” he murmurs, drawing close to you so you’re the only one who hears him. “You don’t want Daddy’s tongue on your little clit?”

You gasp and grip his knee, your legs intuitively spreading.

Jungkook skims his surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. When the coast is clear—people mindlessly mingling, having conversations—he hovers his lips against your ear, hand coming in between your legs, not to touch you but to cover you. Whispers, “or you don’t want Daddy’s tongue fucking you fast? Licking over your little ass? Hm, you don’t know how good that feels yet, do you?”

You’re holding in a sob—Jungkook sees it in the way your eyes and lips round, brows furrowing. He made you wet. Serves you right.

He pulls away to pour you a chaser. Asks which one you want.

You take a deep breath, flicking your hair back. “Coca cola,” you chirp, despite the deathly grip you have on his knee, perhaps to hold your sanity together, other fingers wrapping around the shot. Small, so fitting for an equally small glass.

Jungkook laughs. Loves it. Loves…

The realization, of what he almost granted access to within his system, strangles his heart. He hears nothing for a moment, not the music, not the tremor of his weak heart. Nothing.

A can of Coke waits for you behind the bar on the kitchen counter and before any thought flicks through his brain, Jungkook stands to his feet to fetch it for you—to get his blood pumping again so he can gain control of his senses. It scares him, the nothingness. Even his eyes fail to focus as he looks for the metallic red can he swore he saw hardly a minute ago. He feels a slap on his back and a familiar face, at last, comes into view. 

Hobi. 

The first thought that resurfaces is filled with thankfulness enveloping around that name, dispersed with tiny kisses of ‘you saved me, hyung’. Jungkook dives head-first into the offering hug of his savior, his senses returning to him like magnets attaching to metal. He takes in a deep breath as if he was under water and just came up for air. 

“So glad to see you,” Hobi says, rubbing his back. 

Jungkook squeezes his shoulder. Says something that doesn’t reflect what he truly wants to say, keeps up the small talk while burying under layers upon layers of mud the confession that he almost told himself he loved you. 

Which reminds him that he didn’t introduce you.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Jungkook says, grabbing the can of Coke his eyesight is now clear enough to spot and an empty, tall glass for you. Guides his friend to where you’re sitting but what he sees almost makes him jump out of his own skin for the second time in the span of an hour—almost sobs tearfully at the unfortunate discovery. 

A mop of dirty blonde curls shaking at the impact of his laughter as he whispers sweet nothing into the shell of your ear. He towers from behind you, compressing you in the muscly width of his half-barren chest. An electricity of anguish spasms down the course of Jungkook’s body, for in a flash he’s reminded of the way you towered above him just the same the last time. His sweat cools as you listen to him, a pang after pang of jealousy stinging him in his abdomen. He’s frozen on the spot—Hobi says something, but Jungkook can’t hear him—that is until you make a face of discomfort.

Jungkook sees red. 

His heart slams hard against his chest, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel its intention to break his ribcage. 

The words unfurl out of his tight mouth before he can think them through. “Can I fucking help you?” he hisses through his teeth, setting the glass and the can down harshly. The noise makes you jump, which instantly drives him to regret his actions—and it puts an end to his rage.

He didn’t mean to scare you. Doesn’t want you to regard him this way. 

The sudden softness welcomes his senses back with a gentle beckoning.

Lifting his eyes, the guy ignores the question. Whispers something again that forces you to pierce your stare into the fire that burns within Jungkook’s irises. Not the fire he let you see throughout the trajectory of your casual relationship, the blue, the dreamily sultry one. 

The one that licks over his eyes is black. Pitch black. No sign of stars, no dots of reflection of light. Pure pitch black.

But you hold his gaze, unafraid of the darkness.

For a reason unknown to him, it ignites you with strength to shove raggedy Barbie Ken away. Your touch lingers on his chest for a mere second and is not as scorching as the bite of your words: “Yes, I’m here with him and I’m not interested in you. Go away.”

Jungkook doesn’t look at the guy. Doesn’t give two shits about the painful twists of his features as he staggers away. Forgets about Hobi; forgets about the questioning looks of strangers digging into his back. All he sees is you. All he hears is the sigh of relief once he’s gone. And Jungkook is hasty as he reaches for you, relieved himself—relieved that he didn’t have to fight the fucker and alter the trust you have in him���needing you close, needing to gain back his control. He’s almost smiling uncomfortably at the ridiculous twist of events, but then the tug of his mouth stills.

You slip out of his grasp and move past him.

There’s silence within Jungkook’s ribcage. Not one beat or flutter, not one kick.

Nothing.

***

Knocking back shots after shots, Jungkook remains silent. Doesn’t answer any of his hyung’s questions. Doesn’t look at any of the girls who sashay to Hobi’s thigh to chitchat. His gaze merely remains fixed on the empty glass of the chaser he never had the chance to pour you. 

Your shot of the dark liquor is also left untouched. 

It’s the twinge of pity he feels that gives the order to his feet to rise. Hobi grabs his arm, long fingers digging into the hard leather of his jacket. Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate his stare, despite its heavy energy. Keeps his head low instead. 

“Give her more time,” Hobi says, lugging him down to a seated position but Jungkook untangles out of his grip. 

Grabs a bottle of soju as he mutters, “half an hour is more than enough.” 

He makes a way through the corridor towards the door you slinked into, the translucent bottle swinging by his jean-clothed thigh. Doesn’t knock on the wood, instead walks straight in as if he owned the place.

You’re sitting by the foot of the bed. The yellowness of the subdued bedside lamp drapes your sagged shoulders in gold, filtering through your hair that obscures your face. You had taken off your shoes and they lie crooked and alone by your stocking-clad feet. Jungkook wonders if that’s how you feel. 

His weakness caused by the unfortunate events and the sadness engulfing you stops him from moving a step closer to you as he beholds your puny form, but Jungkook fights it—fights for you. He needs to be in control. Of his own body and emotions, no matter how strenuous he finds it. He needs to be strong—and he needs to be strong for you to make things right.

He clicks the door shut behind him. As he walks towards you, he opens the bottle of soju with the firmness of his phone and takes a long sip. Settles in between your legs on the ground, crossing his legs at the ankles. Probs you on the calf to make his presence known to you, cooing your name. 

You sniff your nose, gathering your hair to the side, curling the shorter pieces behind your ear. Your face glistens from the rivers of tears he wasn’t there to wipe away, cheeks flushed from all the onrush of emotions that wasn’t of the coy or sensuous kind he likes so much. The hard stone of his heart cracks at your broken countenance and the back and forth swipe of his fingers on the nylon of your stocking grows more tender the more he takes in your sadness. He wishes to inhale it, rid you of it once and for all. Thinks it doesn’t belong to you. Wants to fight the guy, make you laugh—make a fool out of himself—and make love to you. Wants all of those things at the same time, but he realizes he can’t tear himself apart.

He decides being here is enough. He can fix whatever has been broken here in Hobi’s room. 

“This is so fucked up, Jungkook.” 

You’re the first one to break the silence and it takes a slight weight off of his shoulders. Jungkook hums, prompts you to speak further on what hurts your heart. Wraps his entire hand around the muscle of your calf, thumb tracing figures of eight on your skin. 

The warmth helps you look him in the eye, but you don’t say anything else. 

Jungkook figures it’s his turn.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he says softly, hand drifting down to cradle the heel of your lifted foot. You’re mine, he doesn’t add. 

Your mouth rounds once again in a wave of emotion that clutches you. You don’t let the tears fall, looking up to the ceiling so the little pearls don’t trickle out of your tear ducts. Jungkook notices puffy marks of darkness under your bottom lashes, where he swore he saw thin pathways of glitter, small shooting stars traveling around the globe of your eyes. They’re nowhere to be found now, you’ve rubbed them away. 

“I know, it’s not about that.” You sniff, hands hooking under the hem of your skirt just to have something to hold onto, to busy your fingers a little—as if he wasn’t right there. “I think I kinda get you know.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that asks you to enlighten him, taking a swig of the sweet liquor to aid him in forgetting what he didn’t say. But the more he drinks, the more he remembers—the more his feelings splutter to life. It’s like he didn’t drink a drop at all. 

“I never understood why you need to be in control all the time,” you start, fixing your gaze on his. “But I finally did when that guy had his arms around me and wouldn’t let go. I wished I had even a small bit of control in that moment when I was alone. I hated feeling like I had to endure it when all I wanted to do was run away.” You break apart at your last words and Jungkook’s world crumbles in his hands. 

There’s chaos in his mind. A chaos of selfish nature that wants to prove you wrong because no, he doesn’t have any control when it comes to you, when you’re dressed, perfect and broken altogether. He doesn’t have shit—he’s nothing. A complete mess. And perhaps it’s his bruised heart that acts out despite this self-pitying mayhem grappling him, shutting it out into eternal darkness, for Jungkook doesn’t even know how he does it when he pulls you down onto his lap by a careful drag of your legs and encases you within the heated snugness of his arms.

He doesn’t even understand his own words when he says, “You can take all of mine. It’s yours.”

Jungkook doesn’t care about anything at all because when you start to sob into his shoulders, he breaks along with you—bursts at the seams completely. 

“I know you were scared, but that won’t happen again. Not when I give you all of my control.” His words are smooth amidst the stream of his liquid emotions and Jungkook is glad for it—glad to be a pillar you can lean on. He imagines transferring all of his being, not just his control, to you like a blanket draping around your shoulders, so the situation never happens again. 

His tears soak your hair strands and they carry his sorrowful kiss to the crook of your neck. He doesn’t want to utter a sound, wants to remain strong, but his heavy exhales betray him, wafting against you as he tightens his grip around your violently shuddering body in effort to soothe it. Considers this moment to be yours alone, doesn’t want to be selfish. Wants to be there for you.

“You helped me when I saw you,” you say against his skin, the sound muffled but he hears you—tightens his lips in a firm line in order not to wail. “When I saw that you were there, I was strong enough to push him away. You were my backup, Jungkook.” 

He agrees with a soft sound, rocking you back and forth as he cradles you. Leans his head against the side of yours, shielding you from the world and its wickedness. 

Your cries quieten. “But I want to be strong even when you’re not there.” 

Jungkook strokes your hair, understands you even when it pains him—his attachment to you pulled so taut he fears it’ll break. “You’re strong now. I gave you my control, didn’t I?”

To his surprise, you nod. 

After you pull away to breathe and Jungkook sweeps your tears away with his thumb, he’s smothered with the reminder that he made a promise to himself—a promise that is on the brink of being fulfilled. 

The walls close in on him, but he doesn’t care. He promised to keep things casual until he bursts. He refuses to go another day pretending you’re just a friend he feels nothing for. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the heavily charged emotions that make the decision for him, but he simply doesn’t care about the outcome anymore. The truth has to come out into the light. 

Jungkook calls you by your name. Brushes your hair back so he can look properly in the faded lush of your eyes; cradles your face in his hands like that. You call him by his name as well, whispering it into the shadows of the room. Such a soft, silky sound that puts pink plasters over the cracks in his heart. He says your name in the same intonation just to get a taste of liberty. 

“I’m yours,” he confesses, a lump forming in his throat, and he’s too late to blink the tears away. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you; since the moment you laid your hands on me. Yours for the taking. My heart, my control—it’s all yours.”

The bridge constricting his throat collapses when you give him a look of endearment, your features softening, rounding in emotion. Jungkook watches as a tear rolls down your cheek; feels an identical one going down the same path on his own skin, fiery and hot. 

“I’m sorry.” He breaks into sobs—and break, break, break is all he does. “I’m sorry if you wanted to stay casual, but I can’t… and-and I can’t let you go. I can’t let anyone else have you.” 

You bunch the material of his wife-beater in your fists under his jacket, mewling tender weeping sounds. Jungkook bites his lip to prevent himself from spilling in your hands, needing you to say something, anything, so he can straighten his back and call it a night. You bury your head in his chest  and Jungkook lulls you to calmness while needing it himself. He suddenly feels alone. Alone and crooked like your shoes, as if he said the wrong thing, as if he didn’t deserve any reassurement, any love for what he just did—

You mumble something into his skin. 

His heart jumps. 

“I didn’t catch that, baby.” 

You lift your head, clutching the sides of his neck. “I like you, too, Jungkook.” 

Your words tell him a lot of things. 

He didn’t make a mistake tonight. He didn’t do anything bad, didn’t lose you for the rest of his life. He will see that pucker of yours for the months to come, your glitter and all your shooting stars will be there to guide him home. 

And the other thing is—he fell for you first. Because while you like him, he absolutely and irrevocably loves all of who you are. 

He smiles at you, though. The bridge takes the heft on his shoulders along with it and disperses into nothingness. He wants to thank you. He wants to thank you for the kindness you expressed towards him, for your hands that hold him. And he does by kissing you, by inhaling you, taking away all your sadness and the bad events that caused it. 

“You mean a lot to me,” you say against his lips, pretty wet eyelashes fluttering. Jungkook feels their dewiness; wants to feel yours, too. There’s a pout to his mouth as he listens to you. “You changed my life. You make it better.” He nods at your words, senses them opening a window in his heart to let the fresh air in. “I don’t ever wanna lose you, Gguk. You’re too important.” 

He almost says it. Those three words. But he keeps them stored within the now brisk chamber of his heart, full of spring. Flowers grow, in place of the plasters. 

Jungkook caresses your cheek. “I want to make you forget.” 

You beam at him—and there he feels it, the pulse of his heart, its song and its steady, balmy notes. 

“Make me forget about tonight, please.” 

He kisses you, adds in a million tiny pecks in between, sliding his tongue inside your mouth in brief greeting. His fingers blindly find the bottle of Soju and when he withdraws with a pop, he presents it to you. 

“Look at what I got you,” Jungkook says, chuckling. 

You wrap your hand around his on the bottle and he tips it to your mouth, helping you drink it. You widen your eyes at him when he wants you to drink more than you do, and he lowers his hand with a grin. Loves those eyes of yours. Loves your mouth as he wipes it clean with his thumb. 

It’s lighthearted, the state of his emotions. He had tasted liberty by fondly mimicking your intonation, but now it courses through his veins, now it’s his. He feels so very glad to be alive at this moment and he wants to celebrate in the only way he knows he can. 

“I got you another thing as well, but it’s back home,” Jungkook says. “I can’t drive but we can take an Uber.” 

“Let’s go.” 

Jungkook straps your heels, fixes your skirt and swipes his thumbs under your eyes to rid you of black mascara stains. Offering you his hand, you take his pinky and ring finger and he leads you out of the room with you following behind. He skims the living room to find Hobi but, again, he’s nowhere in sight until you tap his shoulder and point to the right side of the corridor. Hobi is rising to his feet from sitting on the stairs. The thought of his hyung staying around for him instead of enjoying the party squeezes his heart in gratitude. He hugs him and when it’s your turn to say your goodbye, Hobi pulls you in for a hug as well, rubbing your back as he asks you if you’re okay. 

The soju remains in your hand. Sitting on the curb outside, both of you finish it while waiting to be picked up with Jungkook’s hand on your thigh and rough kisses shared in between. The wind doesn’t dare to disturb the intimacy, but watches on with a fond care, the stars hanging low, peeking through to witness at least one good thing of the night. 

***

“If this breaks me out, I’m gonna kill you.” 

Jungkook is carefully tender as he drags the makeup wipe along the perimeters of your cheeks, scowling at the sun-filled tint coloring the whiteness of the wet cloth. He had spent half an hour choosing the right brand in the drugstore earlier in the morning because he decided you were going to sleep over without telling you, reading each small letter on the packaging, despite the fact he understood shit. 

You’re still clothed and so is he, resting in the middle of the comfort of his bed as he hovers above you, knees perched at the foot of the bed. The aching ball of your own foot grazes the bulge in his intimate parts and Jungkook himself is at wonder how he’s able to focus when it stimulates all of his senses, adding heat to his body. 

“It’s Korean, it won’t break you out,” he mutters, swiping along the underside of your eye with extra care. 

“I once had a toner that—”

Jungkook covers your mouth with his palm. “It’s Korean,” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you. 

You giggle and he drops his glower, beaming down at you. 

“You know I can do it myself. I’m not that drunk.”

He focuses on your forehead now, cleaning off your foundation and all those sparkles. 

“I know you can, but let me.”

You babble on and Jungkook decides he’s had enough of it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m gonna shut you up.” 

He dumps the makeup wipe on your face and rummages through his bedside drawer. While you use it to cleanse off your neck, Jungkook spoils your surprise and opens your present. Is discreet as he smuggles it between your legs, pressing it against your clothed clit. 

The soft vibrations spread throughout his whole hand. He increases the intensity. 

You freeze, flicking your eyes to his, makeup wipe long forgotten. You roll your hips against the toy. 

“Oh my god.” 

Serves you fucking right. 

“Keep talking,” Jungkook mutters. “Hm, keep fucking talking and dare to come.” 

It’s maniacal, his laugh, but gentle and amorous in nature because he fucking loves you, loves to tease you, loves to make you feel good—show your body new things that it willingly accepts. You wiggle your hips, chasing the pleasure, mouth fallen open, emitting tiny satiny legato whimpers, which cause his cock to twitch in his pants—so much that he begins to move the purple toy all around your femininity while palming himself. He notices your lack of babbling. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks in feigned sympathy. “You suddenly have nothing to say?” 

You smile at him, and it stops everything. The roleplay of his mean dominance, the vibrations buzzing his hand. He turns the toy off and is straightforward as he says, “undress.” 

Does so himself.

He takes off his leather jacket and unbuttons his pants; watches you as you drag the skirt down those hips he wants nothing more than to kiss and hold in his hands. When it pools around your knees, he chucks the material behind him. You hook your thumbs beneath the waistband of your stockings and Jungkook thinks about how he’d like to tear them apart and make you lose your mind through the hole he’d create as he strokes the outer side of your thigh. He wanted to be gentle with you tonight, but he just can’t help it.

You rouse it him and he just listens. 

His hands are quick as they rip a hole above the center of your rosily pink panties. He smirks at your shocked gasp, so short and dry, drawing close to your pussy, kissing her, nuzzling his face in her. The tension in his intimate parts is almost unbearable when you run your hands through his hair and incite him to do more. He licks over the tiny wet spot on the frail material that he’s the artist of, adding to it, and watches the roll of your eyes because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. It’s a dance what your hips do, the most unkind torture and he longs to squeeze them.

