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zeppelinlvr · 6 months ago

Text

Still Feel Like That

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: you accompany Dean, Sam, and Bobby on a hunt. You and Dean go out for a drink and Dean looks after you when you've had too much to drink.

Notes: Reader is a yapper (cus same), kinda implied that reader is Bobby's kid but it's not stated outright, sorry if you like Poison or Bret Micheals reader hates on them for a second, I assumed that Dean switched out his radio with one that would be compatible with cassettes since a 67' would likely have a 8 track player, I got lazy with my research so I apologize if any facts are incorrect (feel free to correct me).

Warnings: Suggestive language, flirting, cursing, mentions of throwing up, y/n is used like three times, Dean in his undies (yummy!)

Word Count: 4.1k

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You sat at Bobby’s old wooden table, sipping hot coffee from your Garfield mug. You didn’t own it but when you saw the grumpy orange cat with a text saying ‘I'm listening I just don’t care’ sitting on Bobby’s shelf of mismatched old mugs you’d used the cup ever since.

You sat in your pajama shorts, slippers, and an old tee shirt, the cracked text reading “Winfield national flatpickin’ championships”. The shirt previously belonged to Bobby and he couldn’t remember how he acquired such an item, he assumed he was passing through Kansas and picked it up along the way, but you loved it so much he felt it was necessary to give it to you.

You were reading through a book you had picked up on demonology. Bobby had given you a few vague events that had occurred and you were trying to figure out what exactly he was dealing with. You had a book on Pagan gods on standby.

You heard the front door open, figuring it was Bobby you chose to continue reading but when you heard unfamiliar voices you quickly looked up in a panic, nearly knocking your chair over to try to scramble and find Bobby. You were not a hunter by any means, you just did the research and stayed in the comfort of motels. You knew some basic self defense but you could not fight a serious threat on your own.

You were making a dash for the nearest room when you heard Bobby yell your name.

You quickly spun around to look at him, seeing two tall, handsome, potentially dangerous, men standing next to him.

“What the hell are you doing kid?” Bobby asked you, concerned by your panic stricken expression.

“I heard people- and I was trying to find you and not die” You uttered out, still confused about who the two other men were. “Sorry, who the hell are these guys” you added

“Sam and Dean I talk-” Bobby started but you cut him off

“Winchester?” you asked excitedly “Bobby talks about you two all the time and I really wanted to meet both of you, especially Dean, Bobby says you make stupid decisions but you sound fun” you rambled quickly, a smirk growing on the shorter ones face at your mention of him.

“Oh my god you have to be Sam, you totally have that sad puppy look” you said to the taller one “You could ask me to donate my life savings to a charity then build a shelter for the homeless and I totally would” you continued to talk.

“I like her” the shorter man who you had now assumed was Dean said with a grin

“Wait Dean” you started turning to him “Did you drive your car here, I’ve heard rumors it's a totally awesome 67’ impala and I’ve been dying to see it”

Before Dean could respond with a comment about how you were marriage material Bobby interrupted your rambling “Okay motor mouth, I’m sure Sam and Dean are enthralled by your commentary but they need our help”

“Are you the super smart Y/n?” Sam asked

“The one who has saved our asses more times than we can count” Dean added

“Yes, that's her, and I don't prefer to shout about her to the whole world because she's not exactly Hulk Hogan” Bobby said, growing slightly annoyed with the continued blabbering.

“Really? Hulk Hogan? You have to compare me to that doofus, call me Bret Micheals while you’re at it” You shot at him

“I’m sorry, would you prefer to be Kerry VonErich” Bobby sighed

“Yes, minus his incredibly tragic life” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Bobby why have we not met this chick sooner, she's awesome” Dean said slightly in awe.

“You two don't care to stop by all that often and I knew you and her would get along real well and we wouldn't get anything done” Bobby responded hinting at the exact situation that was happening.

“Let me see Dean’s car then I promise I will be productive” you offered

“Yeah let her see my car” Dean added, Sam smiling at the situation and Bobby rolling his eyes and reluctantly agreeing.

The four of you made your way outside and when you saw the impala you let out a gasp of excitement before sprinting towards it.

“She is so beautiful” you gushed to Dean “You keep her in phenomenal condition, does she run well?”

“Like she’s new” Dean responded, smiling at your excitement over the car.

“Is there an 8 track player? I have a few tapes I could give you if you want” You offered

“Switched it out for a cassette player” Dean told you

“Good choice, 8 tracks are such a hassle, you can hear another song playing in the background of whatever you're trying to listen to, and don't even think about trying to fast forward to get to the song you want, at least you have a slim chance to land on the right song with cassettes” you rambled

“Yeah no kidding, you wanna see my tape collection” Dean offered

“Nope, we agreed on just the car now we need to figure out what the hell is going on in Pawnee Nebraska” Bobby interrupted as the four of you made your way back into the house

“I’m so sick of going to these ho-hum towns, why can't you guys hunt things that reside in memphis or something, I want to go to a museum that isn't about the butter cow or a mayor who died of dysentery” You said with a sigh

��Hunting in this ho hum town means road trip and i'm sure Dean would be delighted to let you ride down with him” Bobby offered for Dean, partly because he wanted some silence in his own car and he also wanted you, Dean, and Sam to be able to talk as much as you pleased and hopefully be caught up so you could focus on working.

Dean agreed to the idea and Sam shrugged, hoping you would prevent bickering between him and his brother.

“I promised I’d focus so Sam, you’re smart, have you found out more than some bad weather and a ‘still under investigation death of a couple’” You asked, turning to the taller brother, offering him a smile, slightly feeling bad you’d paid so much attention to his brother and not talked to Sam much.

“Yeah, I think the weather is unrelated, I found autopsy reports and the couple had these wounds on the back of their necks. I don't recognize the pattern but you might be able to” he replied to you with a soft smile, he made his way to his computer and set it on the table where your abandoned books and coffee lay.

You made a noise of disgust upon seeing the picture but you instantly recognized the wound pattern “That has to be changelings, they feed off of the mother until she dies, it's so creepy” You started “In a lot of the books I’ve read they switch out an infant for a changeling, did the couple have a kid?” you asked

“Yeah, but she's a little girl who’s ten years old” Sam replied to you

“Different cultures have varying takes on changelings, some of them say they can grow and develop like a human would, so it's definitely a possibility” You told him “We have to get down there asap before more kids are switched out, and when you figure out where the little girl is at now, monitor her behavior closely, she's gonna be hungry and use abnormal phrases for a ten year old.” You explained

“Alright you heard her” Dean said, squeezing between you and Sam and placing a hand on your shoulder. He secretly wanted your attention back on him.

“Let me pack a bag and change then I’ll be ready to head out” you told them

“Same goes for me, give us five minutes” Bobby added

You headed to your room and changed into jeans and tee shirt, additionally throwing on a crewneck from a college in Louisiana that you had found in the aisles of a thrift store.

You threw a few additional outfits in a duffle bag and your pajamas which consisted of sleep shorts and a tee shirt, you threw your slippers for your constantly cold feet in the bag and you were ready to go.

Your socked feet padded against the floor as you made your way to the front door to grab your shoes. You threw them on and told the group you were ready to go.

Dean, Sam and you crowded into the impala, Dean leaping on the opportunity to tell Sam to sit in the back after you had informed the brothers you get carsick.

“I have zofran, Sam can sit in the front, I don't want to take his spot” you said

“Nope, Sam get in the back” Dean quickly said as he took his spot in the driver's seat.

After the three of you had gotten in the car and started on the trip Sam complained “Dean, I know there's a pretty girl but what if I get carsick in the back”

“You won't, and the very pretty girl won't complain about my music choices” Dean told him and raised his brows at you.

