#i guess I need a tag for work crap

[millerflintstone]

I'm so tired, y'all. It's been a week. It's good in that there is valuable knowledge shared but bad in that the communication from the requester was poor. But I guess also good because it gives me a frame of reference for how to communicate with the external requesters. There are 8 training videos for a set of I think 3 different special reports. It was draining.

Every Friday there's a status meeting between me, my boss, and the guy I'm replacing. Our boss had a question for me about my PTO for December. As part of the interview screening, I had indicated 3 weeks off including that first week in January of next year to see if they'd balk because health plans usually don't allow or are picky about that. This is not a health plan, so it was ok. There's just red tape about floating holidays. My boss wanted to know if I'd be requesting it soon.

Well, guess who started answering for me? 😬😂

I did not let him get far. I said, "Hang on, (mentor name)" as he was two words in.

I explained that the crappy recruiter figured I could use 3 floating holidays, not realizing I could only use 2 because it's mandatory for my department to have to take off on Veteran's day. And I also explained why I hadn't requested it yet; with Gigabyte being erratic with her health, I was kind of waiting to see if things were going to take a turn.

So, my boss explained what to do re: the floating holidays and then I let her know I'd put the time in at the end of November at the latest. Then I told the mentor he could bring up whatever point it was.

Well, it was exactly what I mentioned. There was some other stuff about 2024 holidays not being accessible until 2024.

I think he's gotten so used to talking for people here and that's whatever. I don't need that, my guy and I sure as shit am not the type of person you can bulldoze. I can tell he doesn't do it out of being a dick and that he just wants to help. It's still exhausting but it is not long-term.

[ahundredtimesover]

Hold Me Closer | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; slight angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption; kitchen emergency; eldest child feels, adulting; explicit sexual content (making out, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex but be safe please!); Seven JK (18+)

Word count: 19.2k

Read Part 1: Hold Me Close

Summary: When you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up... Not if your brother can help it, though.

Listen to 🎵: Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional

Playlist 🎶: High School Playlist

A/N 1: I know I said I’d be on a break but I reread Hold Me Close and found comfort in this Jungkook 🥹 so I went ahead and wrote this little piece! Whipped and comforting boyfriend JK is what I needed so I hope you enjoy this 💕

Six - the number of work calls you’ve already taken in the last hour, with each one of them lasting one whole song. Jungkook calculates that you’ve spent half of the entire drive since leaving Seoul talking with your boss about some report that he somehow can’t complete without you, which sucks because Jungkook was really looking forward to this road trip with you and his best friend.

You groan after you hang up and the clackity clack of the keyboard continues. He was hoping to hold your hand while he drove and maybe sing with you some of your favorite songs that he put on but it doesn’t seem like those will happen anytime soon. You’re immersed in your work but he guesses you have to be; the sooner this ends, the sooner your focus will be on him and this present moment.

He finds the positive side of it at least. He gets to listen to you explain things - why the numbers are what they are, what targets you reached, and what risks you managed. It’s quite silly but it’s kind of a turn on, hearing you talk about something you know like the back of your hand, pretty much proving to your crap of a boss how good you are at your job and why you’re an asset to the company. You know your shit, and you have a classy way of making sure they know that you do. 

Six calls, and Jungkook already knows half of your project report. And perhaps he’ll know more, as the seventh one comes.

You let it ring for one, two, three times, as you hold your phone in one hand while you continue to type away with the other. 

“I swear to god, ___. If you don’t pick that up, I’m  gonna throw your phone out of this car,” Jimin, who’s comfortably seated in the backseat, growls. 

The dramatics is understandable because one, it’s Jimin and two, the constant ringing is a little bit much.

“___, I’m not fucking kiddi—”

“Hello, sir,” you finally answer, then proceed to discuss this month’s analytics and projections for the succeeding quarter.

Jungkook predicts it’s gonna take you another whole song to finish, so he instead focuses on the road and appreciates the clear skies and familiar scenery of the drive to Busan. His thoughts go to how these next several days are gonna go. There’s visiting your favorite spots growing up, going to a resort, staying in to eat and play video games, and of course, cuddling with you in your room, as you and Jimin will have your parents’ house to yourselves once they leave for their anniversary trip in two days.

His musings are disrupted though, when he looks at the rear view mirror and sees Jimin’s annoyed face blocking his view. Jungkook can’t help but laugh, especially when he hears his best friend grumbling complaints just behind him.

“Leave her be, she’ll be done soon,” Jungkook dismisses him. “They sound like important stuff.”

“She’s talking so loudly!” Jimin groans. “I just want to reminisce and sing along to our teenage emo music, Kook.”

Jungkook turns the music off. 

“There, I paused it. You can sing along once she’s done speaking on the phone,” he says.

Jimin pouts in response. “You always take her side. You weren’t like this when we were kids.”

“Well, if it means anything, I always took her side. I just never told you,” Jungkook laughs.

“Traitor.”

“I’m literally your most loyal friend.”

It’s a statement that Jimin can’t counter. Jungkook is his most loyal friend. And the most supportive. And the most dependable. And definitely the one who’s never left his side. 

When Jimin casually told their group that he likes girls and boys, Jungkook was the only one who didn’t need time to “warm up to the idea.” Jungkook was also the only one who never disappeared whenever he had a girlfriend. He was also the one who never missed a single one of Jimin’s dance showcases in college and professional shows. 

And of course, Jungkook was the one friend who took up his offer to drink that Friday afternoon, resulting in that infamous gutter incident - as you like to call it - and his subsequent unemployment and homelessness. While you, his beloved sister, were there to pick up the pieces, so was Jungkook, the way he promised he would after they became friends at 10 years old. 

Those months when Jimin was heartbroken and unsure of what he was going to do with his life, his best friend was there to make sure that he wasn’t going to lose his drive and love for dancing. His best friend is also the one constantly cheering him up about this long-distance relationship that he decided to have with Taehyung while others continue to be a skeptic.

Jungkook is that friend, and Jimin supposes he can forgive the other man every time he sides with you.

Jimin is about to complain again when you put the phone down and make one of your restrained cries. He pities you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you wouldn’t be doing your work stuff while you’re on a trip of what’s supposed to be a mini-break.

“I don’t get why you don’t pick up after the first ring,” he huffs. 

“It’s so Mr. Soo knows that I’m not easily available,” you say. 

“But you are. You answer it anyway,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Exactly, I’m gonna answer it anyway. Might as well make him wait for it because he needs me,” you point out. “It’s bad enough that he’s calling while I’m taking the leave he approved, so I’m just pissing him off. He doesn’t know I changed the prompt to leave me a voice message to an annoying song so he’ll have to sit through it to get to me. I already know it’s getting on his nerves.”

“Ooh, petty. I like that,” Jimin hums. 

“I know. I got that from you,” you proudly smile.

“But why are you even working?” He whines, your brother’s tone more of pity than annoyance. “It totally defeats the purpose of a leave. And you shouldn’t be indulging him!”

“Well, Mr. Soo approved this leave thinking that Chul would help him craft this report, which is based on the project that I proposed, only to realize that he doesn’t know shit about it because I wrote everything, and he just took the credit,” you explain. “I don’t want to be doing this, too, but I also just took the chance to show who’s driving the wheel, and it’s definitely me. Plus, I worked hard for that project. Working on the report at least gives me a chance to give myself credit for it.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right,” Jimin concedes. “Your voice is just so loud.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to match his tone,” you say. “But he’ll be in a meeting for the next hour or so and he probably won’t need me again until then. You can turn the music back on.”

“Ugh, thank god,” Jimin groans again. “I missed my favorite song.”

He leans forward and squeezes himself in the small space between you and Jungkook. The proximity causes Jimin to smack his elbow on your face, which you know is intended, considering how much of a brat he is. So you do what you always do - flick the back of his head. 

He yells but gets over it once he manages to press the rewind button and plays the song he’s been wanting to hear. You haven’t been paying attention throughout the drive and hadn’t even known what they were listening to, but once the music comes on, a wave of nostalgia hits you.

You take the CD case you see in the compartment and scan the song list.

“Dashboard Confessional?” You read out. “Mayday Parade? Something Corporate?”

You go through 2 other CDs and look at both men questioningly. 

“These are literally plucked out of my high school playlist that I illegally downloaded,” you state, given that music streaming sites weren’t a thing over a decade ago. “Why do you have them in CDs? And did you even know these songs back then?”

“Yes, because we listened to your playlist when you weren’t around,” Jimin confesses, earning him a flick on the arm. 

“You went through my computer? You were in my room?!” You yell.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “It was a boring room, there was nothing to see. We just wanted your music because they were cool, but I’d never admit it.”

“I’m sure,” you shake your head. “But it was my ex, remember? He was a new kid from the US and he got me into these emo rock bands and I thought they were cool, too. He downloaded them illegally for me and I just jammed to those songs all the time even after we broke up.”

“We know. Jungkook and I could hear it from my bedroom,” Jimin says, “which is why we used to sneak in and listen when you weren’t around.”

“Is that why you put them in a mixtape? So you could listen to them whenever you wanted?” You ask, turning to Jungkook because between the both of them, he’s definitely the one who’d know how to do this.

“Yeah, Kook. Why did you make these mixtapes when neither of us had a portable CD player… but my sister did?” Jimin presses, cocked eyebrow and smug face on display.

You’re looking at him now, and it’s a curious look that Jungkook can’t resist.

“I just thought to put your most played ones in CDs,” he shyly admits, “and uh, planned on giving them to you before you left for college. But I chickened out so I just left them in a box in my room that I brought to Seoul. I’d forgotten all about it until Jimin raided my studio and found them.”

“You… you made me mixtapes? When you were 15?” You ask.

“___, I think I’ve established enough that I had a huge crush on you when I was a teenager,” he turns to you and laughs. 

It’s a little embarrassing even if he’s already dating you. It still feels surreal sometimes, as he thinks of his growing up years and how he always looked forward to sleeping over at Jimin’s place and then catching glimpses of you. There were the times when you’d watch movies with them in the living room, and then he’d help you clean up in the kitchen so he could spend more time with you.

That was over 10 years ago and so much has changed, but the admiration he felt for you never dwindled. There was always that image of you looking happy. He kept that version of you in his mind, even when you had your boyfriends. He just wanted to remember your smile, and now he gets to be the reason for it, like now.

“It’s just… it’s very sweet and thoughtful,” you say softly. 

“I… Well… I took interest in the things you liked. I guess that happens when you like someone.”

“Told you he’s a romantic,” Jimin nudges you. 

Between the fairy tattoo he designed and did on your shoulder, the dinner and picnic dates he takes you to despite both your busy schedules, and the way he holds you so close to him whenever and wherever he can, you can definitely say that Jungkook is a romantic.

It’s only been three months but it feels as if you’ve been dating him for longer, given the overflow of affection he’s been giving you. It’s in the way he always holds your hand and kisses you so passionately. It’s in his encouraging words and the way he spoils you with the littlest things. 

It’s refreshing to be with him. He has boyish charms that have become even sexier with his slightly long hair and the lip ring that he recently got. And whatever he’s wearing, there’s just something so comfortably sexy about him that’s both warm and exciting, and you often find yourself swarmed in butterflies whenever he talks about you.

It’s only been three months but it’s a relationship you’re still slowly being open about. Your friends were definitely surprised. Hoseok fell off the couch with all his body movements; Jin spat out his drink; Yoongi gasped, then followed it up with a teasing smirk; So-Hee and Na-eun gushed over how Jungkook treats you, and took the chance to say how he’s gotten more handsome over the years. 

You asked them if it was that shocking for you to be dating someone younger - and your brother’s best friend at that - and while they said it was a bit unexpected, what really got them was how different Jungkook is from your exes. He’s not some corporate man with ambitions, they pointed out. His life is less structured, too, given his freelancing career and gig at the tattoo parlor. He’s definitely a lot more laid-back and more casual than they’re used to. 

They were short of remarking that Jungkook’s lifestyle isn’t as stable and secure as what you normally go for, and they wouldn’t be wrong. It’s a thought you’ve had before, and something even he brought up because he didn’t want you thinking that he can’t keep up with you. But you’d been the one to point out to your friends that stability can come in different forms. With how Jungkook has been so dependable and assuring, that’s given you more security than you ever thought. 

But it’s not something that’s easy to explain. Maybe your friends could understand. They’ve made careers in different industries, after all, with short term jobs forming part of their resume. But your parents are of a different generation and mindset. Stability for them means one thing, and they raised you to want the same thing in the same way. 

Which is why it’s already been three months, and you still haven’t told them about you and Jungkook. 

“I started young,” he laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he takes your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. “I used to just choose my moments of romance but with you, I’m romantic all the time.”

“Really? Does being a flirt count as being romantic?” You cock an eyebrow.

Because that’s what he is. He likes to tease and call you out when he affects you. He likes to charm and then edge you until you’re pleading for him to do more. 

“Definitely! I mean, I’m out here living my teenage dream, you know?” He winks at you. “Not just anyone gets to say that they’re dating the person they had a crush on when they were 13.”

“Oh god, here we go again,” Jimin groans, earning him a laugh from you and Jungkook.

But even if your brother fake-gags at your not-so private displays of affection, you know deep down that he’s happy for you and his best friend. The two most important people in his life found comfort in each other, and he gets to witness and bask in that. 

He also gets to brag that it all happened because of him. 

You spend the next hour jamming to all your favorite emo rock songs because Jungkook wasn’t kidding - he really did include all of the ones you had on repeat from your playlist. It takes you back to over 10 years ago of playing the music so loud while you’re in your pajamas, jumping on your bed and singing your lungs out. They don’t really remind you of your ex-boyfriend. That was a short-lived relationship that only really had you appreciating the songs he shared and not much more. 

Your boss doesn’t reach out to you until a half hour later. He’s taken to sending you messages instead, and when he does, you’re back to typing away on your laptop, to the displeasure of both men. 

They don’t call you out this time and instead leave you be. Until, of course, it hinders you from enjoying yourself.

The car has stopped but you’re still on your laptop, double checking figures. Jimin has stepped out after telling you that he’ll throw your laptop in the ocean if you don’t stop, but Jungkook stays with you inside the car. He bops his head and hums to the music that neither of you could barely hear. He picks on his fingers and yelps at the hangnail he pulls out. He opens the window and shoos away a bug, then hangs out his head to feel the late morning sun.

“Kook, you can go out if you’re bored,” you say, your eyes still glued to your screen. “You don’t have to stay with me here.”

“But I want to,” he responds. “I’m not leaving until you do, not when you said we’re spending the week free from work and stress.”

“I just need to get this done,” you sigh, rechecking your stats for the third time and then aligning the table. “I’ll be finished soon.”

“You said that 15 minutes ago,” he points out, not wanting to sound like he’s complaining, although he might as well be. 

“It’s just—”

“You’ve done your part, babe. You’ve encoded the figures and cross-checked the targets and objectives. Writing the rest of that report and formatting it isn’t your job anymore,” Jungkook says. “You weren’t even supposed to do those. You’re not on the clock. You’re on leave, and you deserve this break.”

“I hate that I have to work, too, but it’s not something I just can’t do, not when my boss is calling and expecting me to do all this,” you groan. 

You see his eyebrows furrow and you get defensive. 

“You know what, nevermind. You work solo, you answer to no one, you don’t have to prove yourself to corporate assholes. You won’t get it.”

You sigh once more and return to reviewing the conclusion, but the sudden silence is unnerving. You glance at Jungkook and see the look on his face - it’s not sadness but disappointment, and it’s one you don’t see very often on him.

You’re about to apologize when he speaks, his voice soft and low, as if speaking is difficult for him.

“I work with so many clients on a daily basis, with more than half of them setting deadlines that they don’t even follow and demanding so many things so yes, I get it,” he says. “But I put my foot down when I need to, because I learned a long time ago that I shouldn’t let people walk all over me. I know you’re up against a lot of things and you may feel like your hands are tied but they aren’t. A break won’t hurt you. And you know you deserve it. We deserve your attention, too.”

Your heart cracks at his words. Even more at the way he looks, as you see that all he wants is to spend time with you. He’s been busy, too. He’s spent the last few nights at his studio, buried deep in his projects because he said he wanted to focus on you this week. And you know that he’ll keep his word like he always does. Jungkook is dedicated to his work but he focuses on you when he says he will. You’re the one not loyal to what you say.

“Kook, I’m—”

“Just do what you have to do,” he interjects, his eyes downcast now. “I’ll be outside with Jimin. Come out when you’re done. You like it here, so don’t worry. We won’t leave until you’ve come down.”

Jungkook exits the car before you can say anything. You watch him walk down the stony path towards the ocean.

You hadn’t even realized you’re here. 

You’re at Cheongsapo, with the pebble beach just meters away being one you all went to as kids. Jungkook’s older brother used to drive you here during summer, and you all enjoyed the calmness of the place. You used to bet on who would treat ice cream by playing rounds of stone skipping, with Jimin winning every single time. You remember how you and Jungkook taught each other how to do it, and then tag-teamed against your brother so he could finally treat you both that one time. 

Whenever you’d visit Busan during your college breaks, you’d always come down here with your friends, with Jungkook and Jimin in tow. You’d visit at sunset and hold out your sparklers, then navigate the terrain at night and laugh about who tripped and slipped on the way back. 

Jungkook’s right. You like this place. It holds so many memories of your youth, and you find yourself constantly reminiscing, as you try to recall his place in your life back then. 

You mentally smack yourself. He didn’t deserve your dismissal. He didn’t deserve the way you spoke to him. He’s been trying to help, especially with how busy you’ve been these past several weeks. You were supposed to work from home while you housesat your parents’ house but Jimin convinced you to take your untouched leaves when Jungkook decided to come, and then they both called it a mini-break.

And maybe you need it, considering that all this preoccupation with work has caused you to snap at your boyfriend when all he wanted to do was ease your mind.

So you get out of the car and head to him. 

There’s a small forest to pass through and a steep staircase to maneuver, but you manage. You look out to see Jimin already throwing stones and Jungkook standing by, reacting to every gliding pebble on the water. You spare a few seconds to admire him from the back, with his plain white shirt and light gray lounge pants, accentuating a figure that has you weak in the knees. His hands are in his pockets and his slightly long locks are in a half-bun, and he looks every bit of comfort in this place that holds so much of your years growing up.

You walk to where he is and wrap your arms around him from behind. He stills but he doesn’t say anything. You savor his natural scent and the way the tips of his hair tickle your face. You bask in the taut figure that somehow softens under your touch. Once you feel him relax a little, you tilt your head and whisper in his ear. 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He remains quiet and unmoving. All you can hear are the sounds of the waves and Jimin’s cheering from some meters away.

“I just got caught up with work but I’m done with it. It wasn’t right of me to neglect you when I promised I was gonna take a break and spend time with you,” you continue.

Your voice is low and Jungkook could hear your pout. Just a little bit more and he’ll give in.

“You look so hot today and I just want to—”

“Yah!” He whines, finally returning your affection and caressing your arms that are now wrapped around him tightly. “Don’t tease me.”

“Hmm, that caught your attention, huh?” You giggle, lightly kissing his neck.

He shivers at the act, and he laughs at himself for how whipped he is for you, giving in so quickly.

“You know it would,” he huffs, turning around to face you now.

You still have that pout and he just wants to kiss it off you.

“How was walking down the steep staircase?” He asks, knowing that was your only non-favorite thing about this place. 

“I tripped on a step but I’m fine,” you proudly smile now. 

“You should’ve called me,” he frowns now. 

“But you were upset with me!”

“So? Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you down the stairs and risk you tripping. You know how those steps are. And the pebbles can sometimes be slippery. You can trip here, too, and— what?”

“Nothing. You’re sexy when you’re worried about me,” you say nonchalantly.

“Ugh, come here,” he groans, pulling you in a hug, one that you fall into immediately. “I’ll always worry about you. And I’ll always help you, even if I’m upset.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry again. But I’ve laid off the report now. I told Mr. Soo I shall not be disturbed anymore for the rest of my leave.”

“Good,” Jungkook hums, pulling away to face you now. “Because I really want to know what you wanted to do.”

“Ah, many things, Jeon Jungkook,” you smirk. “But I’ll maybe settle for this first.”

You lean in and kiss him - deep enough to have him moan against your lips, and you suddenly can’t wait until you can do more.

“Oh, my eyes!” Jimin squeals, prompting you to look at him with his arm covering his face.

Jungkook only laughs but you scowl at your brother.

“You’re so dramatic,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve seen worse.”

“And I’ve erased that image of my sister and my best friend swallowing each other’s faces from my mind. Please don’t remind me again,” he groans. “But anyway, are you tolerable again?”

“Yes,” you frown. “I think,” you mutter, turning to Jungkook.

“You’re alright,” he teases, before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. “Now Jimin here wants to reassert his dominance as the stone-skipping king. You game for a match?”

“Do I have a choice?” You cock your eyebrow.

“No. So okay, same rules,” your brother announces. “Loser treats everyone to coffee and pastry. We all know it won’t be me.”

“Brat,” you say under your breath. 

But he’s not wrong. He dominates and Jungkook ends up losing. The wink he makes tells you he let you win. And though you like to play fair, you won’t lie and say his teasing smirk definitely turned you on.

You spend the rest of your morning enjoying iced coffee while overlooking the beach, then you head to your favorite seafood restaurant for lunch. You go to your usual market for ingredients for the week, including tonight’s dinner that your mother will be preparing. She wanted to cook for all of you before they flew out, she said, and that got you excited. 

It’s refreshing to walk through the streets and spots of your childhood and reminisce with your brother and boyfriend. The memories take on different forms this time, as Jungkook tells you things from his perspective. 

You remember that one time you scolded them for sneaking out on a school night and then picking them up at an alley with Jin driving you. Jungkook says he liked how caring and understanding you were then; you said you’d cover for them after flicking their foreheads. 

There’s that summer when you got your friends to buy from Jimin and Jungkook’s ice pop stand so they could buy these skateboards that neither of your parents wanted to get for them. Jungkook recalls how you complimented his recipe and told everyone he made them so that they’d praise him, too. 