He’s a good boy when it comes to listening to his body’s desires. 

Making a way through the beige hole, ripping it further in the process, he grabs the supple skin, thumbs fondling over your hip bones. So small, so delicious. Jungkook licks his lips, pushes your underwear to the side to reveal your dewy little seashell—fixes it so it stays put. Looks up at you. “Top off. I wanna see those pretty tits.” 

You’re a good girl, too, when it comes to obeying his wishes. 

A praiseful coo ripples out of his mouth once you reveal your black padded bra. Jungkook decides he wants it to be in line of his sight, so he lowers the straps down your arms and merely tugs the undergarment below your breasts. The spillage and the ripple of their fullness almost makes him die right then and there. Jungkook bites his bottom lip until he draws blood.

Two hindrances. The silky straps on your arms, the stockings he will soon lower down your thighs. Jungkook curses under his breath; thinks he should’ve gotten the ropes he was eyeing after his drugstore run. Pink and rough, just the kind you would’ve liked. 

Perhaps it isn’t needed for the lovemaking he longs for with you. Playtime and lovemaking are two different things, he concludes. 

He’s so horny he might lose his mind first. And he does—with nose pressed against your sternum, babbling nonsense while he buries his head in your tits. Inhaling your vanilla and tuberose scent, he kisses the valley leading up to the peak of your stiffened nub, trails it with his tongue, goes the extra mile to suck it into his mouth, hearing its call. He’s just listening—listening to your body language that asks for him. His eyes are blurry when he gazes at you. You’ve fled to the pink planet again, but he wants you here with him. While he flicks your nipple with his nimble tongue, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. Would die for your adorableness. Would go to war for it, a thousand times over. 

Jungkook sucks the nub to make your travel back to Earth faster and he accomplishes what he wants. With a roll of your body and a moan, you’re back, looking down at him, cradling him, brushing his hair back. He makes sure you see the way he toys with your nipple—keeps his mouth open as he circles it, flicks it before he sucks it back inside. 

“Stay here with me,” Jungkook mumbles, switching to the other nipple. “Please.” 

You nod, grinding your hips against his stomach. Another call. Your hands slide lower to his neck and Jungkook understands you want more. 

“Take control of me, baby,” he says. “Flip me over.” 

Your breath is shaky. A light flickers in your eyes, glints like his saliva adorning your nipple in the yellow dimness of the room. You grab a hold of his neck with your one hand like he does to you every time while the other comes around his shoulder and you push him to his back in one swift motion.

Jungkook feels proud. You learn well from him. So studious, so smart, so cute.

You straddle his hips and Jungkook begins to trace your thighs, fingertips gliding back and forth on the nylon, until he grips your hips—and grips them hard. He forces you down on the bulge of his cock, hissing at the pleasure rising up his abdomen. He feels your dewiness against the material of his boxers soaking it through. He guides your hips in a steady but firm rhythm and once you familiarize yourself with it and hump him on your own, he brushes his fingers across your wet nipples. The sensation sends you toppling back, spine arched as you ride him like you rode his Hello Kitty plushie, but Jungkook keeps his fingers on those two little nubs. Your tits bounce and slap against each other and he just follows their movement, squeezing, grazing, leading you to the burst of your climax. When he lets go, you lower your body enough for him to nuzzle his face in them, moving you to the tip of his cock that peeks out of his boxers. The contact of your little soaked clit with his oozing arousal makes Jungkook moan into your skin, and he feels his balls tighten. 

He lets you know by squeezing your arm, as if his furrowed brows, flushed face and the planes of his forehead shining in a layer of sweat weren’t indicating the matter enough. 

You enjoy every second of the torment you bestow upon him, back upright now, fingertip playing with his navel.

Even more so as you flip around and ride him reverse cowgirl style, the nylon of your stockings stretched taut over your ass. Jungkook feels faint.

You’re wearing a thong that is but a thin fabric and would cover absolutely nothing if it were in its right place. He can see your little puckered hole that he’s very hungry for, starved actually, with each backward movement you make. He yanks his boxers down, granting you access to paint his manhood with the loveliness of your shiny dewiness. Grunts at the sloppiness of your flesh gliding back and forth as you toy with his ballsack. On the top of his cock, your juices mix with his—creating a pretty, pretty palette. 

The way your pussy lips barely wrap around his girth, your little breaths and sobs—Jungkook can’t take it. White flashes in his eyesight, the build up of his orgasm nearing the end.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, flicking your hair behind your shoulders as you arch your back, your hair like a waterfall cascading down your spine. 

Jungkook pulls on it, halting your torture. “You’re gonna make me come,” he purrs. “What a waste that would be—for me to come all over my pants like a teenager when your cunnie is right here.” 

He rips your stocking further to reveal more of your ass. Pushes you towards his face until you’re sitting on it and—

He devours you. 

You cry out. The sound propels him to tighten his grip around the small of your back, to quicken the shakes of his head while his tongue stimulates your engorged clit, occasionally flicking against the muscle to hear more of your little noises. Your palm feels up his wet shaft and Jungkook rewards you for being such a good girl that thinks of her Daddy by taking your bundle between his lips and sucking it. Your body quivers, plays tag with his tongue and Jungkook growls, your taste the sweetest thing he’s had all week and he can’t get enough. Needs more, needs…

“Fuck yourself on my tongue.” 

He guides you. Spanks you when you find him. And the sobs you let out, interlaced with the naughtiest of whimpers, make him ache. Your walls press against him—stars fill his vision—and he can’t breathe. Needs you to come, needs a release himself, needs to taste your tiny hole that has never been touched before. 

His hand extends for the purple toy, keeping it on the low setting. He presses it against your clit and the way you tighten around him lets him know you’re soaring; mere seconds away from ascending fully to the pearly gates. 

Jungkook lets you reach your climax on your own, even though his hands itch to grab you and invigorate your thrusts. He wants you to have full control; wants you to get a heady taste of that liberty. 

Wants you to get used to it. 

You slow down your movement and Jungkook hears your cry first before your body begins to convulse. He holds you through your orgasm whilst he rubs the vibrator all over your clit and is ever so fucking mesmerized when he catches your pussy drooling and clenching. 

He aches—aches badly to be inside of you. 

Ridding you entirely of the mere cobwebs that your stockings have become, Jungkook holds your panties in place. His tongue darts out to swipe at your trickling hole, drags it past your skin across the other hole he’s yearning for. He feels you clench; he hears the litany of your incoherent words as you take in the new pleasure. He doesn’t touch your clit—he knows how sensitive it is after such an intense orgasm, so he just drags his tongue up and down both of your holes, swirling around the tight entrance. 

When he penetrates you there, you scream. 

You scream a bunch of yes’ in a row and Jungkook imagines your eyes are rolling back like they always are—imagines a grin on that fucked-out face of yours, eyelashes fluttering and wet with liquid emotions. It drives him to drill his tongue there in faster staccatos, moaning against you; the entirety of his bloodstream flowing to his intimate parts. He’s so hard he might burst, length heavy and solid against his stomach, but it brings him a great deal of pleasure to have you open like this, to taste you in a place no one has ever touched before, to give you a new experience that you’ll remember for a long time and possibly beg him for again. 

He sighs against you, drinking you to relax his jaw. Is drunk on the moment, probably enjoys it more than you do. 

You begin riding his face and he just offers you his tongue. Lets you do whatever you want. 

“Feels so fucking good, Jungkook, oh my god.”

You’re fast now and Jungkook feels proud of you. You’re taking charge, chasing your pleasure. His heart skips a beat when you want him in your ass again, and he willingly obliges, fucking you there until the tremor of your body signals him of the thunder of your approaching orgasm. 

You come on his tongue violently. Shuddering, screaming, leaving his neck, mouth, chin and cheeks wet. Dewiness for tears—he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Turning around, you don’t let him breathe before you grab his face and kiss him, licking into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your own rich flavor. Jungkook reciprocates all of your kisses and swipes of your tongue, doesn’t try to dominate you but instead revels in the nasty kiss, bucking his hips against your heat. So slippery, so fleshy. He grunts into your mouth.

When Jungkook sees your blissed-out face, he grins at you. Is blissed-out himself. “How’s that?” he asks. “You have all of my control. All of it.”

Your voice is hoarse when you say, “so fucking amazing, thank you,” and grin down at him just the same. 

Joy beats through his chest, illuminating him from within as if he had his own tapestry of the whole night sky right there above his heart. 

You sink lower down his thighs and pepper kisses along the length of his sticky cock. The gesture moves him and he lets you stay there for a moment while he briefly ponders over how a paralyzing form of pain led him to such a pure, expanding joy that he feels right now. 

Tears well up in his eyes. 

“Come here,” Jungkook pleads and you lift your head like a puppy. 

He decides that he doesn’t want any restrictions on your body anymore. Each move of his hand is calculated as he unclips your bra and tugs your stockings, along with your underwear, down your legs. Even his own clothes come off in a blink of an eye because all he wants is skin to skin contact, to be connected with you on the deepest, most raw level that there is. 

There’s a bit of nervousness coating his voice when he asks you to ride him due to his vulnerability. And when he feels the beginning of you, your heat encompassing him like the warm wind he last had grazing his body in his summer childhood days, the tears that loom in his eyes rush out. 

It feels like he’s back in those days, but only this time all things are made right. But he can’t lie his head down in that tall grass of his childhood and escape—not when you struggle to take him from the angle you’re not used to.

He doesn’t think he ever let you ride him. Not even once. He apprehends you don’t know how to go about it. 

“I know it hurts from this angle, but you can take it,” he says, willing his voice to be smooth as if he wasn’t crying at all—is thankful for the dimness that obscures his vulnerability from you. “You’ve taken me before, you can do it. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, stay frozen on the spot, and Jungkook can’t see. Filmy vision, emotions hurling at him like an incoming surge of waves. But all of that takes a step back when you mewl a pained noise and let yourself fall on his chest, his cock only a quarter of the way in. 

“I’m scared. It’s too sensitive, it hurts.”

You shift your hips so he slips out of you. Jungkook kisses your forehead, wraps an arm around you while the other travels further down, below the roundness of your cheeks. Makes sure you look at him as he says, “don’t be scared, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. There’s no rush. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.” 

He looks at you for a long while—recognizes only some of your features in the dark—and so do you whilst he lulls you into a state of serenity by humming a song his mother sang to him during those summer days, by petting your head ever so fondly. He never realized how broken his inner child truly was until you kiss his tears away—see them, alas—and the boy inside him leaps into the sun-breathed air of the past. Grows into a young man with a dream in his heart and pensive thoughts beneath the thick set of black hair. Transforms into an adult man with love for a dream instead, for all that has become of his ambitions is the desire to be loved, to be wanted. 

Dream or desire, none of it matters now because all of it, in a strange way that heals him, intermingles with each exhale of your breath against his cheek—and with the inch you think you’re ready to take—all of it is fulfilled. 

A dream come true. A desire gratified. 

You’re his and he is yours. And he tells you. 

You kiss him everywhere. Nose, cheeks, neck. Grab his bunny plushie and tuck him into the crook of his elbow. Jungkook holds onto him as you take another inch, other hand holding his shaft as you sink down little by little, stopping whenever it gets too much. 

“You’ve always taken it so well,” he murmurs onto your pained expression, unable to take his eyes off of you. “I was made for you. It’s yours, baby. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.” 

You clench at his words and the noise that you squeak makes him grunt onto your lips.

“That’s right, baby. I’m so proud of you for trying to take me so well like this when your little pussy is so sensitive from my tongue. You deserve to be rewarded, don’t you?” 

The smile blossoming on your mouth is dangerous with its coyness but confidence at the same time. He falls in love with you all over again, feels the tall grass of his childhood bending over his head, sifting through his hair. 

“I’m doing it for you,” you say. “I want to make you feel good.” 

A hum of appreciation. A kiss full of tongue. “Throw your hips back a little. Just like when we dance.” 

He’s not fully sheathed inside of you, but he feels your gummy walls smothering the half of his length and it’s enough. He doesn’t want to hurt you by filling you to the brim—he’s heedful even as he guides your hips with his hands, rolling them back as if you were grinding against him. Both of you danced like that many times before and because you know the move, you’re comfortable once you latch onto his hands and lift them, intertwining your fingers with his, pinning them down onto the mattress. Your hips gain speed, bouncing on him as your chest lifts a little, hovers above him and the bunny in the middle of his stomach, and Jungkook doesn’t let himself feel pleasure until your eyes lid and turn to the ceiling.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re a fucking”—Jungkook whines at the impact of a distinct hard slam of your hips down on his—“pro. My little fucking pro. Doing so good for me.”

He’s losing it and it’s so quick. The change of energy in the room, the arousal rising like fine dust in the air. All because his words nourished you with confidence that blazes the atmosphere around the bed. It’s just you, him and bunny in this microcosm and Jungkook longs to hold onto the plushie. Feels so much like you when he’s the one in control; feels as though you’ve become one in this emotionally charged act. He can’t differentiate between himself and you anymore. 

He’s simply become you because he loves you. Or has been you the whole time due to that very fact. Perhaps loving someone truly means becoming them because what you learn from them, what you mimic from them is perpetually yours.

An awareness of how tired you must be drifts across his mind. He knows that with each excellent performance comes the burning of the muscles so without thinking twice, he maneuvers you to his favorite position—remaining on his lap with your back against his chest and bunny stacked on top of you. He takes the lead but lets you decide the pace. You’re the boss. “Fast or slow?” 

“Fast.” 

Jungkook hums, raising a brow. “Fast? Cunnie isn’t sensitive anymore?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, propping an arm behind his neck. “I want it fast.” 

It’s simultaneous—the deed of two hands, yours and his, grabbing a hold of the fluffy belly of the plushie, fingers traveling and interlocking without a thought, without a direction, and yet meeting. Like two shooting stars. Like the ones you wear under your bottom lashes. 

One person. One mind, one heart. 

Jungkook taps your belly button with the tip of his cock. You laugh softly. He remembers how wide your eyes were in fear when you sat upright on his lower stomach and could clearly see how far he reached inside of you. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

He sinks his length into your warmth. The grass, the caress of the summer wind. You’re the personification of his childhood and Jungkook kisses you hard, tells you of it by the press of his lips on yours. Is ruthless as he ruts into you. His free hand clutches the vibrator and finds your clit under the small dangling legs of bunny. The low intensity is but a thrum, though by the gasps you emit, by the moans that rise in echoes within the atmosphere, he deduces it’s good. 

Smugness returns, hand in hand with his control. He presses the toy harder against you, rubbing it side to side—and this time he doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop fucking you. 

Vigorous with strength, empowered by the free rein of his emotions that were accepted and loved, he pistons his hard cock into that tightness of yours, regardless whether you can handle it or not. Feels right at home, feels—

“Who’s your Daddy?” he questions without slowing down the rhythm of his brutal pace. “Who’s fucking you this good?” 

You hum, licking your lips, and your confidence fucks with him, strips him bare of any sanity he had left. You give him the eyes, flick your tongue against his lips before you tilt your head to kiss him with a brief passion. “You are.”

Butterflies. 

Jungkook drops the vibrator on the bed. Has to touch you, has to grip you—and he does. His hand finds your throat and he squeezes, kissing you with the same passion, prolonging it because what you did wasn’t fair. He needs the passion; he needs to swallow it down and feel it course down his body. And when you give him just that, along with your luscious moans, he rewards you. 

Gives you all of his cock. 

He rams himself into you, balls deep. Repeats it over and over, each thrust harder than the one before. Watches your irises disappear from your eyes, mouth agape, voice gone. Jungkook senses you’re leaving planet Earth again and he stops you. 

“Is this Daddy of yours your boyfriend now?” 

Like a bell, his heart is clanging and the freedom in that sentence losing its principle of ever being a risk causes his eyes to fill with tears again. He’s a mess. His emotions are a mess. But he’s so happy. 

And the smile you give him due to that question—it charges him with the longing power to own it, own you, so he grabs you everywhere. Your chin, your cheeks, your mouth, and you never stop smiling, not even when you say, “he is my boyfriend now, you got a problem with that?” 

The chuckle that rumbles out of his chest is a surprise to him because dizziness takes a hold of his entire being. He’s gone—he’s about to die. This is it. 

He kisses you and the act of your lips wrapping around his makes this so much more real. He squeezes you and bunny in his arms, hips grinding his circles now. “Does it hurt when I’m this deep?” he murmurs. 

“No, feels good.” 

“Let me know if it starts hurting, alright?” 

You nod, pecking him, gripping his hair. 

Jungkook lets go of your hand and slowly lifts you up and down on the hardness of his cock from behind. You’re so light in his hands, like a little angel assigned to his side, just his to play with. You tip your head back, the smile of yours having bloomed into a full grin. Jungkook watches you in awe. 

“Look at you riding me. You don’t need any help.” 

You giggle. Jungkook feels his cheeks fire up. Thinks the sound is angelic, it must be. Thinks the squelch of your pussy taking him, leaving him dewy, is angelic, too. 

It makes him stop playing with you and fuck you properly instead. 

He sits up. Angles your head so your lips touch his, but he doesn’t kiss you. He wants you there so you swallow all of the words that will come off his tongue, so you remember them even when the delirium wears off. 

He pounds into you. 

You’re no longer smiling. 

Takes the vibrator again. Provokes you, just because he can’t help it, by turning up the intensity and letting it only float above your clit, never letting it touch you. He’s not fast as he fucks you. On the contrary, his thrusts are hard. 

Merciless. 

He feels evil when he removes the toy completely, makes sure you watch, and presses it down into the softness between bunny’s legs. He turns your head back to face him and he mimics your moans, scrunches his features in pleasure, giving life to the plushie—acting for her.

But his meanness makes you come and you fall apart in his hands. He feels bad, terribly bad for you, and the feeling begins to consume his insides—so much that he gives you the pleasure he denied you mid climax. He presses the toy against your clit and—

You’re gone. 

Your stream of pleasure forces him out of you and it makes him moan loudly. It makes him moan when he rubs the vibrator all over your absolutely drenched cunt and you just keep coming. And it makes him moan when you beg him to keep fucking you. 

Who is he to say no to you? 

“You just want it bad, don’t you?” 