Your face heated at how they referred to you, you cleared your throat and changed the subject “I know you guys are more hands on than me so I know a few ways to figure these things out, different folklore says if you can make them laugh they’ll reveal their truth, or you can shout god bless you, you can cook with eggshells. German legends say you can whip the child but honestly the easiest way to kill them is just lighting the fuckers on fire” You explained “People used to throw them in the fireplace or in the oven but you can get away with a blowtorch and a can of hairspray”

“That's more our speed” Dean replied

“People were seriously throwing these things in ovens?” Sam asked “What if the kid wasn't actually a changeling”

“People got overly paranoid and it wasnt exactly common knowledge back then that someone could be born with physical or mental disabilities, also families used to be really reliant on everyone in the household being able to help out so a lot of child abuse ensued because parents didnt want to have a changeling on their hands” You explained “Anyway these things creep me out so lets talk about something more lighthearted on the way there”

“i agree sweetheart” Dean said and you blushed at the name “I heard your comment about Bret Micheals, are you a Poison hater”

“I can tolerate them but I will not go out of my way to listen to them, they’re definitely one of the lamest hair bands” you told him “I definitely prefer Van Halen, Quiet Riot, Def Leppard and Cinderella if I’m going to listen to hair bands”

“Atta girl, you don’t like that Barry Manilow bullshit do you?” Dean asked

“God no, fuck Styx too, that Babe song pisses me off” you laughed

“Cus you know it’s you babe” Sam started singing off key and you groaned in annoyance, Dean laughing.

The three of you talked about music, movies, and Sam and Dean's past hunts, asking odd would you rather questions when trying to think of new conversation topics

“Okay would you rather have to eat a little bit of cheese on everything or never eat cheese again” you asked

“Never eat cheese again” Sam quickly answered

“I’d put a little bit on everything I fucking love cheese” you answered

After extensive conversation and small bits of bickering the three of you made it to Nebraska, Bobby close behind.

Dean checked into the hotel, getting two rooms, one for him and Sam and one for you and Bobby. He gave the woman behind the counter a credit card with a name that most certainly was not his then the three of you made your way to the rooms. Dean opened the door to one of the rooms and the cowboy theme of the room made you laugh.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em’ Dean” you said

“It’s fun, this cowboy boot pen holder on the desk is cute” he said, picking up the small red ceramic boot with a few pens sticking out of it.

“It is kinda cute, and I like the lasso on the wall” you pointed out

“Oh man, creepy” you said as you noticed the sad clown painting hanging above the bed.

“That's coming down” Sam said and quickly moved over to the painting to take it off the wall and lay it face down in the corner of the room.

“Sammy here is a afraid of clowns” Dean informed you

“I don’t blame him, they’re scary, and all the media about killer clowns doesn’t exactly make me want to see one” you replied

Bobby arrived at the motel shortly after the three of you had gotten the rooms. The four of you were discussing plans for the next day as it was later and you all agreed to start interviewing people in the morning.

“i’m gonna go grab a drink, I saw a bar about ten minutes from here” Dean announced

“I’ll join you if Bobby and Sam don’t need help with research” you said

“Go take a break kid, you work your ass off, me and Sam will be fine” Bobby told you, you thanked him and gave him a quick hug before heading out with Dean.

You weren’t surprised by the crowd at the bar, mostly older men who looked like they had just gotten off work, farm clothes and dirty work shirts adorned most of them. A few of them had women who you assumed were their wives at their side, chatting quietly with them. You were glad your outfit wasn’t out of place for the scene.

A man who you guessed to be around fifty was working behind the bar, he gave Dean and you a soft smile before asking what you’d like to drink.

“I’ll take a beer” Dean told him

“Busch okay? We don’t have anything else” The bartender replied

“Perfect”

“And for the pretty lady” the bartender asked

“I’ll just take a vodka cranberry” you said, not minding his comment too much, you knew he didn’t mean anything by it, people just talked like that.

You and Dean sat at the bar after getting your drinks, chatting with each other.

One drink led to another and you lost count of how many you had drank. You were asking Dean silly questions and you began to vocalize your thoughts about how handsome he is.

“I know you can't kill a vampire with a wooden stake, but have you ever tried death by stereo?” you asked with a giggle, you had taken your hand into his and were toying with his fingers.

“The Lost Boys is a great movie, me and Sammy will try out death by stereo just for you the next time we hunt vampires” he replied earning a laugh from you.

“You are so manly and cute and handsome” you slurred poking a finger into his chest, eyes widening at the firmness of his muscles “Oh my gosh you’re strong too, I feel like I just poked a rock”

He laughed and shook his head at your comments “Let's get you to bed before you say more shit you’ll regret tomorrow.”

“I don't regret anything, I’ve been thinking about how cute you are all day, and those big arms wrapped around-” You blabbered but were cut off by Dean.

“Yep time for bed, but give me a heads up sweetheart if you still feel this way after you’ve sobered up”

“I’m going to pay, then we’re going to get in the car, then get you to bed” he added

“Very forward, I like it” you giggled with a raise of your brows.

After Dean paid he walked you out to the Impala, you stumbling slightly finding it hard to walk after being sat down all night.

“I'm cold” you lied, you were not cold but you wanted his jacket.

“You have a sweater on?” he replied with confusion lacing his tone.

“You're supposed to give me your jacket then I can smell like you” you told him and tried to give him a hug while still walking.

He forced a sigh then wrapped his jacket around you. You snuggled into it and thanked him.

After a car ride consisting of you informing Dean your feet hurt and you were tired, the two of you arrived back at the motel.

Dean opened the door to yours and Bobby's shared room. You giggled noticing the lights were off.

Dean attempted to shush you “he's probably asleep already, quiet down”

You only laughed harder at the fact you needed to be quiet “he looks like Ebenezer Scrooge when he sleeps, he just needs the little hat” you commented through your giggles, Dean tried to hide his smile to not encourage you.

“I always think the ghost of Christmas past is gonna get him” you said before bursting into laughter and Dean quickly slapping his hand over your mouth. He pushed you into the bathroom and shut the door attempting to muffle your giggles. He flipped the light on and asked you where your duffle bag was.

“In the room somewhere” you shrugged

“Well no shit sweetheart”

“It's on my bed I think” you giggled

“Okay perfect you stay right here and I’ll go get it then you're going to change and go to bed” he told you

Dean groped through the dark until he found your bag, it was sitting on your bed as you had told him. He made his way back to the bathroom to find you sitting on the toilet lid, playing with the toilet paper roll that had the first square folded into a fancy shape.

“Isn't this just precious” you said and showed him the toilet paper

“Yes, very cute put it down” he said and took the roll out of your hands, placing it on the counter.

He opened your bag and fished out your shorts and a tee shirt “get changed”

“No can do, can’t get my pants off” you shrugged with a fake sigh

Usually Dean would be enthralled to take a girl's pants off but he wasn’t in the mood for an ass whooping from Bobby.

He just prayed Bobby wouldn’t wake up because you weren’t budging. He helped you shimmy your jeans off your legs, then slipped your shorts onto you.

“Need help with my shirt too” you said as you shrugged his jacket off your shoulders and put it into your lap.

He slipped your crewneck over your head, your shirt coming off with it. He quickly took in your figure, admiring the sight of you in your bra before he slipped a clean shirt over your head.

You unclasped your bra and slipped it off from under your shirt before tossing it on the bathroom floor.

“Really? you can do that but you can’t change on your own” Dean whisper yelled

“I can’t show you too much” you shrugged “now can you carry me to bed?”

He was willing to do anything to get you in bed at this point so he scooped you up in his arms and carried you out to your bed, you giggled as he threw you down onto the sheets.

“Go to bed now” he whispered and you quickly made yourself comfortable under the blankets, cuddling into his jacket that you still held in your arms.

You heard the door close and you soon drifted off to sleep.

You awoke around four in the morning the red numbers off the alarm clock informing you of the time. You were starving and the alcohol had barely worn off. you crawled out of bed and slipped on Dean's jacket, it hung loosely on your figure, the length going past your shorts and the sleeves being far too long. You were glad for the added warmth because you were freezing.

You were absolutely craving fried chicken and you dug through the mini fridge wholeheartedly expecting to find some, when the disappointment hit you, you left the room and went into Sam and Dean's room, letting yourself in with the spare key you had been given.

You began to dig through their refrigerator in the dark, expecting to find some chicken but when you heard a gun click and the light flipped on, you spun around, met by Dean in his underwear and Sam shuffling in moments later with his blanket wrapped around him.

“What the hell are you doing” Dean asked

“I want fried chicken so bad” you complained

“Why would we have fried chicken?” Dean asked, still groggy and confused.