There’s that winter when, after your brother’s begging, you had him and Jungkook join you and your friends’ bonfire night at one of your secret beach spots. Jungkook points out that you always made sure that as the youngest ones there, they were warm and well-fed. 

And then there were their sleepovers when you’d join them play video games and watch horror movies in the living room. Jungkook gushes at how pretty you looked and how you’d always prepare them popcorn and drinks. He outs you as the one who puts the blanket over him and Jimin when they fall asleep on the couch. 

“I tend to forget a lot of things but I remember when they’re about you,” he mumbles as he starts the drive to your house. “It’s just always stuck with me. Please don’t be weirded out.”

You giggle but assure him that you aren’t. You understand him - there are things and people and moments that naturally stick with you, and they’re the ones you hold dear, too. 

He was a kid with a crush and his attention was often on you, and you suppose that given how you’d felt comfortable around him then, it was also maybe natural that you’d feel the same way now that you’re both older. It just so happened that he ended up looking as attractive as he did, and that’s just an added bonus. 

Jungkook drops you and Jimin home before he drives three blocks away to his parents’ house. He’ll greet them first before heading to your place, he says, excited for your mom’s cooking that he always enjoyed. 

It’s been some time since you last saw them. They don’t always drive out to Seoul, only doing so to watch Jimin’s shows, and you haven’t had time to go home, either. Plus, you had an injured brother to take care of, and he’s also really the topic of every conversation you’ve had with them these past months. 

And there are no bad feelings there. He’s had injuries and illnesses that had them worried, and you’re pretty much as unproblematic and predictable as any eldest child could get. You think you’re that monotonous or unexciting, too, and you suppose that just meant they didn’t feel the need to check on you as much as they did with Jimin.

But you express your longing once they offer you their hugs. You say how you miss your mom’s cooking and your dad’s baking, which is code for saying that you’ve missed them, too. 

You get your stuff to your room and sigh in relief at the comfort it still gives you. Not much has changed between your double bed, your desk, your beanbag, and the large cork board of photos on your wall. You pin the Polaroids from earlier, deciding to keep the ones of you and Jungkook for your place back in Seoul. 

You huff this time, unsure how you’ll open the discussion of you dating your younger brother’s best friend to your parents. They’ve known him since he was a kid; they watched him get into all kinds of trouble with their son, and were there for his milestones, too. 

Jungkook was always Jimin’s partner-in-crime; they were two peas in a pod who went through everything together. Now it’s you and him and you don’t really know how they’ll take it. 

But you brush it off for now and think it’s a conversation for later, or maybe when they come back from their trip. You intended on telling them in person, which is why they’re still in the dark. It’s just a matter of how you’ll say it.

You head downstairs and take in the scent of seafood soft tofu stew. The two boys are already at the kitchen counter, munching on the rolled omelet that they shouldn’t even be having yet. But your mom lets them, as Jimin talks about his new agency and shows videos of him doing some choreographies.

You stand next to Jungkook, who sneakily feeds you. You don’t know why you get flustered at the act, even more when he whispers in your ear. 

“So, I finally get to see your room with your permission,” he cheekily smiles. “I promised Jimin a few rounds of Overwatch before going to you.”

You merely laugh and tell him that your dad’s asking him something.

“So, Jungkook. How has work been? Jimin tells us you’ve been getting more projects recently,” your old man asks. 

“Ah, yes, uncle,” he responds. “I’m getting more clients and exposure now. It took a while but it’s all going well.”

“That’s good. Although I always wondered why you never thought of joining a firm. Doesn’t that mean a more consistent client base? And better for you financially, too.”

“Well, I get to choose my clients and my projects as a freelancer,” Jungkook explains. “I control my time. And it allows me to take appointments at the tattoo parlor.”

“Oh, right, your hobby,” your dad nods. “I guess having multiple sources of income is the new trend these days.”

Jungkook just hums in agreement, already used to your dad’s frame of thought when it comes to a career. So are you, because it’s often the first thing he picks up on with your boyfriends. Each of your partners just happened to be working in corporate so there was never this line of questioning followed by an awkward silence. 

But Jungkook is just your brother’s best friend, as far as they know. You wonder how they’d react once you finally tell them the truth.

You don’t completely fault your dad, though. It’s less about judgment and more about practicality. He and your mom came from the generation that believed survival and security mattered more than passion. They always thought the latter could come later on in life, which is why they opened their own cafe not long ago, at a time when they were already pretty secure. You suppose it’s his way of looking out for you, which is why he’s always been concerned about your partner’s occupation.

The conversation changes, as the focus now turns to your parents and what they’ve been up to. You assist your mom in the kitchen while the men hang around, helping when they’re called upon. Jungkook stands near you, asking if you need him and attempting to feed you with a dumpling this time, but you manage to feed yourself and he merely looks at you in understanding.

Dinner is finally ready and you all head to the dining table. You take the seat next to your mom, across from Jungkook, and he looks at you curiously but you offer him an apologetic smile. You only told him that you’ll tell your parents about your relationship in person, which you planned on doing. 

That is, until your parents bring up your friends.

“Sweetie, Jin’s son is so adorable,” your mom chirps. “I saw the pictures on Facebook and the little one took after his father so much. I can imagine how happy he and his wife are.”

The topic of your dear friend and his family injects energy into you. You say how Jin’s been bragging about his mini-me but that the nursery you helped put together looks so beautiful. You were all there when his wife gave birth a few weeks ago and though you’re still unsure about having kids, you won’t deny how much it warmed your heart when Seo-yoon’s tiny fingers wrapped around your thumb. It’s not something you say though, as your mom eventually mentions Na-eun and her fiancé. 

“I read that he’s been promoted as Director of their company,” she says. 

Your dad pipes in that So-Hee’s new boyfriend is apparently the son of one of his former colleagues, and you’re quite frankly over the conversations about your friends’ partners. The insinuations aren’t lost on you.

“How do you even know these things?” You groan.

“Facebook,” your mom replies. “Of course I’m friends with all your friends. And it’s nice to know how well they’re doing since we don’t get to see them much anymore. You’ve reached that age of settling down, after all.”

“I guess,” you hum, no longer interested in the conversation. Jimin’s roll of his eyes tells you he feels the same. “Lots of good things are happening for them.”

You don’t mean to sound bitter and you aren’t. You adore your friends and genuinely love that things are looking out for them. You’re not the same person from months ago who felt lost and falling behind amongst them. Sure, things could be better career-wise, but you haven’t felt this much security in yourself and your relationship until Jungkook. Explaining why is a different thing altogether.

“What about you?” Your dad asks. “I know we’ve been calling every week to ask about your brother but we haven’t been checking in on you. I’m sorry, dear,” he continues, his eyes softening. “Is there anything new in your life?”

If the earlier conversations hadn’t happened, perhaps you’d willingly hint on the newest thing in your life, which is the relationship you have with the man currently looking at you with his doe-eyes in anticipation. 

But they did, and you know mentioning your friends’ partners was their way of subtly pressuring you about being with someone of similar stature. And you’re not really in the mood for that right now. 

So you end up doing the stupidest thing you possibly could, and that’s to lie. 

“Not really,” you say, hating the prolonged silence that follows. 

And as you look at Jungkook across from you, you see his face fall, and you hate even more that it’s because of you. 

Your lack of a follow-up prompts your parents to move on. They know that when you’re in the mood to talk, you will and when you’re quite passive, it means you aren’t. 

Your mom turns to Jungkook instead and asks him what else he’s up to other than his various jobs and looking after Jimin. He looks at you before his gaze shifts towards them.

“Not much else, auntie,” he replies. 

The crack of your heart knows you completely messed up, because if it stings like this, then you know it hurt him even more.

“Oh, is there no one special in your life?” She asks, as she often does. Given that she treats Jungkook as part of the family, she’s lost all filter when it comes to him, too. “I recently met with my friend and her daughter. She’s such a lovely young woman, Kook, she’s brilliant and oh so charming. She’s in Busan for the week, too. Do you want to—”

“Is it time for dessert?” Jimin butts in, not wanting this conversation to continue. 

He knows Jungkook wouldn’t know how to turn your mother down, and if he even slightly entertains the idea to appease her, you’d be the one upset, even if you technically put this upon yourself. Jimin already sees you a bit uncomfortable, and if there’s anything he can do to not make this worse for you and his best friend, it’s to be a brat. 

“Oh, yes. Your father made an apple pie and some ice cream,” she says. “Let me—”

“I’ll get it,” you offer, standing up from your seat now.

You don’t want to know what your mom’s other propositions would be. You’re sure she’ll find some person’s son to match you with, given that she’s done that a few times after your breakup with Namjoon. You’re also not ready for Jungkook to agree with her about meeting someone, even if you know he won’t mean it.

Which is really stupid because if you’d just told them the truth, then you’ll be having a completely different conversation, although you’re unsure if you’re ready for that one, too. But at least Jungkook wouldn’t look as upset as he does right now, as he’s resorted to picking on his food instead of finishing it, which tells you that he’s lost his appetite and that’s never a good thing. 

You go to the kitchen to slice the pie and scoop the ice cream. You do it so slowly to lengthen the time before you’re back there, only because you don’t want to know what else they’re talking about. 

You’re in the middle of cursing yourself when you feel the sting of a tiny pinch on your arm, and you yelp in pain and smack your brother’s chest in reflex.

“Ow!” You yell, frowning at the man before you and ignoring your mother’s order to “behave,” even if they’re used to you two quarreling. 

“You deserve that,” Jimin scowls at you. “Because what the fuck was that?!”

“I know,” you sigh, glancing at Jungkook who’s trying his best to be interested in what your parents are saying. “I… froze. You know what they wanted to hear, Chim. All those things about my friends’ boyfriends and what they do? I just didn’t want them to compare them to what Jungkook does if I tell them.”

“Why, what’s wrong with what he does?” Your brother raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing. It’s just… you know how focused they are on career stability and shit like that,” you try to explain. “You heard what dad was telling him earlier. I just didn’t want Jungkook to hear any underhanded comments from them and then feel bad about it.”

“And you think denying that you’re dating is any better?” He chides. “That’s literally worse!”

“I—”

“Jungkook knows how our parents are. And after you got together, he already anticipated that they’d question how he’ll be able to sustain your life together once you told them about your relationship,” Jimin explains. “He was ready for it. I doubt he anticipated this…”

You stand there, the crack in your heart getting deeper and bigger as the seconds pass. You hadn’t realized that Jungkook was already confiding in Jimin about any concerns he’d have about facing your parents. You suppose he would, given that you said you’d tell them when you saw them the one time that Jungkook asked if they knew, and you didn’t raise it again after. Living in your bubble together seemed more important, and you’d forgotten to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation.

“Chim, I fucked up,” you pout. 

If it were about anything else, Jimin would push it. It’s how you always were, and you’ve reached that point  in your relationship where you could call each other out and know it comes from a good place. But he doesn’t want to do this today, not when you’re already sad and guilty and he doesn’t want you to feel worse. He doesn’t want to take sides, even if he’ll admit that you were in the wrong, but he doesn’t want to antagonize you either.

“Hey,” he nudges your arm. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re both gonna figure it out. I don’t know how hard he’ll take this but he’s a really soft-hearted person, so just… keep that in mind, okay?”

You nod, wanting to believe that you’ll be able to fix it. 

“And don’t hate yourself too much,” your brother adds. “He’s really, really into you. I just know he won’t be able to resist you.”

You nod again but you think that just makes it worse. You doubt he expected that out of all the people to disappoint him, it would be you. Yet here you are. 

You and Jimin return to the table with the plated desserts. You hand one to Jungkook but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t meet your eyes either when it’s all you try to do. He peacefully eats his apple pie while you feign interest at your parents talking about their recent weekend at a spa. 

When everyone’s done, he helps Jimin clean up. It’s how you know that Jungkook’s considered part of the family, as your parents don’t stop him from doing so, unlike when it comes to other guests or your friends. 

You watch helplessly as he washes the dishes, turning down your offer to help. You take the rest of the plates and walk towards him instead, standing close so you could place them in the sink. He just moves his arms to give you space then returns to his task, not sparing you a glance. 

You stay with your parents in the dining area to talk about their trip. They leave you with important documents and give you instructions should anything bad happen to them while they’re away, as they always do whenever they go on a trip. Everything is your responsibility as the eldest, they remind you. 

They finally go to their room to continue packing and you sit on the corner of the couch where Jimin and Jungkook have just finished watching some video of a guy reacting to other videos. You constantly glance at your boyfriend but he seems to be intent on not giving you attention because he’s not like this - he always wants to be close to you, needing his hand to be touching your arm or your thigh or even your hair, and his pretty eyes locked on you. But not tonight.

You recall how months ago, you avoided him because of what you started to feel. And perhaps this is how he felt then - helpless, unsure, and desperate for you to be next to him again. 

You find the tiniest bit of courage and call out his name, hoping he’d at least turn to you this time. 

“Kook, I’m—”

“Hey, we should probably play now so we finish early,” Jungkook nudges Jimin’s knee. “It’s been a long day; I don’t really want to stay up late.”

Your brother looks at you in apology as he responds to the man on his left in agreement. They both head up, leaving you rooted in your seat, wishing that Jungkook would turn around to tell you that he doesn’t mean creating this distance, but he doesn’t. 

And you wouldn’t blame him. You’d stay away from you, too.

You end up watching Aliens on your own, crouched on your corner of the couch with the large blanket over you. You give up after an hour, once the movie starts getting intense and scary though. There’s no Jungkook to hold you during the jumpscares, or to tease you about your screaming, or to assure you that he’ll protect you from all types of monsters. 

There’s no Jungkook next to you but you want him there, and it’s another half hour later when you decide that you’re not going to bed without speaking to him. 

You hate sleeping sad and upset. You don’t like ending the day not being on good terms with him. There are so many things you want to tell him but more than anything, you just want to hold him close. He always said he liked that, because even during the times when there’s so much to say or feel, falling into each other’s arms is the easiest thing to do. It says enough. It shows enough. And you’ve both survived misunderstandings and stressful moments by holding each other, and then holding each other closer.

Walking up the stairs and towards Jimin’s room, the nerves kick in. Jungkook has been ignoring you the whole evening and you’re unsure if he’s willing to hear you out. 

But you try, as you knock on the door, your heart beating fast when it slowly opens. Your brother’s downcast eyes meet you and you don’t need to say anything else. 

He opens the door wider then turns to the man lying on a mattress on the floor.

“Kook, my sister’s looking for you.”

You glance at him, dressed in that black tank top that always made you breathless, but once again, he avoids your gaze. But he does stand up after a nudge on the foot from your brother and walks over to you.

“Can we, uh…” you gesture towards the room just across the hallway.

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t shut you out, which is a good thing. You take it as your cue to start walking and you hear his footsteps right behind you. 

You let him in then close the door behind him. There’s so much you want to say, like you’re sorry and that you were stupid, that you didn’t mean to deny him but that you didn’t know how to tell your parents, or what you were even nervous about. You want to say that you just want to spend tonight wrapped up in his arms and apologizing in all the ways that you can.

But instead of uttering the words, your throat dries up. Seeing him standing there with that upset and disinterested look on his face breaks you a little. So you reach out, your hands pressing gently on his chest to try to feel him, to be close to him, hopefully to hold him and make your mistake go away. 

“Kook, I…” you tremble, trying so hard to find the words.

Jungkook looks back at you, your face nervous and unsure, unlike his that’s probably still painted with disappointment. 

He still doesn’t know what to make of your denial. He’s been trying to see things from your point of view all evening, but doing so only in his head because verbalizing them, especially to his best friend, makes it sting a bit more. Maybe Jimin can explain on your behalf but that would just confirm to Jungkook one of two things - that you don’t really intend on telling your parents about both of you for whatever reason he can’t comprehend, or you don’t think he measures up to their expectations and for that, you might just think he’s not good enough for you. 

He doesn’t think he’s ready for that, so he shuts Jimin down when he asks. They watched videos earlier to have something to laugh about but he was faking it. He suggested playing a game just so he wouldn’t respond to you calling him earlier but all they’ve done since going to the room is lie in silence. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to talk about it with his best friend. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about it with you. He doesn’t want an explanation right now. It’s not what he wants to hear. 

And it seems as if it’s something you’re even struggling to give him, as you stand there quivering, your hands slowly trying to pull him closer to you. 

It’s what you usually do when you can’t find the words to express something - when you’re stressed and frustrated, when you want to patch things up after a small misunderstanding, when you want his comfort. And he always loved it when you did. He always willingly gave you that hug and that kiss and those whispers of “it’s okay” and “we’re okay” and “I’m just here.” 

But not tonight, not when there’s this unnamed thing that’s eating him inside, and not even you can fix it. 

“I don’t… I don’t really wanna do this right now,” he mutters, taking your hands to slowly slide them off him. 

The look of hurt in your eyes is one that’ll probably haunt him for a while, but he’ll learn to deal with that. It’s better than talking with you about something that you don’t even know how to express. 

This isn’t like him. It’s not like him to be upset at you like this, to not want to comfort you, to not want to be around you. This messes him up, too, and all he can do is step away and walk out.

He doesn’t really wanna be here, he thinks to himself as he enters the room just across, to the surprise of Jimin who half expected both of you to have made up. Jungkook would go home if he only brought his keys and it wasn’t too late to ask his parents to open the door for him.

But his best friend’s floor mattress will do for now. And so Jungkook puts on his earpods and plays whatever music is loud enough to shut out the thought of you until he falls asleep. 

In the other room, you lay in your bed in complete silence. You don’t want to cry, only because he’s not there to wipe your tears away. And you don’t ever want to know what that’s like, so you don’t. You keep the tears at bay and force yourself to drift away. 

You jerk awake the next morning to your mother knocking on your door. You promised to do errands with her today, so you get off the bed and yell out that you’ll just fix up.

“No rush, dear. I’m still having breakfast with your father. You can join us when you’re ready.”

You head down and eat the pastries that they brought from the cafe. You don’t have much appetite and these will suffice, but your mind goes to Jungkook and how he was craving kimchi fried rice and spam yesterday. 

So that’s what you make for him and Jimin. You even prepare iced coffee the way they like it. You’re about to set the dish aside for them to heat up when you hear rushed footsteps down the stairs and you know they’ve woken up.

“Wahhh, it smells so good,” Jimin exclaims as he walks over to the counter while his best friend sits on the table. “Did you make something, dad?”

“Oh, your sister cooked for you and Jungkook,” your father hums. “It’s making me hungry now.”

“There’s still some in here if you want,” you call out, with him responding that he’ll get some later.

You serve the dish in two bowls. You hand one to Jimin and then place the other in front of Jungkook without sparing him a glance. 

“Iced coffee is in the refrigerator,” you tell them. 

You hear Jimin’s little squeal before he gets them. “Where you off to?” He asks.

“I’m running errands with mom.”

“Make sure you two make it in time for dinner, okay?” Your father says.

“Of course. I can’t miss your steak, dad,” you give him a small smile. 

“Good. I prepared meat good enough for five Actually, six. I count Jungkook as two people,” he laughs. 

The thought of this comfort and familiarity hurts you because you’re the one who made Jungkook think otherwise. You see him smile at your father’s remark but you turn away when he looks your way. You know he’s still upset and you don’t want to force it if he’s not yet ready to speak with you. You also haven’t gotten over the way he pulled away from you last night, and so looking at him today is a little difficult.

“You’re still joining us at the party, right?” Jimin asks. 

Their friend, Hari, whom you know briefly dated Jungkook in high school, is celebrating her birthday tonight. Their group always looked to you as the cool sister so you’re always invited to whatever they’ve got going, and while the three of you talked about attending later, after what you did, you doubt Jungkook would want you to spoil his evening. You’re also not exactly in the partying mood for obvious reasons.

“I’ll pass, Chim,” you respond. “You guys should have a best friend night.”

You go back to your room to fix up before joining your mother to head out. 

Back in the dining room, Jimin nudges Jungkook’s knee.

“She’s still playing favorites,” he playfully rolls his eyes as he gestures to the generous amount of spam in his best friend’s bowl compared to his decent serving. 

Jungkook just hums, guilt forming that he didn’t even thank you for this because he really has been craving it. Before any of them could say anything more, your father speaks up.

“Your sister okay, son?”

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t she be?” Jimin nervously answers.

“She just doesn’t seem like herself, that’s all,” your old man replies.

“Maybe it’s work. It’s been tough lately,” your brother reasons. 

“But she’s more tired and frustrated when it comes to work but that’s not what she is. Maybe it’s a guy.”

At this, Jungkook chokes on his food, and he’s glad your father doesn’t react.

“What makes you think so?” Jimin asks, his eyes flitting to his best friend.

“Hmm, it just seems different,” your father insists. “Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my end. She hasn’t introduced anyone since Namjoon. And I wish she would, just so we know she’s moved on, you know? And that the breakup isn’t still hurting her.”

“She has, and it doesn’t affect her anymore,” Jimin confirms, certain of at least that bit.

“Then why hasn’t she introduced anyone yet?”

“Maybe it’s because you really liked Namjoon, and he seems to be your standard so ___ is just probably just taking her time.”

“Well it’s because he’s smart and stable and very self-assured and—”

“Also very much married. And a soon-to-be father,” Jimin interjects, already being protective of you. 

He wonders now if this is how your parents talk about him to you, and that you’ve always just protected him from all of it.

“Oh,” your father sighs. “It could’ve been her.”

“But it isn’t and that’s totally fine,” Jimin exclaims. “She’s young and she’s got time. And who knows, maybe that’s not the life she wants, or at least not yet? If you could accept my version of happiness, you should be able to accept hers, too. And what does ‘stable’ even mean?”

“Someone with ambition, with a direction,” your old man explains. “Someone who’s secure and financially capable of sustaining this good life that your mom and I gave you both.”