You nod against his head. Gone, gone, gone. He follows you into that rabbit hole, pounding you rough and fast this time, keeping you caged against him, fingers back in an intricate interlock. You smother him with your femininity and Jungkook is perpetually at wonder how you manage to do that, how you manage to never have enough. It makes him lose his fucking mind, lose everything—lose his identity. He just blurs into you. The stars in his chest pour like liquid into your ribcage. He feels them quivering when he touches your breasts all over. Wonders if you’ll come again for him. 

“Pussy molded just for me, hm, isn’t it?” he breathes. Hot, sweaty, on the brink of insanity. White flashes. Balls tight. Dizziness stealing his senses. “Good little pussy, always wanting more.” 

The air grows dense. 

“Mine,” he growls, voice strained—so close, so fucking close. “My pussy. Mine to fuck. Mine to eat. Mine to love—”

His gut tenses. Flames burn it hot. Time stops. Knuckles turn ivory in the feverish grip of your fingers upon bunny’s tummy; your walls, too, splattered in magnificent white. Jungkook fucks his cum into you, once, twice, for the last time—pumping you full. Giving you all that he has. 

He falls limp against his pillows. The toy buzzes on upon the comforter, long abandoned. 

His exhaustion doesn’t let him open his eyes. Not when his eyes sting with tears once more, not even when your warmth leaves his manhood. He knows you didn’t come this time around, however he doesn’t have the strength to fix it. His vigor oozed out of him and nestled within you—like his control, like his love, like his cum. 

He will make it up to you tomorrow morning. 

Now he needs sleep. He needs the tears to halt their hurting by leaking out of the inner corners of his eyes. Would prefer if you weren’t the witness to it because with his vigor departing, his vulnerability heightened. He’s ashamed of the sea of his feelings, but there’s nothing he can do to change that. He just loves you. 

He’s so happy that he’s yours and he fucked you so good and—

“You tired, baby?” 

You sound just like him. 

Jungkook suppresses his sob, swallows it right down. 

“I’m spent.” Too emotional. “Too spent to wash up.”

He feels a kiss on his nose, the comforter lifting, small warm hands on his body as he’s being tucked into his bed. Jungkook lies on his side. Feels too lonely. As if you had insight into his soul, you settle into the spaces of his form that you know are there for you to hide in. 

With a barrier in between. 

You push bunny’s back against his chest. Click the lamp off.

In the darkness, Jungkook allows his lungs to expand in their silent weeping. Finds bunny, finds your arm. Moves you closer until the plushie serves like a heart in the middle of your bodies. Fingers petting your hair, he allows another thing—

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two

[empress-simps]

Line That Leads To You

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader AU: Soulmate AU CW: Language, Genre: Angst with a happy ending (don't worry guys) Summary: You make Sirius realize that having a soulmate isn’t all that bad— that he too, will have his happily ever after.

Note: One of my favorite tropes to write, soulmate AUs! Sirius just needs love and affirmation. I love writing for this! Enjoy! Picture is from pinterest, credits to the owner!

You know, Sirius never really believed in those pesky soulmates stuff. It irks him to no end, and makes his head hurt.

The topic makes him snappy, bitter, and it leaves him feeling angry. To whom? The world— the one who’s responsible for everything that has to do with soulmates. He thinks it is a bunch of bollocks. It’s a pathetic little concept that everyone seems to be too invested in.

Sirius would be very much happy to tell you it doesn’t really end with a happily-ever-after.

“I’m telling you, Prongs. It’s just a bunch of crap.” Sirius tells James one time at the drawing room in the Potter Manor. James shakes his head, disagreeing with his best mate.

“It isn’t always like Walburga and Orion, Pads.” James gently tells him, eyes swimming with empathy for Sirius. “Just look at me, Lily and I are together, finally.” Sirius can’t help but scoff, shaking his head in a disagreeing manner.

“That’s because you were already pathetically in love with her before you even knew she was the one, Prongs. Same thing for Lily, but she was quite stubborn trying to deny what she felt about you. You guys are actually made for each other.” James lets out a laugh, the memories resurfacing making a love-struck smile appear on his face (Sirius gave him a disgusted look)

“That’s what soulmates are, Pads. You’re supposed to complete each other, balance the other person out” He pursed his lips and sighed, there’s no way Prongs could understand his opinion on the matter.

Complete each other, huh?

Then can someone give him a reasonable excuse on why his parents broke each other? One descended into madness; the other doesn’t really seem to care as long as the noble house of Black lineage will continue.

Sirius bites his bottom lip, deep in thought as he stares at his pinky, willing the connection to be seen; a red string that was tied into a bow that leads to Merlin-knows-where. It serves as a connection; the string that he and only his soulmate can see whenever they want. He tugs on it curiously, awaiting any reaction with bated breath. He almost scrambled away when he felt the other end also tug it. Sirius was utterly terrified, a shiver crawled up to his system, it’s foreign feeling for the Black’s eldest son. It made everything feel too real. A fact that he desperately tries to deny.

That night, before they returned to Hogwarts as sixth year students was the last time he ever willed to see the annoying little string in his pinky, not caring if his supposed other half was finding him or already found him.

Maybe it had to do with his twisted upbringing. He saw how his father cut the string tying him to their mother, the purple string that bound them together turning gray and withering away.

He saw how Regulus flinched, no one should’ve seen a scene like that, but they did. Someone severing their connection to someone who should’ve been with them through better or for worse, the one that fate intended for them. Their life got worse just after that, forcing him to flee and leave his younger brother behind at the deranged hands of Walburga Black.

“You should eat more, Reggie.” You turned towards the quiet and reserved Slytherin, pushing his plate closer to him, which made him wince. “I am quite full.” You raised a brow “None sense, all you did was sip pumpkin juice so you better do as I say or I’ll tell Evan and Junior.”

“Do you know that you boss people around quite well?” He grumbles, shoving a few spoonsful of dinner in his mouth as you hummed in approval, cracking a small smile. “I was told.” Your eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, it seemed to gravitate you, pulling you in.

Looking down at your pinky, you willed the string to be visible to you. Seeing the red string attached to Sirius Black made your stomach churn; was it butterflies? Unease? You don’t particularly know, having mixed reactions to the string that leads to your other half.

You’ve known for over a year now, keeping it to yourself as you quickly figured out that he wants nothing to do with his soulmate.

“Reggie! Reggie!”

You exclaimed, slapping the poor boy’s arm as he was currently staying in the L/n Manor. He looked in your direction, quite annoyed, he was interrupted reading his book. “I’m reading, Y/n. You know, you should too. It’ll do you some good.” He sassed, trying to find which part he stopped reading. “My soulmate! They tugged the string!” You gushed, “They must be looking for me too, right?” You asked no one in particular, you can still feel the tingles you felt, how your heartbeat picked up, and how you felt like you were in could nine.

Quite the opposite from what Sirius felt, huh?

You never told him, never planned to. It was quite clear what his views are on the concept of soulmates when you saw him snogging different girls every week. It wrecked you; you swore you felt your heart stop beating every time you see him loving a girl other than you even just for a week. It sounds stupid and all, but you would give up everything just to know what it feels like; how he will look at you with love and adoration in his eyes, how his touch and kisses would linger on your body, and how his voice would sound like as his breath fans in your ear, whispering promises of love.

You looked at him from the Slytherin table; so close yet so far.

Regulus noticed, the all too familiar broken look in your face. His heart hurts for you, even if you do not tell him, he already knows. Seeing his brother’s indifference, Regulus’s gaze hardened. How could he have the guts to do this to his soulmate?

The memory of their mother's despair, the way she withered away after their father severed the bond, was etched into his mind. Regulus does not wish for anyone to feel that way, he does not wish upon it even in his worst enemies.

It was a pain no one should endure, a lesson that should have been learned.

Yet there sat his brother, laughing with his friends and willfully ignoring the pulls of his heart. The person who held the other end of this unseen tether, was beside Regulus. Your soul ached as you watched your soulmate. It was a betrayal of the heart's deepest connection, and it stirred a tempest of fury within Regulus that he struggled to contain.

“My brother is foolish. Eat.” He states, pushing your food and placing the cornbread on his plate to yours. She cracks a smile, chuckling. “Alright, Reggie. You’re lucky I love you.” You pat his curls, proceeding to eat the bread, smiling a little. Reggie never really shares his food with anyone, except for you. You’re the only exception.

“Padfoot.” Remus starts, looking out of the window as Sirius lays down lazily in his bed, looking at nothing.

“What, Moons?”

“If I say that I have an inkling on who your soulmate is, would you… look for them?” Remus asked cautiously. Peter and James perked up, eyes wide with shock. How could Remus possibly guess who his soulmate is? Unless… They’re also in Hogwarts?

“Don’t start with that crap, Moony.” Sirius sat up; a scowl displayed in his features as his grey eyes turned stormy.

“Don’t you even feel the slightest amount of guilt in your system as you snog other girls?” Remus frowned.

Sirius’s scowl deepened, his hands clenching into fists. “Guilt? For what, Moony? For not wanting to be chained down by some ancient magic?” His voice was a low growl, barely containing the emotions that surged within him. “I won’t be dictated by fate. I make my own choices, and I refuse to be bound by a bond I never asked for.”

Remus’s expression softened, the lines of concern etching deeper into his face. “It’s not about being chained, Pads. It’s about finding someone who complements you, who understands you in ways no one else can.” He paused, his gaze steady and piercing. “You’ve seen what happens when that bond is severed. You’ve seen the pain it causes. Is that what you want for yourself? For your soulmate who’s probably hurting somewhere?”

Sirius looks down, biting his lip and playing with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t plan on severing our bond, Moons- “

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Remus spat, Sirius flinched, looking at anything but them. He knew deep down that Remus was right. He can’t deny he also wants to look for his soulmate. The only thing that was holding him back is that he’s scared. What if your story would end similarly like how Walburga and Orion’s did? Dread fills his system as he reflects on how he slowly realized he’s becoming like his father. Peter and James exchanged a glance, the weight of the conversation settling heavily upon them.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of finding her… Scared of repeating the same mistakes.” He paused, his gaze lifting to meet Remus’s. “But you’re right. I can’t keep running from this. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to me.”

James offered a supportive smile, feeling happy for his friend. Sirius stood up, his posture straightening as if shedding the weight of his fears. “I’ll do it. I’ll find her,” he declared, his voice steady. “I owe it to both of us to at least try.”

“That’s our Padfoot.” Remus breathes a sigh of relief as Peter nods encouragingly at Sirius.

The next daylight soon came. Sirius gulps, looking around the great hall, feeling quite overwhelmed at the number of students entering for breakfast, eating, or chatting amongst themselves. For the first time in a long time, he willed the red string of fate to reappear within his vision.

Ah, there it was. The red string connected to someone from the Slytherin table. Sirius felt his heart drop, seeing the end of the string connected to your pinky. “Y/n?” The name left his lips in a hushed awe, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the string connected to your pinky. You, who laughed with such ease beside Regulus, were the missing piece.

Whether it was some brotherly instinct, Regulus looked at him, shooting him a warning stare as if to say: ‘If you hurt her, you’ll never see the light of day ever again.’

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, knowing eyes set on his friend. “Found her, Pads?”

“Yeah. Found her, Moony.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” James chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as Peter silently cheers him on. “Go on, before you lose your nerve.”

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of Regulus’s protective stare. It was a silent challenge, a vow to keep your heart safe from his brother. With a nod of acknowledgment, Sirius stepped forward, crossing the small distance between the Gryffindor table and Slytherin.

“Y/n,” he said, standing before you, the red string pulsing with a life of its own.

You stilled, slowly looking in his direction. Eyes wide with surprise, searched his for a moment before softening. “I was wondering when you’d come around,” you teared up, making Sirius’ heart ache.

Sirius extended his hand, the red string wrapping around both your destinies. “Let’s talk, yeah?”

And in that moment, as your fingers intertwined, Sirius knew that whatever the future held, he had made the right choice. For in finding you, he had found a new path that began to unravel, one filled with hope and courage. The buzz of Great Hall continued, but both of them felt time still, feeling the bond weave into their souls deeper.

Sirius’s and Y/n’s story had its flaws, but it was theirs, uniquely woven by the red strings of fate.

[waywardcrow]

Timeless.

Summary: 1943. 1975. 2024. Three different decades, three different lives, three different times your life and Bucky's interwined; he lost you twice, will he do it again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader.

TW: It can change each chapter but themes of Bucky as soldier and as the Winter Soldier in general, some stalker behaviour but with good intentions?, flashbacks and a not so good writing style by me, lots of feels, one awful boss, one jerk that almost gets reader in an accident, mentions of headaches, past reader is mentioned to be named Beth but that changes for 2024 version of her so I nicknamed her Ace, this will be a +18 story so minors dni, as always please remember english is not my first language so if I make a mistake or forget something let me know.

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Your head was aching like never before and that was your life now; annoying pain, annoying boss who was a fucking brat with a trust fund who never heard the word “no” as a kid and that now acted like she was entitled to make your life miserable.

It wasn’t like you were and idiot who believed a job like this will be easy, as a born and raised new yorker who watched The devil wears Prada too many times you were aware of what will come your way as PA of the editor of one of the best magazines in the country but your issuess were beyond that, it was easy to handle a bully if you are getting something in exchange besides a check that barely paid your rent.

This job was suppossed to be your opportunity and Mia Alexander was beating up your expectations. With a sigh you picked the coffee and make your way back to the office, it was so stupid that you have to walk three blocks in the pouring rain just to get her stupid cold brew from the stupid pretencious coffee shop that always made you feel like you were back in high school. Always the outsider in a world ruled by assholes, just like the one who pushed you too hard while waiting to cross the street. For an idiotic reason, your first thought was that you will have to go back for another cold brew when the one in your hand hit you and then the pavement, not the bike coming your way.

It happened too fast for you to understand it, the asshole pushing you towards the traffic, your annyoance, the stranger who hold you back in the blink of an eye, the pain in your head stopping and then you were standing at a safe distance to the cars, with your umbrella tossed in the pavement and absolutely no idea of what had happened.

Alexander yelled at you for your aspect when you came back late with her first coffee all over your dull clothes and the second one not good enough apparently, the best you could do was bite your tongue and not tell her to fuck off. This job was everything you had.

“What the fuck happened to you, babe?” Harper didin’t care about Mia but that was because she couldn’t get her fired being her sister and everything, you were a different story.

“Your evil sister doing her usual shit” was your only response, Harper was completely different to Mia and if you tried to tell her about the incident she will drove you herself to ER. She followed you to the bathroom, your blouse was so stained it couldn’t be saved and still you wanted to do something to don’t cry.

Harper pursed her perfect red lips, it didn’t matter how many times she tried to help you, Mia was their mother’s favorite and will never do anything against her; the best she could do for you was to get you out of that clothes.

“Take that off, I’m bringing you something and don’t argue” Harper disappeared before you could try and came back with a pretty blouse with a V line and a small waist that will rock with your boring blue jeans.

“I can’t wear that” you refused still covered in coffee.

“Why? I have seen you wear more skimpy stuff when we go out” someone walked in the bathroom and shot you an intrigued look when she saw Harper undressing you.

“You know why” your dumb boss didn’t like that the person walking three steps behind her attracted the attention so you were expected to wear boring clothes in order to not be noticed by anyone.

“I’m telling you, one of this days I’m going to punch her in the face and I will not give a fuck if I get cut out…” your hand in her mouth stopped her to finish her sentence “back off, Ace” her nickname make you roll your eyes “you know I’m right.”

She was but your life was a constant reminder that no matter how right you were, you had no other option but to do as you were told if you wanted to pay the bills and help your parents, you stopped wishing for a way out long ago, this was your life.

Bucky went back to the tower that night after making sure you were home safe first, Sam tried to call him back but he ignored his phone and jumped in the shower, the hot water barely easing the tension in his muscles. He could have lost you that afternoon.

The super soldier still wanted to chase the idiot who nearly get you killed but Bucky wouldn’t be able to hold back if he saw him again, that’s why he asked Sam to take care of it without giving a good explanation beyond what had happened: a jerk pushed a by-stander to the traffic and didn’t give a shit about it. Bucky had to act like you were nothing to him, just another civilian he could help. He was liar, a murderer, a destroyer of lives but that lie, insignificant and not even believable, left his chest aching. You were everything; you always were from the moment he set his eyes on you that night in 1943.

Bucky expected more from his last night home before going to war, his date was nice but Connie will never think twice about him once he was gone and in all honesty, he wouldn’t do it too. Maybe it was the fact that Steve insisted in being enlisted that left him so uneasy, maybe the thought of leaving his family behind when his ma and his sisters already lose too much or maybe it was everything mixed with his fears.

Opposite to Steve, he never wanted to go to the war, it was what left them without a father, what left his mom without a husband, Bucky swore he will never abandon his family to fight and die alone in someone else’s land but his country didn’t care about his promises and his fears and demanded his blood and sacrifice anyway.

He tried to don’t let his family see this, not even Steve but Rebecca could see it, only three years of difference between them made them close to know each other well. She was there when Bucky got the letter informing him about being drafted, she held him while he cried like a little kid and swore to don’t say a word to the others, Rebecca woke up early the morning of his mandatory training to make him breakfast and give him a hug before their ma could do the same.

Bucky didn’t want to leave her in charge, she was his little sister, his responsibility but he was sure Rebeca will do it.

The way back after leaving Connie and her friend home was silent, Steve probably was back in their apartment after being rejected again, Bucky promised himself to be reasonable with his best friend later but after he spent one more night with his family.

In the porch stairs there were two girls whistling a short melody, he could see them from the distance, one was Rebecca but he didn’t knew who was the other one, her hair pinned up perfectly giving him a good view of one perfect neck and three moles aligned like a little constellation.

When he got close enough, Rebeca spotted him and she broke a smile.

“Bucky! You are here!” His sister got up, holding him in her embrace. After all those years he could swear he still remembered her scent: homemade cookies and lilacs. “You are early” she said, giving him a suspicious look.

Before she could say more, he interrupted “Who’s your friend, Becca?”

You shot him a funny glance, like you knew what he was doing and follow his sister after fixing your skirt.

“I’m Beth, nice to meet you” You and Rebecca were being friends for more of a year but you never met her brother, Rebeca tried to set you both up but he insisted in not dating anyone as young as her sister, didn’t seem right but that was before he got a chance to actually know you.