“I don’t know I just wanted to check” you told him

Sam laughed at the interaction, telling Dean he shouldn’t have let you drink so much before he headed back to his bed.

“I promise I will get you fried chicken in the morning but please go back to bed” Dean told you

“You look cute in your undies” you giggled

“And you look cute in my jacket now go to bed” he mimicked your giggle.

You agreed but not before you made him promise to get you your food in the morning, you made him lock pinkies with you despite his complaints of annoyance.

You made your way back to your room and quickly fell asleep again.

The next morning was hell, Bobby woke you up around 8 and you were met with a headache and a need for water. The second you stood up you found yourself running to the bathroom as a nauseating feeling built in your throat.

You heard Sam and Dean talking as you were throwing up the memories of last night. Both of them asking how you were doing, and Bobby explaining you were currently throwing up, expecting an explanation from Dean as to why.

Dean ducked out of the conversation “I’m going to get her water and hold her hair back, like a man does” he walked into the bathroom and gave a small chuckle at your figure hunched over the toilet.

“Do not fucking laugh at me” you groaned

“You still want that fried chicken” he asked, and you gagged at the thought, he grabbed you a cup of water to rinse your mouth out with and handed you the toilet paper you had been previously admiring to wipe your mouth off with.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead and the tears from your eyes before standing up to brush your teeth.

“You still gotta work today you know” Dean told you

you rolled your eyes at him and after you had finished brushing your teeth you said “I’ll survive, I can tolerate sitting and reading, you have to go fight the things”

You and Dean joined Bobby and Sam, Sam having told Bobby about you breaking into their room. You were expecting to get your ass chewed out but all you got from Bobby was “Kid I’m glad you had fun, you need to loosen up sometimes, but we still need your help today, so I expect your best”

You agreed and gave him a quick hug before setting up a spot to research on the desk in the room.

Sam and Dean left to put on formal clothes as they were posing as detectives and had to look the part. They returned to the room after changing.

“Don’t you boys look handsome” you said with a grin

“We have to be believable” Dean grumbled

“I’m being serious, you look nice” you smiled “I’m going to look for potential demonic activity in other areas, call me if you need anything”

“Will do sweetheart” Dean replied

“Thanks for all your help y/n, we’ll pick you up some fried chicken on our way back” Sam grinned

Your stomach churned at the thought of eating anything but maybe you’d change your mind later in the day, so you didn’t shut him down.

As the three were turning to leave you said “by the way Dean, I do still feel like that” earning a grin from him and his head flooding with thoughts of what he could do to you when he got back.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #supernatural x reader

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unintentionalseductress · 8 months ago

Note

oh this is so fun. i’ll bite

obviously jjk is the current hyperfixation so we got so many lining up for the train: satoru, suguru, kento, CHOSO <— massive fucking emphasis on mother fucking choso, aaaaaaand toji.

i feel like choso will explore every last inch, take his time with exploring but the second something touches his cock, he’s busting. satoru and suguru are like tag teaming. high fiving, gonna try n both fit in one hole at once. kento would try to be polite. like my god, why would anyone?? but he lingers long enough until he can’t control himself. and toji just going for it. doesn’t even read a sign, sees this seat is open and takes it

levi from attack on titan. he’s like that’s fucking gross what the hell. but when he’s sure no one else is around he’s going roundssssssssssss. he’ll be at it for awhile. erwin can get it too.

resident evil i need leon kennedy, jill valentine, carlos oliveira, and ada wong. JILL MOST OF ALLLLL but everybody is welcome and would do wonders on me. absurd bioterrorism gonna go down with these bodily fluids

young coriolanus snow from the hunger games prequel………. he has a lot of demons upstairs and ill exorcise them with this puss—💥💥 he’ll be so mean with it

I NEED THE BILLY LOOMIS AND STU MACHER GHOSTFACE SPECIAL!! THE DOUBLE FEATURE WOMBO COMBO!!!!!!!! i don’t care if it gets bloody, they won’t ever forget my favorite scary movie 😤

shane from stardew valley. need that gross, traumatized old man to play into some very bad daddy issues. (i’d fuck any of the bachelors and bachelorettes tbh, but i need that dirty fuck most of all rn)

anyways. how you doing tonight? what’s your favorite color? we really breaking the ice huh😭😅

Hello! Sorry that I was late in getting to this. Such a yummy reply! I love seeing people just break out with all their F/O's. JJK Men, Levi, I had to google some of these people but I can see why you'd want to be their free use!

Not familiar with Shane but damn, I read his Wiki entry and he sounds like a stereotypical grumpy man who's yelling at kids to get off his lawn 😆😆😆

Thanks for playing!

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #thirst game #nanami kento #gojo satoru #geto suguru #choso kamo #jjk men #nanami kento smut #gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #choso kamo smut #kinky game #ncs

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the-s1lly-corner · 9 months ago

Note

okay here we go (I added in images to characters you might not know)

Mild crushes:

Brassius (left) and Hassel (right)

Larry

Lord Milori (still kinda like him)

Sir Pentious and Lucifer

Used to take over my life:

Grillby

Gaster

Brett Hand

Lukas

Mordecai Heller

Kinger

Adam (most recent)

ALREADY HAS ME DEAD DJJSKX:

Clopin

I used to like him before back in January, but after listening to the soundtrack of this movie again, I frickin fell in LOVE

The obsession got so bad that I’m now researching Romani history and culture, watching those “the making of (movie name)” videos, interviews (which there are SO FEW OF) of the VAs or Alan Menken, the composer of the soundtrack

I want to know everything when I like a character lol

I actually have more, but it already feels weirdly personal to confess some of them so thank god that this is the silly corner :]

SCARED TO SEND IN BUT HERE WE GO

Mo need to fear this is a no judgement zone! Also I lost my right to judge people when I wrote mpreg a few weeks ago/lh

Rubs hands

The first two!! Obligatory "I've never gotten too deep into pokemon and the only game I've played start to finish is shield, and I'm like. Partway through brilliant diamond" soooooo! I know nothing about the personalities of these two so we're going off of looks!! And I say!

Valid!

Brassius gives off either old and exhausted punk or old exhausted gay artist but those two can overlap!

Hassel Looks yummy I love me a good longhaired blonde man AND he looks a little on the older side? YUMMY!!! He looks like he'd either he a grade A douchebag rich guy or a total sweetheart

Larry! Hey I know you I saw your dick on Twitter!!!/ref mo but real talk I can get the appeal! I already know that's hes a tired working man but that's about all I know!! Hes valid, I'd give him a big ol kith

Milori looks interesting! I don't know wheres hes from so once more we rely off of looks! He looks vaguely like a broken man . I can fix him. Valid!!!

Pentious is valid but I'm biased because I also had a crush on the character!! Pathetic men are just so silly!! Probably also has my favorite design of the entire show!!

Lucifer is also valid I can see the vision!! Caring but mentally I'll man who distances himself for one reason or another despite deeply wanting a connection my BELOVED

Grillby also had a choke hold on me when I was into undertale!! I'm so sad that there werent many grillby x reader fics out there- if I was still balls deep into undertale and deltarune like I used to be I'd 100% give writing the characters a shot but unfortunately I doubt I ever will <\3 unrelated theres a surprising amount of buff bara art of him

Gaster!! I can also get behind!! Mysterious creature that hardly has any lore iirc, fandom either portrayed him as a mad evil scientist or a loving father to sans and papyrus, at least with my experience with the fandom.. valid!!

I never watched inside job but I've heard good things about it! Brett looks like a sweetie, so I can understand the appeal! He looks so silly.. just a guy.. valid

Lukas!! It's been so long since I've heard someone talk about MCSM! Obligatory I dont remember much of Lukas, just that he was kind of an ass in the beginning I think.. but I can see the appeal! I was more of a ivor girlie

Surprisingly I have not seen lackadaisy yet! Surprising I know, since I'm huge fans of other indie animations on youtube!! Going off looks I can see the appeal, he gives old grumpy grandpa vibes but I could be totally off! I like his eyebrows :3

Kinger is another valid but again I might be biased because hes my baby girl- cant wait to see more of him in future episodes especially since hes hardly had any screen time so far <\3 he seems so sweet :(

Adam!! I can see the appeal again but his personality isnt really for me <\3 hes valid though!!