“Those are all the things she is, too, you know?” Jimin frowns. “And also, I love you, dad, but you’re old. By that I mean your thinking is old. It’s outdated. You think stability is about prestige and money and I get that but… that’s not everything. There are other things that matter to her and if you lessened the pressure a bit, you’d see that. She’s your daughter, don’t you want her to be happy? To be loved?”

“Of course I do,” your father sighs. 

“Well then don’t let your version of what a good partner is dictate her life,” Jimin advises. “She’s a grown up, she knows what she wants and how to get it. But she’s also your daughter who doesn’t want to worry or disappoint you. What if she’s found someone who makes her happy and treats her right but she’s nervous of what you’d think because of all these expectations you have of her?”

Jimin’s eyes flit to his best friend again who’s quietly munching on his food but is clearly taking in this exchange. While Jimin still thinks you were wrong to deny your relationship, he at least hopes that Jungkook could understand what was going through your mind and it was all this. 

“Well if she has then I’d want to meet him,” your father insists. 

“And maybe you will, once she stops feeling the pressure of what she’s supposed to be for you and who she’s supposed to date,” Jimin explains. 

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, dad,” Jimin groans. “I lived with her for months and she just… she worries about a lot of things. It would be nice if she doesn’t worry about this. So please, stop with all the projections and underhanded remarks, okay? She sees right through you. Just let her live her life.”

A smile forms on your father’s face. It was never his intention to put all that pressure on you but he supposes you just accepted that it comes with the territory. But he realizes it shouldn’t be. His son’s right - he’s old. He and your mother worked hard so that you and your brother could have a life where you didn’t have to worry about anything, but he supposes the intention got muddled along the way. At least you and Jimin have each other.

“I know you and your sister don’t like to admit it but it’s really touching to see how similar you both are,” your father says.

“Excuse me, I’m cooler and funnier and definitely more talented,” Jimin pouts. 

“Maybe,” your old man laughs. “But she’s sat on that same chair, lecturing me and your mom about letting you live your life and now you’re doing the same. She’s your biggest advocate and your biggest protector. It’s just nice to see how you’re the same for her.”

Running errands with your mother has always been your responsibility, but it’s once you’ve hit your late-twenties mark that you’ve come to appreciate it. 

You learn a lot about the practical stuff like insurance and emergency funds and inheritance when you accompany her to the bank. You’re also reminded that sometimes you have to spend more to make things last when she drops off her clothes at the laundry service and picks up the bag and shoes she had professionally cleaned. You also remember the important things like buying flowers and leaving them on your grandparents’ graves. 

You’ve just left the shopping center after she bought your father an anniversary gift, and her excitement over the satchel and perfume she got him has you smiling. You wonder how differently she feels for him 30 years later, and if this life they have together is everything she imagined it to be.

“Was it hard at the beginning? Being married to dad?” You ask. 

“Of course, dear,” she answers. “Because it’s how marriages typically go. Your father and I were together for two years before we got married and it was a big change. You just… learn to consider another person, and you get used to someone always being around you.”

“It’s a good thing you can stand each other then,” you chuckle. 

“That’s true,” she laughs back. “You’d be surprised to know how many married couples can’t. But we just always managed. And we had to be on each other’s side, you know? It’s the reason why we’ve lasted as long as we have.”

She looks quite emotional as she says the words and it’s probably because of what they’ll be celebrating soon but she turns to you with a smile.

“Your father’s parents wanted me to become a housewife, a stay-at-home mom who just ran the household,” she continues. “But I wanted to work so I could help my parents, and your father stood by my decision. He saw how working gave him financial freedom and he wanted that for me, too. And we just… worked hard. We fought a lot at the start because we were building our careers and raising a family but we knew it would all be worth it, as long as we stood by each other.”

“Then I suppose that’s what’s important in a partner, isn’t it?” You say. “Being dependable, being supportive, not… not what kind of career they have.”

“Well, a stable career helps,” she points out. “I mean, it’s how your father and I got to afford sending you and your brother to good schools. It’s how we could afford trips as a family and how your father and I can be secure at this age without needing much help from our children.”

“But that’s also because you worked hard, plain and simple. And you and dad had each other and overcame whatever challenges you faced together. You can’t say the same for all married couples,” you push. 

“That’s true. I mean, it wasn’t like this during our parents’ time. I guess people had less options then. The world’s changed so much, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” you hum. “Not everyone cares much about their partner’s upward mobility and stuff like that. They want to savor the good life their parents gave them. And because they work hard, too, they just want someone to enjoy it with them. You know, like me.”

There’s a beat of silence as your mother processes your words. 

“Is that why it didn’t work out with Namjoon?” She asks, reminding you that you’d only given them a general reason as to why things ended.

“We spent too much time planning for our future that we kinda lost our way,” you explain. “I guess that’s when I realized that I wanted someone to enjoy the moments with, regardless of what they do for a living. And we’ll never know what life will throw our way and I need someone who’ll stand by me, the way I’ll stand by them. You know, cheesy things like that.”

You smile to yourself as you think about Jungkook and his shameless affection that he shows in so many ways. You enjoy the cheesiness but you’ll deny it first before admitting it. But then again, he probably knows already. He pays attention to you after all. 

“Well, I suppose that’s why we wanted to give you and your brother a good and secure life, so that you can enjoy it,” your mother hums.

“Exactly. You raised us well, mom. We’re not gonna throw our lives away, however we choose to live it, and with whom,” you assure her. 

She gives you a warm smile. She takes your hand at the stoplight and caresses it. Perhaps it’s the assurance you need, too.

You return home to your father preparing the meat for tonight’s dinner. There’s a platter of steak, vegetables, and sausages that he’s seasoning to grill, and you can imagine how happy this is gonna make Jungkook. He always liked it when your dad prepared dishes like this paired with your mom’s spicy chicken soup, and you wish you could enjoy it together. 

But you’re giving him space to feel what he feels and you’re doing the same, even if all you want to do is apologize. You haven’t had an issue quite like this, so things are a little unfamiliar to you. You tried to talk to him last night but he wasn’t ready, and you’re unsure when he will be. 

You head towards the counter and cut up the vegetables for the soup before slicing the fruits. You’re focused on your task, knowing how sharp the knives are, but it’s at the same time that your brother and Jungkook arrive. Seeing your boyfriend look as good as he does in that denim jacket-over tank top fit is so sinful; it’s a crime you’re not talking that it distracts you, and it’s what causes you to slice through your finger and yelp in pain.

“Did you hurt yourself, dear?” Your mom asks as she stirs the pot. 

“Yeah,” you say, placing your hand under running water.

You’re about to ask Jimin to get the First Aid kit from the drawer but Jungkook gets to it first, knowing where it is. 

He knows that your brother, who’s terrified of blood, won’t help you, and despite your situation, Jungkook can’t stand not helping. So he lathers an antiseptic once the bleeding has stopped, then he wraps a band-aid around it. Just like him, you focus your gaze on your finger. Or maybe you’re stuck on the way he tends to you. Or the fact that this is the most physical touch you’ve done this past day when you normally can’t take your hands off each other. 

He sighs to himself. If he wasn’t so hung up on his hurt feelings, he’d be able to tend to you better. This might not even have happened if he’d just spoken to you last night. 

But he shakes the thought away. He’s still upset. But he’ll always want to take care of you; that’s the one thing that won’t ever change.

“Thank you,” you mumble, still not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll do this,” he says, waiting for you to step aside before he takes your place. 

“Jungkook dear, do you mind helping me with the glazed potatoes after you finish that?” She asks.

“Sure thing, auntie,” he replies. 

You watch him work around the kitchen the way he’s done so many times before, and your heart stings at the sight because you want to be doing this with him, with your parents, in your family kitchen. But it’s not like you could talk to him right now, not when you don’t know how to say what you want to say. So you head outside to where your dad is grilling the meat and help him instead. 

It’s not long after when dinner is ready, and you’re seated across Jungkook again. It’s a little tense when you look at him when he looks away, but Jimin thankfully finds a way to keep the conversation light and focused on him.

Your parents insist that both men don’t need to help clean up, and Jimin asks you if you’re really not going.

“Yeah I’ll just… stay home, make sure mom and dad are packed well and just get everything in order for tomorrow,” you say, half lying. 

“Gee, you make me look like a useless child,” Jimin pouts.

“You’re alright,” you hum. “You can drive them to the airport tomorrow.”

“But mom asked Jungkook to do that.”

“Well then you could just… make them a card or something,” you shrug. 

Your brother sticks his tongue at you and you do the same. 

“Fine, we’ll head out,” he announces.

“You guys have fun,” you say softly, glancing at Jungkook before walking towards the sink to do your duty. 

You turn to your brother. “Call me if you need me to pick you up. No driving drunk, okay?”

He salutes you in response then heads out after Jungkook.

It’s uneventful after that. You help your parents with last minute packing then have a long shower. You lie on your bed and mindlessly watch some movie on your laptop hoping that you’ll fall asleep soon, and that when you wake up, you’ll find the strength to go to Jungkook and tell him that you’re sorry and that you don’t want to go another day without him. 

“Hey, Jungkook. Dance with me.”

Jungkook looks up to find Hari and gives the same answer he’s given the last two times.

“Sorry, I’m injured,” he says. 

She raises her eyebrow as if she doesn’t believe him and he can’t blame her; he doesn’t exactly know how to act like it.

“Oh, Jimin. There you are,” she chirps as the said man approaches the table. “Dance with me.”

“Sorry, I'm injured.”

“Great. It’s my birthday and I spot two hot guys in this party without girls around them and they’re fake injured,” she scowls. “What’s up with you two?”

“I’m not in the mood,” Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m babysitting,” Jimin says, gesturing at his friend. “But Mingyu and Eunwoo are right there. Go tell them to dance with you.”

“Fine. I’ll get in line then,” she rolls her eyes then walks away.

“How come no one believes me when I say I’m injured?” Jungkook asks as he munches on the fried chicken wings his best friend got.

“Because you’re a terrible actor. People believe me because I’m believable,” Jimin hums.

“They believe you because you posted all over social media that you hurt your ankle,” Jungkook corrects. 

“Yeah but that was like, half a year ago.”

“Why are you even pretending you’re injured? You don’t have to stay with me, you know? Go to the dance floor and have fun. That’s your thing.”

“Well, maybe I’m also not in the mood because my best friend’s sulking,” Jimin frowns. 

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“You know my sister’s sorry, right?”

“She’s ashamed, that’s what she is. And I’m just supposed to live with that.”

Jimin sighs as he watches his best friend mindlessly stare out onto the dance floor. Jungkook’s probably trying to rid himself of the image of both of you dancing and kissing and having fun if you were here. He could be making sense of what he feels, or his mind could also just be completely blank right now.

But what Jimin knows is that another glass of whiskey is something that Jungkook shouldn’t be having, so he stops his best friend from ordering another one.

“You might get drunk and then you’ll call or go see her and then you’ll say things you’ll regret and then you’ll hurt her and you’ll get even more hurt and you’ll have a harder time fixing things and then it just won’t stop and you’ll feel stupid because you’re not talking over something you could easily fix,” Jimin heaves. 

It’s a lot to process but Jungkook knows that Jimin’s right. He’ll just get too emotional and won’t be able to control himself and despite what he feels, hurting you is the last thing he wants.

So he orders water instead, finishes it, then heads for the door.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he says. “I need to get some air.”

They end up at a park, the one that you used to hang at with your friends in high school. Jungkook knows because he always accompanied Jimin there when you’d tell him where to meet you. It’s peaceful at this time of night and much more beautiful, too. It’s no surprise he keeps thinking that you’re right next to him, with your head on his chest and laughing at his jokes. 

“Why is this affecting me so much?” He wonders out loud. “Why am I so hurt and so stubborn?”

“Because she said something she shouldn’t have. But also because you put her on a pedestal,” Jimin answers. “She made a mistake, and you’re free to fault her for it. I mean, anytime someone we care about hurts us, it sucks like hell. But you also have to think that maybe it’s affecting you as much as it does because she’s always been faultless in your eyes and she isn’t.”

The reality is a slap on the face, but one that Jungkook thinks he needs to have. You were everything he ever wanted and these past three months have been a bliss. But now that reality hits and you have to face the pressure that’s part of your life, your humanness is showing. And that’s what he’s always liked about you, isn’t it? The imperfections and the flaws? Now that those are affecting him, it’s affecting him hard, and he’s having a hard time getting over it.

“Maybe once you accept that she’s human and not just the dream you’ve had since forever, then you’ll realize that things like that happen but she never means to hurt you,” Jimin adds. “You can’t think that she does. You learn to work it out by facing it, Kook. You have to talk about it. You have to tell her it hurts and you have to listen to what she says, and then you forgive. That’s kind of how grownup relationships go.”

“Guess I’ve never had one before, huh?”

“Maybe they just didn’t mean enough to hurt you.”

“This means everything, then,” Jungkook sighs, as things get clearer in his mind. “Because I think what hurts more now is not being next to her.”

“Great! Then can both of you patch things up now?” Jimin beams, feeling hopeful. “I hate seeing both of you sad and so stupid. Plus, my parents are leaving tomorrow and you won’t have a buffer anymore. So please just talk.”

Jungkook admits feeling touched. He knows at the end of the day, Jimin cares about him and you more than anyone, and he probably misses being around both of you at the same time. Jungkook does, too, but he misses you the most and it’s only been a day.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell her and it’s late. She might be asleep and—”

“Now you’re just making excuses,” Jimin crosses his arms.

“Well, what if I expect her to be the one to talk to me?”

“She tried but you didn’t want to, remember?”

“That was last night. The wound was still fresh,” Jungkook pouts. 

“Oh god. I feel like I’m dealing with children,” Jimin groans.

“Imagine how we felt taking care of you,” Jungkook answers back.

“At least I was just one person,” Jimin rolls his eyes. 

“Your dramatics were equivalent to two people though.”

Both men bicker as they walk back to the car. It started to drizzle so they decided to go back to their respective homes. Jungkook could stay over at your place and maybe talk to you if he really wants to but he’s seriously just chickening out over it. 

He’s never had to make up with you because none of your previous arguments ever led to you not talking to each other, or him pushing you away. He’s never had to spend a day ignoring you. And now, there’s so much to say and so much to feel but he doesn’t know how to approach it. He’ll need tonight to sort himself out and then he’ll speak to you, maybe after he drives your parents to the airport. Or maybe on the way back. 

He drops Jimin off; 30 seconds later, he’s home, too. You’re so close but so far away just like you used to be. But at least this time he knows that when the next day comes, he’ll have a chance to just pull you close and tell you he doesn’t want to be like this ever again.

There’s an incessant knocking on your door, and as you’re about to yell out that you’re asleep, you realize it might be Jungkook. You sit up on your bed and when the door opens and you see your brother instead, your face falls.

“It’s just me, unfortunately,” he says. “Kook’s back at his place.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “Why are you home so early? It’s like, 11.”

“Because after the third girl, his fake injury excuse wore off and people just didn’t believe him. We looked like losers sitting on the table eating chicken,” Jimin chuckles. “So we left after an hour then went to a park and I knocked some sense into him and now he’s not so upset anymore. And I’m here to knock some sense into you, too.”

“I already know I made a mistake, Chim. I’m… I’m so fucking stupid. I just… don’t want him to think that I’m ashamed of him or that I don’t think he’s enough or any of that. I mean I’m—”

“Crazy about him, right?”

“I kinda am,” you smile softly.

“Good, because so is he and he’s hoping you’d go talk to him even if he says he’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t waste time anymore and—”

You’re bolting off your bed and putting on your hoodie before your brother could finish his sentence. 

“If mom and dad look for me, tell them I—”

“Got attacked by a clown in the sewer.”

You look at him incredulously then realize you’re wearing yellow then you frown. 

“Just make up some excuse. I’ll… hopefully be back in the morning,” you say.

“Alright. It’s drizzling though so—”

And just like that, you’re gone.

It takes all but 10 seconds for the rain to pour, and your hoodie and sweatpants are no match for it. You groan at your brother for underselling the weather but then again, you also should be thanking him for telling you what you needed to hear - that Jungkook’s not so upset anymore and that he’s hoping you’d speak to him. 

Much as you think you would’ve taken any chance today to patch things up, you also would’ve frozen in front of him. You suppose you needed to know he was ready for you, and if he wouldn’t tell you, then of course, Jimin would. You just really wish he had the foresight to know it would rain this hard but you’re probably asking for too much. 

But Jungkook��s place is just a few blocks from yours so you power through. When you get there, you realize that you forgot your phone, so you make the stupid decision of climbing over the short fence and then hitting your cut finger in the process. 

You have no time to feel pain though, as the next order of business is getting Jungkook’s attention. But before you can execute your plan of throwing rocks on his window, the front door opens, and you telepathically thank your brother who probably called your boyfriend to alert him that you’ll be arriving at his place wet from the rain.

“___, what are you doing here?” Jungkook asks with worry painted on his face. 

“I just… I needed to come and see you,” you manage to answer.

His face softens and you feel the hope bloom in your chest. He pulls you inside by the wrist and instructs you to quietly go up the stairs. You’re at least not drenched but you still got wet, so he leads you to the bathroom to wash up. He tells you to wait as he gets you something to change in, and he returns after half a minute with a towel and a large shirt.

“Cream and band-aid, for your wound,” he says, placing them on the counter. “My room’s the second door to the right, in case you forgot.”

You take him in, in his black tank top and shorts, his tongue playing with his lip ring the way he always does when he’s nervous. You manage to nod before he heads out, and you take a quick shower and then pull his oversized shirt over you. 

You quietly walk to his room, knocking on the door first before opening it slowly. It’s a bit dim but seeing him is all you need. After placing your clothes on the nearby chair, you look at him again. 

He looks tired and worried. He also looks like he has so much to say but he doesn’t know where to start. There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes but there’s longing, too, and you suppose he’s mirroring how you look. You feel a lot. You also want to say a lot, but you don’t know where or how to start. 

So you do the one thing you know often works. You approach him then wrap your arms around his torso. You fall into his embrace as quickly as he falls into yours, as he seems to have the same idea. You hold him tighter and pull him closer. You flush your cheeks on his chest while he buries his face on your neck. You grip his top and he does the same with yours. Your heart beats fast in longing and you feel his own do the same, too. 

There’s so much to feel and say but this is all you can do. And right now, it’s quite enough. 

You loosen your grip, but only so you could nuzzle his neck while your arms wrap around them. He feels so warm and he smells so delicate and he’s all you need.

“You knew I was coming?” You ask, turning to him

“Jimin said you were on your way without an umbrella and your phone,” Jungkook chuckles. But his face softens as he wipes the lone tear that falls down your cheek. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a typhoon or anything.”

“I had to get to you,” you mumble. 

“He also told me he wasn’t subtle in telling you to come here.”

“Well, he did say you wanted me to talk to you. And I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear me out and I was… giving you space.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know what to do with that space without you there,” he sighs, his eyes shy and absolutely adorable.

“Neither do I,” you smile. “So, uh. Will you invite me to your bed, maybe fill that space and more?”

“Of course,” he laughs, taking your hand and leading you there. 

You get under the covers and once he lies next to you, you scoot closer, hugging him again until you’re laying on top of him. But he doesn’t complain. He just hugs you back tightly, pulling you closer until he’s able to bask in your scent and the warm feel of you.

But despite the relief, you know you actually have to do the talking. You pull away and lay on your side. You take in his beauty and his softness and the way they make you feel like all is right again in the world. Your fingers trace his face, from his nose to his cheek to his lips, and he does the boyfriend thing of kissing your hand - including your cut finger - before wrapping it around his waist. He looks like he’s anticipating your words, too, so you try and hope they’re enough.

“Kook, I’m so sorry,” you start. “I… I have no excuse. I was being selfish and cowardly because I didn’t know how to tell my parents. I didn’t want to deal with what they’ll say about your job, knowing how they are and what they value and I just…”

“That’s for me to deal with though,” he says. “Because I chose this. And I’ve always known how they are but I still chose you.”

“It’s for us to deal with, and I did it so terribly,” you shake your head. “I don’t want you to think that I’m ashamed of you and what you do. That freedom, the ability to create… they’re things they don’t really understand. And I thought I knew how to make them. I just ended up denying us and that was so wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“I… I get it,” he responds, caressing your cheek now. “They worked so hard to give you this life and of course they want to make sure you’re taken care of. And for them, they only know of one way that could happen. I’d be naive to think they’ll just accept that the man who’s crazy about their daughter isn’t some corporate dude with secure employment and upward mobility in his career.”

He doesn’t miss your shy smile and the way you nibble your lip and that just triggers the butterflies in his belly. 

“But that’s for me to show them that I can take care of you, and not because you can’t do it yourself but because I want to,” he adds. “I… I wanna be that person who makes things better and easier for you and who makes you happy.”

And who makes you feel loved, he doesn’t say. That’s a conversation for another day, he thinks.

“You do,” you assure him. “And I feel it everyday. You’re good at that, and I don’t tell you enough.”

“I know now,” he smiles, leaning closer to kiss you softly. 

You return it but pull away. “Do you forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” he says, falling into the kiss that he gives again.

“Okay. I don’t wanna hurt you like that ever again.”

Your pouty face tugs his heart and he wants to tell you that none of that matters now because you’re back in each other’s arms, and that’ll always be enough for him. 

He just hums as he goes for another kiss that’s deeper this time. And when you let him push you to lay on your back as you moan against his lips, his heart soars even more. He’s missed you, and it’s definitely going to be a long night.

He hovers over you now, and he shivers when your fingers graze his neck and then his chest. You open your legs to meet his hips, and the feel of your clothed cunt against him has his brain short-circuiting. He gets in the rhythm of grinding against you while he kisses your lips then your jaw then your neck, his hand now sneaking under your shirt to fondle your breast.

It’s when he sucks on that sensitive part near your ear that you yelp in pleasure, and he immediately covers your mouth with his hand while he giggles.

“Gotta keep it down babe,” he whispers. “My parents are in the other room.”