He knew a lot of beautiful girls; he probably dated a good number of them in the last years but you were more than your pretty eyes or your perfect lips, he never felt like his whole world stopped with any of them the way he felt it with you.

“Beth” Bucky repeated, his tongue tasting sweet with the echo of your name in his mouth. A charming smile made its way to his lips and you blushed under the intensity of his eyes. Everybody talked about Rebecca’s brother, such a ladies man, a respectful one but a ladies man anyways and you were raised better than to be one of those dames who let men sweep them off their feet.

“I should go back home, Becca” you said giving your friend a quick hug and a nod to her brother.

“Let Bucky walk you home Beth, is late and your mother will not be happy if she knows you went alone” oh Rebecca was good, Bucky could see the spark in her eyes, identical to his, and he could hear her future constant reminders from now on about how she told him so, she was always right about him and Beth.

“I don’t want to impose” was all the girl could say and Bucky took that as his chance.

“Please, allow me to escort you home safe, miss” he used his best smile and extended his arm like a gentleman “it will be an honor.”

For a heartbeat, he could see your intention to roll your eyes but you agreed and took his arm, Rebeca didn’t do a good job at hiding her smile saying her goodbyes before going back to the house to tell Winnifred everything.

And that was the only time he could be close to you before he lose everything he was once.

Next chapter >>>

Please let me know what you think! Thanks 🩵.

[xoxo-susu]

The ultimate guide to being coquette as a hijabi girlie

Being a coquette hijabi is so hard because so many of the key motifs (mini skirts/more revealing clothing, the literal meaning of the word, for example) go against what we believe in. But it's not impossible. So here are my personal favorite ways to be a coquette girlie without compromising my faith! (p.s thank you to @augusttheicedcoffeeaddict for reminding me to post this hehe ily)

Also!!! No hate to the coquette girlies who do wear mini skirts etc.

The white maxi skirt  🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Mini skirts are a staple in so many coquette outfits and so many people will try to make you think maxi skirts aren't cute but they're just haters. A cute sweater + a pleated or tiered white maxi skirt + some crafty layering has been such a lifesaving formula for me. Blouses work great for this too. And the things you can put on top of a white maxi skirt are endless. Pretty blouses, mini dresses, sweaters, sweatshirts, even cute tshirts with long sleeved shirts underneath. Same goes for denim skirts. I'm looking for one right now and I can't find any I like, but once I do I'll be unstoppable.

Bowssss 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Bows. Bows are THE coquette accessory. And, thank god, you don't have to wear a mini skirt to wear bows!

Put them on literally everything. If you want to put them on your hijab, you can use a safety pin to put it on the back of your head, or you could do what I usually do, which is put them in my hijab pins. Depending on the size you can make it as subtle as you want. I have a pinterest tutorial here. (The pic on the left is me!)

Heart shaped sunglasses 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Another coquette/vintage americana staple you can wear!

Berets 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Same thing!

Fuzzy white earmuffs 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

These are SOSOSO perfect for winter. (pic on the left is me again heh)

At home 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

So far, this has all been stuff just in the context of going out in public. At home, I highly recommend doing you hair in a coquette way and wearing things you can only have on in front of family. It's such a confidence booster. It's a bit of effort but it's so so worth it!

Her bedroom is the window into the girl's soul 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

The coquette aesthetic is way more than just the clothes and hair. So if you really want to feel coquette, try and make your room as coquette as possible. Put up some coquette posters on your wall. A lot of coquette posters are haramcore and some people don't like putting up faces on their wall, so here are some really cute pics for inspo :3

What's in your bag? 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Purses can make or break a good outfit. My biggest tip is to match them to your hijab. It pulls it all together. The last thing you want is for your hijab to feel like it's clashing with the rest of the outfit.

What's inside is important too! Inner beauty isn't just for living things. Keep whatever essentials you already have, plus lipgloss, a compact mirror bc no one's out here trying to have a bad hijab day, and a little bit of ribbon. Trust me about the ribbon.

Shoes!!! 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Please don't wear a super cute coquette outfit and then wear tennis shoes. Just don't. Mary janes, Doc M's, and ballet flats are all really good choices.

Ik I probably sound like I'm obsessing over tiny things, but you kinda have to bc when you're breaking the mold every little thing matters.

Lastly <3 🦢˚✧𓂃🩰 ໒꒱ ⋆ ˚ ⊹

Last but not least, do not ever ever let people make fun of you. If you're a hijabi coquette girlie, you probably have some form of a muslim community, and they probably won't dress in your style. That was my case, and when I first started wearing mary janes and lace gloves I got SO made fun of. Not from the adults, but from my friends. One girl called my mary janes dorky and said they annoyed her every time she saw them. I think she expected me to laugh, but you just have to keep a straight face and say to their face that you thought that was rude. She never called me dorky again 🤷‍♀️

Take this post as a reminder that you can stay true to your faith while looking fabulous. If you have any questions pls pls feel free to ask anything. Ily all honeys, bye ♡

[almostyours]

hihihihi !!!!! 1, 19, and 20 for my bestest friend ever yvan 🤗

01.      ‎ ‎ ┉      :     if  you  could  tell  your  past  self  anything  ,  what  would  it  be ?

“   wake up!      ”   yvan exclaims,    pretending to grip someone's shoulders and give them a shake.    “   you’re okay,    everything’s fine,    you will be okay!    dye your hair!    get that mario bros tattoo you saw on pinterest!    don’t dwell so much when it comes to your own comfort.    cut ties with those who won’t do you any good.    you don’t need those relationships nor that gorgeous prada coat hwayoung unnie had to pay for because you didn’t have enough on your debit card the first time she took you to the mall after winning a shady survival show!    ”

19.      ‎ ‎ ┉      :     what’s  your  favourite  memory ?  

"    ooooh,    i have plenty,    "    they raise a hand to start counting.   "   the first time i won in a singing show,    my first solo performance in ditto’s avenue,    when THE kim taeyeon complimented me after our into the new world cover at a festival,    the day my group finally debuted,    seeing my name in the credits of one of our albums for the first time,    interviewing margot robbie and america ferrera during their barbie promotion in south korea,    getting accepted into my first musical theater show—and i hope everyone enjoyed it because i gave it my all!    then there's our first daesang win,    the day i made eminem's fans soooo mad by saying that kaia absolutely surpassed him effortlessly,    opening my first sold-out stadium tour with my group,    and i have many more,    but…   ”   they pause,    showing their raised fingers.   "   i think i need more fingers on my hands.   ”

20.      ‎ ‎ ┉      :     what’s  your  least  favourite  memory ?

yvan purses their lips,   showing discomfort with the question.    "   ...just like i have plenty of favorite memories,   i have plenty of least favorite ones,    it seems.   "   they pause, taking a moment to think over their words before sighing deeply.   "   the day i confronted my father about…    how he used to treat me when i was younger,   "    they cringe at the memory,    "   it didn’t go well.   i try not to think about it,    or him.   i hope he’s bald.   "

.   ✦   °  ◞⁺     :    "ALL  ABOUT  ME"  ASK  GAME   ☘️

[mundanemoongirl]

Yejin

Ok I also have to rant about my character that I hated the most. While coming up with characters for my mystery wip, my first thought was a crazy ex would kidnap the missing girl. Then I realized that was too obvious, but I kept the crazy ex anyways to have more suspects.

She was a trope, and one I find annoying at that, but her character was important to my story. To give her more use than just being a suspect, I gave her the role of begrudgingly helping my main character find her missing girlfriend. She has more information on the girlfriend because she dated her first and for longer.

Things really changed when I made a mood board for her. I scoured all of pinterest for a picture I thought suited her and landed on a really pretty one. I was conflicted because in my mind she was too crazy to be that pretty, but I also couldn't find any other pictures I thought could be her. That's when I thought of a solution that changed this character from crazy ex to a girlboss that I now adore. Yes, she will be pretty...and she will know it. She's weaponizes beauty and hides her crazy under her pretty girl mask, but you can still see it poking through at times. This development also led to her being smart and cunnning.

How did I get her name? Well my first year in college I had a roommate named Sejin, and I hated her. Sejin was so selfish that she once asked a friend to put up lights above her bed then went to shower instead of helping to put up her own damn lights. Sejin was so cruel that she stopped talking to me about two weeks in and never explained why. But that didn't stop her from talking about me in the halls. Sejin was so dumb that she once opened the door to our room while I was half naked. So of course I would name my crazy character after a crazy person, but I didn't want to give her the full satisfaction so I changed the first letter.

Yejin is now my favorite character to write. Under the cut is my favorite scene I've written with her. Keep in mind that I don't have a full first draft yet so this is VERY rough.

“I’m here to talk about Chinwe.” Yejin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about Chinwe?” “She’s my girlfriend.” Yejin’s eyes narrowed further. “And she’s missing.” Yejin sat there like that for several seconds, eyes narrowed, studying me. Then she relaxed back in her chair. The only expression in her eyes was boredom. “Well that has nothing to do with me.” “Really? Then why do you follow Chinwe’s friends on instagram?” Yejin pulled a lip gloss tube out of her purse and started applying it. “Is it a crime to follow people,” she said mid-stroke. “Why do you follow these specific people? You have no connection to them other than Chinwe.” Yejin capped her gloss and smiled at me snarkily. “Maybe I did find them through Chinwe, but I make it a habit to follow every pretty girl I see.” She held out her lip gloss to me. “Want some?”

[mentalspaco]

I posted 1,181 times in 2022

25 posts created (2%)

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@cookieface678

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I tagged 224 of my posts in 2022

#rottmnt - 95 posts

#tmnt - 24 posts

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Longest Tag: 135 characters

#work for the next ten days (usually 6am-2.30pm) and dude my sleeping schedule is so fucked like it's almost 8pm argh and i am not tired

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The real reason Donnie sound-prooved the lab is bc he plays League of Legends on his nights off.

Which we all know, is when the evilest and most toxic part of your personality comes out.

So he would listen to fnaf songs and his usual stuff while having the time of his life or just repeatedly screaming: "DO YOU EVEN FUCKING KNOW HOW TO PLAY THIS GAME??!???!??" at the screen. While raging very hardcore.

He does only play once or twice a week to avoid permanent aggression. As to reduce usual aggression towards his family and not feed that and make him rage off in the middle of the day.

124 notes - Posted September 28, 2022

#4

Okay but

Mikey definitely knits and sews. That's his thing. And he makes his brothers those knitted animals you see on Pinterest

These ones.

And oh me gosh the shenanigans that he could pull,,, but mainly i am convinced his brothers love and support him so much <3 bc he is the youngest <3 and idk i always love supporting my little sister when she's a big fan of something and i think it's really sweet. Like

Ralph gets mostly the stuffed animals, and he has a. Lot. Of them. But yk, you can never really have enough <3 because of his big rough shell and body he can't always squish and hug his family, specifically his siblings, as much as he'd like to, so the animals help him get some of his energy out <3

Leo gets the cool accessories. I'm talking: really awesome gloves, that goose bag from the pic, oh yes he unironically loves it. Knitted jellyfish ?? That he loves and adores so much that he shows to every person coming into his room?? A mini money purse that is shaped like a frog and can be opened by opening the frogs mouth????? Yes bitch. That's his stuff.

And ofc Donnie gets most of the knitted and sewn hoodies and jackets. (Head Canon that he also wears lots of robes just like their dad in the future, just really joggy and lose outfits)

Mikey even tried to replicate the purple jacket(!!!!!) As best as he could and after LOTS of hard work. And lots of investment of time and other bodily fluids. He gave it to Donnie on his birthday. You could say that Donnie rubbedd it very much in everyone's faces <3

(Mikey also made knee for Leo bc he and donut are twins, but the Leo agreed with Mikey that he'd get his a day after their birthday just to let Donnie have his fame and happiness for the day)

After Mikey's success with the purple jackets, he went and started in the designs of official mad dogs (!) Jackets!!! (It'd be a surprise for new years or something)

Donnie also gets.....!!!

Those knitted cat ears that you can wear on your headphones but also normally <3 Donnie, after that, only owns headphones with those car ear covers that Mikey made for him <3

Also cannot forget our main girl April ♡♡♡♡

She's a big big big autumn fan (no I'm not projecting) and Mikey made her some small mushrooms in various sizes and colors. And a tote bag with a strawberry pattern!!! Which is her favorite in the world!!!! (Also every Halloween he comes around with an outfit for Mayhem, i mean yeah mayhem can't hold still and doesn't wanna wear em but THEY LOOK SO. FREAKING CUTE ON THEM <333333)

Splinter gets socks. Because he's old and he complained about cold feet (he did also get a blanket for his tv chair. With which he falls even faster asleep)

Draxum also got some socks and a robe. So now he and splints are the tired dads who deserve retirement <3

And Mikey? He loves loves loves seeing how happy he can make his family <3 he loves to get inspired by the humans fashion sense and goes to social media to see what else he can put into his works. He always tries to find something new that he can somehow connect with his passion of creating!

169 notes - Posted September 3, 2022

#3

leo fanart<3

235 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

#2

In honor of a hopeful renewal!!! I am blessing everyone with this absolutely jaw dropping animation i found on yt of the rise gang! Check it out!!!

327 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

785 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[foreverindreamlandd]

Bucky wanted to read her fanfictions and she always declined. So he begged and begged and begged... until she finally gives up and let him read one. 'Cause who could really say no to Bucky making puppy eyes?!

Let me know what you think about it

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

WC: 1.5k (I am apparently incapable of writing a drabble)

A/N: Thank you again for another awesome request! I was basically cackling the whole time I wrote it. Want to read about how Bucky and this reader got together? Check out their origin story in my To Be Wanted series! Only warning in this one is the usual swearin’ like a sailor.

----

“See, this is why I always order Thai food. I can never do it justice.” You frown over your wok, mixing the noodles around with a wooden spoon hoping it will somehow make your creation taste better.

“I’m sure it tastes great, doll.” Bucky walks up next to you and grabs a noodle, tilting his head back as he drops it into his mouth.

His eye twitches almost imperceptibly and you groan.

“It’s good,” he coughs out, trying with all of his strength to regain his composure. “I think you just went a little too hard on the chili paste. I can feel my sinuses clearing up though, which is good, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Can you check the recipe on Pinterest again? I swear I put in the right amount.”

Bucky walks over and picks up your iPad. Right as he’s scrolling to find out if you should have used 2 tablespoons or 2 teaspoons of chili paste, a notification banner pops up and he accidently taps it, opening up your Tumblr app.

Omg! This fic is amazing! The way Bucky is there to support the reader. My heart completely melted! Your Bucky stories are amazing, Y/n! <3

Above the comment is a photo of him. It’s a shot from the news where he’s helping a civilian stand up after one of the attacks made by The Red Hand.

“Uh….love? What’s this?” He holds the iPad up to you and you shift your gaze over to him.

You drop the wooden spoon into the wok as all of the blood drains from your face. You’re frozen in place for a millisecond before you pounce on Bucky to grab the device from him. He’s never seen you move so quickly and it catches him off guard.

“Bucky give me the iPad right now,” you fling your arms toward it and he pulls it away, both amused and a bit concerned by your reaction.

“Wait, what is this? Is it something I should be worried about?”

You see a flicker of panic flash in his eyes and you stop flailing. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“No, I mean, I should be concerned because if you read that I’m probably going to combust and you’re going to dump me and run for the hills.” He furrows his brows in confusion and you slowly lift up your hand. “Can I please have that back before I have a mild panic attack?”

He stares at you, trying to gauge your emotions. All he can see is panic and sadness and it breaks his heart so he instantly gives in and hands you the iPad.

“Don’t worry about it, love. I trust you.” He leans forward to give you a chaste kiss.

You let out a pained groan against his lips and Bucky is once again confused.

“Ughhhh I hate hiding things from you.” You lock your iPad so the screen goes dark. “Okay, fine, I guess this conversation is happening. Remember when we first started dating and I, uh, mentioned I used to read and write stories about….us being a couple?”

Bucky nods, trying not to reveal any emotion to you that might make you spiral into a panic, and you continue.

“Well, that was one of those stories I wrote. I stopped looking on Tumblr basically as soon as I met you because it got all weird and meta and I got super uncomfy by the idea of reading fanfics - that’s what they’re called - about my new friend/now boyfriend Bucky Barnes. And then we started dating and I was all happy and shit and I totally forgot that those fics were still out there. Obviously I haven’t written any since then because that would be weird for...many, many reasons. Someone must have found an old one and commented on it. I’ll delete it. I’ll delete all of them. I swear. I’m so sorry, Bucky. I should have been more on top of this.”

Bucky stares at you, lips pursed and you grimace, afraid of the next words that are about to come out of his mouth.

This is so weird, Y/n. How could you do this?

No wonder you didn’t date anyone before me.

Obsessed much? (Okay, he probably wouldn’t say it like that but STILL).

No, what Bucky said next was much, much worse than what you could have imagined.

“Can I read one?”

Your mouth drops. Closes. Drops again. You blink rapidly.

“I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. What?”

Bucky points to your iPad, a sly grin forming on his face. “I want to read one of your stories.”

You take a step back from him, horror stricken as you pull the iPad closer to you as if you were protecting your collector’s edition of ‘Throne of Glass.’

“Absolutely not.”

Bucky steps forward and you step back. He chuckles. “Come onnn, doll. I want to know what your fantasies were about me before we got together.” He laughs harder as the look of horror on your face grows more manic.

“Bucky, I know you’re a super soldier and could probably punch me into the sun with your metal arm, but I promise I will fight to the death before I let you read one of these fics.”

You and Bucky continue this dance of him stepping forward and you stepping back until you feel your legs make contact with your couch and you fall back into a sitting position on its arm. Bucky uses this opportunity to tower over you, his arms resting on the couch so that you’re pinned between them.

Then, he pulls out the big guns.

His gaze softens, blue eyes shining into yours. His bottom lip puffs out and he gives you the most adorable, sexiest pout you’ve seen in your whole life.

“Please, love?” He says it with a slightly higher pitch, almost like a whine and it still sounds like honey to your ears. He even nudges your nose with his like a freaking sociopath.

Damn.

You close your eyes, let out a breath, then open them back up to him. “I hate you.”

His pout turns into a boyish grin and he gives you a quick kiss. “You love me.”

You groan. “Hopefully you still love me after this, Buck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You stand and open up your iPad, scrolling through your masterlist and finding what used to be one of your favorite fluff pieces. You begrudgingly hand it to Bucky and he sits on the couch.