AND CLOPIN! It's been so so so long since I've seen the movies but omfg I remember I loved him a lot! Yummy design as well as a nice personality I wish we got more of him <\3 VALID VALID VALID

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littledemon154 · 1 year ago

Text

kong x reader

Enemy to lovers

Im not done yet but I was thinking of making a fanfiction and wonder what you guys thought.

Under the cover of night, the moon cast its gentle glow upon a group of people dressed as soldiers, their laughter echoing through the air. They had discovered their favorite drinking spot, chanting the words "Tom yummys" in unison. It was a secret place where they could be alone without being yelled at by the Commander.

"Hahaha, hey, (Y/N)!" Kong yelled with an exaggerated enthusiasm, his voice practically doing a cartwheel in an attempt to grab his enemy's attention. Oh boy, does Kong love being the center of the spotlight! "What 'King Kong'?" Y/n retorted, their gaze swiftly shifting towards the figure wearing a mask. The mask made him look like a giant, and he sure sounded like one as well. He was tall enough that if Y/n reached out with both hands and tried to reach up, they would only touch his chest. "I got something for ya"

Me? Did you hear that right? He's got something for me? Well, well, well, now this is a plot twist I didn't see coming! It's like finding a diamond in a pile of cow dung. Normally, this guy's about as friendly as a grumpy hedgehog, always shooting snarky remarks my way. We're practically like two rival boxers in the same ring, constantly trading punches. (y/n) thought.

Kong eagerly reached over to his backpack, unzipping it with a grin plastered across his face. With an air of excitement, he began rummaging around inside, searching for something special. After a moment of anticipation, his hand emerged from the depths of the bag, holding a vibrant red present adorned with a sleek black ribbon. The gift practically shimmered in his grasp, promising untold surprises and delights. The sight of it caused Y/n's stomach to clench. Their eyes widened with curiosity, their lips curling into a wide smile. Kong grinned back with a mischievous glint sparkling in his black orbs.

"Here we go!" Kong said with a chuckle, holding the present out before them with a flourish. His grin grew larger as the anticipation built. With all the courage she could muster, Y/n finally spoke after taking a moment to collect her thoughts. "So… what's this all about?" They asked cautiously, trying not to sound too eager. But they couldn't help it!

As Y/n tentatively reached out to accept the gift, their heart pounded in their chest, the excitement mixed with a tinge of apprehension. The anticipation that had built within them was like a roaring fire, warming their soul, until… Until that moment when their existence plummeted into a whirlwind of anger, rage, and despair.

In their trembling palm lay a cat suit, a symbol of humiliation and defeat. The vibrant red fabric seemed to mock them, taunting their vulnerability. It was a painful reminder of a bet, a wager made in jest that had now come back to haunt them. Kong's voice, dripping with cheekiness, sliced through the air, further fueling the raging inferno within Y/n.

"Yeah, remember when you lost that bet?" Kong jeered, relishing in the power he held over them. His words were like daggers, piercing through Y/n's defenses and leaving them feeling exposed and vulnerable. His laughter blended with the chorus of the group, a chorus that only deepened the wounds inflicted upon Y/n's pride.

""Hey, how about this for a crazy idea?" Kong exclaimed mischievously, a twinkle in his eye. "Why don't you dare to strip off those boring clothes and slip into that adorable cat outfit? Let's have a little fashion show, shall we?"

Smudge's eyes widened, taken aback by his friend's audacious challenge. "You really think I'd back down from a bet? Well, think again!" Smudge retorted with a determined grin, determined not to let Kong have the upper hand.

Kong's smug smirk grew wider, his plan working like a charm. The surrounding men couldn't help but chuckle, enjoying the unfolding spectacle, while one opportunistic soul even readied his camera, eager to capture the amusing moment.

Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, (y/n) felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement flooding through her. As she donned the cat outfit, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, as if someone had sprinkled her with a dash of blush. The fabric hugged her form, transforming her into a feline enchantress.

#fypシ゚viral #Kong #Ghost #Cod #call of duty #Fanfiction #Kong x reader #ghost x reader #enemies to lovers

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prismatranslates-cue · 1 year ago

Text

Haruna [Maidens of Clear Autumn Skies] Part 1

Haruna: Let’s see, next is my pouch…

Shiho: You going somewhere, Haruna?

Haruna: Yikes! You scared me…were you lying there on the floor this whole time? I didn’t see you there…

Shiho: It is the autumn of slumber, and I intend to have my fill.

Haruna: …Okay, good night?

Shiho: Nay, for I am already awake. …So, are you going out somewhere?

Haruna: Yeah. Miharu-san told me that the nearby park is really pretty right now with all the leaves changing colour.

Haruna: I thought I’d go for a walk there and admire the scenery.

Shiho: …I’ll come with. I’ve got nothing better to do and I’m not falling back asleep.

Haruna: Will you? Yay! The more the merrier.

---

Haruna: Miharu-san was right! The leaves are so beautiful��

Haruna: …Is something up, Shiho-chan?

Shiho: I smell baked sweet potato.

Haruna: Now that you mention it…

Shiho: There, it’s coming from that stand. The Pops with the potatoes.

Haruna: Oh, yeah…whoa, with honey too. They look so scrumptious…

Shiho: “Freshly baked! Putting the SWEET in sweet potato!”...that’s what it says. [1]

Haruna: Sounds yummy…

Stomach growls

Haruna: O-oh, that’s weird. I know I ate lunch…

Shiho: I didn’t. I was sleeping.

Shiho: Hey Pops, I’ll have one baked sweet potato. You want one, Haruna?

Haruna: Mm…I do, but…

Shiho: Just buy it. It’s better to try it and regret it than not trying at all.

Haruna: Yeah…you’re right. Excuse me! I’d like one too, please!

---

Haruna: Well, we bought some…although…

Haruna: This is…a lot more than I expected to get.

Shiho: The bag is full to bursting…Pops was way too generous…

Haruna: Ehehe, it makes me happy though! Even if it is a bit heavy.

Shiho: Oh, there’s a bench. Let’s sit there and eat.

Haruna: Good idea. …Phew, there we go.

Haruna: This really is a lot…

Haruna: Shiho-chan…do you think we can eat all this?

Shiho: Perhaps, if we could magically extract what we ate yesterday…

Haruna: So what you’re saying is…?

Shiho: It would be difficult.

Haruna: That’s what I thought. And sweet potatoes are pretty filling, too…wanna just split one for now?

Haruna: We’ll bring the rest home and share with the others.

Shiho: Good idea. Go on then, Haruna.

Haruna: Just a second. I’ll split one in half right now…wow, you can practically see the steam coming off of it!

Shiho: I’ll take this half. It looks a bit bigger.

Haruna: You think so…? They look pretty equal to me.

Shiho: Hm, no, maybe that half is bigger after all…

Haruna: Heheh, I’m okay with either! Take whichever you like, Shiho-chan.

Shiho: …I’ll go with this one, then.

Haruna: Here you go!

Shiho: So warm…

Haruna: So sweet…!

Shiho: “Putting the SWEET in sweet potato”...the sign sure wasn’t lying.

Shiho: Not bad, Pops.

Haruna: I was wondering, how come you’ve been calling him Pops?

Shiho: He just has that vibe, you know? [2]

Haruna: Is it different from other men around that age?

Shiho: Yeah, some of them are super grumpy. Only the friendly ones get to be Pops.

Haruna: He did have such a charming smile on his face. And he looked really happy when you called him Pops.

Haruna: That’s probably why he gave us so many freebies.

Shiho: But he’s no slouch, either. It takes skill to make food this good…

Shiho: I must show my respect. I’ll call him Pops-san.

Haruna: It really is delicious. I’d lick my plate clean for sure.

Shiho: You don’t have a plate, though. [3]

Haruna: Uh, I didn’t mean it literally…

Shiho: But yes, it is indeed amazing…

Haruna: Mhm…I love finding baked potato stands like that, they’re always so good.

Haruna: But I hardly end up actually buying them when I’m on my own.

Shiho: Hm. It’s good that you had some this time, then.