But he doesn’t stop his kissing and you don’t really want him to.

“It’s not like you’re making it any easier,” you moan as he pinches your pert nipple.

“I’m not and I won’t, but you gotta try,” he smirks before his lips trail downward.

You’re unable to say anything once his tongue swirls around your buds. His hands wrap around your breasts that he praises, that he kisses and licks before slowly letting them go to hold onto your waist this time. He presses open-mouth kisses down your torso, his lips in tandem with your underwear that’s teasingly being removed off of you. 

You hear him let out a breathy moan as he spreads your legs wider. 

And while you know that this tender-hearted man has a cheeky streak in him, you didn’t expect for him to have his finger against his lips to shush you, knowing what he’s about to do. His smug face turns you on even more, and your breath is caught in your throat once you feel his tongue flat against your flesh, warming it up before the tip of his wet muscle swirls around your nub.

But you go along with his request, biting back your moan, even as your pussy chases his mouth for more. 

And it’s what he gives, as he dives in and sucks and bites your clit while his two fingers explore your hole. The cold of his lip ring is a contrast to how hot you feel, and it’s a sensation you can never get enough of. You whimper in silence but you manage to look at him, his eyes closed as he buries his face in your cunt. 

“Look at me,” you whisper and he follows, his gaze meeting yours. “Fuu-uuck, Kook. You feel so good,” your voice quivers.

His mouth’s full but yours is hanging open. You cover yours with your free hand while the other pulls on his long locks. He’s enjoying this so much, you can tell with the way he squeezes your thighs and moans against your skin. He follows a pace that has your body shaking, straining in intense pleasure until it gives in. You let out a low scream as your orgasm hits, and he’s right there, riding out your high with you.

He cleans you up with his tongue and then makes a show of licking your essence off his fingers before kissing you again.

“You did good,” he teases, as he caresses your cheek.

You’re about to say that so did he when bucks his hip against yours, and the feel of his hard cock against your still wet cunt ignites another fire in you. He repeats it, and it’s what has you moaning again.

“Fuck baby, I told you to keep it down,” he says, continuing his movements.

You know you can’t help it at this point, not when he’s back to licking your neck and kneading your breast.

“Whatever. Not like this isn’t new to your parents or anything,” you say. 

It’s a guess but you doubt you’re wrong.

“What? Fucking a girl in my room?” 

“Yeah?”

“But you’re the first girl I ever brought in here,” he cocks an eyebrow. 

“That’s uh, that’s kinda sweet,” you reply, your breath steadying now. 

“Yeah and well, who gets to say they fucked their childhod crush in their childhood bedroom?” He smirks again. “I can.”

He’s back to kissing you and much as you enjoy this, the itch to feel him in your mouth overtakes you, and you take the chance when he trails down your neck.

“So, can this childhood crush suck your dick?” 

“Yes, she can,” he chuckles.

He removes himself from you and leans against his bed frame. You get on your knees and pull off his boxers, salivating at the sight before you. You get on top of him, your damp lips gliding against his hard cock and his mouth drops open, an invitation for you to do what you wish.

With your movements on his hips, you focus on his neck, licking up the smooth flesh and the protruding vein that has him biting back his moan. Then you kiss him, desperately and passionately, as you slowly remove his tank top and rest your hands on his chest.

It’s your turn to trail kisses down his torso now and you give every inch of him ample attention. But when you make it further down, there’s one part of him that deserves so much more. You tease him only a little, stroking his length and kitten-licking his slit, before swallowing him whole and swirling your tongue around and all over his cock. He’s hard and thick and everything you want inside of you.

You hold back a gag while he holds back his whimpers. You stroke him relentlessly so you could watch his mouth hang open and his strained body almost folding in pleasure as his thighs tighten in your hold. 

“You like that, baby?” You hum.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me. Fuck,” he keens, his voice quivering now. 

You let his sounds guide you on how hard and how deep to go, but he’s the one who stops you, as he leans close and captures your lips in a searing kiss. He pulls you back on top of him to slide down his cock and the stretch makes you moan in his mouth. 

He’s propped up on his arms for support while you move up and down, loving how he drags inside you in an angle that has your mind going hazy. You wrap your arms around his neck while he pushes upward to meet you, and somehow doing this while trying to be quiet is making the pleasure more intense.

It gets too much for Jungkook and he wants more. He wants to hit your deepest spots. He wants to be as close to you as he possibly can. He wants to swallow your moans and touch every part of your body and pleasure you in every way that he’s able. 

So he pulls you off and lays you on your side, sliding back in from behind, with your one leg raised. The angle has you keening, even more when his one hand finds your breast and the other does its work on your clit. He pushes gently then roughly, no longer caring about the odd sounds the bed is making against his wall. He wouldn’t mind making up a reason to his parents if they ask him about it. Right now, all he wants is to reach his peak with you. 

Your body is shaking in pleasure and overstimulation but you urge him, wanting to feel his seed inside you as well.

You lick his mouth. “Baby please, I want to feel your cum inside me,” you beg. “I want you so bad, fuck fuck.”

He loves it when you plead to him like this. He loves hearing what he does to you. He revels in the way your body molds into his, the way it aches to be close and to be one with him. His movements continue, and with his unrhythmic pounding against your pussy, he comes. You come right after, caused by his intense fiddling of your clit, and you feel like floating, your body in the clouds of pure pleasure.

But like always, he’s there with you, making sure you safely fall into a bed of hugs and kisses and warmth. He stays inside you as he softens, but his arms wrap around you, his face in your neck as he mumbles words of praise. 

“Fifteen-year-old me would never believe this,” he heaves as he turns you over to face him.

You giggle in response. 

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I do. It’s how I am with you. In the best way, of course,” he smiles his boyish smile, an interesting mix of innocent and cheeky.

“It’s the same with me,” you whisper, kissing his nose. “And 18-year-old me would never believe this.”

You wake up the next morning to the alarm that you set on Jungkook’s phone. Your parents are leaving early in the afternoon and they wanted to prepare breakfast for all of you, and it’s a meal with them that you’re excited and a little nervous to have. 

You kiss the chest that your face is flushed against, and this elicits a groan from the man next to you. 

“Good morning, babe,” you greet, shifting up to kiss his nose this time. 

“G’morning,” he grunts.

“So, uh, we’re supposed to meet my parents for breakfast. And uh, I’m going to tell them about us.”

It’s what prompts him to finally open his eyes, and the softness in them makes your heart burst. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “I hope it won’t ruin their trip or anything.”

“It won’t,” you assure him. “I… I tried to get through to my mom yesterday. You know, just telling her the things I value and stuff.”

“Hmm. Jimin did the same with your dad. I guess I won’t be such a disappointment now, huh?”

“Shush, you’re not even that,” you pout. “I think they’ll understand.”

He mirrors your smile and there’s a giddy feeling at finally - hopefully - seeing your parents be happy for you. So you get off the bed and sneak out of Jungkook’s bedroom to go to the bathroom. 

You wash up quickly, only to make it to the hallway and find his parents standing there, wide-eyed as they look at you in surprise. You realize you’re only wearing Jungkook’s shirt that falls just above your knees and you try to cover whatever you can with your hands.

“Hi, uncle. Hi, auntie,” you shyly smile. “This, uh, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

“Well, we don’t really mind,” Jungkook’s mother smiles. “We’re just glad you’re here. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”

“I know. I, uh, I wasn’t dating your son yet the last time I was here.”

“And that calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?” She giggles. “That boy has had a crush on you since forever. It’s funny he never believed that we knew. He wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” you laugh back.

You hear a door open and before you know it, large arms are wrapping around your waist and a mop of hair tickles your cheek. Jungkook grunts against your neck as he says that he’s finally awake, and you cringe at his parents’ amused faces.

“Kook, your parents are in front of us. This is so embarrassing.”

“Nah, they don’t mind. They’re cool,” he says.

“Yeah, and my parents aren’t,” you sigh.

“So, I’m guessing your parents don’t know yet?” His father asks.

Your pout prompts him to explain. “Well, the day after you got together, our lovesick son here told our family about both of you. But he said that you haven't told your parents yet so we’ve kept it from them ever since. It’s hard since we see them all the time but we managed.”

“Kook also told us about what happened,” his mother asks. “He was grumpy all day yesterday and we got him to tell us why he was so upset.”

“I’m sorry,” you pout again. “That wasn’t my finest moment.”

You feel Jungkook’s hold on you tighten, his way of telling you it’s all okay.

“It’s alright, darling,” she smiles. “We know how your parents are, and their reasons come from a good place. We tried to make this boy here understand them and you as well. Firstborns carry immense pressure to meet expectations; he just doesn’t get it because he’s the youngest. But it seems that it’s worked out with both of you, and we’re glad it did.”

“He couldn’t resist me,” you shrug, to his parents’ amusement. 

“Uh, you’re the one who walked through the rain to come see me,” he reminds you, his head popping out of your neck now. 

“You wanted me to.”

He tickles you in response and you’re all laughing in no time. It’s a different dynamic with his parents, as Jungkook always had a very close relationship with them. You saw it as a teenager and now, you get to be part of it, too.

They finally let you go and ask you to have dinner with them tomorrow, and that’s one meal that you’re definitely excited to have. 

You push Jungkook towards the bathroom and then return to his room to dress up. It’s shortly after when you’re both walking the few blocks to your house, fingers interlocked as you give each other comfort.

You make it home and once you unlock the door, you can already hear laughter and clanking pots from the kitchen. You head there, meet Jimin’s smug face, and clear your throat to announce your presence.

“Oh, there you are. We were wondering where you were,” your mother says. “And hi, Jungkook.”

He greets your parents and from behind you, you take his hand again. 

“I went for a walk… with Jungkook.”

He clears his throat and you backtrack.

“I mean, I, uh, was at his place. That’s where I slept.”

“Oh?” Your parents say at the same time, their eyes looking at you in confusion.

“He’s kinda my boyfriend.”

“Kinda? Babe, I think I’m more than ‘kinda’ your boyfriend,” he exclaims. 

Your parents look shocked and next to them, Jimin is laughing in his seat.

“I mean, he is my legit, actual boyfriend,” you correct. “The new thing in my life that I denied is actually him. And the person who stands by me, who makes me enjoy the moments? That’s him, too.”

Their faces soften, and somehow that’s the comfort you need. Perhaps all the talking that you and your brother have done has gotten into them. You wouldn’t be surprised if they talked about it, too.

“Why didn’t you tell us, then?” Your mother asks.

“Because he’s not what you expected,” you sigh. “And I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“Well, he is your brother’s best friend,” she points out. 

“Who’s had a crush on me since he was a teenager,” you explain.

“That’s… not surprising,” your father laughs. “We could tell.”

“Oh my god, Kook. You are not subtle,” you elbow him. You turn back at them. “But I… I didn’t know how to tell you because you expect me to have a partner who’s part of your world, you know? And Jungkook likes his freedom. He likes his art and… he really likes me. And I happen to really like him, too.”

“He treats you well? Makes you happy? He’s someone you can depend on when things get tough?” Your father asks. 

He smiles tenderly at you and you feel like crying.

“Yes, very much,” you nod.

“Then I think he’s everything we need him to be. A good partner, I’d say.”

You let out a sigh of relief. This is all you needed to hear.

“We’re sorry if you felt like you couldn’t be honest with us,” your mother shakes her head. “I guess we just needed some reminding of what we want for you and your brother. And well, Jungkook’s shown us his heart all these years. He’s always been a part of the family and he’ll be even more.”

They’re words that Jungkook didn’t expect would get him emotional, and he hugs you from behind just to steady himself. But it’s what makes your mother walk towards him for a hug, and your father surprisingly does the same. 

“Alright, I guess it’s fitting to have this family breakfast together,” your mother says.

You all take your seats at the dining table, with yours being next to Jungkook now.

Jimin cheekily smiles. “Well, if this whole dance thing doesn’t work out, I guess I can just be a counselor or family therapist or something.”

“Just don’t call your clients ‘stupid,’” you roll your eyes.

“I won’t. That’s only reserved for you.”

And just like that, everything is as it should be.

You get through breakfast with lots of laughter, as you and Jungkook tell your own versions of the story while Jimin butts in to tell his own. It’s heartwarming to see your parents this way, especially when they tease your boyfriend about his crush on you growing up. 

But even they admit that they’ve depended on him all these years, too, and that they don’t doubt his loyalty and commitment to you. 

You share a tense moment with him after you all drop your parents to the airport, though. Jungkook has just unloaded all their things and as they hug you goodbye, your father teases.

“Just don’t welcome us home and tell us we're grandparents already.”

Jungkook dry laughs and so do you. That’s another topic for another day, you suppose, and while you’re still unsure of having a family, you just know it’s something you’ll both talk about.

You all get home soon after to wash up. Jungkook’s excited about how you’ll spend the day now that you’re both talking again, and you suggest hanging by the beach and then going out for dinner. 

Jimin says he’ll stay home to let you two make up for the past two days and so he could have that online date with Taehyung, and you agree.

You and Jungkook end up having a really good day. 

You go to a mall and walk around. He gets you a pair of stud earrings to commemorate the day you went official to your parents and you buy him a silver chain necklace for the same silly reason, but also because he looks really good in one and you want him to have more. It pairs real nicely with the shirt and joggers casual outfit he’s been sporting these past days, and the teasing look he makes after he puts it on reminds you of that one time his necklace was dangling on your face when he was pounding into you on your couch.

You get fruit drinks and snacks at the stalls you both used to buy from as teenagers, then you head to the beach where you lounge until sunset. You wade in the water, splash each other, and then make out when there’s no one around. 

You feel so free and light, so young and hopeful. These are the moments you love having with him, the ones you like to enjoy and savor and have more of. And you know you’ll have them for the rest of this trip and when you get back to Seoul. 

Jimin joins you for dinner at a burger place, then you all buy cup noodles and beer and head to your favorite park. It’s just like how most of your nights together go, just in the outdoors. You and your brother bicker and Jungkook referees; there’s also the occasional “you’re so cheesy” comment from you to your boyfriend and Jimin’s gagging sound. 

You confirm plans for the rest of the trip. Your parents will be enjoying Hawaii for close to two weeks, and you have all that time to rest and spend time with your two favorite people. You’ll be off work. Jungkook has some projects to finalize while you do your own thing, and Jimin will be watching dance shows to get him inspired. 

But there are more beaches and parks and villages to visit. There’s also that two-night stay at a resort you’ll be having. There are other sites and restaurants to go to, and you’ll be reliving your teenage years together while making new memories.

You’re now back at home, snug in Jungkook’s arms as he leans against the bed frame in your room, with you in between his legs. 

“Today was a really good day,” you say, turning to him after he kisses your cheek.

“Today was amazing,” he hums.

He smiles as he replays the scenes of you shopping for each other, frolicking on the beach, and walking around your favorite spots. They’re all so simple and things you’ve done before but today felt so much more. There was a look in your eyes that held such tenderness and care for him. You held his hand as if you didn’t want to ever let go, as if you didn’t want him to.

“I really like you, Kook,” you mumble, almost like a confession, as if it’s not known. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

His eyes soften, as does his smile that he’s had on pretty much the whole day. But he just looks at you, and though you know he feels the same way, you want to hear him verbalize it again.

“Hey, say it back,” you nudge him. 

“I love you though,” he says after a beat of silence.

You’re now the one who looks at him, unable to say a word. 

“Are you that surprised?” He looks back at you nervously, nibbling his lip ring. “I mean, I think it’s quite obvious, just like everything I feel about you is.”

“Kook, I…” you try, but you don’t exactly know how to respond. 

You don’t doubt his feelings but somehow you can’t help but think that maybe right now, he loves the idea of you and not you, and there’s a difference.

“I think I always have but I guess I didn’t realize just how much until this whole thing happened,” he continues, wanting you to understand what he feels. “I asked Jimin why it was affecting me so much and he said it’s because I put you on a pedestal. You were this dream I’ve had for so long that I admired from a distance and now I get to be with you and you’re… human, not some flawless being who doesn’t make mistakes. So when you hurt me, I faltered. That’s on me, too. Because I… I expected too much. And I’m sorry.”

His focus is on his hands that are playing with yours before he turns to you again.

“I realized that I wanted so badly for you to want me, that’s why it hurt. I wanted to be that person you cared for and trusted and needed because you’re all that for me. And when I saw you at my door last night, nothing else mattered but you,” he continues. 

“Whatever misunderstanding or mistake or disagreement, I learned to accept them and I just wanted you, in my arms, so I could show you that you’re all I need. I’ve dreamt of you for so long and this version of you is more than I could’ve imagined. And I just… I love you, okay? It doesn’t matter how you feel. I just need you to know that I do, and I don’t think I’ll stop.”

Your heart is about to burst, and all you could do is cup his face in your hands and kiss him, hard and deep until you run out of air. You kiss him eagerly because you’re desperate for his touch. You kiss him passionately because there are things you feel that you can’t put into words yet, and this is how you tell him. 

He’s quick to follow your pace, wrapping his arms around your waist as he helps you sit on his lap. Your fingers comb through his hair and grip his top and pull him closer, all while you grind against him and moan in his mouth. 

But when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek, you go tender. 

“I love you so much,” he whispers against your lips, and all you feel is the warmth of his touch and how it’s all the comfort and security and stability that you need.

You slowly pull away and graze your nose against his. You don’t say anything else and he doesn’t expect you to. But you kiss his cheek and hug him, and you hear him sigh in relief.

He pulls away and cheekily smiles. 

“You know, there’s a song for this.”

“A—what?” You laugh.

“A song.”

He pulls away from you then stands from the bed. “Let me get it from Jimin’s room.”

You stare at him questioningly because you really didn’t think he could surprise you even more. He returns with one of his burned CDs and you ask him if he has a sex playlist or something. 

“I used to daydream about you to this,” he says, as he puts it in the CD player that your parents got you for your 17th birthday. “I listened to it after that very kiss we had and, well, we’re back home rehashing so many memories and I kinda just want to fulfill another fantasy of mine.”

He plays the song and the first notes get you all giddy and excited and nostalgic and very much turned on. 

“This was my favorite song,” you say, as you signal him to come closer.

“I know. You played it all the time, I could hear it from the other room.”

You giggle, and it’s a sound he wants to listen to forever. 

“So, what’s this fantasy of yours?” You ask, as you take your shirt off.

He licks his lips at the breathtaking sight of you, but he softens at the fairy tattoo on your shoulder, the one he customized and that you love showing off.

“Just… make love to you while this plays in the background,” he manages to say. 

Your face softens, too, and it’s a sight he also wants to see everyday of his life.

“I’m all yours, Kook. Do whatever you please.”

It’s a week later when you tell him. 

You’d just gotten back from that short trip to a resort that had you relaxed and stuffed with food. You video called with your parents during their sunset cruise and your father once again teased about not being grandparents yet and just like the first time, you brushed it off. 

You’re lying on Jungkook’s chest as you laugh about Jimin’s terrible bowling skills. And in the silence, he asks, “does it bother you that your parents expect you to have kids?”

You knew he’d picked up on it the first time, but it’s just now that he’s bringing it up.

“A little. I try not to think about it though,” you sigh. “It’s another one of those expectations, you know? But I guess it’s a harder thing to talk to them about, that I don’t know if I want kids.”

He just hums and combs your hair with his fingers.

“Does it bother you?” You ask, suddenly feeling nervous. You know enough this is a make-or-break for many people. 

“Not really,” he says. “It’s not easy to raise a child, much less carry one, and that’s something I can’t do for you. But I guess, it doesn’t matter. We can have kids. Or not. We can have a dog or a pet tortoise or a fish, really. When I think of a future, all I see is you. The rest is just a bonus.”

He speaks of your future with such certainty. He’s always talked about enjoying the moments but the one version of a future he wants is the one where you’re with him. 

“I just want you to know that whatever you’re worried about, share it with me. I don’t want you to worry about me. We do this together. We figure it out together,” he adds. 

And just like that, the fears and pressure you feel slowly dissipate. He’s the only version of the future you want. Everything else is just a bonus. 

You turn to him with a kiss on his cheek. 

“I love you, Kook. I don’t want anyone else to love me, and I don’t want to love anybody else,” you whisper like a plea, just like a promise. 

“I’m not loving anybody else,” he kisses you. 

And it’s his own promise he makes.

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[tomahachi12]

What's the story behind your drone-sona? Since she has the Cabin Fever tag, I was curious what's the story behind her.

BUCKLE UP, IT'S A LONG ONE (some of this is headcanon crap, so not all info would be show accurate)

Toma (012) was a just regular worker drone working within the offices of the JCJenson Mining Facility.

The area of the offices she worked in had drones split into small groups to complete larger projects. She was part of the group which included Nori (002), Yeva (048) and Alice (017) (I LOVE THEM LEAVE ME ALONE).

She was usually tasked with taking paperwork back and forth between her group to turn in or for them to work on, something she was.. pretty bad at.

Because of Nori's shenanigans, their group often got in trouble with the humans.

At some point, Drones began to be selected from a lottery pool to be transferred to the lower levels of the facility. At first, the Humans would play this off as a "promotion" of sorts in order to keep the drones from becoming suspicious of their intentions and keep their minds at ease.

As time went on, the humans dropped the façade and the drones began to fear these selections, given that the chosen drones were never seen or heard from again after being selected.

Eventually, Toma's ID was drawn as the next to go. (she was chosen first out of their group, next was Alice, then Yeva and Nori was the last)

Toma was taken down the Cabin Fever Labs to be used in the "Solver" experiments.

When she was infected with the Solver Program, it took her over instantly. She was quickly given an early version of the patch (1.5.8) before causing too much damage.

The effect of the Solver's code on her body left her lethargic and forgetful. Since she was patched early, she cannot use the solver, but still suffers from it's effects; occasional possession, the need to consume oil, ect..

Not being able to provide much information for their research, the humans mostly kept her bound in her locker. Sometimes they even forgot she was in there.

Before the core collapse, she was able to escape her chains and wondered around the mines for a minute before the eventual implosion.