Unable to sit still during this agonizing experience, you proceed to pace around your apartment like a crazy person and resort to cleaning the inside of your microwave which you haven’t done in a few months so it’s a good thing that Bucky is reading your fic so that you could get that out of the way. You probably won’t have a boyfriend in a few minutes but at least your microwave will be spotless.

You only steal a few glances at Bucky as he reads, mortified each time as you see his eyebrows move in every possible direction. Up, down, knit together, were they criss-crossed at one point?

Finally, after what feels like the longest ten minutes of your life, Bucky lets out a soft grunt, placing the iPad down on his lap. He looks up to you and you give him a weak smile.

“Alright, let me have it, Buck. Give me your worst. Be honest. Also, I love you.”

Bucky glances down at the iPad and then back at you.

“Well, I have a few questions.”

Your right eye twitches. “Hm?”

“Now that you’ve met me, do you still think my eyes are an all-consuming storm of blue?” You groan. He grins. “Or do you think my jawline was cut from marble created by the gods?”

This time, you breathe out a laugh and you walk over to sit on his lap. You take hold of his chin.

“Bucky, I don’t think I could ever come up with the right words to describe you. The real thing is quite literally a million times better than anything I’ve ever written.”

His eyebrows raise. “That is...probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten in my whole damn life.” He leans forward and kisses you, and you sigh into the feeling of his mouth on yours, relief flooding through you.

You pull away, eyes skeptical. “So, you’re not thinking about how you can escape and never see my crazy ass again?”

“On the contrary, love, I’m thinking about how I can convince you to buy this gorgeous green dress you apparently wore as my wedding date. The one that showed off your cleavage in a way that made Bucky’s brain melt.”

The two of you burst out laughing and you lightly shove his chest. “Sure thing, Bucko. How about I work on the dress situation and you work on ordering us Thai food so that we don’t lose our taste buds from whatever the hell I just made.”

-----

Thank you for reading! Feel free to check out my other stuff here. :)

Taglist: @ceo-of-daichi @biiskuitx @forgetthisbull @eclipses-and-moondust @abcdefxkyou @jackiehollanderr @billionsofbeans @abitgryffindorky @lovelylostminds @mija-just-breathe @semlohkratz @bratty-longbottom-replies @carrotfantasimp @cremedelabrulee @ant1r3al1ty @th-e-mg@laura-moehrchen @emma-the-duck17 @sunnyjane4 @rosaline-black @parodsal000 @vicmc624 @abrunettefangirlnerd @officiallykuute @edityourwishingwell @mymindslabyrinth

***This was the original tag list for the To Be Wanted series. If you would like to be removed from the taglist for any other stories related to this series, feel free to DM me! And let me know if you would like to be *added* to the taglist for any other future stories featuring these two knuckleheads. :)

[raineydays411]

The best of friends

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: The dreaded weekend has arrived. It goes as well as you expected, but you made some new friends.

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

First of all, let it be known that you tried oh so desperately to get out of this situation.

You tried to feign an illness, Bruce deemed you okay. You said you were supposed to be training with Steve, Bucky said he was on a mission. Hell, you even tried to get into trouble and be grounded, but your dad saw right through it. 

“Y/n, why don’t you wanna go with Peter and his friends?” He asks, slightly irritated but mostly worried. 

“Because...” You don’t answer the question. Instead opting to look around the common room and avoid eye contact. 

“Because what? You love hanging out with Peter.” Then he mumbles,” Maybe a little too much” 

You were going to defend yourself, but then you realized you had one more trick up your sleeve. 

“It’s just...I realized that I haven’t really spent time with you.” You look at your dad with big eyes,” Ever since I met Pete, we’ve been hanging out almost every weekend, we rarely have any father-daughter time” 

Tony’s face softens,” Well, you’re not wrong..” 

Yes! He took the bait!

“Oh what the hell, Spiderling can just come over next weeke--”

“Tony!” Oh no..

“Hey Pep, I was just planning a daddy- daughter day with Y/n”

She looked at you apologetically, “I’m sorry sweetie, but your dad seems to have forgotten that we have a meeting to attend”

God damnit. 

“I didn’t forget. I just don’t want to go.” He pouts as Pepper drags him away. He turns to you, “ Kid, just go with Peter today, we can spend some time together tomorrow or something, OW Pep I’m coming!!” 

You sigh, looking at the time and realizing that you had two hours to get ready. You slowly walk to your room, freading every step you take. On your way there you bump into Wanda. Literally.

“Oh sorry Wanda” You mutter, it’s still a little awkward between you two. 

“It’s okay.” She smiles,” Are you alright, you seem like you have a lot on your mind.” Ironic.

You sigh, and tell her about your plans with Peter and how he invited Liz and his friends.

“So, you’ve finally realized your feelings for the Spider boy.”  

You choke hearing her words,” Wh-what?! Who said anything about feelings?”

She looks at you with a bored face,” You do know I can basically read your mind right? Besides, I don’t have read your mind to see you like each other. It pretty obvious all on it’s own.”

You look down, “ I don’t know, you should have seen his face when he saw Liz...” 

It was silent for a second, then Wanda’s face grew a look of determination, “ Okay, then we’ll make him realize how much he likes you.” 

With those words, she pulled you along into your room. 

“When did she get so strong?” You thought to yourself, surprised at how easily she was able to maneuver your body.

Once you were in your room, she made for your closet.

“Boys are stupid” She said, going through all your clothes, “ They don’t realize they want something until someone else wants the same thing.” 

“So..where exactly are you going with this?” You ask cautiously. Then she pulls out an oversized t shirt, biker shirts, and some sneakers. 

“Everytime you see Peter, you’re bare faced and in sweats. And while there's nothing wrong with that, I know that you want Peter to recognize you was a potential partner, yes?”

You nod,” Yes, but what does dressing up have to do with anything?” 

Wanda rolls her eyes,” Right now, he sees you as a friend. His buddy that he sees only on the weekend, away from his ‘normal’ life. You want to break that notion.”

You nod along, everything she says is making sense. Even if Peter is a little touchy with you, it seems to be very subconscious. You want him to look at you the way he looks at Liz. You want that silly smile he gives her to be aimed at you. 

Besides, it has been a while since you got the chance to dress up. 

You smile at Wanda, “ You know, you’re really fun to hang out with.”

She blushes at your words,” It's nice to have a girl to hang out with. Put on your clothes then call me, I’ll help you with your make up.” Then she walks out of your room, softly closing the door. You never realized it before, but Wanda really does keep to herself and Pietro. She’ll talk to Vision or Steve every once in a while, but it's pretty rare. Maybe you both weren’t so different after all...

You smile as you change, your talk with Wanda helped ease your anxiety for the moments. You decide to do your hair in your favorite hairstyle. Then you picked out some necklaces, the gold meshing perfectly on your brown skin. Then you called Wanda back in.

“Beautiful, Parkers not going to know what hit him” She says with a smile, “I know you don’t wear much makeup on a regular day, so how about this?” 

She pulls up a picture on pinterest. You smile, she really looked up ‘black girl makeup’ on pinterest for you. 

“I love it. I have some falsies I use for galas in my makeup bag.” 

So you and Wanda spend the next thirty minutes doing your makeup. It really was fun. The two of you laughed and giggled at each other, sang along to the music playing in the background, and talked about anything and everything. 

When you were finally done, you stared at yourself in the mirror. It was weird. Sure, you’ve been dressed up before, but that was usually when you went to fancy dinner parties with your dad. This was a whole other thing.

“You’re missing something.” Wanda says looking at you, “ But I’m not too sure what it is...” Then, Pietro peaks his head in the door.

“Um Wanda, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all ove-” “Pietro! You can’t just walk into a girls room without knocking!” “You’ve been in here for almost two hours how was I supposed to Kn--” 

You chuckle at the two siblings bickering. It kind of reminded you if you and your dad. For a forty year old man, he really could act like a child.

“Since you’re here, we need a boys opinion” Wanda says cutting off whatever you were thinking about.

“What for?” He asks skeptically, finally realizing that there was another person in the room with them.

“She’s missing something, yes?” She says, pulling you over to them. Your face burns as you feel Pietro's gaze on you. Looking for whatever Wanda claims that was missing.

“That shiny sticky stuff you put on your lips.” He says,” oh and try these” a burst of wind hits your face and blows back Wanda's hair as Pietro runs and comes back with a pair of tiny sunglasses. 

“Here.” He places them on your head, “You know, you’re actually really pretty.” 

Wanda laughs,” If it doesn’t work out with Peter, you can always date Pietro”

“That's not what I meant!” He says with a blush, “ Are you finally going on a date with the Spider boy?” 

You sigh,” No, he invited his crush and his friends to our shopping trip” 

Pietro shakes his head,” You should make him jealous.” 

Wanda rolls her eyes and you look at him in confusion,” What do you mean?”

“Men want things they can’t have. If you make him jealous, he’ll definitely pay attention to you.” Then his eyes widen, “ Hey! I can dress up like a teenager and--” “NO” 

Wanda yells shutting down that idea,” Y/n, don’t listen to my idiot brother.” She hands you the lip gloss,”Now, just make sure to show him what he’s missing, act the way you do when you were with me.” 

“Ms. Stark? Mr. Parker is waiting for you in the lobby.”

Wanda and Pietro with you to the elevator

“Good luck Y/n, remember what I said.” Wanda said with a wink.

Pietro smiled as the doors closed, but you could have sworn he smirked at the last minute. 

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

“Oh well” You think,” Okay, just be yourself, be yourself” 

The elevator doors open to reveal MJ and Ned sitting on the lobby chairs. They stand up at the sound of the doors opening.

“Finally, Peter kept-- woah” Ned’s eyes widened at seeing you. “H-hi” 

“Hi Ned” You say with a soft smile, “ Wheres Peter?” 

“He’s outside waiting for Liz’s mom to drop her off” Mj said with a scoff, “ Really, you’d think she’d be on time..”

“Oh..okay” You say, already Peter was ignoring you for Liz and the day barely started. “Well, let’s meet him outside” 

The three of you started to make your way outside when a gust of wind blew from the back.

“Ah Printsessa! I’m glad I caught you before you left” 

oh no...

“You forgot your purse on the counter. I’m sure you need it or this shopping trip” He says with a smirk, holding the small bag with his finger.

Ned and Mj were in shock. Either because they were starstruck or because they weren’t expecting to talk to one of the Avengers. 

“Hey guys! Liz is here!” Peter says walking into the building. ‘Oh hey Y/n” 

“Hey Pete” You say, annoyed that he was just greeting you. Not even with a hug. 

“Well!” Pietro saud loudly,” Here is your bag” 

As you went to grab the bag, Pietro raised it out of your reach. 

“Come on printsessa, I know you’re faster than that” He said in a teasing tone.

“Pietro! We have to go” You said with a laugh, confused on why he was acting like this.

“Okay okay” He goes to hand the purse to you,” You really do look beautiful, as always.” He says with a smile. “побачимось пізніше принцесою“ 

Then he pecks you on the forehead, winks at the group, and is gone with another burst of wind. 

“What was that?” Peter asks,” I didn’t know you were so close with Pietro.”

“Well him and Wanda helped me pick my outfit” You said with a shrug, “I didn’t even know I was close to Pietro like that”

“Well, your outfit is super cute” Liz said with a smile. 

“Damn I can’t even hate her, she's so nice” you think to yourself. 

‘Thank you” you said weakly, “ I honestly didn’t know I had clothes like this” 

“Neither did I” mumbled Peter. 

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

The five of you started the day by walking to some of the shops near the Tower. You,Mj, and ned ended up being left behind while Peter and Liz were in the front.

“Why did he invite us if he isn’t going to talk to us?” Mj mumbles to you and Ned.

“Aw come on Mj, Peter’s been trying to talk to Liz for like three years now.” Ned whispers back. 

“That doesn’t mean he has to ditch his friends” you say quietly, Mj agreeing with you.

“Exactly, this is Y/ns first time out with friends and he’s missing it for Liz.” 

“Why does everyone think I don’t have friends?” You say with a laugh,” I just don’t have any in the city.”

“Right” Mj says,” Either way, you don’t get out much.”

“That’s right! We should be having fun, not moping about Peter.” Ned adds, “Come on!” 

He pulls you and Mj into the store, dragging you through the aisles and making you both try on ridiculous stuff. It was really fun, you laughed as Ned draped a feather boa on an annoyed Mj. But then you noticed that Peter and Liz were standing way too close to each other. Peter ran a hand through his hair as Liz laughed at whatever he said. 

That cold feeling grew in your chest again. You watched as Peter awkwardly picked lint off of her hair as she smiled. 

“Hey! We should go to this carnival they’re having!” Ned yells, ruining their moment. 

“Way to go Ned” You think, satisfied at the outcome. 

“A carnival?” Peter asks, “ I don’t know Ned, it's pretty far from here..”

“Aw come one guys! It one sub stop away from here! “

“I’ve never been to a carnival before” You said, “It sounds fun”

“But Mr. Stark said not to go too far..”

“You know a carnival does sound fun” Liz says, then Peter softens and gets that stupid look on his face. 

“Okay fine” He says, “ We should get going.” 

“Of course he agrees with her” Mj mutters.

“No kidding” You whisper back.

The walk to the subway was awkward, you all waited quietly for the train to get there.

“So..I guess you’ve never been on a sub before huh?” Liz said, trying to make conversation.

‘The last time I was on one, my mother was leaving me with my dad.” You said blankly, watching the people around you scurry. You didn’t mean to be so rude. Really, it wasn’t her fault that Peter liked her, but you couldn’t help it. You just wanted to spend time with Peter alone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I..I didn’t know” Liz said looking away. Peter looked in between you two, as if he didn’t know who to comfort. 

He chose Liz of course.

“Hey, it’s okay you didn’t mean to” He said rubbing her back. “ She knows that”

You and Mj simultaneously roll your eyes. She looks at you as if asking if you’re okay. You nod, appreciating the small gesture. 

The group gets on the subway. You see Peter go to sit down, one space free next to him. You see Liz talking to Ned about the carnival and Mj was already sitting somewhere else. So you took the chance to finally be alone with Peter. 

You sit down with a sigh, finally glad to be off your feet.

“Hey” You mutter to Peter, pulling out your lip gloss and mirror. 

“Hey! Gosh I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever” Peter says chuckling. He turns to look at you. “So, are you having fun? Are Ned and Mj being nice to you?”

“Yeah, they’re great.” You say, pouting in the mirror. From your peripheral, you can see Peter glance at your lips. You smile, and suddenly turn towards him. Your faces close together. 

“You look great..by the way..” He says lowly, “You look different..” 

“Well, I’m not in my pyjamas” You saw with a light laugh. Peter laughs along with you.

“That’s true, I never realized that we mainly hang out at the tower.” 

“Yeah, it’d be nice to hang out somewhere else” You say, hinting that you want to spend time alone with him. 

“Yeah..that would be nice” He whispers. He looks at you for a bit, examining your face. “Hey, umm, what was that with Pietro?” 

You look at him in surprise, “ What do you mean?”

He turns red, “ Well, it’s just that..it kind of looked like he was flirting with you.”

Wait..is he.. “Peter Parker, are you jealous?” you ask with a grin.

“What? N-no!” He stutters,”It’s just that he..he’s like old!” 

You laugh,” He’s twenty one, hardly that much older” 

“Yeah..but still” He says with a pout, “I don’t need anyone taking my best friend away.”

Your heart flutters, the thought of him not wanting to lose you made you grow hot. 

“Don’t worry web head, no one is going to take me away from you.” You say looking him in the eye. He smiles at you, taking your hand. 

“Good, and no one is--” “Hey Peter, we’re here!”

Liz. Of course.

Peter practically throws your hand back into your lap. 

“Oh awesome!” He says getting up from his spot and walking over to her.

Leaving you by yourself. Mj walks up to you.

“He’s an idiot.” She says knowingly, “Come on.” She grabs your hand, pulling you off the train and through the crowd. You let her, deflated at the fact that Peter put you second to Liz...again.

“Hey...I know you like Peter.” Mj says, “ But don’t let him get you down. You’re hot shit, if he can’t see that then fuck him.”

You look at her in shock, “I guess I have been pretty obvious huh?” 

“No kidding” Ned suddenly appears, “If looks could kill, Liz would be six feet under.” 

You sigh, “I’m sorry if I’m ruining your day, I just...I have no experience with this sort of thing.”

“But you’re a Stark...” Ned begins

“Yeah, but I’ve always been homeschooled, my first crush was on Steve and I was 7. This is different” You look at Peter, “ Peter was the first person my age I truly got to know. Not as Tony Stark's daughter, but as me.”

“Seeing him with Liz must be confusing. I’m sorry he’s so stupid” Mj says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“Let’s go have fun.” Ned says, “ You shouldn’t let this situation bring you down.” 

You smile, deciding Ned was right. The three of you walk up to the entrance. The air smells like fried foods and candy. Screams of children on rides and laughter of couples on dates fills your ears. The bright lights shine as the setting sun lowers in the background. You’re amazed, only ever seeing stuff like this in movies.

“Come on guys!” Liz shouts waving you, Mj and Ned over to a ride. The Himalaya. It was a ride that went in circles, each round faster and faster. But the thing that caught your attention was the rock music that played in the background. 

“Sounds like the lab” You shout over the music, “Dad is always blasting music when I go down there.”

“Oh that’s true!” Peter shouts back, “ He let me pick the music once”

“Yeah and you picked some poppy trash” You teased, “ You trying to give my old man a heart attack Parker?” 

“I told you it was an accident!” 

“Oh sure”

“Next!” The attendant shouted. You started to make your way to the carts. Mj pulling Liz and Ned to go sit with her, she turned to you with a wink.  

“Guess it’s you and me” Peter says looking back at Liz.

“Don’t sound so excited” You mutter, about to make your way to the next cart when the attendant stopped you

“Hey, do you wanna pick the next song?” He asks handing you a book full of songs.

“Sure, umm number 79″ You say with a smile, the attendant looks at you with a grin

“You have taste, I’m impressed” 

“I get it from my dad” You   say, about to walk away when he stops you again 

“Your sunglasses might fall off, I’ll hold them for you” He says, taking them off your head.

You blush at his sudden closeness when you hear Peter shout

“ You coming Stark?” “Yeah I’m coming” 

You smile at the boy and run off to join your friend.