Haruna: Yeah! …Although…

Haruna: I did already eat lunch today. So this might be a bit much…

Shiho: We’ll walk it off together after we’re done eating.

Haruna: Heheh…thank you.

Haruna: Actually, I guess going for a walk was the original point of this outing…

To be continued...in Part 2

---

Notes

[1]: The sign on Pops' stall originally compares the taste of his baked sweet potatoes, yaki-imo (焼き芋) to a kind of cake-like dessert known in Japanese as just suiito poteto (スイートポテト) which, yes, is just the words "sweet potato" in katakana. These cakes are indeed made with baked sweet potato, but also have other typical ingredients like milk, sugar, butter, and eggs mixed in. Thus, the sign is originally saying that Pops' yaki-imo are just as sweet and yummy as such cakes even without all that extra stuff

[2]: Shiho has been calling the man running the stand "occhan" (おっちゃん), a diminutive/cuter form of addressing an adult man derived from the normal "ojisan". She and Haruna then discuss what makes a man an occhan compared to just being a normal ojisan

[3]: Originally, Haruna praises the sweet potato using an idiom that literally means "my cheek is going to fall off". Shiho's response is to reassure her that "if it does fall, I'll catch it."

#CUE #Haruna Mutsuishi #Shiho Kano #Character Episode #Mutsuishi Haruna #Kano Shiho #QC by Budder

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ridestomars · 2 years ago

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IN YOUR LAP OF LUXURY – S. HARRINGTON HEADCANONS

𖥻 pairing: old money!steve harrington x fem!reader. 𖥻 warnings: no mentions of y/n (finally!), allusions to sex/suggestiveness. not proofread - we die like men here.

💭 liv's thoughts: i'm back!!! and decided to start with this yummy concept that is very dear to me, so feel free to talk to me about old money!steve bc he owns my heart rn. i would also like to dedicate this one to @oncasette and @fleurfairie <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

♡ㆍIf you think Steve's a bit irresponsible when spending money, you should see how this boy gets when he starts dating you.

♡ㆍI swear that in less than two weeks of dating, Steve is planning on buying you a car, and will even take you to the dealership so you can choose your favorite vintage Cadillac – then you'd have to take your time convincing him that you do not, in fact, need a new car. He gets really grumpy.

♡ㆍNeedless to say that his love language is giving gifts. So, even though you might think he's only spending money because he can, Steve only does it because he adores you.

♡ㆍAnd because he is absolutely obsessed with your reaction every time he gifts you anything. There's no one in the world who would make him feel butterflies just by smiling brightly in his direction.

♡ㆍThis means that his credit card would either get put on hold or be limited by his dad – only because his old man is terrified of Steve spending all of their family's money on you. Which might sound a bit unreal, but it could totally happen, trust me.

♡ㆍEven when Steve wasn't dating you and you'd just hang out as friends, he would take you shopping for that cute top you saw weeks before but didn't get the chance to buy.

♡ㆍAnd I would also like to say that Steve remembers everything. Like, you may offhandedly comment that you liked one of Brooke Shields's jeans, and next thing you know, Steve already ordered at least five of them.

♡ㆍ“But baby, you said you liked 'em! Of course you'll need more than one… if one of them rips, then you'll have another one to use”, he'd explain to you like it was the most natural thing ever.

♡ㆍ And don't even get me started on how he would make you try on almost every single item in a clothing store and buy you almost all of them.

♡ㆍMan, when the sellers see him enter their stores it's like Christmas; they always receive you both with the biggest smile on their faces – partly because of the year-worth commission they would receive in only one day and because of the ginormous tip Steve would leave them.

♡ㆍThey're not so pleased when they hear the not-so-subtle moans that come out of the dressing booth.

♡ㆍIt's always a bit awkward when you both stand in front of the cashier. But hey! At least Steve would tip a $50 dollar bill.

♡ㆍSince being a poor ol' rich boy also comes with its cons, Steve would have to go to those fancy parties almost weekly. Friends of friends of his parent's friends, you know?

♡ㆍAt least it would serve as an excuse for Steve to buy you new party dresses. And let me tell you: he lives for assembling a good outfit.

♡ㆍHe would literally help you pick everything from your head to your toe. Hair accessories, nail polish and design, gold necklaces, fancy shoes…

♡ㆍAnd he'd always make sure that you're wearing his 'S' necklace – in fact, he got you that in both silver and gold.

♡ㆍBut anyway… Steve loves bringing you to those parties because now, at least, he has a company that he actually enjoys. And it also means that he can talk shit about people to you.

♡ㆍLuckily for you, he would know about everybody's business. And I mean it!

♡ㆍ “See that girl over there?” he discreetly points out to a blonde girl who's fixing her dress by the corner of the room, “She's going out with her best friend's dad”.

♡ㆍ“Hey, baby, look to this guy behind me”, Steve leans down to whisper, “Not like that! Now he totally knows we're talking about him”.

♡ㆍIf you excuse me for a minute, I would really like to talk about Steve's pet names for you because I literally cannot stop thinking about it:

♡ㆍWe'd start off with our very casual but still extremely sweet baby. It's almost second nature for Steve to call you that… in fact, he's been calling you that even before you were officially going out together.

♡ㆍThen, he literally never misses when he calls you princess, though I can totally see that happening in more intimate and domestic moments between the two of you. Like, when he shows you the new top he just got you and is passionately being kissed all over by you, Steve would just start laughing and say, “thank you, princess. Now, go try it on, will you?”, with the softest blush on his cheeks.

♡ㆍBut you seriously cannot look me in the eye and say that he wouldn't call you baby doll. I'm sorry but that's just so real that it hurts to even deny it. Again, another one of those pet names that Steve saves only for the two of you and your endearing moments together – especially when he gets to help you with your outfits.

♡ㆍAnd last but not less important, the rare lover that he would just randomly throw around like it doesn't affect you at all. He's just extremely evil like that. For example, every time he needs you to grab something for him, it's always something like, “lover, can you pass me the salt, please?” and you have to contain a lovesick sigh as you're passing the small glass over to him.

♡ㆍSince you were the one who introduced them to the kids, he might as well be considered more than their babysitter but the campaigner of their get-togethers.

♡ㆍWhich means that, at least, once every month he'd invite the kids (and Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie, and Robin) to what he calls "Harrington Marathon" – he's the only one to call it that, by the way. So he'd rent almost twenty movies because he simply "doesn't know what everybody likes" (knowing damn well what every single one of them like), and buy the most unhealthy snacks and drinks so that you all could watch movies until the sun rises.

♡ㆍHe would even go as far as buying the most cutting-edge VHS player, television, and sound system so that you could enjoy an almost cinema-like experience. His plan is always ruined by Dustin's screams and Eddie's rantings, though.

♡ㆍNeedless to say that he would also allow the kids to go over to his house so that they could play D&D without having to be interrupted by Mrs. Wheeler's screams.

♡ㆍAnd he always teams up with you so that you can throw each one of them a birthday party… and Steve goes as far as picking the birthday theme for each one of them because he just gets so excited – Max had a serious conversation with him when she found out that her birthday party theme would be Dig Dug related, but they both settled down for a horror house theme where she could dress up as Michael Myers again.

steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve, nancy and eddie.

𖤐 taglist: @kinqsteve ; @virgoyves ; @stevesmixtape ; @thedixon04 ; @joekeeryismyuncle ; @hqrrington ; @missmaxmayfield ; @slytherinambitious ; @artemis-the-ace ; @louievr ; @liltimmyst ; @Igotbasicdrag ; @saintlessmunson ; @stumachergf ; @falsegodsaltar ; @summer-may

if you'd like to be removed from my taglist, send me an ask or dm me! if you want to be added to my taglist, just click here

#old money!steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanons #headcanons #liv talks about stevie #liv writes #stevie! <3 #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #old money!steve x reader

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years ago

Note

4) favorite character you’ve written

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

You’re such a brat 😂 these were the hardest questions. So…

4) sorry you’re getting a few because I can’t choose 🥺

DA AU Ransom Drysdale - my pretty boy that I love with all my heart. Honestly if I had to have a husband, I would want this one. Even if he’s a grumpy cat and he’s ridiculous, I want him.