She was blown out the facility and somehow managed to survive, not only the blast, but even the crash back down to the planet. Though it knocked her offline for a time, causing anyone that found her to think she was dead.

RIP Toma lol

After she eventually woke up, she stayed put for a few months, hiding out in the outer buildings of the facility until she was found by another worker drone.

This drone invited Toma to join his colony, Outpost 9. She agreed and followed him to the base (wow Toma, ever heard of stranger danger gdamn..)

Toma was welcomed in this colony and she lived there for several years, learning how to live a life free from human-control. She was even able to pick up an old hobby she was never allowed to do back at the offices, drawing.

The nightmares gave her plenty to draw anyway.

Eventually, it all went to shit when the Murder Drones showed up, popped that base open like a soda can, and killed everyone inside.

Toma's solver kept her hidden long enough her to escape unnoticed. She needed somewhere to go and began to make her way toward the city she saw in the distance.

( oh hi, Y )

It took a while but she made it to the City only to find, you guessed it, more Murder Drones. She somehow managed to dodge them as well and found her way to some very large doors that resembled the ones back at her old colony. She frantically banged on the doors, shouting for help as she Murder Drones closed in on her.

The doors suddenly cracked open and a hand reached out, grabbing hold of Toma's coat and pulled her inside before slamming shut again.

She was met by a group of drones all sitting around a table, seemingly playing cards. The drone that pulled her in helped her up to her feet. After checking if she was alright, he introduced himself as "Khan" the apparent leader of this colony. Outpost 3.

She was welcomed in` just as warmly as she was in her last colony, and settled in easily, but soon found this colony was quite.. different from her old one. There were.. "kids" running around, and "babies" and... "teenagers".. Some drones were even married.

She also found out that every adult drones had to contribute to their society as well, unless they were raising children. Everyone had a job, and Toma was expected to have one as well.

She decided to join the Worker Defense Force, mostly as "watchman". She was tasked with doing patrols around the colony, looking out for any potential problems or weak points that could cause a breach.

She was pretty bad at it since she kept falling asleep while on patrol or forgetting where she was suppose to be.

The others were very forgiving toward her, though, but they figured she needed a different job.

After taking note of her interest in art, she was given the job as the new Art Teacher for the school.

Now if only she could stop falling asleep in class..

TL;DR/I only looked at the pretty pictures:

Toma was part of the Solver Experiments and now lives at Outpost 3 as the resident dumbass Art Teacher.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

I have the kataang tag blocked now but I guess I need to start blocking some more tags.

Even if you don't believe Aang is a self-insert, it's very interesting how LOK!Aang looks more like a white man. And how Aang's flaws are hardly challenged by Bryke in season 3. As someone who likes Aang, I am very sad about how he was handled in season 3.

And yeah Katara never became Zuko's prize...but I guess it's A-ok she became Aang's hero prize, his forever girl. Doomed to have her fiery spirit erased and to exist merely to be his wife and mother of his kids. At least Zuko put in the work to reconcile with Katara. As far as Aang was concerned, Katara was his because he liked her and did nothing to earn her affection.

Why don't Kataang stans follow their own 'advice' and move on with their canon ship win and stop hijacking properly tagged Zutara posts while they're at it too?? Enjoy your crap post ATLA comics and sequels while Zutara fam enjoys their art and fanfics in peace!

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Alastor Scenario Dump

One of my friends requested I make more of these, so I guess I'm doing a series. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Like before these are just a bunch of story ideas I've had pop into my head that I have no plans to use. Feel free to use them, just link back/credit me and slap me with a tag because I wanna see what you write!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Contents/WARNINGS: ANGST; stalking; abuse of Alastor's shadows; heavily implied voyeurism and other creepy shit; (most of these warnings are for the last prompt so if your bothered by any of this, just skip that one) Actual brainrot below the cut; Not beta read we die like men -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Ringing Hollow ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basic idea is that Alastor ends up caving to Charlie/the hotel and getting a cellphone. Everyone insists he needs it in case there is an "emergency", especially after the whole Exterminator attack on the hotel.

So he relents. As much as Alastor hates to admit it; they are right. But he isnt going to get any of that smartphone crap. Alastor opts to get himself an actual flipphone. (Angel Dust questions how Alastor even managed to find the piece of junk) Its only for emergencies. He should barely be using it, if at all.

But things change one day when Alastor gets several messages from an unknown number thinking he is their close friend. Alastor does end up telling them that they have the wrong number, but you know, being Alastor, he has to tease them relentlessly first.

They actually end up talking for a bit. Both of them find the situation incredibly entertaining and surprisingly like each other's sense of humor. The reader ends up asking who they actually texted. Alastor panics a bit. He doesn't want to just tell some stranger that they just messaged the radio demon of all people.

No matter the case, Alastor doesn't want to give his real name. So he wracks his brain for something that wont give him away. He cant just use Al, that's too obvious. Wait... Alastor-Al-A...A... A-nonymous? Anon? Yeah. Anon could work.

(This is Alastor's own line of thinking of how he 'came up' with the name. The boomer has no idea this is actually a common internet pseudonym because I doubt he has ever touched a computer)

Anyway, Alastor ends up telling the reader to call him Anon. The two of them end up talking alot. The rest of the hotel finds it rather comical to see the radio demon on his phone texting someone with a grin on his face.

Alastor actually gets pretty fast at texting with his stupid flipphone. Eventually, under Angel's suggestion, Alastor does end up "upgrading" to one of those phones with the slide out keyboard. He still draws the line at smartphone.

But everyone finds the whole thing rather adorable. Charlie always giggles to Vaggie about how soft his eyes get whenever he sees a new text from the reader. Rosie teases him nonstop about his 'paramour' and ends up suggesting that Alastor try to meet them in person.

At the first thought of it, Alastor's stomach drops. He still hasn't actually told them who he is. But the more he thinks about it, the more Alastor thinks a meeting between them is inevitable. He has never felt this way about anyone before; and he needs to deal with it one way or another.

So Alastor arranges an in person meetup. However, he STILL doesn't actually tell the reader who he is. He plans it as a surprise. The purpose of this is twofold; Alastor thinks this will be a wonderful surprise (he is the fantastic radio demon after all!), and it will serve as a test to see if the reader actually likes him.

The secret third reason is that Alastor is actually scared of what the reader's reaction will be and is avoiding it until the ninth hour when he literally cannot anymore. But he would rather die then admit that.

The reader asks Alastor what he looks like and other, you know, obvious things they should know for when they meet. But Al dodges the questions and tells them that they will know everything and learn who he truly is when they finally meet.

Well the time comes. The reader shows up to the designated meeting place, a semi public location. Then they see him. The Radio Demon.

The reader's eyes meet his and they freeze in terror as he approaches them with a knowing, determined stride. They are mortified when Alastor kisses them on the back of the hand; calling them darling and confessing that he was the one who they had been talking to all along. 

The reader backs off, stuttering an apology and a half hearted excuse to leave before quickly running off. Alastor’s smile never wavers. But it can be seen in his eyes and the way his ears have flattened against his head that he had hoped for a better reaction.

Alastor makes his leave before he can embarrass himself further. When he goes to text an apology, his number has already been blocked. He swears he feels a foreign pain in his chest in that moment.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Mockingbird ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Alastor begins fall in love with the reader. Driven by his strange feelings, he starts to compose little songs that he hums/sings to himself. The songs are inspired by the things he likes about them, things that make him think of the reader, and ways he sees their presence improving the hotel. 

There is even a special one dedicated specifically to their laughter. A tune that he made to resemble how melodic he finds it. 

Charlie and Vaggie start to notice Alastor singing to himself all the time. How his eyes soften and his smile turns wistful as he sings. Its how they realize that, holy shit, the guy has fallen in love.

They think that the songs are how Alastor is choosing to ‘deal’ with his feelings and that he is using them as an outlet. Not realizing he is composing them himself.

So other then like the weird love singing to himself there really aren't signs of Alastor having a crush, especially not one on you. So it kinda becomes like this big mystery that Charlie is determined to solve. Charlie holds a 'top secret meeting' and drags the rest of the hotel into it. Who has Alastor fallen for?? She will find out dangit.

I also have the image of at least one of the songs being composed entirely in French. So like Alastor finds the reader asleep at some point, maybe they fell asleep on him or they fell asleep somewhere out of exhaustion, but either way, Alastor ends up singing the song he composed for them while they sleep.

Alastor gently picks you up and cradles you to his chest. Singing all the while. He takes you to your room and tucks you in, singing the song as if it were a lullaby. The reader half wakes up at some point and hears him, but cant understand the words.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Chasing Shadows ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basically a really sweet girl checks into the hotel. Maybe she just has that southern belle vibe or reminds Alastor of his mama or whatever; but the point is he has an immediate soft spot for her. 

Anyway Alastor quickly picks up how guarded and almost paranoid she is. Her eyes always seem to be darting around or looking into the distance for something. Although she is quick to help others, she dashes anyone elses attempts to help her. Alastor finds it very odd.

Then Alastor’s shadows start reporting of ‘incidents’ happening around the hotel, mostly around the new guest. Her things going missing, gifts and letters being left outside her door if not outright in her room, and the one that pissed Alastor off the most was one of the shadows saying they even found a small camera had been placed in her room.

Alastor isnt stupid; he knows someone is stalking the poor girl. And he is seething. Part of it is anger and outrage at someone daring and succeeding at breaching his territory of the hotel, and the other half of his anger is at such a disgusting creature thinking that they are entitled to treat a woman this way. 

Alastor quickly puts more shadows around the new guest's room, having every entrance and exit watched for the intruder. Yet the stalker manages to slip by him again, leaving a bouquet of flowers as well as stealing a pair of undergarments. 

Alastor nearly kills the poor shadow that informs him of this. How could they let someone slip past them again??

You got the gist of how this story goes. Ive had this sitting in my ideas folder forever cause I love it alot but, realistically speaking, Im not going to write it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So either someone else can use it or you can just brainrot about it with me.

The big twist is the demon that is stalking the new guest has the power to turn into/manipulate cockroaches. That's how they are able to traverse the hotel so easily and undetected. 

Wasn't sure if I wanted to go all in on that and make him an actual roach boy or not. You could also make the demon a Jewel Wasp which is a bug known specifically for mind controlling cockroaches.

Since the stalker is cockroach themed, I also had the idea floating around that Niffty would be the one to finally catch them in the end.

I was picturing the relationship between the new guest and Alastor to be strictly platonic; with like big brother/dad protection vibes. Basically Alastor just wants to protect someone who he sees as a ‘lady’ from a disgusting man. Its his southern trauma kicking in hard

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Playing with Fire: The Photobooth

Fandom: Marvel (Dad's Best Friend AU)

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad's coworker and best friend, Bucky, decides to tag along with you on your errands after your boyfriend bailed on you last minute.

A/N: Bucky is in his late 40s, reader in her mid to late 20s. inspo came from these recent pics of seb.

The Book Store

Further into downtown, you stop at another store that sold different types of knick knacks and gifts.

Bucky follows you out of your car and towards the store, "Yelena's birthday is coming up so I figured I can check this place out for some stuff for her."

"I'm following you, sugar," Bucky says as he enters the store and is immediately met with a plethora of color and trinkets.

You zero in on a shelf that displays little crystal figurines. You smile at the ones shaped like animals, some shaped like Pokemon and Sanrio characters.

Yelena always had a thing for elephants so you immediately pick up an elephant carving made from amethyst.

"Those are cute," Bucky says as he looks over your shoulder.

You turn to him with a grin, "Right?! Lena, would love this," you hold up the elephant with a wide smile.

"She likes elephants?"

You nod, "She likes how smart and cute they are."

Bucky watches as you head to the pay counter and ask the cashier if you could place the crystal carving there for now. When the cashier nods, you thank them and head back to Bucky.

"I just wanted to make sure I don't accidentally drop it while I look around."

Bucky continues to follow you around the store until his eyes land on a photobooth in the corner. His eyes brighten, "Oh, hey! Check this out!" He takes your hand and leads you to the booth, "Haven't used one of these since high school."

You scrunch your face up as you think, "I don't think I've actually used one of these before."

Bucky looks at you in surprise, "Really?" You shrug and he opens the curtain to it, "Well let's do one then."

You snort, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, c'mon. Better late than never, right?" He takes your hand again and pulls you in. He sits on the bench and you do your best to squeeze in beside him.

"This isn't gonna work out, here," he has you stand and then he pulls you onto his leg, "Better?"

You gulp, "Y-Yeah."

You try not to pay attention to the hand that rests on your hip as he pays and picks out the amount of pictures and strips. He leans back and points at the screen, "Okay. It's gonna count down for us before every picture. There'll be four pictures all together so be ready."

"Right. Got it. What should we do first?"

"Uuuuhhh happy?"

You giggle and you both smile when the screen counts down to one. You two work quick, "Sad?"

The both of you do your best to look sad. You frown while Bucky straight up looks like he's wailing. When the camera snaps, you lose it. You find Bucky's face absolutely hilarious and he's watching you laugh at him. You're too caught up in the moment to realize that the countdown started and took your picture.

"Oh crap. Uuuuhhh, silly face?" he asks and you nod.

You blow out your cheeks and cross your eyes. He pulls out his ears and sticks his tongue out.

He pulls back the curtain again and has you step out first. You realize how warm you are now so you start to fan yourself. He walks out with a grin, "That was fun."

He leans against the booth while waiting for the pictures to print, "I can't believe you never used one of these before."

"Just never caught my interest, I guess. But I definitely see the appeal now. I'll have to come back with Yelena to use it."

Bucky cocks a brow, "Not your boyfriend?"

Your smile weakens at the mention of your boyfriend, "Oh, um, John doesn't like taking pictures together. He thinks they're dumb."

Bucky's brows raise, "Thinks they're dumb?"

You shrug, "He thinks taking pictures together and posting them is like showing off. So he said he doesn't need to show off our relationship because we both know we're in one. I don't really get it, but I got tired of arguing with him on wanting to have keepsakes for memories," you look down in shame. The only person who knows how John is like is Yelena. When around your dad, John puts up a front. Like he's the perfect guy to you. He's not bad, but sometimes he's not good either.

"And this is the same boyfriend who ditched you today?" Bucky asks with a look on his face you can't even decipher. Is he mad? Annoyed?

"He didn't necessarily ditch me, Bucky. He had a deadline to meet for his capstone project."

"Right and I'm sure he already knew of this deadline and proceeded to procrastinate anyway."

You cross your arms over your chest defensively, "What's your issue with him? You don't even know him, Bucky."

"You're right, I don't, but from just the little information you've given me today, I don't think he's the right guy for you."

"Don't think you have a say in the guys I get involved with, Bucky," you say with a scoff and turn around to walk away but he grabs you by the elbow, "Wait, wait."

You turn back to him and raise a brow, arms crossed over your chest. He sighs, "I'm sorry. I just know you deserve better."

"Thanks but I'll be the judge of that, Bucky. I'm an adult. I'm responsible for my own decisions."

"Yeah. I know, but still. You deserve to be with someone who isn't afraid to show you off, ya know? Makes time with you and does everything to make you happy."

You nod, "I know. Thanks, Bucky."

"Sure," he lets you go to continue to shop for Yelena.

[zyoojis]

ROSES AND EXPLOSIONS

pairing. — 3rd years! katsuki bakugou ✗ filipino afab! reader summary. — you plan and stress about your up-coming debut when your set of 18 roses is not complete. running out of options, you ask him. notes. — if you came from wattpad, hello! and if you happen to stumble upon this post here then hello! if you're not filipino, obviously ignore the reader tag. a birthday special from yours truly as someone who just had her debut :) this is my first work posted on tumblr! to check out more of my works, please go read cupid ! thank you and happy reading. <3

The soft rustle of papers and the hum of your organizer’s voice filled the air as you tried to focus on the details of your debut. Your 18th birthday was fast approaching, and the whole event was starting to feel more real—and more overwhelming. Every little thing had to be perfect, from the food to the program to the three sets of 18s: 18 treasures, 18 candles, and, of course, the dreaded 18 roses.

It wasn’t like you had a long line of guys just waiting to be part of your 18 roses, though. You needed 18 important people to dance with you, and as the event loomed closer, you realized you were running out of options.

That’s when you found yourself standing in front of Katsuki Bakugou, invitation card in hand, nerves twisting in your stomach.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you shoved the [f/c] printed card toward him, avoiding his eyes. “What the hell is this?”

You swallowed your anxiety, taking a deep breath. “My debut… My 18th birthday is coming up, and there’s this tradition—18 roses. I, um… I was hoping you could be one of the guys to dance with me.”

For a moment, silence hung between you two. His crimson eyes narrowed, and his lip curled into a familiar scowl.

“No. I don’t do stupid crap like that.”

His rejection was blunt and harsh, and you felt your heart sink. You’d expected it, really, but still, you couldn’t help the frown tugging at your lips, head down. "O—Oh okay..."

As you just turned around to walk away, you mutter to yourself quietly. "Guess I'll just ask Shoto instead..."

The second you said that, you noticed Katsuki stiffen, his eyes twitched. Todoroki, of all people? No way in hell. There was a brief pause, the air between you crackling with tension.

“Tch. Icyhot?” His tone was sharp, almost insulted. “You’re gonna ask that half n' half bastard?”

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such a reaction as you turned back around to face him. “Well, yeah. I mean, since you’re not interested—”

“Oi, hold on,” he cut you off, irritation flaring in his voice. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

Your eyes widened as you tilted your head in confusion. “But you literally just said—”

“Shut up!” Katsuki barked, glaring at you. “Look, I’m just… feeling sorry for your pathetic ass, that’s all,” he grumbled. “I’m doing you a favor. Besides, I’d be a much better dancer than that idiot.”

You stared at him, momentarily speechless, before a grin slowly spread across your face, brightening like the morning sun. “Wait… Are you saying yes?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Before he could even finish his sentence, you tackled him into a hug, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you cried, your joy palpable. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and you were practically bouncing with excitement.

Katsuki’s body tensed at the sudden contact, his heart doing an unexpected flip in his chest. He scowled, his cheeks madly flushing red as he awkwardly patted your back. “Oi, get off me! Don’t be so clingy!”

But despite his gruff exterior, he couldn’t help the small, genuine warmth that bloomed in his chest, watching your face light up like a sunflower revived by the rain. He wouldn’t admit it, but seeing you this happy made him feel something—something he wasn’t quite ready to face yet.

“Just don’t expect me to wear something fancy, got it?”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

Stupid dance. He thought he’d keep it simple—show up, do the bare minimum, and get it over with. But Katsuki had been wrong. Really wrong. Because now, here he was, wearing something fancy despite everything he said.

It wasn’t like the old hag forced him into it either. Though, his mom had definitely been suspicious when he dragged her to the mall to go shopping. Mitsuki couldn’t stop smirking the entire time as her son grumbled his way through the aisles, inspecting neckties like his life depended on it. He’d picked out a sleek one that—though he’d never admit it—matched your gown. He knew it would, even though he hadn’t seen you in it yet.

And now, the day had come.

The venue was lit in soft, elegant tones, filled with the hum of laughter and conversations. The theme matched with your Quirk and overall aesthetic. But Katsuki couldn’t care less about any of it. He sat with his classmates, who were also invited. He has his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants, trying not to look uncomfortable. His gaze kept drifting to the stage, where the host’s voice echoed through the hall, announcing your grand entrance.

The lights dimmed, a spotlight shining at the entrance of the ballroom. And then… there you were.

For a moment, Katsuki forgot to breathe.

You stepped into the room, looking absolutely breath-taking in your gown. The soft fabric flowed like water around you, and the way it shimmered under the lights made you seem like something out of a dream. The way you held yourself—graceful, radiant, confident—he couldn’t help but be in awe.

But then, you started singing.

The melody was soft, flowing like a gentle breeze, and though the words were in a language he didn’t understand, the emotion behind them was undeniable. Katsuki froze in place. What the hell? He didn’t know you could sing. And not just sing—sing. Like, better than Jirou (no offense). The way your voice carried through the room, delicate yet powerful, made his chest tighten.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, crossing his arms and scowling at the floor. But no matter how much he tried to look disinterested, he couldn’t stop the rapid pounding of his heart. His gaze kept sneaking back to you, each note you hit pulling him in deeper.

Damn it, he thought, clenching his jaw and trying to ignore the warmth spreading through his chest, up his neck, making him feel vulnerable in a way he hated.

It wasn’t fair. You were standing there, glowing in your gown, singing like some kind of angel, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring. For someone who claimed to hate this whole thing—the dance, the ceremony, the dress-up—Katsuki couldn’t take his eyes off you.

And it pissed him off how much you were getting under his skin.

By the time your song ended, Katsuki was gripping the edge of his jacket, his expression hardened in an attempt to hide the fact that his heart was beating way too fast. But deep down, he knew. He was completely, hopelessly captivated.

And the worse part? The program was starting the first set of 18 roses now.

The host instructed the list of men to go in a filed line in order. When Katsuki stood up from his seat, his friends were astonished.

He was waiting in line as he watched you danced with a couple of family members. He was near the end of the line, with your brothers and father being directly behind him.

He could feel his palms sweating. He's praying to god his Quirk doesn't set off an explosion and blows up the damn place due to how nervous he starts to seem. It's just a dance, he could handle anything for fuck's sake.

Finally, it was his turn.

The whole table with the friend group let out a cheer of whoops and whatever those idiots were screaming about. It's like they all knew of his not-so-secret, obvious crush on you.

“Oh my god, go Bakugou!” Mina practically squealed.

“Show her how a real man dances, bro!” Kirishima added with a grin.

Even Izuku, that damn nerd, joined in. “You’ve got this, Kacchan!”

Katsuki ignored them all, his jaw set as he approached you. But when you turned toward him with that same radiant smile you’d given everyone else, it was like his breath caught in his throat.

“Hi,” you greeted him softly, your voice as sweet as ever. “You look nice, Kat.”