“Sorry, he let me pick the song” You say, settling into the seat next to Peter. 

“He was a little close don’t you think?” He says fiddling with the bar that serves as the seatbelt. 

“I don’t know, I guess”

The ride started slowly going forward. The first notes of “You shook me all night long” starting to play. You along with several older adults started cheering. As the ride started moving faster, you started laughing and loudly singing along. The fluttering feeling coming back as Peter watched you sing. With that smile you know is reserved only for you. A smile you’ve seen time and time again, when you’re falling asleep during movie nights, or when you win at a board game.

At that moment, as you watch the world blur around you, it was just you and Peter. Yelling AC/DC lyrics in his face while he looked at you in amusement. This was how it was meant to be. 

Then the song ends. And so does the ride. 

Once it stops, Peter hops out and goes to help Liz out of her seat.

You sigh, making your way up to the attendant to get your glasses. 

“Hey, thanks for holding them” You say taking your glasses, you smile at him and walk away. You catch up to the rest of your friends placing the glasses on your head.

“Y/n you have something on your glasses.” Ned points out. You reached out and felt  piece of paper on your glasses. You take it off, you see the attendant has written his number on a piece of paper and attached it to your glasses

“ Ohhh look at you” Ned says, “looks like the playboy has passed from your dad to you”

Everyone laughs, except Peter for some reason. You look at him in concern, but before you can say anything Liz pulls him away to ring toss booth.

“ Come on guys, I want one of those fried Oreos,”

So again you were separated from Peter. It seems like every time you had a chance to get close to him somebody was always butting in.

You sigh, “maybe it wasn’t meant to be, I mean if he wanted to..he would right??”

Lost in thought you watch as Ned and Mj argue over something about Shakespeare. You tune out as you continue to think about Peter in the situation you’re in. That’s when you heard your name being yelled

“ Hey Stark!!”

You turn around and to your surprise, you see a familiar face. 

“Am I dreaming or is that you Jason Todd??”

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

A/n: fun fact there’s actually a ride called the Himalaya in an amusement park in my town. It basically does the same thing I described in the story it’s my favorite ride.



[xneens]

love me, hate me - part one

Warnings: swearing, angst if you squint, mild violence

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Who knew Ransom would get so worked up about a few stolen beers?

Or: In which he's a sucker for you but those were his favorite beers.

He didn't know why he put up with your shit. If you had been anyone else, you'd be working at a dead end job that barely covered your bills instead of walking around the mansion in your brand new Lois Vuitton purse, Jimmy Choo heels that screamed for him to fuck you, and a tight dress he wanted to tear off.

You even had the balls to call him Hugh, a name he specifically reserved for the help. When he informed you, you had rolled your pretty powdered eyes, sneering at him for being an inconsiderate asshole before asking why he wasn't calling himself Hugh due to the massive help sign that was disguised as his cashmere sweater.

Ransom didn't know if he wanted to hurt you or make you his. He preferred the latter but with the way you were pushing him, he wouldn't be surprised with himself if you somehow found yourself in the backseat of his car, tied up and awaiting for him to fuck you senseless. If you had been anyone else, he would ruin your life without hesitation.

He tried to hate you, he really did and usually, it wouldn't be hard for him to hate someone. Most of the time it barely took him a glance for him to decide to loathe the person. But as he tried harder to hate you, forget you, and ignore you, the more you wiggled your way into his every thought. Even then he couldn't hate you. It made part of him want to ditch family gatherings where he knew you would show, being Meg's best friend, and another part of him was exhilarated.

You on the other hand dreaded being dragged into another Thrombey's family gathering where it all ended in arguments and racists comments. The only people you were able to stomach were Harlan, his adorable nurse, Martha, and of course, your best friend Meg. Whenever the conversation began to look like a shouting match, the two of you would sneak away to get high with the maid, Fran.

Ransom was an asshole, a hot, smoldering asshole with enough snarky remarks that would make any sane person hang themselves. You knew he wasn't a fan of yours, which was only good news for you; you hated him, too. The expression "there's a little bit of good in everyone." applied to everyone except him, not that you weren't surprised. Truth to be told, you wouldn't put it past him to kill a family member if they pissed him off enough.

With the number of jabs you made at his expense, you were shocked he hadn't ruined your life yet. Maybe you had a death wish dangling over you, or maybe you just liked pushing him but you made it your little mission to ruin his evening since yours would be the second he stepped in the room.

Meg nudged you with her elbow, leaving a sore spot on your ribs. You gave her a dirty glare, looking up from your Instagram feed. She motioned to the large mansion ahead, the car slowing. "Okay, the plan is to get drunk, but not enough for my drunk relatives to notice and once they're having one of their dumb-ass debates, we sneak off to Fran's room and smoke a few. That sound good?"

Stretching, you nodded, tucking your phone away. "Yeah, that's fine. Remind me how I ended up spending Thanksgiving break with you, again? What did I ever do to deserve such a punishment?"

"You crushed your parent's wishes on becoming a lawyer, instead became an Instagram model, and the holidays with them are too long for you to hear how their daughter could've convicted criminals instead of posting bikini pics," Meg replied, grinning at your sarcastic pout. She stopped the car right beside her mom's. "Come on, it won't be that bad."

"That's what you said last time. Do you not remember how that little reunion ended?" you asked, opening the car door and getting out. The little gravel on the cemented driveway crunched under your new heels, making you grimace.

Meg shut her door, grabbing her purse. She waited at her side of the car and you both walked up to the door. "Actually, I don't. I'm surprised you can especially with all the weed you smoked."

Rolling your eyes, your mind wandered to the man who had killed your buzz. "Your asshole of a cousin ruined my buzz just by opening his mouth. He could be so much hotter if he never utters a single word ever again."

"Please stop talking about Ransom, it's making my lunch come back up." Meg whined, her feet trudging up the steps. Your heels clicked on the wooden porch. "Which reminds me, he kept asking if you were going to be here. Be careful, he might have a little trap to humiliate you in front of my family. If that happens, just knee him in the balls, and we can go to Cabo or something."

You made a face, cringing just thinking of Ransom asking about you, let alone imagining some kind of plan to embarrass you. "Ugh, what a dick. It's time like this that I regret not going back to my crazy family for holidays."

"You'll be fine. Hopefully. Let's go see Harlan." she opened the door, taking off the lush coat draped over her shoulders before placing it on the spacious coat closet by the entrance. She held her hand out for yours and you slid it off handing it over for her to hang up.

Martha greeted you before you could take another step, the Latina smiling at both of you. "I'm so glad both of you are here. The rest came in before you and they've been bickering since."

You both gave her knowing smiles, the loud discussion so heated you could hear it from all the way across the house. Meg sighed, snaking an arm around yours and Martha, pulling you towards Fran's quarters. "Looks like Harlan will have to wait. I'm not going in there sober."

Martha shook her head, slipping her arm out from Meg's grasp. "Sorry, I don't drink and I have to serve them before they get any rowdier. Between the three of us, I'd rather not see another fist brawl this holiday."

You let out a dry chuckle, fixing the hem of your dress. What were you thinking wearing such a tight dress to a party where Richard Drysdale would mentally undress you with his beady eyes. "We'll come with you, now won't we, Meg?"

She groaned, getting pulled by you, her feet dragging on the hard floor. "We're spending Christmas at your parents' house. You can suffer the family drama because I've had it up to here with mine."

"Oh, you big baby." you teased, following Martha to the living room with Meg in tow. You'd think with all the drama she endured from her crazy mother she'd be able to handle a little more from her crazy relatives. "Wanna mess with that racist, whiney troll?"

Meg's lips lifted into a smile. "That's why you're my best friend."

Martha took a turn towards the kitchen instead of the living room, leaving you and Meg to enter the roomful of crazies alone. Some heads turned but not enough to stop the little debate happening.

Jacob sat at the uncomfortable seat in the corner of the room, watching and tapping the screen in front of him, his eyes never tearing from the device. Linda and Donna sat side by side while their husbands had a screaming match with the other. Joni stood by the fireplace, sipping her wine, and occasionally input some random Pinterest inspirational shit. Your eyes landed on the man you thought would take his sweet time arriving.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale sat at his self-proclaimed seat, eating his Biscoff butter cookies, a smirk evident on his face as he watched you walk into the room. He tried to ignore the way his heart raced, blaming it on the cookies and his seven-month dry spell.

You broke free from Meg's arm, pouring yourself a flute full of champagne, swallowing every last drop before making your way to the plush couch, sitting beside your best friend. Your perfume whiffed in the air as you passed Ransom, making him sit up in his chair. You sat close enough for him to reach over and touch you, but he didn't.

Linda gave you the warmest smile she could muster, interrupting the men's argument to greet you. "Hello, darling. Glad you could make it. At least now there's someone in the room with half a brain."

Walt sneered at his sister before giving you a half-hearted smile. "Hey, kid. Your dad still adamant you become a lawyer?"

"Yup," you answered, pulling out your phone, seeing a bunch of notifications from said person. "Why else do you think I let Meg kidnap me, Walt? No offense, but Thanksgiving at the Thrombey's doesn't classify as peaceful or relaxing."

Ransom guffawed, earning glares from his family members. He smirked at you, biting off a piece from his cookies. "Finally, someone who speaks the truth. No wonder she's his favorite."

That subject launched another debate: deciding who was Harlan's favorite. It was no doubt, Martha was but you did come at a close second. Ransom knew, and he didn't want to miss an opportunity to watch his relatives fight. He was a dick that way. He glanced at you, seeing your phone light up as you whispered a secret to Meg. You ignored the phone call, turning over the phone.

While the rest of the family argued, you left Meg's side, getting up from the uncomfortable couch, and walked out of the room. Ransom watched you, licking his lips at the sight of sashaying, hips swaying, and heels clicking. The crotch of his pants grew uncomfortably tight.

Meg watched him watch you with narrowed eyes, suspicious by her cousin's behavior. He may be 33 but he still acted like a teen, and with her best friend pushing him, there was no telling what he'd do. "If you do anything stupid or remotely offensive to her, I'll make sure to send her your head for her next birthday. Maybe she'll have it taxidermied, and hang it up."

Ransom smirked, tossing the last of his cookie in his mouth, chewing as he looked down at his cousin. "That'll only give me a view of a lifetime. My, this college you go to doesn't seem to teach manners does it? Charming as ever, Meg."

She scowled at him, getting up in the middle of the argument. She couldn't stop whatever he was planning if she didn't know what he had in mind but she wasn't going to ruin this holiday for her best friend. Meg followed you to the kitchen, seeing you take a shot glass from Martha. "Drinking already?"

"Don't judge me. Lemme wallow in the warmth and love of the alcohol that your family isn't capable of," you replied, drinking the clear liquid, grimacing as it burned your throat. Martha handed you the chaser, her timid personality making her put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Thanks, Martha."

Meg took the bottle of vodka, pouring herself a shot before offering it to Martha who had shaken her head. "You sure?"

She nodded, placing the bottle back in its place. "Yeah, I don't need to be drunk when serving those people. It seems like it's even worse out there than before."

"Thank Ransom. That bastard decided to start another fight just by opening his mouth," you said, sipping on a glass of water. Sniffing the room, you smelt the Thanksgiving dinner Martha had to cook by herself. You knew she had to make a special meal for Ransom since he wouldn't dare put the traditional food in his mouth. Too bad, it'd shut him up. "Why is he here, anyway? Isn't he usually the last one to get here?"

"Usually, but he came with Linda and Richard. Don't worry, you're not the only confused." Martha answered. The oven timer beeped and she opened it, taking out the pumpkin pie. She held it out. "What do you guys think?"

"Looks delicious," Meg replied, looking around the room. The sun was setting and soon you would have to face Ransom again, for dinner. "Do you need any help, Martha? We could help you set up the table or something."

"No, it's fine. I have everything taken care of," she said, nearly dropping the big turkey. Meg helped her, carrying it to the counter. Martha smiled sheepishly. "I guess I could use some help. Meg, do you mind stirring the gravy? And [Y/N], would you please place some knives at the table?"

Both you and Meg nodded, helping the poor nurse. Harlan must've let Fran have the day off or else she'd be all over this. Meg grabbed a plastic ladle from the drawers while you took a handful of knives, leaving the kitchen and walking to the dining room. The long table had been filled with plates, glasses, and napkins, the only thing missing was silverwares. Harlan would have to give Martha a raise.

You had just placed the first knife down when Ransom came in the room, leaning against the arch, arms crossed as he took you in. Watching you, he realized he might have a knife kink, only when it comes to you. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to make some kind of remark.

When he didn't, you sighed, tossing a knife onto a clothed napkin. "Yes, you pretentious asshole?"

He chuckled, pushing himself off the wood and walking towards you. "Hello to you, too. Why exactly are you doing that? Shouldn't that Mary girl be taking care of everything?"

Oh, the urge to stab a knife in his face--it was almost too much to resist. "It's Martha and unlike you, I'm nice enough to offer help rather than be a lazy prick who no one loves. Karma's gonna bite you in the ass one day, baby."

Ransom snorts, walking up next to you, so close you could feel the heat coming off of him. "You know, my dear cousin mentioned something about some prank she thinks I'm going to pull on you. Do you know what's going on in that stoned brain of hers?"

"Ransom?" you asked, making your way around the large table, placing knives where they belonged. Gritting your teeth into a smile, you turned to him. "I mean this in the best way possible: fuck off."

He would never dare admit it, to himself even, but that hurt him a little. Not enough to break his smug exterior. "Aw, I like you, too, sweetheart. Hurts when you don't admit you do, too. Want some help on the other silverware?"

Your jaw dropped, the knife slipping through your fingers and Ransom caught it quickly. He placed the knife on the empty, designated napkin. "You're fucking with me."

"No, but I sure would like to fuck you." he grinned, the hidden objective twinkling in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, returning back to the kitchen with Ransom following. "Can't a guy help out around here?"

Ransom grabbed your hand before you could push the kitchen door open. He gently led you to the dark, almost hidden hallway beside the dining room. You snatched your hand back, your elbow grazing the wall behind you. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Spending time with my favorite person," Ransom answered, the smirk gone as he backed you to the wall behind you, leaving you no room to escape. Not that you wanted to. His eyes dropped to your lips, only to darken when yours flashed to his. "Why're you so special? Why do you keep invading my thoughts, my dreams, huh? What're you doing to me?"

That made you smile, amused he couldn't stop thinking about your body. You drag your manicured finger down his blue sweater, earning a shaky breath from him. "Glad to know you have wet dreams about me, Hugh. Hmm, what do you get off to, anyway? Degradation? BDSM? Or are you vanilla in bed? With the way you act, it makes me wonder if you even have a dick."

He growled, slamming you into the wall so hard your head made a loud thud. You'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on a bit. You did like it rough. "Your a guest here, act with respect, [Y/N]. Close that mouth before you say something you'll regret."

"Wouldn't you like it if I used my mouth for something useful?" you breathed, hands resting on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. His eyes drifted to your lips, tongue darting out to moisten his own. "Yeah, you would."

"What that mouth do, sweetheart?"

You heard the oven timer ding and you smiled, moving your lips to his ear. "Eat."

—

His thigh brushed against yours, a hand "accidentally" landing on your bare thigh, his fingers wrapping around the leg. You flashed him a hard smile before moving your thigh away, almost kicking his wife across the table. You scooted closer to Ransom, hoping to avoid his father's uncomfortable advances. If it wasn't for Linda, you would've stabbed the knife you were holding in his hand.

Apparently, you scooted a bit too close to Ransom for him to raise an eyebrow at you, the hint of a soft grin appearing. You glared at him. "Don't."

Ransom chuckled softly, moving closer, close enough for your shoulders to touch. "Now who likes my company?"

"I do like your company... said no one ever." you snapped, keeping enough distance from Richard's wandering hands. If you could, you would've rip his fingers off, but the Thrombey's were too powerful. Ransom threw you a glance, looking between you and the gap between your chairs. You grit your teeth. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

You pushed away from the table, frustrated with everything about your situation. Tossing your napkin on your plate, you stood up, catching everyone's eye. "Excuse me."

Meg was in the middle of eating her share of the turkey, looking up with a piece of the skin hanging from her mouth. If you hadn't felt so uncomfortable, you would've laughed. She sat up, tilting her head in question as she covered her mouth. You shook you head, assuring her you'd be fine.

Ransom's eyes followed you as you walked by Harlan, giving him a gentle peck on the cheek and a hug before walking out of the dining room. He didn't think he'd ever be jealous of his grandfather. He waited a few seconds before following you, Meg's narrowed eyes watching him as he walked with purpose—he just didn't know what that was yet.

He heard your door slam before he could take a step up the stairs, leaving him confused on what to do. Ransom knew you would reject his company, not that he would blame you. Yet, he felt a little pang in his chest that he ignored, blaming it on the salty turkey. He'd have to go to the doctor soon, check out what was going on with his heart. It might be something serious like palpitations.

Sighing, he went to the kitchen, grabbing a beer and dragged his feet back to his room, trying to forget about the effect you had on him.

It didn't work.

—

Crawling out of bed, you tiptoed down the hall, careful not make a sound as you made your way downstairs. The stairs were loud and you cringed, hoping everyone was deep asleep. Meg had passed out after smoking Fran's stash, plopping down on her bed in your shared bedroom. She reeked of weed and that hadn't help you sleep at all.

You snuck into the kitchen, the soft counter lights bright in the dark room. Walking over to the fridge, you pulled it open, seeing Ransom's alleged "best" beer right at the front. Rolling your eyes, you grab one, popping the cap off. You took a sip, agreeing with the asshole; it was great beer.

Unfortunately, he chose that right moment to have a midnight snack. The kitchen door opened and Ransom was greeted by the sight of you drinking his beer in your tight tank top and booty shorts. It was enough for him to lose it.

Angrily, he walked up to you, snatching the beer from your hand, some of it dripping on the floor. He held it up in front of you with a sneer on his face. "What the hell do you think you're doing with my beer?"

You flinched when he threw it across the room, the shards sprinkling out on the floor. If his yelling hadn't woken up anyone, that certainly would've. Rolling your eyes, you sighed, crossing your arms. "Don't you mean Harlan's beer? It's not like you bought that beer from your own pocket since you don't do shit."