DA AU Carter Baizen - I love this man. He’s like Ransom 2.0. He’s created his own empire to get out of his family business. He’s got a breeding kink, housewife kink, and he’s created a Boston mafia. Don’t mess with Carter’s Queen or his children.

Rumplestiltskin!Andy Barber - I know I’ve said it so many times, despite how I’ve done Andy dirty, but he’s my favorite CE character. And this Andy is so yummy. He’s a prince and future king, he loves his Miss, his daughter, and he has such a TRAGIC story.

Freezy Pops!Freezy - he’s filthy, raunchy, and so in love with his Pretty Girl. I love that I can write anything with those two and Cherry Boy because it doesn’t matter. They’ll at least try it once.

You Were the One!Lloyd - I have a soft spot for men who are terrible, but love their wife and kids, and almost exclusively only like them 😂 he’s no exception. He’s similar to Freezy, but there’s a refinement to him.

Georgia Clay!Cole Turner - this story in general is so soft and fluffy, and kinda a love story to my home state. Some angst will eventually be coming, but there’s no darkness in this story at all.

Honorable mentions are pretty much the entire cast of Keys in Your Ignition, and what I have planned for Carter and Clark in Bullet in Your Heart, I’m in love with them!

6) if I could go back and not kill Anders Beckett Drysdale that would be great. Story would have had a very different journey. Make no mistake, her and Carter would have wound up together, but Carter would have been more like my original vision. He was using Story to make Aster jealous. They eventually fall, and she doesn’t go through her breakup, but still. But thinking about Kitten with her Bladey and Anders 😭😭 she just wanted all the little Ransom’s.

25) so it’s no surprise that the DA AU has my heart. And honestly, it’s the OGs themselves are something I’m most proud of in general. There is something so sweet and special about Kitten and Ransom’s love. That being said. I love the entire chapter of when Ransom realizes he’s actually in love. But also the sex scene where Kitten tells him she loves him. And their therapy session when I think people and myself realized the love they had 😩 I love these two. Favorite couple.

Writer Asks

#writer asks #💌#you’re such a brat #but I love you

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andyet-here-we-are · 4 years ago

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I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 3 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(Check the pinned post for the first two chapters please~)

The next day flows by in a blur for Geralt. He wakes up, takes a shower, prepares a quick but nutritious breakfast for Ciri, and makes oatmeal for himself.

On his way to the hospital, he thinks about Jaskier and wonders if he should call him now. He almost does that, but then he decides against it because he knows that Jaskier is busy having his fourth dream right now probably. It's too early to call him as much as he wants to do so.

His mind wanders on how cute Jaskier sounds when he is sleepy—when he has just woken up.

Cute, but also usually a bit grumpy even though he denies it with every inch of his being.

***

"That shouldn't be legal," is what Geralt thinks when he steps into the hospital room, unable to take his eyes off Jaskier's sleeping figure. "I can't believe I'm supposed to do that. God, have some mercy on me. I love my job, I really do, but it sucks big time sometimes. Why should I suffer this way?"

A moment later, he is well aware of how dramatic he is being, and how hard he frowns, making a source face. It's not like him to act like this at all.

Damn.

"That dramatic son of a flower must be rubbing off on me," annoyed at himself, he mumbles before he coughs as if that alone is enough to wake the musician up.

"Good morning," he tries when Jaskier doesn't wake up and slightly turns to the other side of his bed instead.

"Mr. Pankratz, it's your medicine time."

Jaskier slightly opens his eyes just to look at him this time, and the first thing he mumbles is: "What happened to your ears?" before closing his eyes again.

"What are you talking about?" The nurse questions, checking his ears with his free hand that isn't holding the medicine tray, wondering what he meant by that.

"Are you still asleep?"

"Yes... No. Maybe?" Jaskier mumbles again, half asleep as he rubs his eyes, trying to make sleepiness go away.

"You will have to pick one of them."

The musician opens his eyes after a while and smiles at Geralt.

"Morning. God, what a sight to wake up to."

Geralt must be used at this by now. Because whenever Geralt has to wake him up, no matter how much Jaskier complains at first most of the time, he always utters the same words eventually.

"What a sight to wake up to."

Yet, every time he does that, Geralt's heart flutters in his chest.

"You didn't sound too happy with my ears, though. What was that about?"

"Ah, about that. I had a dream that— promise you won't laugh?"

"Can't do."

"Anyway," Jaskier yawns and explains: "I had a dream that you were an... elf."

"I was a— what?" Geralt laughs.

"Hey! You said you wouldn't laugh!" The musician stares at him like he is ready to kill him.

"I never said that," Geralt forces himself to stop laughing. "Well, that explains everything."

"Shh, stop interrupting me. It's mean."

"Sorry, I'm all ears. Not elf ears, though, sorry to disappoint you."

"Don't sweat it. Bad guys were trying to steal Mrs. Ansley's—who was a fairy, speaking of which—cookie recipe, which was also the key of a parallel universe, somehow. You were trying to protect the recipe, then puff. Some gingerbread men came out of nowhere to help you, but you tried to... eat them? Well, not just tried actually. You managed to eat their leader. Therefore they decided to join the dark side. Can't blame you, though. They looked pretty yummy. I was about to hop on my unicorn for help when you woke me up. A unicorn wearing a pasta costume. Pink pasta costume. Yeah, yeah, I know, that makes no sense, is there even a pink pasta costume?" He asks sleepily, raising an eyebrow. "Also, I had a magical lute, I think."

"You think that your whole dream makes sense, but just the pink pasta costume doesn't?"

"I've never seen a pink pasta costume, so..."

"Oh, sorry, right. I forgot you have seen everything else but that. The elf version of me, alive gingerbreads and all. My bad."

He chuckles at that lightly.

"Still more possible than a pink pasta costume."

"The most ridiculous dream you had this week might be this one so far."

Jaskier seemed to have taken it upon himself to tell Geralt about his dreams. This was the eighth dream he talked about this week, and it wasn't even Friday yet.

"It was like," he opens his arms wide as if he is presenting the name of his new song to the whole world, " 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland' I blame the medicines. And you," he points at the nurse. "I also blame you. For looking like... " he then gestures at everything, "this."

"You blame me?" The other man snorts, amused. "If anything, you should blame yourself for having the wrong dream. Have you ever looked at yourself? You would make a good elf, not me. You are as bea— I mean, anyway, medicine time."

"I am what now? Wait, wait, wait, were you about to call me beautiful?"

"I was about to call you bearable, but then I thought that would be mean."

"I think you were about to call me beautiful, but then you thought 'That wouldn't be professional, you are his nurse,' or something along these lines. Also, that's not even how you start when you're about to say 'bearable' they are not even pronounced the— "

"That's not what happened."

"Nahh, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what happened, but eh, whatever helps you sleep at night, love."

"You're probably thinking you're still in 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland', go back to sleep, you're delusional."

"I am so not! And that would be your problem even if I was. Wanna check my fever?" He says, giving the nurse a once-over, "I feel hot, suddenly."

"Well, that explains why you're delusional, doesn't it?" Geralt teases. "Take your medicine and you will be just fine."

Jaskier sighs and does as he is told.

"Geralt," Jaskier says before Geralt is about to leave, a grin on his face "I think you are 'bearable', too. "

***

Geralt means to call Jaskier.

He really does.

Yet, whenever he is about to call him, something comes up, and eventually, he just accepts that he is going to have to wait for his shift to be over.

For some reason, he doesn't want to call him and get interrupted after a minute.

And he doesn't want to send him a text, because he prefers hearing his angelic voice instead.

So, yeah. He is kind of stuck there for now.

***

Geralt finds Ciri laughing at her own joke as she watches The Office when he gets home, and this reminds him of Jaskier since that's something they both have in common. Once again, he finds himself thinking about the musician.

***

“Shit, it hurts,” Jaskier says, holding his chest.

“Maybe it’s the universe’s way to tell you to stop laughing at your own jokes.”

“Oh shut up, the universe can kiss my ass.”

“Seems like it prefers to kick your ass instead.”

That draws an annoyed laugh out of him, which makes him hiss in pain.

“It wouldn’t send me here if it was trying to kick my ass, Mr. Should Have Been A Model But Became A Nurse For Some Reason.”