For a moment, he couldn’t say anything. He just stared at you, taking in how beautiful you looked in your gown under the soft lights. He’d seen you in your school uniform a million times, but tonight? Tonight, you looked... different. Ethereal.

“...Tch. You too,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual.

You beamed, your smile lighting up the room, and Katsuki felt something twist in his chest. He’d been dreading this moment, but now that he was here, with your hand in his and the music playing softly in the background, he wasn’t sure what he’d been so worried about.

As you swayed together to the music, the world around him seemed to blur. He could still hear his friends cheering and laughing behind him, but their voices felt distant. All he could focus on was you—the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him, the warmth of your hand in his, the soft scent of your perfume.

“Thanks for doing this,” you said quietly, glancing up at him with those kind eyes. “I know it’s not your thing, but it means a lot.”

Katsuki grunted, trying to act nonchalant. “Don’t get used to it.”

But despite his gruff tone, he couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat when you smiled at him again, your face glowing with happiness.

Unfortunately, he would've loved to hold you longer than he'd care to admit. The dances for the 18 roses were brief, just a minute each, to make sure the debutante could make her way through all the gentlemen on the list. Still, that minute felt even shorter to Katsuki as he let go of you and watched you move on to the next partner.

Returning to his seat, Katsuki watched the party from the sidelines, arms crossed, trying to act indifferent. The night went on, the music thumping and conversations buzzing around him. It was almost enough to distract him—almost. Then, it hit him: your gift.

He cursed under his breath, realizing he’d nearly forgotten about it in the chaos of the event. With the program wrapping up, most of his friends had made their way to the dance floor, hyped up by the DJ’s remixes. But there was no way Katsuki was joining them—he had zero interest in babysitting their drunken antics.

His crimson eyes scanned the venue, searching for you. When he finally spotted you off to the side, quietly sipping your drink and momentarily away from the spotlight, something in his chest tightened. This was his chance.

Without thinking twice, Katsuki stood up, navigating through the crowd with his usual confident stride. Reaching you, he gently grabbed your wrist, the touch both firm and uncharacteristically soft. Before you could say a word, he led you out of the venue, stepping into the cool night air away from the crowd and noise.

“Oh hey, why’d you drag me out here? Did you enjoy the party, by the way? I planned it real good, didn't I?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah, it was fine, whatever,” he grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was a subtle tension in the air as he struggled to maintain his usual bravado. But in one of those pockets, he was clutching your gift, the weight of it a reminder of why he’d pulled you outside.

You tilted your head, watching him with curiosity. “Aw, just ‘fine’? You looked like you were having fun out there.”

Katsuki shifted his weight, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It’s not like I’m here to have a blast,” he replied, trying to sound casual. But his gaze drifted to the ground, as if the pavement held the answers he couldn’t quite articulate.

With a sigh, he finally pulled the small box from his pocket, holding it between you. “Listen. Here. I, uh, got you something.” The moment felt charged, as if the air around you crackled with anticipation.

Your eyes widened, surprise and delight lighting up your face. “For me?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Open it,” he urged, a hint of warmth creeping into his voice.

As you carefully unwrapped the gift, Katsuki couldn’t help but watch you, heart racing as he waited for your reaction.

It was a necklace—a delicate piece of golden jewelry with a heart pendant as its centerpiece. Katsuki had the time searching for something perfect, hoping it would convey all the feelings he couldn’t quite put into words.

This was also part of the reason he went shopping with his mom. Mitsuki knew all too well that if her son was going to spend some serious cash on the girl he liked, he might as well make it worthwhile. As costly as it had been, Katsuki didn’t care; he wanted you to have something special.

Your eyes sparkled as you held the necklace up to the light, the pendant catching glimmers that danced across your face. “Wait, stop. No way, it's..”

For some reason, you started tearing up. Before you could finish your sentence, tears began to well up in your eyes. The overwhelming feeling of happiness surged through you, causing the tears to spill over. Katsuki felt like a guard dog almost immediately, instincts kicking in as he watched your emotions unfold.

"Oi, hey, what's with the tears?!"

"It's... It's just really nice, Kat. You're so thoughtful.." you said between sniffles, your fingers gently tracing the heart pendant as if trying to absorb its significance.

What an idiot. He found himself stepping closer instinctively reaching out to wipe away a stray tear with his thumb. “Don’t cry, dammit. I just thought you’d like it or whatever,” he muttered, his rough exterior cracking under the weight of your genuine joy.

Even through the tears, your smile cast a glowing light, illuminating your face in a way that made Katsuki’s heart race for what seem to be like the hundredth time today. “I fuckin' love it.”

With that, his expression went from a blank, concern look to a smug smile, the warmth of your happiness being contagious. "Oh, yeah? Good," he replied, trying to sound tough. "I'll beat the shit out of anyone who tries snatching it from you."

You laughed, "No way!"

He let out an approving grunt, but as he watched you, a few more tears escaped from your eyes, mumbling sarcastically. “Ugh, I said I wouldn’t cry… Now my mascara's all ruined. Thanks a lot, Katsuki.”

"Not my fault."

A short pause of silence occurred. Your fingers fumbled with the delicate chain, and after a few seconds of struggling, you turned your back to him. "Uh, Kat. Can you…?" you asked, a little shyly.

"Don't move."

His fingers brushed against your skin as he lifted the chain around your neck, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the calloused roughness of his hands. There was a slight pause as he fumbled with the clasp, a hint of uncharacteristic hesitation in his movements. But finally, he secured it, letting the pendant settle softly against your collarbone.

As you spun around to face him, your face lit up with joy. “Wahh! Still can’t believe you got me this necklace, it's just so pretty!” You held it up, the heart pendant glinting in the light. “I’ve always wanted something like this! I’m going to wear it every day and take such good care of it! I can’t wait to show everyone! Just imagine how cute it’ll look with my outfits! Oh, and I’ll make sure I don’t lose it, I promise!”

Katsuki thinks you might be crazy like it's kind of funny actually—jesus. Wasn't this chick just crying a few moments ago? And now here you are. Who talks this much for just a necklace? Watching you enthusiastically ramble on triggers cuteness aggression within him. He seems this is what it feels like.

“...and I can’t wait to show it off! It’ll be our little secret, and—”

You felt a pair of hands gently yet firmly grab your face, and before you could process what was happening, Katsuki’s lips met yours, effectively cutting off your endless stream of words. The kiss was brief but electrifying, leaving you breathless and wide-eyed as a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks.

"Happy birthday, you damn sunshine."

If this was how Katsuki Bakugou got you to stop talking, then you wouldn’t mind going on a rant for hours.

[leyyvi]

Umm this is the result of seeing jjk manga spoilers for ch 234 so maybe don't read if you don't want to know what happens lol

anyways this is just actor au fluff for gojo to cope bc canon doesn't exist to me

“Have you seen this?” You shove your phone in front of Satoru’s face, he blinks several times to adjust to the light of your screen.

“Hmmmmm? What’s this? Fanart?”

“It’s the manga, Toru. That’s your character.”

“Oh, shit! They actually did it?!” He laughs, tugging the phone out of your hand to scroll through the feed. “Wow. Think I’ll finally get the fangirls off me when this happens in the show?”

You snort, falling down right into the spot on the couch next to him. His legs take up most of the space, so you sit criss-cross, your knee pushing against his thigh. On instinct, Satoru’s arm drapes over the back of the couch and taps your shoulder playfully. You don’t turn, much too used to his antics over the years. Luckily, Suguru’s warned you of that trick years ago.

“Absolutely not. If anything, it’ll get worse.” 

“Oh well~ Guess you gotta deal with more competition then, huh?” He taps your shoulder again, raising an eyebrow with his taunting question. You smack his arm gently and he pouts.

“Don’t even joke about that!” You say as you lean lightly on the bicep behind you. “But seriously, almost cried just reading that crap. I know it’s not you–”

His head tilts, those deep blue eyes softening in their gaze. “It’s not real, either—”

“I know, but sometimes… You think of the what-ifs, you know?”

Satoru huffs. “Why think of the what-ifs? I’m right in front of your pretty face, you don’t need to think about that.” 

He  scoots himself closer to you, toying with the tag that’s poking out of the back of your shirt. As you inhale and sigh, his faint scent whiffs around you. It’s him, he’s there. Sure, it’s a silly think to think about. But sometimes, your brain likes to wander into hypotheticals. What if that was all real? If he did end up…no. Satoru’s right, it’s not something you should even entertain. 

“Hey, hey,” he chides gently, giving a small peck on your cheek to bring you back. “Pay attention to me, before I gotta go to work.”

You pinch his cheek and give it a pat. “No, how dare you die.”

“It’s not even me in there!”

“Well technically you’re the guy in the show–so!!”

“Pfft, you’re being so dramatic. That crap won’t even happen in the show for what–years? And just don’t watch that when it comes.” Satoru’s semi-reassurances mildly help. Though, what’s more convincing is how he’s slowly pulling you into his lap more and more.

“You’re right, your acting sucks anyway.”

He makes a noise in mock offense, arms wrapping around you completely, “Take that back, right now!” 

“No!”

You land right on his thighs as he yanks you the rest of the way. “If you don’t take it back and tell me I’m the greatest actor in the world…”

His fingers land on your sides, tracing up and down the curve of your hips. You shiver as they briefly tease under the hem of your shirt. He leans up to kiss the other cheek, then your jaw. 

Your eyes close, biting back a smile to refuse acknowledging how much you enjoy his loving touches–even if they tend to start riling you up at a certain point. 

But before you stray too far, he murmurs in your ear, “...I’m gonna start tickling you ‘til you do.”

And before you can react to this “threat”, he’s ghosting your fingers along your skin and coaxing the giggles out from your chest. And though you try to fight him off, he’s just too damn strong! 

“Toru–! Please! Haha…! I-I can’t…!!”

“I can’t, I can’t! Tooooru, spare me~” He mocks you, a shit-eating grin spread across his slightly glossy lips. “Tell me I’m the greatest actor in the world and I’ll let you go.”

“Fuck you–hahah please!!” You try to wriggle away and tumble off his lap, but it only results in you landing on your back and him crawling ontop of you. You beg, unable to abide by his request through the attacks of his dextrous hands. And he’s just smiling, chuckling with an amused glint in his eyes, hardly shadowed by the white strands of his hair. 

If you weren’t struggling so much with the tickling, you’d have half a mind to admire him a bit more like this.

When he notices the tears in your eyes, he offers the smallest amount of mercy. You try to take advantage, grabbing at his wrists weakly to try to push them away. Unfortunately, he’s managed to pin your hands down at the sides of your head instead. 

“Tell me I’m the best, just say it and you’ll be spared,” he smirks, satisfied by this position. You admit defeat, lest he end up with another onslaught of tickling that you don’t think you can handle. 

“Fine. You’re the best.” 

“That’s better,” he leans down to plant a kiss on your lips.

You speak up again as his mouth is inches from yours, “The best at being annoying.”

Satoru laughs–a low, gentle chuckle that stirs something deep in your chest. It’s not the obnoxious ones like he does when he’s messing around with Suguru, or teasing Utahime. Or the ones you hear in his TV show, it feels real, genuine. Cause with you, he’s not acting. You return his smile as he kisses you again. 

“Good enough for me,” he murmurs against your lips.

[chuckmaider]

Those F*cking Polaroids

So, I saw Dinner in America recently and I don't know what just happened but it occurred to me to do this.

If you saw the movie you'll understand and if you didn't see it it doesn't really matter and its not really necessary bcs only part of it is based on the movie.

English it's not much frist language, pls sorry for any kind of error.

The Riddler/Edward Nashton x obsessive! gn! reader

Summary: Reader meets Riddler while browsing the Internet and becomes obsessed with him and his plan to unmask the city, and... Maybe send some curious Polaroids after hacking his address.

Warnings/tags: Obsessive behavior, address hacking, a bit of humiliation kink (reader), tall reader (like 2 o 3 cm more than Ed) , weird reader, creepy reader, obsessive reader, a little bit of dom! Reader Sub! Eddie, Eddie is weird too, prob autistic reader(?) and I so sorry but this si so Out of Character Eddie (idk how to write him I'm sorry 😭), I feel like this is kinda boring so uhm at least the beginning es very boring but um it's very long too i think soo Im sorry idk, we need more insane reader

I met The Riddler when I saw a video of him on some strange Internet page that I was on, it was one of his first posts and the beginning of his...career. At first I was just curious about what he wanted to do, we both had a lot in common about what we thought of the city, both of us were abandoned and discarded by those who claimed to take care of us, to look out of us, to give us a better life. Over time I started to see him more, I made an account and saw him on his page, sometimes, very rarely, I would comment on my opinion about what he said, and he really seemed to notice me.

I can't really say when I started to obsess about him, I guess from first moment that I saw him, something happened to me and that's why I kept seeing him.

I felt something, I felt something, I felt something when I saw him, and I think that's what led me to... Take this further. I didn't feel much, not because I was insensitive, I could feel, but nothing was really that exciting or interesting to capture my attention enough to make me feel anything. I work in a coffee shop, it's small, but sometimes fun things happen with customers, but not enough to keep me amused or not bored for the rest of the day, but there's one customer in particular, who comes almost every day, asks for a cappuccino, a pumpkin pie and sits for hours with a notebook to write. Sometimes I keep looking at him longer than necessary, it's interesting to know what might be going through his head, or what things he'll be writing about.

I was sitting watching the news on the small TV in the cafeteria, it was just me and the usual customer, he was, as always, writing things in his notebook. They were talking something about the Mitchell boy, a guy running for mayor of the Gothic City, just like everyone making empty promises, talking shit and more shit.

"This is crap, he should kill himself quickly and then maybe there will be a real change in this fucking city” I whispered thinking that no one would hear me, I took the remote control and was going to change the channel, but a voice stopped me “wait, I want to listen” it was lucky that there was no more noise than the TV and a few cars passing outside, otherwise I wouldn't have heard the low voice that spoke. I turned to look at him and left the control at the inn “do you support that shit?” I asked him, he looked at me for a few seconds and shook his head “no, of course not, he should kill himself for real change” I looked at him for a few seconds, and without saying anything I gave him a small smile. We didn't talk again after that, a new customer arrived and the old one left, I kept my eye on him as he left, and I could see how he sent me one last look and continued on his way.

After work I returned home and prepared for what was coming, today The Riddler (as we called it) would be live at night and I wanted to see it, but I had some things planned to do first. I studied programming for two or three years, I didn't finish my degree thanks to my lack of money and motivation, but I learned enough things to be able to do what I was going to do. Some would call me immoral, sick, or maybe call me a crazy and obsessed freak, but I wasn't interested right now, it never did. I took my computer and started, went to his page and copied the link, continued to go to other forums, writing codes and finally after a good hour I was able to locate his address (or at least that of his computer), I must say that he was quite protected, it cost more than other times, but I succeeded. I smiled when I saw the small bright spot on the screen, which indicated the exact place where his (I assume) house was right now, I didn't plan to know his identity, of course, I wanted to know who he was, but my plans were different.

I put on my clothes, exactly like his, and waited for the live show to start. I took my Instant Camera and left it aside from the computer. As I listened to his voice I could feel my body starting to warm up, I twisted myself a little in my chair and kept looking at him. After 10 minutes, i was hot enough and I started. I lowered my hand and put it under my pants and underwear, let out a sigh and tilted my head back, continued stroking, rubbing and I felt my climax approach, I accelerated my movements and with my free hand I took the camera and took a photo at the time of my ejaculation, waited for the photo to come out and throw it aside, I took my shiny hand out with my cum and took another photo of it, making sure that it could see the computer with the live one.

As the live went on, my breathing calmed down and I smiled excitedly. I could still feel my face warm because of the blush and the moisture of the sweat on my body “this is for you, Riddler...” I thought as I watched the screen. At the end of the live, he said goodbye to everyone and I closed my computer, took a notebook and wrote the Letter I had planned to send him along with the Polaroids

𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵

𝘐 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶,

𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘯,

��𝘰 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴,

𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬.

I kept the Letter together with the Polaroids in a dark green envelope, closed it and saved it for sending tomorrow.

This became part of my routine for months, I wrote him letters, sometimes poems, other times I told him about my day and other times I told him my ideas and plans that he could use to unmask the city. Watching one of his lives, I could notice at one point that he had some Polaroids stuck on the wall, they weren't noticeable enough, but I noticed them.

In those months, I began to talk more with the customer who frequented the cafeteria, his name was Edward, I was never good with names, but I could remember his. We were quite similar, and even if neither of us really talked about their private life or past, I could tell that we had common opinions and other similar tastes, such as music. We were both part of a religious choir, my family was extremely religious and they put me in a church choir, which I left one day, the day I escaped from them. Edward loves riddles and all that kind of thing, he's really good with numbers too, riddles stressed me out, but numbers and calculations always helped me, as did technology. Edward was intelligent, he knew a lot about a lot of things, I didn't, but I liked to hear him ramble and digress about everything he wanted, I liked to hear him and feel that he could teach me, or easily humiliate me in anything he wanted, I studied programming and yet he seemed much wiser on that subject than me

Over time, I started to have some new feelings, feelings for Edward, at first I thought they were friendly, for being my first friend in years i was just excited, but I noticed things, I started to notice too many things in him, and I couldn't help but want to be with him, not as a friend. One day when I asked him for his number, I picked up his phone and quickly installed software and connected it to mine, it had his location and I could see everything he was doing on it, and although I know that there's no justification, I thought “it's to protect him, it's quite naive...” or so I thought. I didn't spend all my time seeing what I was doing or if I was talking to someone (which I didn't really do, I didn't talk to anyone but me)

After work I used to follow him, a part of me couldn't really get to his house, but I always saw him, constantly. I was so enthralled with him, too much, that it started to become painful. Edward, My Edward, was too much for me, everything I felt for him. I started compare him with him, with the Riddler, and I realized things that maybe I shouldn't have done. Looking at his address, I finally noticed his house was in the exact place where the Riddler lived, but it couldn't be him right? Even so, he couldn't know him either, he told me he lived alone, and I know he didn't lie to me.

While I was still with Edward, I continued to fall in, his way of talking, of thinking, of moving, his way of living with others, his hair, his eyes, his lips, his glasses. Everything about him had me trapped, entangled in him, and I didn't want to leave. Obviously, I hadn't forgotten Riddler, but he was different, I couldn't see him or feel like Edward, yet I kept sending him letters and photos, I was still his faithful follower.

I needed to know, I needed to know if what I knew was true, if all these months of research and incredible stupidity had worked, and in fact, Edward is The Riddler.

I warned at work that I was sick so I wasn't, I knew that Edward was at work and that, if my theory was correct, no one would be home. I went up the emergency stairs and saw his apartment, it had white curtains and the window opened easily, I suppose that when we are together I could fix it to make it safer, any freak could come in and do who knows what things. I could see when I was already inside, a large mural with everything related to Batman, the Waynes and Gotham City, I had a small computer in the inn and it was all quite messy and dirty, and full of papers and notebooks. I heard the jingle of the cage that was on the other side of the room and I saw that there were some rats inside, very good Edward, I won't judge your hobbies but I really wouldn't like to live with rats. I saw what the bathroom was like and it was quite dirty, it had empty pill bottles and in the corner there were some dirty clothes. Whether I took a shirt or not is not important. Finally I ventured to what would be his room, and even though his whole apartment was shouting The Riddler at me, I needed one last confirmation, being someone's most private room, I assumed that if Edward really was who I thought he was, everything should be there. I opened the door slowly and the first thing I saw was the large green fabric with the question mark in the middle characteristic of Riddler's fund of his lives, my breath was cut short for a moment and I felt as if I could ejaculate right now. It was him, Edward was, Edward is, the Riddler.

Then I saw them, I saw all of them, the Polaroids, the photos that I sent him together with the letters, each and every one of them in a space on the wall, attached to one side of his bed, there were some separate ones, marked as Favorites, he kept them, he stuck them, he really had me on his wall without even knowing that it was me.

I stayed for at least fifteen more minutes in his room, until I decided it was time to go, not before leaving a small hidden camera, just in case. That same night I couldn't sleep, after watching Riddler's live and knowing who he really was behind that beautiful mask, it could be said that I enjoyed masturbating too much watching him, the Letter was quite intense, demonstrating my devotion and love for him like never before. The next day I was still quite shocked but I knew how to hide it, until Edward, the Riddler, My Edward arrived... When I saw him I became more nervous than I usually would, not out of fear, no, of course not, I was ecstatic, my face burned just thinking about him and having it in front of me it felt as if I had just opened an oven and all the heat would come from it. “Hello Edward, the-the usual?” I asked him, feeling how my voice trembled very slightly “yes, thank you” He told me and sat in the inn in front of me. While I was preparing his coffee and taking out the piece of pumpkin pie I could feel his gaze on my back, burning and burning so exquisitely, I loved to feel his attention on me even though I was almost always the one who had his attention on him all the time, not because he wouldn't pay attention to me, but mostly I let him talk, and I contributed everything I could, but I loved listening to him too much to interrupt him. “Here, your coffee and your pie, it goes around the house, you don't need to pay anything” I said as I handed him his coffee, Edward looked at me surprised “what? -No, it's not necessary..!” ireplied, My Edward is so thoughtful. ”Don't worry Eddie, nobody here cares too much” I tell him and let out a giggle, I look at his eyes and notice that he relaxes, smiles and thanks me, proceeding to drink his coffee and eat his pie.

“Edd, would you like to come to my house today?” I asked her suddenly, seeing the surprise in her eyes, I could see her plump cheeks turning red and I smiled internally when I saw her reaction “you-your house? - I-i don't wanna bother you" he said "you could never bother me Edd, all these months and you don't know it?"

“Sorry, yes, but Uhm.. I have - I have some things to do and I really don't think I can go, I'm sorry” I could notice the nervousness in his voice which made me smile and want to play with him a little more "Come on, they can wait a day” I could see how he frowns and tried to disguise his surprise “what-what? Th-they what?”