"Oh, I don't do shit? Unlike you I don't depend on horny men and lesbians for likes in order to keep a roof over my head." he spits, pushing you back against the counter.

"No, you just take money from mommy and daddy." you fired back, amused by his anger. You decided then you had a death wish. Or maybe it was just hot seeing Ransom so riled up. Either way, you weren't complaining.

Ransom growled, hands gripping your waist so tightly you were sure it would leave bruises. "Shut up."

Smirking, you lean towards him, lips hovering his. "Make me."

Before he could kiss you, you shoved him away, took another beer from the fridge and walked away without giving him a second look. Ransom stared after you, gripping the kitchen counter.

This wasn't over.

part two

[ri-ahhh]

rockin’ around

because my family isn’t doing anything Christmas until the 26th and I have nothing else to do

home for the holidays doesn’t always mean you have to return somewhere.

just a big pile of dumb, ridiculous fluff. happy Christmas Eve🎅🎄⛄️

***

“I can’t go home for Christmas.”

Grayson looks up from his phone as you mope into the living room, tossing your purse and keys on the couch cushion beside him before climbing onto his lap. He pouts and wraps you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple as you cling to him and nuzzle your nose into his warm neck.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. You sigh when he swipes a palm across your forehead to smooth back your hair. “What happened?”

“My dad just found out he might have gotten exposed at work.” You take a deep breath, holding back tears that would do no one any good. He’s in the exact same boat as you — minus the potential risk of his parent having the virus — but it still wouldn’t be fair to him if you sat here and cried about it. “I just really was hoping I’d get to see family, at least for the holidays.”

Grayson hums a little and brushes his lips against your forehead once again; he understands all too well the struggle of beinf an out-of-state transplant in these times. “Well, lucky for us, we’ve got our own little family in this house, right? It’s not the same, of course, but it’s more than a lot of people have.”

He’s right. You mumble some semblance of agreement and squeeze him tight. You’re still upset, but the familiar smell of his cologne and the feel of being close to him is already assuaging some of your anxiety and sadness.

He hugs you back, and you can hear the reassuring smile in his voice when he speaks again. “We’ll have a party on Christmas Eve. I’ll have Adele order all the shit today; we’re gonna this the best, most festive Christmas we can, babe. I’ll make sure of it.”

Christmas Eve arrives before you know it. If 2020 has taught you anything, it’s that time is the most fickle and outrageous concept of them all; you feel like it was yesterday that you hung up the phone with your mom after finding out you’d have to cancel your flight home, when it’s really been just over a week.

You’re returning back from your apartment with a carful of presents and the other half of your closet to hang up in Grayson’s, to find an excess of Christmas decor has exploded in the twins’ house. Kristina stands precariously on a stool while she hangs a garland across the back doors, Ethan standing protectively behind her with hands held at the ready to catch her rather than simply helping her pin the other end of it to the wall. You giggle and shake your head, making your way to the den to dump some of the presents under the tree. Mando and Adele are stringing multicolored lights all across the room, which is sure to set the vibe right when the Christmas movie night starts later.

Your favorite sight by far, though, is the one you see upon entering the kitchen once your car is completely unloaded. Grayson, in a Santa hat, scooping out thumbprint cookies onto a baking sheet, singing along adorably off-key to the Kacey Musgraves rendition of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ that’s playing through all of the nearby alexas.

“You’re so cute,” you grin, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek before reaching down sneakily and pinching his ass.

Grayson curses with a little yelp, but chuckles with you as he ducks down for a proper welcome-home kiss.

“Gotta make Santa his cookies,” he says, grinning against your lips, then puckers them a couple more times before pulling away. He sets the bowl down and starts mashing imprints into the dough.

You reach up and squeeze the pompom on the end of his hat and quirk a suggestive brow at him. “You look like a Santa to me. And I might have a special cookie for you later tonight.”

Grayson’s own arched brows shoot up until they’re hidden beneath that sexy swoop of dark hair you love so much. He pushes too hard on one of the dough balls, squishing it much too flat, but he doesn’t even notice. “Yeah?”

You nod and pick up the jelly jar from where it sits on the counter next to a batch of already baked and cooled cookies. “Yep.” You lick and suck the remnants of the sticky sweet from the spoon that rests in the jar, eyeing him up and down. “I may have even bought special packaging for it, too.”

You smile widely at his annoyed laugh, watching him shake his head and get back to work to distract himself from the mental image of the early Christmas present he’s sure to receive tonight.

Ethan and Kristina are still hanging more garland and bunting all around the house, and you take pity on your friend when you hear her bickering quietly with her boyfriend about him refusing to do anything but be her spotter.

“I’m, like, a meter off the ground, E. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m American; a meter sounds like a lot. And you’ve almost fallen like five times.”

“Only because you’re distracting me and not actually helping!”

You laugh and haul a barstool to where the end of the ‘merry Christmas’ bunting needs to go, shooing Ethan off to help Mando and Adele. What would Christmas be without some healthy fighting from the resident mom and dad?

Decorations get finalized, cooking and baking are completed, and everyone gathers in the living room for some fun Christmas-themed games you and Adele had found on Pinterest. Ryan even makes it over, having made the decision himself to stay in LA as well. Adele passes around more Santa hats and obnoxious necklaces made of big, lit-up Christmas lights to accompany everyone’s ugly sweaters and cozy pajama pants. It’s truly something out of a Hallmark movie, and though you still miss your family across the country, you marvel at the one you’ve built right here — just like Grayson said.

Much later on (technically Christmas Day at this point), after cycling through The Grinch, Home Alone, and Love Actually, Ethan and Kristina head to bed. Mando’s new apartment is close enough that he goes home, taking Ryan with him, and Adele crashes in the guest room. It leaves you and Grayson some alone time to cuddle up together in a bundle of blankets beneath the tree, sharing soft giggles and sweet kisses.

Grayson’s smile is infectious as he nuzzles a dimple in your cheek brought out by your own giddiness — you practically feel the energy of a child in the early morning hours of Christmas, waiting on presents to appear magically beneath the tree.

“Do you think Santa will still come if I fuck you under this tree?” he whispers, kissing your ear softly and making you shudder. The chasteness compared to the dirty nature of his words gets you even more riled up. “In the hat, and that necklace, and whatever special wrapping you mentioned earlier?”

You hum and run your hands up and down his broad back, letting him trail hot kisses now down the column of your neck, sighing happily. “I don’t know. I think rockin’ around the Christmas tree in that way might get us put on the naughty list last moment.”

“More like rompin’ around the Christmas tree, am I right babe?”

You laugh out loud, squirming beneath him when he slips his hands beneath your sweater and tickles your ribs gently. You reach up and adjust his skewed Santa hat. “Please shut up, Mr. Claus. Now, I might already be wearing that wrapping, if you’re ready to eat your cookie.”

[harrysgoldenline]

okay so i saw one of these for niall but, one where y/n can’t afford harry’s life style but doesn’t like him paying for her and it’s just angst with fluff at the end?

Hii!! I got SO SO SO carried away doing this and it ended up not being too angsts so I really hope you still like it! And I’m sorry it took so long but I just got the inspiration for it and all just came to me at once! Thank you so much for requesting 💖

The Best Gift

The store was bright and flashy, yet somehow simplistic, the different display cases making the girl glance around quickly as she took in the new space filled with diamonds, pearls and jewels, although this being her second time here, only because of him, she didn’t think she would ever get used to it.

She felt completely out of place, walking through the luxury store with Harry wearing an ensemble costing close to three thousand dollars and she was wearing a dress from one of her favorite online shops costing her around $60, with that being a splurge.

“Anything catching those pretty eyes?” He smirked, nudging her slightly but still keeping his grip tight on her hand, guiding her throughout the store he has been through more times than he can count, “we got all day baby, try on anything you want!”

“I’d rather you give the fashion show.” She laughed, going up on her tip toes and kissing his cheek, “We’ve been in her thirty seconds and I’ve seen you staring at four different pairs of trousers.”

He gave her a small nudge, before leading her to a seat outside the changing room, due to the fact they got in trouble last time for having her come into the same one was him. He gave her a quick peck before he started grabbing his items, flashing her a wink before he disappeared into the short hallway and into the dressing room, giving her a cute wave before shutting the door.

She giggled softly to herself, biting her bottom lip and shaking her head, wondering how on earth she was lucky enough to have him as her boyfriend, be so lucky to have him be in love with her? It would never fully click.

Her eyes wandered around the shop, admiring the different materials and luxury items she could never even dream of purchasing. She wishes she could, especially dreaming of being able to buy something Harry would buy for himself and just be able to try and repay somehow for everything he has done for her.

Harry has taken her on so many different trips, gotten her custom gowns, designer shoes and jewelry and it made her feel terrible. For his birthday, she picked up extra shifts, stayed late, and did some babysitting in order to get him some new rings and a recording microphone he could hook up to his phone or laptop he could use instead of using just voice memos.

He loved it of course, wearing the rings all the time and enjoyed being able to get a better sound when an idea would spring up on him, but she still felt guilty. Harry would get her a thousand dollar bag and a matching diamond earring and necklace set.

Letting out an impatient sigh she stood and began wondering around the store a handbag catching her eye, well her dream bag really. She has had it plastered all of her Pinterest board and was just in love with it. She carefully ran her fingers over it, heart sinking as she checked the price tag and instantly retracted her hand, feeling wrong for touching it, so she just stood and admired.

“Okay darling, what do you think?”

The girl jumps at the sudden voice, pulling her back to reality and she turns to look at him as he is standing directly behind her, a large smirk covering her face as she takes in his appearance.

He struck a few poses, blushing a few moments later after some staff members noticed before shyly standing straight, giving her a quick twirl as he was dressed in grey wool trousers and a pattered sweater.

“You look so handsome.” She softly smiled, reaching her hand up and rubbing her hands over the material, “its really soft... I love it, absolutely perfect for you.”

“Thank you angel... now you go pick something to try on.”

***

After Harry trying on a few different outfits, and him forcing her to try on a dress (which she didn’t end up getting for obvious reasons), they were headed for check out, Y/N helping him carry his items to the counter where they both stood, her eyes widening at the price growing and growing.

“Hey Y/N, you wanna grab some smoothies from next door and I’ll meet you there and we can head back to my place?” He suggested, handing over the place pair of trousers, “I’ll be right there, gonna get the car pulled up.”

“Okay!” She happily smiled, “The usual?”

He nodded and gave her a quick kiss and she was off, entering the overly priced smoothie place nearly a minute later, quickly ordering their drinks and waiting over to the side.

A few minutes later they called her name, giving her the drinks and she left with a quick thank you, a smile covering her face when she sees Harry in the car pulled up outside, running over to the car with a smile and happily hoping into the passenger seat, handing him his drink with a kiss on the cheek.

He gave her a happy smile, stuck in a daze as he stared at the girl, a large dopey grin glued on his face.

“What?” She laughed, cheeks turning pink as she started buckling her seatbelt, “Why are you staring at me?”

“Just so in love with ya, sunshine.” He grinned, leaning over and giving her a long kiss before pulling back, switching the gear of the car and driving off.

She blushed, giggling to herself as he kept stealing glances at her throughout the drive back, “Look at the road!” She laughed, covering her face, “I love you but right now is not the time to stare, you’re gonna kill us.”

He grabbed her hand closest to him, bringing it to his lips with a quick kiss before seating it down on the armrest between them, holding it there for the rest of the drive.

Soon enough they were back at Harry’s, him grabbing the bags before she could so she just carries in both smoothies, scurrying in close behind him, following him into his bedroom where he starts putting away his new clothes.

“Darling, could you grab what’s left in that last bag please?” Harry called out from his closet, putting away his new sweaters and trousers.

“Of course!” She called back, walking over to it as Harry sneaks out of the closet, watching her reach into the bag.

She kneeled onto the bed, reaching into the deep white bag and her eyes widen at the feeling of leather, rather than the soft feeling of fabric, eyes looking up and meeting Harrys as he leaned against the inside of the doorway with a smirk, raising his eyebrows at her as if to urge her to keep going.

She shakily wrapped her fingers around the handle and pulled it out of the bag, an audible gasp escaping her as she quickly looked up at Harry, a proud grin covering his pink lips.

“H-Harry.” She shakily began, shaking her head as the images of the price tag overwhelm her memory.

“I’ve been seeing ya look at it online and when we went in the store last, then again today so I just had to get it for you my love.” He explained, walking over and sitting next to her on his bed, “Do you like it?”

She shook her head rapidly, dropping the purse onto the bed and covering her face as tears filled her eyes, knees pulling to her chest. Confused, Harry instantly took her into his arms as he got the complete opposite reaction than what he was expecting.

“I-Is it the wrong color? Shape?” He began, “We can take it back-“

“It’s too much!” She interrupted, “It’s so expensive! You cant keep… keep spending this money on me its not fair! I’ll never be able to repay you, we have to return it.”

“Repay me? That is not what this is about, I got this for you because I am in love with you and I wanted to get you something that you’ve been wanting for a long time. You’re always working so hard, Y/N. I wanna spoil you.”

She brought the back of her hand back up to her eye, wiping away her tears before looking up at Harry, heart breaking at the dejected face he was making. The girl leaned into him, arms going around his shoulders as his meet her waist, pulling her onto his lap, moving her hair out of the way and kissing her shoulder.

“Your love, Y/N…” He began, “is the most valuable thing you could ever give to me. All I ever want in this world is you and you alone, okay?”

She nodded, burying her face in the crook of his neck pressing a kiss to the warm skin before pulling back and looking into his eyes, “Okay.” She sniffled, “I-I’m sorry, I am- Thank you, Harry. I really am grateful, for everything, it’s just a little overwhelming.”

“I know you are, you don’t need to thank me angel. You got the sweetest little heart.” He chuckled, pressing quick kisses up her neck before leaning their foreheads together, “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, no gift can top that… Although I do really love those rings you gave me.”

“They’re no Gucci....”

“Hey! They’re my favorites.” He grumbled, fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her closer, kissing her softly, “I love you so much, more than you will ever know.”

“I love you so so so much, Harry. Even without the gifts or anything… you know that right?”

“I know.” He shyly smiles, heart growing in size as he knows the girl in his lap is the one he’s been dreaming about, “and I know you’re the best gift because you’re my soulmate, Lovie. You’re my forever.”

[abreathofthewild]

a touch of magic

Prompt: This TikTok

Tagline: Sometimes all you need in life is a touch of magic.

Summary: A Halloween in the life of Thor and Reader and their family.

Warnings: this fluff will rot your teeth.

Wordcount: 1664

Notes: I am so excited to be posting this! I was inspired by the above-mentioned TikTok and after deliberating which character I wanted to write this for, Thor felt like the most appropriate choice. This piece is self-indulgent fluff, friends. I hope y'all enjoy and that you get to have a safe and fun Halloween! ALSO: IMAGE IS NOT MINE I FOUND IT WITH NO EXTERNAL LINK ON PINTEREST.

It’s Halloween. You had chosen something simple for your costume: a long black dress with gauzy black sleeves that puffed a little at the shoulders and were cuffed at the wrist. A black witch’s hat with a large swooping brim sat smartly on your head. Typically, you went all out but this year you really wanted your kids’ costumes to shine. It had taken you six months in between the creative writing courses you taught to sew Darcy’s Belle gown and half of that time to put together Cole’s knight armor. You could hear them clambering down the stairs now shrieking with laughter.

“Mm, I love that dress on you,” a deep voice said behind you. You applied your red lipstick as the final touch, smirking at Thor’s reflection in the mirror. His massive frame took up the doorway as he leaned against it, giving you an affectionately approving once-over. You turned and sauntered over to him, taking in the picture of your husband standing there. Even after all this time, there were moments where his words still made you shiver. He matched your movements, stepping further into the room and into your space as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Do you, now?” You stood on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Maybe that’s why I wore it.” Another kiss on his lips. He leaned into you, smiling as he returned the kiss. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my wolfman.” It seemed only natural with his tousled golden hair and beard that he would recycle one of his favorite costumes and step out in the neighborhood as a werewolf. He wore a red and black flannel over a white shirt that he had cut in three spots with long slashes. His jeans were purposefully torn in a couple of places and instead of applying any product to his hair he had ruffled it and left it a bit unkempt. The best part in your opinion, however, was the fangs. “Love when you wear those,” you murmured, running your tongue along the fake teeth.

It didn’t take long for him to move you until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “Wish we didn’t have to go anywhere tonight,” he whispered, giving you a soft nip at the neck. A small gasp escaped your mouth as your gripped at him tighter. “Maybe we could get a babysitter,” he said as he kissed from your neck down the v of your dress. You could feel the familiar heat creep along your cheeks and flutter in your belly.

“Mommy! Daddy! Cole pushed me!” Darcy was exclaiming her frustration at the bottom of the stairs. Even from here, you could hear her stamping her little feet.

“Did not!” Cole chimed in with the vehemence characteristic of a seven-year-old trying to not get into trouble for bullying his six-year-old sister. You let out an exasperated laugh as Thor groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. You sidled under his arm and grabbed his hand, dragging him along.

“It sounds very tempting hon’ but you know how much the kids have been looking forward to this year. Plus, they’d miss us. Plus,” you whispered as you pulled him in to rub the red smudges from his cheek and lips “I already got us a babysitter for tomorrow night.” You let go of his hand and gave one glance behind you, trying not to let your feet falter at the look in his eyes. He followed close behind.

The scene downstairs wasn’t so great as the one you had just left. Darcy had started crying and Cole looked a little like he had been caught doing something wrong. You went to her but she shook her head saying in between tears “I want Daddy.” You motioned to her as Thor came down the stairs.

“Of course. He’s right there. I’ll talk to Cole for you instead, okay darlin’?” She nodded, her eyes puffy and red. Her bottom lip stuck out and was still quivering when Thor knelt in front of her, wiping the tears from her cheeks and adjusting the laces on her dress sleeves. Even upset she was the prettiest little girl you had ever seen (you were biased), especially with the soft yellow of the ballgown she wore. Cole on the other hand looked quite miserable, his armor sticking out at odd angles because his arms were crossed. You took his hand and walked him a few feet away into the living room and sat on the couch so you were at eye level. “Cole, did you push your sister?” He didn’t quite look you in the eye.

“Yes,” he mumbled. You pursed your lips and gave him a disappointed glance, waiting for him to continue. “She told me my costume was stupid,” he finished quietly. You put your index finger under his chin and gently turned his face so he was looking at you.