“I can't believe you still keep using that silly nickname unironically. Don’t you think that it is a bit long?”

“You may be right. Hmm, I’ll just call you ‘Mr. Handsome Nurse,’ from now on.”

“Please don’t. No.”

“How about just ‘Handsome’ ?”

“Still no.”

“Why not? It’s just a fact. You wouldn’t get mad at someone if they would point at a yellow wall and call it a ‘yellow wall’ would you?”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“I see no differences.”

“Then you better get your eyes checked.”

“Speaking of which—” Jaskier reaches for his scratch book standing on the bedside table “can I borrow your eyes for a second?”

Geralt frowns, wondering what the musician is up to this time.

Jaskier opens his scratch book and stares in his eyes intently for a while and as he scribbles something. "Thanks," he says, "I just needed an accurate model of the stars."

"You know," the nurse shakes his head and answers smoothly: "you could just ask for a mirror."

Geralt can't help but smirk at his open-mouthed speechlessness.

***

He hears a familiar voice singing, and for a moment he is sure that he has finally gone insane.

Drying his hands on a washcloth, Geralt makes his way to the source of the voice, thinking "That must how Jerry feels when he follows the smell of a piece of cheese Tom tries to fool him with."

Jaskier's voice is irresistible to him, just like how cheese is irresistible to Jerry.

Absolutely irresistible, and hard to miss.

He could distinguish Jaskier's voice among all the rest if he heard it in a room filled with millions of men singing a song together.

This voice is coming from their living room. To be more specific, from Ciri's laptop—which she was supposed to use for searching her homework topic, but that can wait for now—

"Or I shall die," he hears Jaskier singing oh so sincerely and dramatically "or I shall die!"

"Dad! Please don't be mad, I swear to God I was going to start doing my homework, but—"

The first thing he does when he sits on the couch next to his daughter is grabbing the laptop and rewinding the video to the start. He then checks if the volume is at maximum.

"Shhh," he gestures, all of his attention is on the video he is watching.

He doesn't even realize that he takes a deep breath as soon as he sees the musician's face appear in front of him on the screen before Jaskier even starts singing.

He is as beautiful as ever in his ridiculous mint green shirt that he left the first four buttons undone.

It has cactus patterns on it.

Geralt can't help but wonder if Jaskier wearing this shirt is actually some kind of a secret message to him and him only.

Didn't he say that Geralt was just like a cactus?

"...prickly on the outside sometimes, but soft on the inside? A cactus in the desert.”

His words. Not Geralt's.

What does that even mean then? Something like "I wanna wear you on me like a shirt?"

Okay, he should probably stop because he is reading too much into this and—

"Anyway, so, this song goes to the cruel man who made me want to buy this shirt because it reminded me of him. You know who you are,"

Geralt's breath hitches.

He is not reading too much into this.

If anything, it's vice versa, because Jaskier dedicated a song to him.

Jaskier is thinking about him, too.

Thinking about him too much that he has decided he should dedicate a song to him.

The scene splits into five and one of the boxes on the screen shows Jaskier playing the piano, while in the other he plays the lute occasionally, violin in another one, and accordion in the other one. And in the other, he sings.

Good God. Is there anything this man cannot do?—Besides picking names for babies maybe, since picking names is definitely isn't his strong suit.—

"I tell myself what's done is done

I tell myself don't be a fool

Play the field have a lot of fun

It's easy when you play it cool"

"Does this mean he gave up on me because he got fed up with waiting for my call?" he thinks. But then again, why would he sing a song for him if he gave up?

While watching the video, Geralt is well aware of the fact that he will watch this video again and again and will take special care of each Jaskier— making sure not to miss even the tiniest of the mimic and gesture he does.

"I tell myself don't be a chump

Who cares, let him stay away

That's when the phone rings and I jump

And as I grab the phone I pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him or I shall die

Or I shall die"

He was right, this isn't a song that screams: "I'm giving up." Thank God it isn't. Jaskier puts his hand on his chest as he sings, and Ciri sighs next to Geralt, resting her head on his shoulder as she watches the video with him.

"Oh hello, hello my dear God

It must be him but it's not him

And then I die

That's when I die"

That dramatic son of a flower actually flings himself into an armchair.

"After a while, I'm myself again

I take the pieces off the floor

Put my heart on the shelf again

You'll never hurt me anymore"

While he sings the "put my heart on the shelf again" he puts a heart sculpture on his bookshelf with a serious look and frown on his face. He might have got this heart sculpture just for this video for all Geralt knows.

"I'm not a puppet on a string,"

At this point, Geralt wouldn't be surprised to see actual strings attached to the musician's body just so he could cut the strings. He really wouldn’t be surprised, at all.

Because Jaskier is that extra most of the time.

And Geralt loves that about him.

"I'll find somebody else someday

That's when the phone rings, and once again

I start to pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him, it must be him

or I shall die, or I shall die"

The musician's voice goes up effortlessly into an unreachable octave as he sings the last part, and it's impossible not to be impressed.

But then again, the man puts his heart into everything he does, therefore even doing something like folding a simple frog origami seems impressive when he is the one who's doing it, let alone singing as perfectly as this.

He then slowly walks towards the camera as the other boxes disappear and that one takes over the screen.

"Seriously though," he makes an aggressive 'call me' gesture, and the scene fades to black after that.

"Whoever keeps Jaskier waiting must be crazy," Ciri comments and gave a snort of disapproval and frustration. "He must care about this idiot of a guy a lot if he sings for him like this. What a jabroni. It would take him only a minute to call him."

"Ciri!"

"What? I'm right."

"That's not a nice thing to say," Geralt warns as he hands the laptop back to his daughter.

"I'm surprised that you watched the full thing, by the way. Actually, you don't seem too annoyed with me watching his videos nowadays, and you seemed quite interested in this one."

"I just love Vikki Carr," Geralt says. He has seen the title of the video, after all, so he knew this was a cover of her song. "I've wondered how he sang this song."

"Name five Vikki Carr songs then."

Geralt doesn't know five Vikki Carr songs— he can't even name two, let alone five.

"Okay, I think that's enough fun for you today," the nurse pretends not to have heard his daughter. "Do your homework while I go out to get some milk."

"We have milk at home."

"No, we don't."

"I put it in the fridge myself just this morning, so yeah, we do."

"We're out of these cookies you love, though."

"I thought you said they consumed way too much sugar so we were going to come up with a healthy and as I've read from your invisible subtitles, also probably boring recipe we can make together this weekend?"

"I— God, you ask a lot of questions today." Geralt whispers tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting Ciri's "boring recipe" comment slide.

Fuck him for not saying "I'm gonna go get some groceries," instead.

"I just asked one question, but okay. So? You changed your mind?"

"Yeah, I changed my mind, just for one more week, you can have it."

"Really?! Thanks!"

"Anything you want, pumpkin. Alright, I'm off!"

Geralt ruffles her hair before he grabs his wallet, keys, and most importantly, his phone.

Just before he closes the door, he can hear Jaskier's voice coming from the living room once again.

He cannot blame Ciri at all.

***

"If this is another spam call and not the important call I've been waiting for I swear on all my lute strings that I'll crush that damn phone on the ground and dance upon its bloody ruins! Actually, no, wait, that would mean the possibility of missing the call I've been waiting for, but you got my point."

As soon as Jaskier answers his call and starts talking, he feels like all the tiredness of the day disappears. Jaskier's voice manages to do that even when he is simply busy telling him off, having no idea who he is talking to.

He can see that Ciri was right. He is an idiot for waiting for the right time.

"I'm seriously so sick of—"

Geralt finally cuts him off by saying: "Wow, I wouldn't wanna be a scammer or something right now, you aggressive Dandelion."

"Wait a second, this voice— Geralt?! Is that really you? Oh my God, you finally ca— I mean—"

Jaskier coughs as if he tries not to sound too excited, "Heey, the best nurse in the existence," Geralt can almost see his flirty frowning, yes, he manages to make even frowning look flirty for crying out loud, "How's it hanging?" he asks, his voice sounds deep, lazy, and dare he say, sensual.

"I should be asking you the same question. Are you still praying by the phone?"