"The work, silly. That's why you have to go home right? I know your type of job and they always leave a lot to do even after you finish everything” I could see how he visibly relaxed and the tension was leaving his body. “Yes, I suppose it can wait a little...” he smiled shyly at me. I told him to wait for me for a while since my work ended at 7 (what was in about fifteen minutes)

We walked for about twenty minutes until I reached the door of my apartment, “you know Edward, I've wanted to tell you some things for quite some time, I want to” I start talking as I open the door of my house “I did my homework and I was really surprised by the result, you know?” I let out a laugh, i still don't look at him as I entered the corridor and I locked the door “just in case, there have been some robberies around here” I say calmly, he looked at me confused just a few steps away from me. I looked back at him and finally dropped the “I know who you are, I know you're the Riddler” bomb.

“Who are you?” He seriously asks me “don't worry Eddie” I smile mockingly “I won't do anything to you, nothing you don't want at least” Edward takes only two steps towards me but immediately retreats as I approach him “don't even try anything Eddie, it's my house, I know it better than anyone” I walk slowly to him seeing how he goes back to girls with the wall next to the door that leads to the living room. Being close enough to feel his breath on my face, I start talking, “you know, I dreamt about this more times than I should, but before it wasn't you, well, it was you, but I didn't know it. Fantasize about the Riddler more times than you have done about destroying the city and its corruption. Later, I met you, we start talking and I could obsess with someone with a real face and name, but then... They were never two people were they? Just two personalities, Edward and Riddler” as I spoke I could feel like all their attention was on me, our eyes never disconnected until I approached him and whispered softly in his ear “but between us, we both know what the real one is, right?” I returned to his eyes, and for the first time it was me who kept talking, all too excited confessing to him. I took his shoulders and guided him to the door next to him, turned him around and made sure that his back would rest on me and let his eyes see all of my room, where everything related to Riddler and Eddie was, each of the points I connected and some photos I took without him noticed it “after a quick visit to your dirty apartment, I was able to confirm every single thing you see there, the Riddler was, in fact, my Edward” I squeeze his shoulders, and my voice breaks slightly thanks to my head, supporting my head on his shoulder and looking at him sideways, seeing his reaction to everything, I smile more broadly, I could confidently say that It's going to hurts my cheeks if I went on like this more time. “You, little mouse, were the cause of my obsession for months, and not only the Riddler, but also like Edward and, I swear, finding out that they were always just you, everything increased at least a hundred times more” I walked up to him, now looking at me again “Edward, Edward Nashton” I put my hands on his blushed cheeks “everything you see there is for you, And more, all the insane things I've done since I met you I did them for and for you, I am completely yours from the moment I found you, and oh God, seeing how you kept and pasted those Polaroids that I sent you was like getting to heaven, seeing that you really saw me without even knowing who I was makes me squirm in my bed like a teenager in love. You didn't know it and you already missed me”

Eddie put his hands on my hands that supported his cheeks, and spoke for the first time in minutes “it was always you, the one with the Polaroids..? Were you always the one who wrote all those letters to me? For Riddler?” she asked softly looking into my eyes “of course it was me, of course it was always me, Eddie” I smiled at him big time. "You don't- you don't know how those Polaroids affected me, what they did to me... You don't know how much those Polaroids worked on me...” the intensity in his gaze could cross walls if he could, but in me it only pierced my heart “oh Eddie-” without being able to finish, I felt like Edward kissed me intensely, melting at his touch I let myself go, I felt his teeth hitting mine thanks to the hardness of the kiss, his tongue entered my mouth and with pleasure I let him do what he wanted with me, his hands came down from mine to my waist and they hugged me tightly, I let out a moan through the feeling, his mouth and mine, his lips and the Mine, his tongue and mine are twisting, Edward let out a moan when he felt my pelvis hit his, being able to feel his growing bulge in his pants.

I took his hands and slowly raised them up my body until I left them on my shoulders hugging them, instead I lowered mine and tucked them under his jacket and t-shirt, feeling their quality leather. I slowly went up and down my hands all over his torso, squeezing his skin on my hands, feeling like Eddie let out small gasps in the kiss.

After a hot session of kissing and touching as a result of an intense declaration of my love for him, we were lying on my bed, staring intently at each other without saying anything, too busy keeping every detail about each other to talk. “Edward” I call him in a whisper, getting a “hum?” on his part “this isn't a dream, is it?” I asked him, “if this is a dream, I wish I would never wake up” and he answered.

Hello! This is the first fic that I will publish here on Tumblr, I don't know if I make it constant but if you like the way I write (which I doubt because I myself feel that it is quite bad, especially since it's not in my language)

I feel like the ending goes by very quickly, I'm sorry it's 1am and ik tired, and I'm also sorry for the very likely OOC! Edward, I'm not very good at capturing the essence of a character already created unless I created it hehrjee I'm sorry

Even with all that, I hope that if you finished it and it didn't bored you, you liked it and you can make any suggestions and/or corrections to me, I don't know if I'm taking request or something, but you can still send them to me and I'll see if I could do them:)

[thewritetofreespeech]

tags: bondage, blowjobs, handjobs, heterosexual intercourse, fem!dom, 69, orgasm delay, mild ice play

He came to with a groan and tried to force his eyes open. It took a few tries, lids fluttering like bird wings, but Shuhei was finally able to get them open and was met with....darkness.

‘What the fu...’ His senses suddenly became ultra-heightened as he tried to sit up, but a heavy weight pulled on his wrists. He now realized they were above his head. Keeping him tied down. Immediately he started to jolt and thrash to get himself, or at least his eyes, free.

“Don’t try to fight it dear.” The vice-captain stopped as he heard a soft, silky, familiar voice around him. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Goddamit [Y/N]!”

He remembered now. He was coming over after work. Late, as usual. He tried to get off sooner, but his duties as vice-captain and member of the 9th & 13 kept him very busy. Shuhei had been more than prepared for a tongue lashing or cold shoulder when he showed up. Ready to fall on bended knee and apologize if need be. What he hadn’t expected was to be hit with a stun kido the minute he walked through the door. Knocking him out and landing him in the current situation he was in. “Let me go! This isn’t funny!”

“It’s not meant to be funny.” [Y/N] responded coolly. “It’s meant to be a punishment.”

Shuhei gulped a little. Ok, so she was a little madder than he expected. How was he gonna get out of this one? He might write words for a living, but coming up with the right ones to say were always at a loss for him. “Look, [Y/N], I’m sorry.” Apology always seemed a good place to start.

“I don’t want your apology.” ‘Crap���. “I want you to suffer.”

Shuhei tensed at their words. Since he couldn’t see, he couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. And since he couldn’t move, he had to consider the possibility that he was in actual danger. ‘Dammit!’ He cursed in his head as he tried to break his bindings again. Why did he have to be dating a kido master?!

There was a shift in the reiatsu in the air he could pick up on, then a shift in the bed. A long pause. Then suddenly something very cold was on his chest. Shuhei flinched and made an undignified sound. Startled by the cold. His brain associating it with the cool bite of steel, but he realized it was just a piece of ice in their hand. “Hey! Quit it! That’s cold!”

“That’s the point.” [Y/N] said. Her tone about as cool as the ice.

Shuhei mentally huffed and laid back. He realized he wasn’t getting out of this without taking his lumps. She was angry. He supposed he should be in trouble for breaking their date again. And, [Y/N] was right, fighting would only make it worse.

He flinched and gritted his teeth as the ice passed over his skin. Leaving pimpled flesh behind. It would start. Then stop. Pass over his nipple, or a particularly sensitive spot on his chest, making him jump. Then it would stop again. Eventually he got used to the sensation. His blinded sight making him incredibly aware of the different temperatures on his skin.

“You’re getting hard.”

Their voice suddenly cut through his focus like a knife. “N-No I’m not!” Shuhei backfired. He could just guess how red his face was. One, because he was never comfortable talking about sexual things directly. And two, because it was absolutely true.

“Don’t lie to me.” [Y/N]’s fingers ghost over the top of his hakama where his erection was starting to form. It twitched and raised slightly higher as Shuhei let out a gasp. “Lying to me once this evening about our date was bad enough.”

“I’m sorry…..” He apologized again. His voice a little weaker this time.

He felt ashamed for breaking his promise. But how could he make it up to them? Make them see that he really was sorry, and that he had no intention of breaking that promise to them. “I really did try. It’s just that my duties are…”

“They’re very important to you.” She finished for him. A hand slipped into his pants to stroke his partial erection. “I’m important to.”

“You are!” Shuhei insisted. The ropes biting into his wrists as he tried to sit up in earnest but failed. “You are important to me. You’re the most important person to me.”

“More important than Kensei?” [Y/N] asked. Her hand still stroking him slowly. “More important than Mashiro?”

“Yes…I mean…that…” It was getting hard to think with her hand on him.

He wanted to say ‘yes, you are more important’ but then again, he couldn’t really say no to his captain or a superior when they asked for something. Both were important. But he couldn’t really explain that as his brain was starting to cloud with pleasure. Like a slow rolling fog over the hills in the Rukongai. The blindfold making it almost impossible to block it out or focus on anything else. “[Y/N]….”

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this.” Shuhei let out a sharp wail when she twisted his nipple, hard. The pain creating clear focus for a second before it sharpened the edges of his pleasure and made them more intense. He liked the pain, he realized, and his face had to be beet red now as he felt embarrassment and shame along with an undeniable pleasure. “You’re supposed to be being punished for being in trouble.”

“I…I am…” His tongue felt like it weighed 10 pounds. The back of his throat was a weird mix of dry and sopping wet from the drool in his mouth. “I am. I was wrong. I’m sorry. You were right. I deserve to be punished.” His whole body felt on fire now. Gods what was wrong with him!

There was a shift on the bed and Shuhei was terrified for a moment that she was just going to leave him there. Then he heard the sound of rustling fabric over the pounding in his ears. He realized she was taking her clothes off. She was naked right now. He had to swallow as his mouth salivated at the thought and imagine of her naked body his mind had conjured up for him. “You want to make it up to me?”

He would have nodded enthusiastically but was caught off guard when the bed shifted again. Only this time above his head and not by his waist. The soft feeling of her thighs against his face and arms, still pinned above him, and she doesn’t have to say anything for him to know what he has to do to make it up to her.

Shuhei craned his neck up almost immediately before she even lowered herself down to start licking her. He moaned loudly in tandem with [Y/N]’s soft whimper when his tongue touched her. Lapping at her with a gusto he’d never had before; and he usually wasn’t stingy in that department when they were together normally.

The vice-captain continued to pleasure [Y/N] as she settled nicely over his face. The binds on his wrists biting now and then as he wanted to touch her but couldn’t. But maybe that was part of his punishment. Aside from keeping him here, the binds were meant to keep him from touching her. Which she knew was his favorite part. Shuhei had always been a tactile person. Needing to touch everything to figure it out. He’d spend hours just touching her body if he could. Mapping out every space. Finding all those spots that made her giggle or sigh. Just holding her close. It was torture not to touch her with anything but his mouth, but he assumed that was part of the point.

She lifted up to give him a chance to breath and he felt her fall forward. “Oh fuck….” Shuhei hissed as he felt her breath near his cock. He’d been so focused on her taste and her pussy that he forgot how aching his cock was. The simple whisp of air enough to make it painfully reaware of how hard he was. “[Y/N]….”

“Keep going.”

If he’d been in his right mind, he would realize how hot & thick her voice sounded. Not cool and collected at all now. Clearly not unaffected by their game. But he couldn’t think of anything accept his throbbing cock and her command, so he went back to licking her like he was told.

[Y/N] let out a heavy moan when he started again and Shuhei let out a shout, his whole body convulsing, when she wrapped her mouth around his cock. He didn’t cum, but it felt like his whole body had an orgasm when her lips wrapped around him. He knew he wasn’t going to last long.

They continue to pleasure each other with their mouths. Shuhei’s brain overwrought with pleasure. His cock in her mouth giving him the best blowjob he’s ever had and simultaneously tasting her sweetness and feeling her pussy quiver on his tongue as it was about to cum.

He wanted them to cum together. So he sped up his movements and sucked on her clit, while his hips bucked into her mouth. Just a few more seconds and he could finally cum. Just a little more…..Just a little more…..

His mouth came off [Y/N]’s cunt with almost a wet pop when suddenly nothing happened. “What did you do?!”

[Y/N] pulled back from his cock with a long, wet pull of her mouth. “61.”

It took Shuhei a moment to figure out what that meant. His thoughts lost in a sea of pleasure, pain, about to cum, not about to cum. Then he realized what that meant and his whole body went tense. “You used Six-Rod on my dick?!”

“Would you prefer I stopped and got a cock ring?”

He couldn’t even think to come up with a response to that. Shuhei was still too shocked that his girlfriend had used a binding kido on his dick to stop him from cumming, and that it actually worked. The desire to cum was still there. The feeling of he was about to cum was still there. But he just…..couldn’t. “Take it off!”

“No.”

He felt the bed shift again and Shuhei started to trash this time in panic of being left alone. Her hand came down on his stomach, just at his naval, to settle him and also use it as a base to straddle him. “You’re going to know what it’s like to be kept waiting.” Shuhei let out a long, deep, aching moan as [Y/N] slide down on his cock. Warm, wet, and blindingly hot. He could almost see white flashes behind his eyes they were shut so tight as he continued to moan. “To feel what it’s like to wait for someone to come. To be left hanging while other people do what they need to first.”

His moans turned into whimpers as she started to rock. It felt so good. But with that it also hurt because he was so desperate to cum. He felt helpless. His mind tormented by all these feelings & sensations that it could really help him. It could only do one thing. “Please….” Beg.

“Are you going to make me a priority from now on?” [Y/N] asked as her hips rocked faster.

“Yes!”

“You’re not going to blow off our dates or keep me waiting anymore?” She was fully riding him now.

“Yes!!”

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes! Yes! I learned my lesson! I won’t do it again! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, please just let me cum!”

There was the sharp sound of the snap of her fingers and the binding was off. Instantly Shuhei came so hard he thought he might pass out. His hips arching off the bed as far as they could to bury his cock as deep in her as possible as it felt like his cock was cumming forever, wrapped in the quivering walls of her pussy.

Eventually, it stopped. The two of them collapsed on the bed in an exhausted, pathing heap as Shuhei’s brain still tried to make sense of what happened.

[Y/N] moved off of him. He let out a soft, over stimulated whimper when he felt his cock slip from inside her, then hissed when the blindfold was removed from his eyes. “Sorry if I was mean to you.”

Her hand moved to brush against his cheek, and Shuhei realized that tears had been welling up on his eyes. “It’s ok.”

Her hands move to untie him. They fall in a heavy flop once released, before he instantly moved to wrap them around her. Finally having a chance. “I’m sorry I was late. And if you were feeling unimportant.”

“I was.” [Y/N] replied into his chest as he held her close. “I suppose this was a little dramatic.”

“It was….fine.” Shuhei wasn’t in a place mentally to be honest and say he enjoyed it. Despite everything that just happened, he was still wasn’t comfortable talking about sexual things directly. Maybe the blindfold helped. “I promise, I won’t be late again.”

“You better not be.” [Y/N] lifted her hand and a gold orb of light formed on her index finger. Shuhei’s cock twitching in response. He got the message.

[fairyysoup]

you are in love

pairing(s): steve harrington x gn!reader

summary: The moment you realize that you're in love with Steve.

words: 1.2k

tags: fluff, literally probably the fluffiest thing i've ever written, little bits of angst here and there, slice of life, gently holding steve harrington, steve has insomnia, friends to lovers, love confessions, soft!steve

additional notes: i was gonna write a mega angsty steve fic but this happened instead (:

My blog and all of my works are 18+ MINORS DNI

It hits you on a completely normal night, for some reason.

Really, you always thought that the eureka moment would happen because of some pinnacle of romance, a gallant gesture like Steve appearing outside your window playing a love song from a boombox, or kissing you under a display of fireworks, or presenting you with his left ear in a box. You know, cinematic, romantic, passionate displays of devotion like that.

But no, it doesn’t happen like that. You and Steve’s relationship is nothing like a movie- at least, no movie that you’d enjoy watching, you suppose, with otherworldly, Lovecraftian eldritch beings and all that. Monsters and near-death experiences abound, so it makes things a little less than romantic.

It’s just that, sometimes you and Steve find a way to find peace at the end of it all. And you guess that’s what this is, now. 

Steve is laying in your lap, on his stomach, between your spread legs on the couch. His head rests sideways against the soft curve of your stomach, and he sort of has his arms wrapped around your middle- but they’re also crammed up against the pillow you rest your back against, and you can’t imagine that’s comfortable, but he insisted that it was all right. It must have been the truth, too, because he’s conked. Totally and completely, out like a light. It’s the deepest sleep you’ve seen him get in days.

You have a book in your hand- the one you’ve been trying to read for ages, but between work and all the crap with the upside-down, you barely have time. You really, honestly meant to knock out some of it tonight, but you’ve reread the same page over and over for the last fifteen minutes. Steve said, as he was crawling into your lap like this, “Just go ahead and keep reading. No, ignore me, seriously, I just want to be close to you. No, I don’t want to sit behind you- God, what do you take me for? No, this is cozy, you’re cozy.” And there he lay, quietly listening to the slow in-and-out of your breath. 

At some point, your free hand found his hair, your fingers playing through it and stroking idly, subconsciously petting him like a cat. You’ve always loved his hair, but you know that he hears about it constantly, like Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is only of any value when it looks nice. So, you’ve taken to complimenting him on things he doesn’t hear often enough. How smart and observant he is. How strong his hands are. How pretty his eyes are and how much you like the way his voice sounds in the morning, all raspy and thick with sleep. And you really like the way that he blushes when you say those things, too- but you’d be lying if you ever said that his hair didn’t do it for you. 

Of course, it helps that there’s a soft, drizzling rain hitting the pane of the window beside your head, a light staccato that creates an even cozier ambience. It also helps that Steve decided to leaf through your records and put on- of all things- your compilation of vintage french love songs, including Edith Piaf and Charles Trenet, among others. It was an odd choice for him, you thought; but to see him sleeping so soundly now, you think he orchestrated that just right.

Steve would never willingly volunteer the fact that he’s been suffering insomnia like crazy- you can observe it and ask him about it all you like, but he’s always going to be the suffer-in-silence type. You ask him if he needs any help, he says, “I’m good, I’m good.” You find him up at odd hours and offer to give him a melatonin and a mug of warm milk, and he just shakes his head. “I’m okay, honey. Go back to bed. I’ll race you.”

So, of course he wouldn’t let out the fact that he crawled into your lap planning to fall asleep, that he put on the soothing music for background noise, that between the lull of your slow breathing and the rain, he’d have the perfect soundtrack to fall asleep to. That he’s using you as a pillow because he knows that with you, he’s safe. 

Reading your book, you don’t know when exactly he fell asleep. But you do know that at some point, your fingers stroking through his hair made his breathing slow down and his shoulders finally relax. And at some point, his soft breaths turned into light snores. 

It shocks you, when you hear it. Your fingers pause, and you look down from your book at his head, his pretty face squished against your shirt and his eyes fluttering, watching a dream behind closed eyelids. His lips are parted and he may start drooling on you in a bit, but you don’t really care (it wouldn’t be the worst thing he ever got on one of your shirts, and you’ve never been squeamish). Tiny little snores fall from his lips, mingling in the air with the rain and the record on the turntable across the room. And your heart soars. 

You want to kiss him. Hook your hands under his armpits, pick him up like a teddy bear and cover him with so many kisses that he won’t know what to do with them all. If kisses were currency, Steve would be the richest man in the world by the time you’re done with him. The urge is so strong that it makes your hands twitch and your chest ache, but you hesitate. 

He looks so sweet, so peaceful. He snores again, and you don’t want to disturb him (even if it is to give him an ambush of kisses). He needs the sleep more right now, and you… you think you need him to keep using you as a vessel for his comfort. You need him to find his peace with you like this. 

And that’s when you realize you’re in love with him. 

With your fingers in his soft hair and his weight heavy on the bottom half of your body, and his body warmer than any blanket you own, you stare down at him and accept the fact that you, of course, have fallen in love with Steve Harrington. And it makes so much sense, too- that’s why it’s happening now, and not because of some climactic show of passion and devotion. 

You were friends first, and then slowly became lovers. And you’ve only been ‘together’ for a few months, only really had sex a couple times, but it feels like you’ve been his forever. You realize that it wouldn’t be so bad if you were his forever.

You want to tell him, almost as much as you wanted to kiss him a few seconds ago. You still hesitate to wake him up, and you still don’t know if he really feels the same. Can he? King Steve, every girl’s dream, the envy of nearly every guy in Hawkins. Can he be in love with you? Little ol’ you? 

You try to get rid of that thought before it even comes up. Of course he could be; anything’s possible. If you happen to be the first one to say it, that doesn’t mean that he won’t. 

He doesn’t have to, though. Not right now. Right now, you just want him to sleep. So, you stroke a lock of hair away from his sleeping face, and you say, “I’m in love with you, Steve,” because it’s the truth. 

Steve shuffles around the tiniest bit, nuzzling further against your middle, and then snores.

[natalyarose]

𝑅𝑒𝒻𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓉… (𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜, 𝒮𝓊𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝐵𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒾!)

~ This is a bit of a personal one lol, maybe I'm getting a little too comfy on tumblr- but hey, I like it here and I'm very grateful for everyone who's taken an interest in whatever I have to say :)

~ tagging this on Nakshatra tumblr because I feel like this reflection perfectly encapsulates Venus Nakshatras and is very aligned with the Sun moving into Bharani, the birth of Venus among the Nakshatras

// warning, cringe and angsty lmao

I have such an odd relationship with my artistic process. Unconventional? Stubborn. Sometimes just straight up bad lol.

I want to create beautiful, meaningful things, yet I have this sort of extreme resistance to being perfect or professionalism (however, somehow perfectionism and such a ruthless self-antagonism for not being 'enough' at the same time..).