“Do you like your costume?” He nodded, tears forming in his crystal blue eyes. So like his father. “Well, then that’s all that matters. I know your sister hurt your feelings but that was no reason to push her. She’s allowed to not like your costume but she definitely needs to use better words. Can you think what you could have done differently?” A begrudging and wavery sigh escaped the little boy in front of you.

“I could have used my words too. I could have told her that hurt my feelings.” You gave him a beaming smile.

“Exactly. Next time, let’s work on using your words, okay? And if you need help, you can always ask Daddy or me. Now, I’m going to wave the magic wand and when I do, I want you to try really hard not to smile. You can’t smile, all right?” You tried to hide your own as you already saw the hints of one teasing at the corner of his mouth. It was an old trick your mother had used on you whenever you were unreasonably cross as a child or needed cheering up. She would tell you not to smile as she waved “the magic wand” which was really just her hand. Of course, the act of telling you not to smile alone would bring one immediately to your face. Sure enough, as you did the same to your little boy, a grin had sprung from ear to ear across his features. “There’s my beautiful boy. I need you to do one last thing for me. Can you apologize to Darcy? We want to have so much fun tonight!”

Cole bounded away with such enthusiasm you would have never known he had quarreled with his sister moments before. You followed behind him, grabbing your coat and his from the hooks by the front door. He was already standing in front of his sister and as Thor stood, he wrapped her up as best he could in his clanky armored arms.

“I’m sorry I pushed you, Darcy.” You watched with a knowing smile as she hugged her brother back. Her little voice piped up as you caught Thor’s eye, guessing he had had a similar talk with your daughter.

“I’m sorry I called your costume stupid.” He looked at you as the siblings slipped on their shoes, now chattering happily about the candy they were going to collect. You handed Cole his jacket to put on and stepped back as Thor wrapped an arm around your waist. You glanced up at him, once again taken aback by how blue his eyes were. The small crinkles of the skin there looked a little more pronounced but you knew it was from smiles and laughter. His hair had started silvering just a little around the sides, no longer the burnished gold of his youth. You brought his hand from your waist to your shoulder, kissing it tenderly. Even his hands now held some looks of a man who was still young but had worked long and hard.

He turned you towards him and you couldn’t help but allow yourself to drown in his gaze. It was tender and after all these years still full of promise. You felt something trip across the connection you shared. A hand to his heart told you it still beat for you, still thundered under your fingertips. The flame that had once burned bright hot when you first met had now turned to a steady glowing ember. One that would last a very long time.

“What?” He questioned you with a lazy grin. You just shook your head in a bit of disbelief.

“I’m just very, very happy,” you whispered. “I can’t believe you, all this, is mine to keep as long as I live.” He looked at you for a moment, stunned into silence. You could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of words to answer you, instead settling on leaning in for yet another kiss.

“As long as we live, I’m yours and you are mine.” Nothing else mattered. It was you and him and the kids. Your family. Your family. To love and cherish and nurture. He stepped back and boomed “Who wants to go trick-or-treating?” The rumbling of their father’s voice brought Cole and Darcy to ecstatic attention as they bounced in their places by the front door. They both yelled “Me! Me!” as Thor opened the front door letting them run past its threshold and ushering you next to him as he locked it. “As long as we live,” he repeated and you nodded, grabbing his hand as you turned onto the sidewalk.

Leaves danced across the pavement in flaming reds and oranges and yellow. The kids trotted on ahead, screaming in delight as they caught up with neighborhood friends. The air smelled like cinnamon and promises. Promises that the two of you would always keep. And you were safe. And you were happy. And you were alive.

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realize

Part Two: After the Wake

Summary: After the funeral, Y/N returns to Sebastian’s parents’ house with him and his family.  Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2075 Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo​. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language. Happy Reading!

Series Masterlist

GIF found via Pinterest search; the link it led to was broken. 

For the time being, the decision was made to let Milena choose where she wanted to be — at least until all of the adults involved could get in touch with lawyers in the following week and come to some sort of legal agreement regarding custody of the child. Alice didn’t seem entirely pleased when Milena opted to go home with Georgeta and Anthony, but she accepted it graciously.

“We’re going by Alice’s house to get her things,” Anthony announced, “would you two mind taking her to our place? She seems a little sleepy.”

Y/N was already holding the little girl, who had her head leaned on Y/N’s shoulder and was fighting to keep her eyes open.

“I’ll get you the carseat,” Alice offered.

While Y/N worked on ordering an Uber, Sebastian followed Alice. Milena sniffled; Y/N pressed her cheek to the little girl’s head.

“You doing okay, princess?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Are you sleepy?”

Milena nodded. Y/N squeezed her a little tighter. “Uncle Seb went to get your carseat, then we’re going to take you Bunica’s house, okay?”

The toddler nodded again. Y/N wasn’t so sure she’d make it all that way without falling asleep, but it had been a heavy week for such a young girl. Hopefully a nap would do her good.

“I’ve got the carseat in Mom and Anthony’s car, they’ll take the Uber,” Sebastian informed her. “Want me to take her?”

“It’s okay, I’ve got her. Will you hand me my purse though?” Y/N pointed to a small, black clutch on the table where they had all been seated. Sebastian picked it up, dutifully hanging on to it as he put a hand at the small of her back and led the two girls out to the parking lot.

At the house, Sebastian found one of Anthony’s old t-shirts for Milena to wear while she took her nap. He tucked her into the bed in his old bedroom, putting extra pillows on either side to keep her from rolling out of the bed.

“You’re so good with her,” Y/N smiled when he came back out to the living room. “I see it in person, but some of these pictures … she adores you, Seb.”

He smiled and joined her on the floor by the coffee table where Y/N had sat down with a photo album that had already been open there. He pointed to one picture of Milena and himself, one of his favorites. She had only been about six months old at the time, and was blowing spit bubbles like they were going out of style. In the picture, Sebastian was holding her up in front of him, grinning from ear to ear. Milena was smiling back, bubbles coming from her mouth. Her chubby cheeks were rose-kissed, and her eyes were bright as she looked back at her Uncle.

Y/N chuckled. “Look at that drool! She’s small now, but she looks so tiny in that one.”

“Yeah, she’s always been little. Irina was little, too.” He flipped a couple of pages. “See this one here, of the two of them together? Irina looks like a teen mom. Always with the baby face and short stature.”

He sniffled, feeling that lump rise in his throat again. Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder as the continued to flip silently through the pages and pages of pictures. Towards the end of the album Y/N made to turn the page, but Sebastian stopped her. He pulled a picture of him and Irina from its sleeve. They were both grinning, with watery eyes. Sebastian was hugging Irina, looking the part of a proud older brother if ever there was one.

“She and Connor had already split up when Irina found out she was pregnant. Right before this picture was taken, she had told me she was going to have the baby anyway, she was going to raise it on her own. She finished her nursing degree, made ends meet and then some, and only with a little help from my parents. She did it all on her own. I was so proud of her.”

His voice broke by the time he made it to the last of that sentence and his head fell into his hands. Y/N’s heart broke for him; she moved to her knees so that she could wrap her arms around him and pull his head to lean on her shoulder. She held him as long as he cried, not saying anything, only rocking him a little. Sebastian let go of the picture and held on to her tightly.

When his parents came through the front door, he pulled away and excused himself to the bathroom. Y/N closed the photo album, leaving out the picture that had set Sebastian into tears, and stood to greet the older couple.

“Milena is sleeping in Seb’s old room. He put her in one of Anthony’s shirts and set her up. She was asleep before we got here.” She licked her bottom lip. “He was okay until we were looking at pictures. Maybe I should have shut the book when he came in from putting Milena down …”

Georgeta squeezed Y/N’s arm. “It’s fine, really. He had to let it out sometime.”

“Thank you. As soon as he’s out and I can let him know I’m leaving, I’ll get out of the way and let you all have some family time. But please, call me if you need anything.”

“Of course — and you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. We won’t be doing much, but I’m sure Sebastian would like to have you around longer.”

Y/N was about to answer that she would let Sebastian decide when he returned from the bathroom, his eyes rimmed red and his nose still sniffly. He nudged her with his shoulder.

“Running away already?” he teased.

Georgeta smiled. “You see? I’m going to change, I’ll be back down in a few minutes. Anthony, will you check on the little one, please?”

Sebastian kissed his mother on the cheek and waved at Anthony, then turned back to Y/N. “So, what do you think? Staying or going?”

“I’ll hang out,” Y/N ceded, “as long as you’ll let me go change first. I do love this dress, but if everyone else gets to be comfortable, I want to be comfortable, too. I’m staying at the Waldorf —”

“A hotel? Why’d you get a hotel? You could stay with me. You’re always welcome to stay with me.”

She shrugged, even blushed a little. “I know that, but I didn’t want to be in the way. I didn’t know how much family time you would need and I didn’t want you to have to worry about me coming and going and all that.”

“Hey,” Sebastian said, gently gripping her elbow, “you are family. All right? I won’t hold it against you this time, but next time you’re in the city, you’d better tell me first. Even if I’m not home, you can stay at my place. In fact, remind me while you’re here this time around, I’ll get you a key.”

Y/N nodded. “You’re too much sometimes. I’ll go change and then come back here. Should I pick up some food while I’m out?”

They had to wait for the parents to come back to the living room to answer that question. In the end, it was decided that Chinese would be the way to go for supper — they had eaten at the wake, but by the time Y/N got to the hotel, changed, ordered the food, then picked it up, they would be ready to eat again. Sebastian walked her to the sidewalk to meet her cab, made sure she was tucked safely inside, then went back inside.

He tiptoed quietly into his old room for one of the few changes of clothes he kept around his mother’s house, just because and just in case, and managed to change in the bathroom adjoined to the room, all without waking his niece. As hard as she was sleeping, Sebastian wondered if an earthquake would wake her in that moment.

In the kitchen, his mother was serving his stepfather a hot mug of tea. Sebastian got himself down a mug and made his own, then joined them at the table.

“How were things at Hills?”

Anthony sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Alice and Tim have already contacted a lawyer. Your mother informed them of Irina’s spoken wishes, but I’m not sure they believe it — and their skepticism is understood. When Irina decided to raise the baby on her own, I was all for it, but I encouraged her to get things in writing as soon as possible. She never was the best about listening to her old man.”

“She wasn’t the best about listening to anyone,” Sebastian sighed, blowing on his tea before taking a sip. “I’ll call my lawyer first thing Monday morning. If they already have things moving in the legal department, I want us to catch up as quickly as possible. I know they could take care of Milena as well as any of us, but it’s not — I don’t know. I want her with us.”

Georgeta nodded, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “We all do. We want to hang onto Irina this way. But what’s most important is that we’re honoring her wishes. She didn’t want her with us, son. She wanted Milena with you.”

Sebastian let out a deep breath. He wished desperately that he knew why his sister had so wished for him to take her daughter if something should happen to Irina. He was happy and willing, but it certainly wasn’t going to happen without a fight, it seemed. Rubbing his eyes, he let out a little frustrated groan.

“Okay, so I need to call the lawyer. What else do you think I need to do on my part to make sure this all goes in our — my — favor?”

The lawyer would be able to tell him more, but in the meantime, his parents suggested looking for a place that was a bit more conducive to raising a child and less geared toward living the come-and-go bachelor life. A nanny would be helpful, looking into schools in the area — except that would depend where he ended up living.

The suggestions and the questions kept coming, so Sebastian decided it was best to write all of this down. He had quite the list going when Y/N returned with Chinese and a small backpack of things. Sebastian shoved the list in his pocket, quickly asked his parents not to say anything about the matter to his friend yet, and hurried to help her carry in the food.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone tonight or not, so I brought a bag,” she told him quietly.

Sebastian smiled and put a hand behind her head, pulling her forward just enough to kiss her hair. “You’re the best, Bright Eyes. Mom and Anthony are in the kitchen, I’ll help you set this stuff down then go wake up Milena.”

“She’s still sleeping?” Y/N asked, surprised.

Sebastian nodded. “She’s has some pretty crazy days recently. Who knows how well she’s been sleeping.”

They took the food bags and cartons to the kitchen where Y/N helped Georgeta and Anthony begin to set things out, get silverware from the drawer and get down enough plates for everyone.

Sebastian peeked into the door of the familiar room and saw that Milena was already laying there with her eyes open. He smiled and went to sit on the edge of the mattress, pushy her sweaty hair away from her face.

“Hey there, little one,” he greeted. “How was your nap?”

“Good,” she yawned.

Sebastian held out his arms; she crawled into his lap, leaning her head against his chest. She yawned again, and her eyes were still a little heavy, so he let her settle there for a minute before standing up and balancing her on his hip.

“We got Chinese food. Are you hungry?”

Milena nodded. “Is she still here?”

“Bunica?”

“No, your friend.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Sebastian provided. “Yes, she’s here. Is that okay?”

Milena nodded again, then asked to be put down. She ran as fast as her little legs would carry her from the hallway to the kitchen. Now that she was fully awake, she couldn’t wait to announce to everyone that she was up from her nap.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​ @averyrogers83​ @jennmurawski13​

IYJR: @elsatxx​ @tanelle83​ @amanda-teaches​ @etherealwaifgoddess​ @kmuir1​ @ntlmundy​ @jayankles​ @rebekahdawkins​ @denise1605​ @rhadigen​ @peace-love-hobbitness​ @itsallyscorner​ @mizzzpink​ @auspiciousharriet @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​

[superfics-forone]

Soup for Sickies

Bucky x Reader

Drabble: Bucky is out on mission when you get laid up with a cold. Even from far away he finds ways to take care of you. 

Warnings: Fluff

WC: 925ish

A/N: This is something that someone actually did for me when I was sick and it has always stuck out as a great way to tell some one you want to take care for them, even from afar. That being said, it’s been a REALLY long time since I’ve written anything so please be gentle but I would really love feed back! 

You sat there on your couch in your stretchiest pants and your fluffiest sweater and felt as though you couldn’t get warm even with three extra blankets on top of you. You had woken up with a small cold. Nothing too terrible but you had called in sick to work hoping to keep your germs to yourself and get better faster. 

It was almost time for dinner but you didn’t know what you wanted to eat. Right now you really didn’t feel like eating anything. It was moments like this that you knew you were sick. Ordinarily you could eat all day. Your mom even joked that you were always hungry and that was why she always carried snacks in her purse when you came home. 

Sitting there watching an old rerun of Friends you scrolled through Pinterest trying to get excited for food by looking at it but nothing looked or sounded enticing. 

Your phone vibrated in your hand and your spirits lifted a little as you saw the name on the caller ID. 

Unfortunately for you a sneeze came right as you pushed talk. 

“Oooh, that bad, huh?” Bucky asked concerned

Blowing your nose you laughed, “No you just happened to catch me mid sneeze. I’m really not that bad. Just, you know, slightly miserable.”

“I’m sorry I’m not there to take care of you, doll.” Bucky said “I’m trying to speed this recon along so I can come pamper you!” 

Bucky was like a mother hen whenever you feeling slightly under the weather. At first you didn’t like all the attention. You had taken care of yourself sick before, it wasn’t that bad. But after experiencing his nursing skills you knew that you wouldn’t mind a warm bath and some pampering. 

“It’s okay, babe. I’m really not that bad.” You said trying not to worry him. 

“Have you eaten?” 

“No not yet. I’m not really in the mood for food -” 

“Wow! You really must be bad if you don’t want to eat!”

“Well, I just don’t really know what to eat. Nothing sounds that good.”

“Hmm…” Bucky hummed. “Breakfast for dinner?”

“I don’t know. I have the ingredients for soup but it will take a while and I’m not really in the mood to cook.”

“I wish I could be there to cook for you...even though I’m a terrible cooked,” he laughed.

You laughed remembering the last time Bucky tried cooking and almost set the ceiling on fire trying to make something simple like oatmeal. He huffed and hawed about how “These new stoves don’t make sense” and “no wonder everyone just sticks things in the damn box thing”. He still had a hard time getting the microwave set right. 

“Sorry, honey, but I’d have to be really, really sick to let that happen again!” you laughed. His gruff response made you chuckle again as you asked about the mission. 

Bucky, Natasha, and Sam had been called out on a recon mission a few days before when suspicious electrical activity had started up again at an old HYDRA base. It was supposed to be a brief recon but it had ended up taking almost a week. 

For a moment there was a prolonged  silence on the other line that started to worry you. 

“Bucky?” you asked, sitting up a little taller, a frown on your face. “Bucky are you okay? 

“Hmm...what? Oh ya!” he hummed casually. “Ya I’m all good, doll. - Hey how does Italian sound?” 

Sighing in relief that he was there and also confused at his change in subject you responded testily, “Italia- Bucky what on earth are you talking about? I asked you about the mission!”

“Ya I know but for real, do you like Italian?”

“What - I mean, yes but I don’t really think that a giant plate of pasta is a good idea right now Bucky” you sniffled. 

“No, not pasta, Y/N! What about Italian wedding soup? Or a calzone? Or a nice salad?” 

“Oh Bucky, I don’t know. I’d have to get dressed and go get it or have it delivered and I’m too tired to get up and do those things right now. I barely put on pants today. 

Bucky chuckled at the thought of you walking around the apartment you shared pantsless. 

“Besides,” You continued, “I don’t know what the good restaurants are around here and I’m too tired to do my research.” 

Bucky stayed quiet through your little rant.

Ordinarily the foodie in you would be searching through Yelp for the best restaurants, the best versions of dishes and the most recently updated listings. But right now what you really wanted was a cuddle and something easy to digest. 

You were about to say just that when the doorbell rang. 

“Oh jeez. Hold on a sec, Buck.” You mumbled as you forced yourself to get off the couch and go for the door. 

Looking through the peephole you saw a delivery person. 

“That’s weird” you thought, opening the door. 

“Hi there!” The cheery young delivery boy exclaimed. “Delivery for Y/N!”

“I didn’t order anything.” you said taking the bags. 

“No you didn’t but there is a note there on the bag for you.”

To my sicky because we both know I wouldn’t be able to do this for you.  -B

“Aw, babe, did you do this?” you asked pulling out enough food to feed a small army. 

Bucky, who had been quiet this whole time, enjoying your confusion and now reaction smiled into the phone. 

“Well, it was the best I could do, given the circumstances. Got to take care of my favorite girl.”