It's almost like I purposely sabotage my art by intentionally leaving in mistakes, or leaving it somewhat dishevelled in protest of perfection. In hopes that the beauty and artistry still manages to shine through to the right people.

I guess it's also this thing where I feel like the imperfection makes art more unique, more exclusive- more personal & dearly held to the people who do find the beauty in it that I initially wanted to communicate. But, there is a difference between artsy, grungy, rawness and... just being crap, lazy, unrefined, undisciplined. (I'd never refer to someone else's work in this way but myself... mann).

Knowing full well that my artistic creation likely 'needs work', is not a finished product and will very likely be criticised for its' imperfection, I still have the overwhelming urge to go ahead and share it with the world/post it. In all of its' messy (again, maybe just straight up bad lol) glory. Then I wonder why I'm not gaining the traction I want haha. When I inevitably receive criticism, I get so hurt by it, I beat myself up and it eats at me to the point that I can't sleep at night, I'm up reciting the criticisms in my head and weaving them into my very own nightmare!

I don't understand why I do this to myself lmao. Later on after posting & putting myself out there, I hear that imperfection in the song, I hear those vocal parts I stubbornly left in and didn't want to redo, I see the dodgy brush strokes I refused to fix up in the name of authenticity, and I cringe. In fact, I feel such a deep shame for it all that I take everything down out of embarrassment. Even though it was fully my decision to put up something amateur sounding and imperfect.

Maybe it's something like the weight of desire for perfection is too much, so I just go 'to hell with it!'.

It's like an endless cycle for me, and I realise that over the years, if I'd just left things up online and was more patient with myself, I'd probably have cultivated a following of some sort by now, or maybe used peoples' criticisms to improve the art to a greater extent. I mean, there are people who have mentioned to me when they notice the art is imperfect and needs work, but there are just as many lovely people who have gone totally out of their way to express deep appreciation for the music/art I've put out and enjoyed it.

Here's my 'theory' as to why I do this to myself: when I create art, I don't just want to make pretty things, though I want that too. I want to be loved, and FELT. I want to bring people to this raw, vulnerable place in my heart where my ideas emerge from. I want to be loved not in spite of the imperfections, but alongside them, all encompassing.

I don't want to have to be perfect, have $1000 worth of equipment, hours and hours of recording time trying to 'get it right' in order to be understood and deemed beautiful. I don't want to show off how perfect or skilled I am either, I want to make people feel something. I want it natural.

r a w.

I kinda enjoy for art to be unfinished and slightly unpalatable on purpose.

Maybe it's a bit of entitlement on my part, expecting that even if I do a mediocre job, people will still enjoy it and see my 'talents'/message.

Truth be told though, that's how I love other people, how I enjoy others' art as well, it's not just something with me.

When I listen to artists I love, I adore seeing something beautiful, yet somehow messy and jarring. A sort of underground-esque, 'wild feminine' creation. It evokes that much more feeling and passion that something designed to be perfect just lacks to me.

I can't get into a lot of bands that are considered 'objectively good' by many people because they just sound too perfect to me- There's a lot of times I come across artists that sound technically good, very clean but my heart just can't get into it. I find myself listening and thinking 'I wish this was recorded on a toaster', or 'I wish there was a more rough sound to the vocals' lol, I crave the rawness & intimacy that imperfection and roughness lends.

Ugh, it all creates such an internal conflict- like I want my art to be seen, to be loved yet I somewhat reject things it takes for the art to be considered objectively good & well rounded.

The harsh reality might just be that just because I see the beauty in imperfection, just because I know I've got this personal, very niche vision of what 'good' sounds like/looks like in my mind, that doesn't mean other people are going to find value in the same things.

Of course, maybe all of this is just pretentious excuses & my own self-hatred manifested (I don't actively hate myself, I try to be much kinder to myself these days but yknow)

Anyway, I realised that it's the start of Bharani season in galactic centre mid-mula Ayanamsa today & I think this write up really aligns with that.

Thankyou for reading lol.. again, a bit of an angsty personal thing but maybe it could be relevant to someone, if y'all wanna know what Venusian artistic angst looks like in real time lmao 🖤🥀

[romanarose]

To the Rescue

Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sarah gets her period, and Joel is a bit lost.

Warnings: So much period talk. so much. Thats about it.

EDIT Gotdamn two requests for part two already and it’s been up a few hours 😂 part two it is! Maybe with smut 👀

Let’s see. Comment if you’d like to be tagged!

************

You didn’t wanna assume anything… maybe he knew what he was doing. Maybe he was just trying to find a particular kind. 

Or maybe the 30-something-year-old man was wandering lost around the feminine hygiene aisle overwhelmed because his wife, daughter, or sister sent him to buy some, and he had no idea what he was doing.

“Excuse me, sir?” You gently approach the nervous man. When he turns to you, wide-eyed and red faced, you can’t help but notice how handsome he is, soft brown curls framing a strong jaw and curved nose.

“Oh, ‘scuse me, ma’am.” He nods his head to you, and steps back, presumably to get out of your way.

You smile softly at him, trying to put him at ease. “No, no, you’re alright, I was just gonna ask if you needed any help?”

The man blushes harder at that, dodging your attempts to catch his eyes. He looks like he’s about to refuse, but reconsiders. Looking at the floor and shoving his hands in his pockets, he answers. “My daughter, she started… um… yeah. For the first time today… the nice cashier boy is an older brother of her friend so he let her in the employee bathroom, since apparently, they don’t have a public one.” The annoyance laced his voice, and it’s obvious it had taken a moment to get the poor young girl to privacy. He finally looks at you, not so much embarrassed, but more ashamed. “I should’a been prepared for this, but I thought… I thought I had more time, you know? She’s still a little girl to me, I guess I didn’t see it coming. So. Here we are.”

You nod, listening. “Are you able to contact her mom?”

Shaking his head, he looks away again. “She left when Sarah- uh, my daughter- when Sarah was two, I gave up tryna involve her in Sarah's life by Kindergarden- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all this shit-I Mean, crap- on you.”

He was a southern gentleman, it seemed, not keen on swearing around women. You felt for him, you did. A single dad in this position wasn’t ease. 

“I see, well, I’m happy to help, if that’s alright.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes him. “That would be great, thank you. I don’t wanna… well she’s already very embarrassed. The cashier was nice, but he definitely saw the blood on her shorts, and she’s pretty humiliated. You know, teenage boy she knows and all that… I don’t wanna make it worse.” He shuffles his feet. “I don’t wanna make her feel like this is something to be ashamed of, or that I’m grossed out. I’m not.” He glances at you before sighing again but keeping eye contact. “I just feel out of my depth that’s all.”

“I understand. This sort of thing can be confusing for adult women do. We learn new things all the time, what works better and what doesn’t. I don’t think anyone expects you to be an expert.”

With a shy smile, the young man extends his hand. “Joel Miller, pleasure to meet yuh, miss.”

You tell him your name, and get to work, not wanting to leave that poor girl waiting. “Any known allergies, Mr. Miller?”

“Please, you can call me Joel. And yeah, she’s allergic to latex.”

Nodding again, you move to a particular section. “Okay, good think I asked because some have latex. Here.” You give him a box of basic Kotex pads and a box of tampons. “This brand is latex free, and they are a good brand. Just make sure you check any new products if you get 'em. She probably won’t want to use tampons for a few years yet, but let’s get 'em just in case” You grab a box of larger ones. “And these are overnight pads, but the first day or two are always the heaviest each month, and if I’m being honest, I just use these the first day, even with a tampon.” Your face suddenly matches Joel’s blush. “Sorry, that’s probably TMI”

“No!” He reassures, wide-eyed. “I don’t mind, any information is helpful- uh- if you’re comfortable, of course.”

You can’t seem to stop smiling at him. “Yeah. I’m pretty open. Well, for me, my first two days are insanely heavy, and the tampons bleed through really quick, so if I’m at work it's better just to have a big pad on to prevent leaks. I think it’s safe to say she’s gonna like these while she is figuring things out.”

Joel nods, and you can tell he’s trying very hard to take in this information. He grabs another box of the over night pads, then looks at you. “Just in case”

“Okay, now, you said she bleed through her clothes right?”

Joel scrubbed his face. “Oh god, yeah, and they don’t sell clothes here, huh.” He sighs, before coming up with a plan. “That's okay” I’ll just wrap my jacket around her.”

“Here.” You toss him some baby wipes. “You go check out, I got some sweats in my car, I’ll grab them and meet you at the employee bathroom.”

His eyes go wide at that. “Oh! Oh no, miss, thank you but you don't have to-”

But you hold out a hand to quiet the handsome single dad. “I want to. And they are just shitty sweats, don’t worry for one minute.” Before he could argue, you leave him, and soon you return to the front where Joel is trying to get his daughter to open the door… but she’s refusing.

“Sarah, honey, it’s okay, it’s okay I’m just gonna hand you what you need-”

“No!” You can hear her yell from the bathroom, and you can’t imagine she’s older than 10.

You step up to the door. “Hey, Sarah? I’m a friend of your dads. I got some clean clothes for you, if you crack open the door I have a towel you can cover yourself with, and I can help you, or if they you think got it-”

The door unlocked, and Joel looked visibly relieved as you handed her the beach towel through the cracked door. 

“Is this alright? I’ll keep the door unlocked and be in and out.” You assure him, and he agrees.

“I really appreciate all your help; I can’t say thank you enough.” 

Sarah calls that you can come in, and with a towel covering her you show her the products and explain how to use them. You slip out again and lean against the wall looking at an anxious Joel.

“She okay? She good?” He asks you, the worry evident on his face.

You were quick to reassure him. “She’s alright, just embarrassed, but I managed to slip in that you were absolutely not weirded out and not nervous at all.”

“Already lying for me, huh darl’n?”  He chuckles a bit, finally seeming to relax. “You really came to my rescue.”

You could stare at his soft brown eyes all day… “It’s alright. No one really prepares you for this as a dad.”

The smile on his face falls. “But I should’ve prepared myself, you know?” his large hand goes to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t try, really. When her mom left I really tried to… you know… learn how to do both, the mom stuff and dad stuff.” Joel chuckled a bit. “I can throw a mean tea party.”

Smiling softly, you hope your face doesn’t show one of judgment. "I bet you can."

“But then she just got older so fast… ”

“How old is she?”

“10”

“Well, in your defense, that is a little earlier than expected.” You can see his eyes widen, so you’re quick to assure him. “Not too early! Any time between 9 and 16 I think is normal and healthy. 12-13 is the average though.”

He wouldn’t stop beating himself up about it. “I should’ve been prepared, but my ma died before Sarah was born and I work with all men so I just… didn’t have anyone to ask, and then I know I could probably look it up but I didn’t even know what I’m looking for, plus it’s the internet so I wasn’t really sure what I’d see-”

“Joel!” You stop him, laughing and putting a hand on him, hoping to cool his anxious over-explaining… he relaxes into your touch. “I have been getting mine for ages, and I still find myself getting caught off guard without products. You’re a good dad, okay? You’re trying your best, and from what I’ve seen, you’ve raised a lovely, polite young lady. You’re not gonna traumatize her because you didn’t have pads.”

When he smiles at you, you can’t help but fall into those puppy-dog eyes just a little bit more.

Sarah emerges from the bathroom, looking at the floor but trying to put on a brave face. You decide to leave them be, let them go home so the poor girl could rest and Joel could calm down.

“I’m going to finish my shopping, any more questions before I go, sweetie?”

She gives a light smile. “No ma’am, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Joel?” You ask the girls dad, and he laughs as he shakes his head.

“Got about a thousand, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Dad” Sarah urges him to stop talking, so Joel does. 

“Thank you, miss. I appreciate it.”

You say goodbye to both, and go to retrieve your shopping cart. 

Meanwhile, Joel watches you leave, before Sarah speaks up.

“Who was that? She said she was a friend of yours, but you don’t have friends other than Uncle Tommy.”

“Hey now, little lady.” Joel looks down at her, but Sarah just gives him a look. “Fine, you got me. Just a nice lady helping a hopeless old man.”

“Well, she was nice. Can we go home? I think I deserve some of that candy you keep hidden away.”

“How do you know about that?”

“You fall asleep watching TV with your mouth full of chocolate.” Sarah then flops her head back, mouth open, imitating a loud snore. 

Joel gently bonks her head, making the pre-teen giggle. “Alright I get your point, fine. Let’s go home.” Joel put his arm around his daughter, walking her outside as he carried the back of products and her dirty shorts.

When Sarah stuffed her hands into your large sweatpants, she felt something in the pocket. “Oh I hope he doesn’t need this.”

“What is it?” Joel hoped it was important so he had an excuse to find you and talk to you again. 

Sarah handed him a business card. It had your name, and business and cellphone number printed on it, but it was the back that caught his attention. Written in blue ink, it said: “Call me, cowboy <3”

******************

First Joel with no smut XD

I was debating writing this or a dark!joel one shot, but christ, my dark joel series is *dark* so i needed to lighten myself up a bit.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

IDK who else is reading none smutty joel so i guess im just tagging fen bc they read all my nonsense XD

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Writer Interview Game!

Thank you so much for the tag, @gilded-glitter!

When did you start writing?

I was actually toodling around with that in elementary school. At some point, I think I tried to write Jurassic Park 3? (This was before that movie was a thing). Got about 15 pages into it.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I love fantasy and especially dark fantasy (with horror elements). Could do sci-fi, I think. And the romance angle is new, but I think I'm liking it, as long as I can build it slowly and they're both kind of dorks. And I read all of the above, and a BOATLOAD of non-fiction, mostly history, accidents, adventures-going-wrong, etc. I have three bookshelves, and one of them is entirely (and overflowing) with non-fiction.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Hmm. I loved Animorphs as a kid, and Jurassic Park. So anything in that vein, I guess? Got compared to Laini Taylor once and I almost choked on my own tongue. If anyone EVER comped my to Tamsyn Muir I would simply expire.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Literally wherever. First drafts are by hand, because I can take and deploy a notebook anywhere, anytime, with hardly a fuss. The majority of my fic is probably written during my lunch break at my work desk in the old spiral, college-ruled notebook.

At home, when typing, my desk is a catastrophe. Stacks of paper and other notebooks and knocked over figurines. Organization? I don't know her.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Writing something fun? Listening to music a lot. I'm kinda a work horse, and I've trained myself to GO in about the time of a lunch break or the 10-15 minutes waiting for the bus. The small time increments really helps (not a big commitment, just whatev).

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Outsiders, monsters (both of those being the actual hero, I SEE YOU GUILLERMO DEL TORO). Rage against everything that hurt you but like, trying to find a way to channel that. Not super surprised.

What is your reason for writing?

I like it. It's fun! And it's REALLY fun sharing it; lets me connect to other people.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Literally anything. I'm just tickled somebody took the time to do it (god knows I don't always have enough spoons).

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I've never really thought about that? (see above, re: outsiders). Never got noticed much in my olden fandom days. So uh, the thought of being perceived vaguely makes me want to crawl under the desk???

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Dialogue and fights.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I mean, like any writer, I waffle between "Holy crap, this is my best work yet!" and "Throw it in the bin! IN THE BIN!" One thing I've learned is to have fun with it. Because NOT having fun makes it a mind-melting slog and you get burnt out. I try not to take it all very seriously.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Ehhh, more towards what I like and hope it finds an agreeable audience. I know better than to chase trends. I write long fiction, and that is an UNDERTAKING. The only way to consistently see it through is to like what you're working on, so I definitely need to care enough to carry the bitch through.

Tagging: @bardnuts @britonell, @sasseffects @britosia @hiboudeluxe @shewhowas39 @allymcfee and @mutualcombat

[salteytakesonmanga]

I know it's rare for ANY translation to do so, especially English to/from Japanese since the languages are so dissimilar, but can you think of any time where a translation added to a scene, or made it better in your opinion?

Oh plenty of times! There’s even one in this chapter. I try to call them out when I notice them because I appreciate them myself. I don’t have a specific tag for them, though.

The thing is…

Sorry, Anon. You accidentally triggered one of my rants. If you just wanted an answer it's up there ⬆️

Good translations are not rare. Good translations aren’t even rare in manga anymore. The reason a lot of people think of all translations as bad is because people used to not take translations of manga seriously. They wouldn’t give it any care or attention, they’d just whip off whatever sounded close enough, and if they got whole-ass words wrong here or there then it didn’t really matter. Because it’s just comics, right? Who cares about that kiddie crap.

Translation - good translation - is HARD. It’s not just understanding two languages. Linguistic differences between source and translated language are not the reasons translations turn out bad. It’s cultural differences. You have to understand the literature and art and history of both languages, because that informs the environment that the author wrote in and the environment the readers are reading in. You have to make sure someone can just pick it up and read. Giving people cultural context in asides and footnotes and a glossary is great and all, but the experience of reading should be about the TEXT, not about the language. A good translator has to know about cultural and regional backgrounds and tensions in both languages.

Turning a Kansai accent into a Southern accent is a great example of what NOT to do, because the two regions have vastly different cultures that aren’t comparable. An easy illustration is that the stereotype about Southerners is they’re very polite and gracious and charming and speak slowly, while the stereotype about people from Kansai is they’re blunt and aggressive and outgoing and speak fast. But it was the industry standard for years to just slap a “funny accent” on any character speaking with a dialect.

On top of all of those concerns, comics has the additional limitation of space. The translation must meet all of the previous requirements, and also fit into a speech bubble. There is no getting around that. You have to sacrifice meaning somewhere in situations like that, and in an ongoing series with as many twists and late reveals as One Piece it can be hard to guess which word is the one that is crucial to the plot.

There are times I definitely think the translators did a great job, it's usually most noticeable with wordplay and puns, but I'm not sure "better than the original" is how I'd describe that. I think it’s very risky for a translator to try to make the work “better.” The original Swedish translation of Dracula did that back in the day and what they wound up publishing was basically fanfic. (It’s supposed to be really fucking good, though. It just has no more than a passing resemblance to Dracula.)

What does “better” look like? Is it when everything makes sense and is easy to read? But maybe the author wanted this scene to be challenging so you’d slow down and think about it. Is it when you take that random joke out of the serious scene? But maybe that joke was there to balance out the tension of the scene. Is it when the characters always act the way you expect them to? But characters, like people, have contradictions and inconsistencies, and if you take those out the character will be flat and boring.

That’s why I think a good translation is one where the translator is invisible. If they’ve done their job right, you should never think about them. But then, if they’re that good, it’s easy to forget how hard they work to get the product that good. And that’s when people start to think we don’t need translators, we have language learning models and machine translation… But that’s a different rant for another time.

Side note, Viz still pays actual human translators for their work. So do Yen Press and Seven Seas, last time I checked. I’m not about to tell you to NOT pirate shit, but if you buy one of their books you’re actually paying for a person to translate it.

Anyway, sorry/thank you for giving me an opportunity to rant about this. As you can see, it means a lot to me.

[ainyan]

NGL, not understanding the hate for the end of Veilguard. Seeing a lot of people saying 'Oh, I loved it until the end', but I saw nothing to hate?

Spoiler tagged, but also spoilers for the entire game, including the ending, under the cut:

I completed 100% of the shrines, quests, and chests in the game. I killed every dragon, 3-starred every faction, maxed every vendor, got Hero of the Veilguard for every companion and got most of them up to rank 10. I played a Shadow Dragon Rook who saved Treviso, romanced Lucanis, and hooked up Taash and Harding.

So I sacrificed Harding. She's the only one I lost. Everyone else survived, all of the team, all of the faction leaders, the Inquisitor, the whole lot of them. And yes, it was a super hard decision to make, because I adore Harding and I love Harding and Taash, but man, I couldn't lose Assan, and I headcanon ship Lucanis/Rook/Davrin.

I redeemed Solas - something I wasn't even sure would be possible. I convinced him to keep the Veil intact and to protect it with his life, and I believe him when he says he will.

I got a great romance scene with Lucanis, and people who keep wondering where the romance scene is with him, were we playing the same game? Yeah, I didn't get to see them bone, but man, what I got was so damn sweet and perfect and absolutely Rook and Lucanis that it made me happier than a steamy sex scene would have been.

I got to hug Assan. A lot. And play with his brothers and sisters in Arlathan Forest. And play RPS with Manfred. Speaking of Manfred, he's a cute little Watcher apprentice now and I simply love him to bits.

I'm even one of only 2% of people on Steam who brought Hope back to the Wetlands.

I got the secret ending that gives me a clue as to the next big bad, and that was kind of interesting to see. A friend referred to them as 'the Ascians all along' and, well, I guess? We don't know enough about them for me to be pissed that there's another puppeteer in the shadows yet.

And yes, I had guessed about Varric pretty early in when no one else talked to him or about him or made any comments on him. And I figured even if he was alive, he *would* end up dying by the end, so finding out he was dead all along didn't really bother me - and just gave me one more reason to be annoyed with Solas for using my emotions against me. It was pretty par for the course for him.

I got a super sweet letter for my Inquisitor from Cullen, and that was very nice.

I understand the concerns over the fate of the South, but 1) The Inquisitor's letters say 'most', not 'all', and at the end, the blight was dying in Minrathous. There's a good chance it did so in the South as well, and at least some portion of it was saved. A good chunk of the North got wiped out too, let's not forget - it's not like we sacrificed one for the other. And I don't know what would have happened if I *hadn't* disbanded the Inquisition - I'll see if that changes anything next playthrough.

So, no, I don't get the hate. I enjoyed the story, I enjoyed the pacing, I enjoyed the combat. Maybe my only complaint is that there were too many times my dodge didn't seem to want to fire or my slow-time for my arrows wasn't working, which made fights take longer than they had to. But I think I died like maybe three times in the entire game to something that wasn't me jumping into the water. So.

I enjoyed it. I'll play it again, this time with an Elven Rook - not sure what background yet. But I still need to romance Davrin, and maybe Bellara as well. But... I'm waiting for the Golden Nug, because the idea of rehunting all of that crap makes me cringe. XD