"Someone does stalk me on social media, I see."

"And someone sings a song and makes a pretty impressive video clip for me, I see. My daughter was watching it, and that's how I found out about it. Just for your information."

"So you're not the one who stalks me online. It's Ciri," Jaskier says, and the fact that he remembers Ciri's name warms up Geralt's heart if he's being honest. "Sweet. Cool. Cool. I'm not hurt by that at all."

"Well..."

"Would you die if you let me be happy for just a moment? Not that I'm not happy to know that your daughter still watches my videos, but it would be nice to hear that you were the one who checked my account willingly."

"I'm sure I would see your video today anyway. Maybe it wouldn't be that soon, I admit, but I would see it."

"Is that so?"

"It is so."

Silence.

But it isn't an uncomfortable one.

"Did you really find it impressive?" Jaskier asks, his voice is full of hope and happiness.

"Well—"

"Nah, I know it's impressive, forget that I asked," he lets out a long sigh, "If I knew making a video clip for you would make you call me right away, I would do that earlier. Were you playing 'hard to get' or something? You know... I find it kinda cruel to make someone who just got out of the hospital keep waiting on the phone for so long. For your information, that 'kinda' is kinda unnecessary here maybe. I call it 'the polite kinda'. Or 'the unnecessary kinda'. "

The next moment, Jaskier's playful tone leaves its place to a caring, worried one as he keeps talking: "If something is going wrong with your life, I take it back though. Ignore everything I said in that case. Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"Ah, about that— Don't worry, everything is alright," Geralt replies, "I was thinking about calling you today, but I couldn't quite find the time. I know that's not an excuse, and I know I could call you earlier, but I didn't want to call you only to say 'I have to hang up,' a minute later."

"I’m happy to hear that nothing is wrong. And well, even that would be better than leaving me hanging. Or a simple 'Hey, the best patient ever' text would do. You took so long that I would be lying if I said I didn't think about getting involved in another accident."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"I would get into millions of accidents just to see you, Geralt. Provided that I could have you as my nurse every time, of course. What's the point otherwise? I'm not a masochist."

"Such a flatterer you are, Mr. Pan—"

"I'm not trying to flatter you. Cross my heart and hope do die, I'm just scattering the facts around like they are glitters. Or cake sprinkles."

"God forbid! Accidents, death... Aren't we gonna talk about nice things at all?"

"I've been waiting for you to call me forever. I have every right to be bitter about it."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. How about I start making up to you, starting now?"

"Sounds like you have something in your mind, Mr. Handsome Nurse."

"I do, indeed. Have you had dinner yet?"

"Does strawberry yogurt count as dinner?"

"I highly doubt it. You were complaining about hospital food, and yet that's what you choose to have for dinner?"

"I've never said I count yogurt as quality dinner, but it's still better than the things you dare to serve people as 'food', I should admit, I thought you already came to terms with—"

"Maybe you should come over so I can show you how a proper, nice dinner looks like. I'm not half bad at cooking."

Jaskier is silent on the other end of the line.

"Are you still there?" Geralt asks finally, "I'm sorry if this was too forward of me or too soon, I just thought it could be nice. You could meet Ciri too, that way."

"No! Yeah! I mean—" if Geralt didn't imagine it, Jaskier sighs and murmurs an angry 'get it together you dumbass,' to himself before he continues talking. "Yes, I'm still here. No, this wasn't too forward of you. I was just taken aback a little bit, sorry. I mean, not every day a handsome nurse who I've been waiting for his call for a decade calls and invites me over for dinner. I'd love that, Geralt."

"I'll send you the address, then." Geralt checks his watch, it's nearly 6 p.m. "Is eight okay for you?"

"Sure, that should be fine. Hey, Ciri still doesn't know, right?"

"I don't think I need to answer that."

"Huh? Why is that?"

"Don't you think she would just grab my phone and call you herself if she knew? Or reaching out to you on every social media possible? Shouting from the rooftops, even?"

"She really likes me that much?"

"She just called me, I quote, an 'idiot', 'crazy', and 'jabroni' after watching your video, so..."

"She did what?!"

"I mean, not directly at me since she doesn't know I'm the 'him' in the 'it must be him', but still."

"Seems to me like you're in big trouble here."

"Don't even remind me about it."

"I'd be lying if I said that doesn't put some pressure on me though. I mean... What if she doesn't like me?"

"Wha— Ciri already adores you. She adores you so much that it's annoying sometimes."

"It's impossible not to like you," is on the tip of his langue.

"They say never meet your heroes. What if when she actually meets me, she goes 'Meh, that's it?' What if I disappoint her somehow?"

"Worrying about earth getting invaded by the aliens in pink pasta costumes and tutus would much more sense compared to this. Believe me."

Jaskier laughs at that, but Geralt can still sense that he is not completely convinced.

"If you say so."

"I know so, Jaskier. I know so."

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt #my writing #nurse geralt au #I Would Get into Millions of Accidents Just to See You #jaskier x geralt

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stutterfly · 5 years ago

Text

Love Bytes 06 | Boolean Logic | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 05: Your friends have good intentions when eavesdropping on your first tinder date. When things don’t go exactly as you imagined, there’s comfort to be found elsewhere. A charming gesture takes your breath away and you find yourself dangerously close to crossing a line you’d never thought of before.

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 12.8K

Series: Love Bytes (6/?)

Genre: F2L, fluff, humor, SLOW BURN, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension, smut, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, S O F T Namjoon, did i mention slow burn??? :)

CW: anxiety, panic attacks, some negative self-talk, dirty talk, teasing, grinding, dry-humping

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7 masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Do not repost.

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It’s been twenty minutes since Seokjin barged into your apartment and started listing all the things you did wrong on your date. You’d be mortified if you hadn’t already dealt with Yoongi earlier in the evening, telling you much of the same. He’d already covered the basics of looking at your date and given you a touching pep talk about knowing your worth. You’d be double mortified if not for the fact that you’re slightly distracted.

Not even thirty seconds before Jin walked in, you’d willingly put Namjoon in a position to grope your tits and it’s been on a relentless loop that surfaces between every other word Jin has to say. Kim Namjoon. Dorky professor? Firewall enforcer? Clumsy bestie? Thorn in your goddamn side? It’s only consuming every bit of brainpower as you wordlessly nod along to Jin’s lecture about the importance of posture in showcasing one’s demeanor.

Namjoon has been sitting across the room with a plate of half-eaten food before him, growing more amused by the tale Jin spins of your disastrous behaviors. He’s blowing everything way out of proportion, but you can’t muster the energy to fight him on it, not when the gears are grinding so hard to form a solid reasoning behind your earlier actions. But every time your eyes gloss over and you replay the scene in your mind, your stomach forms knots that cause you to repeatedly cross your legs over one another. You’ve done it at least three times now and both men have definitely noticed so you’re consciously fighting the urge to repeat the action.

Jin attributes it to your fidgety nature, tying it back to the way you had squirmed under the scrutiny of your date. “Y/N, I don’t think you’re really getting it. I need you to pretend we’re on a date. Here. Namjoon, be the observer.”

“Gladly,” Namjoon replies, happily slurping up a mess of noodles and fixing his gaze on your reaction.

You don’t even bother wasting a glance on the man on the floor as Jin angles his body towards you. He folds a leg over his lap, plants an elbow on the back of the sofa and rests his cheek on his palm as he leans towards you. The famous panty-dropping smoulder makes an appearance and you can’t help but feel a bit flustered by the intensity he brings to the charade. Your shoulders raise like they might shield you from the attack of such a gorgeous face. “Tell me about yourself, Y/N.”

This is torture.

You drum your fingertips on your thighs and look down at them briefly before remembering your conversation with Yoongi. Nervous eyes tear themselves away from the stubble coming in on your kneecap, forcing you to focus on the piercing gaze of Seokjin.

“Well…” you begin, fully intending to let this play out, but freeze once your eyes land on his face. “Why do you look angry? I can’t talk to you when you look like that.”

“What do you mean? Do I really look angry to you?” Jin’s brow sinks even lower towards the bridge of his nose.

Stifling a giggle, you nod and smack your lips. “It’s good practice if I ever go on a date with grumpy cat. So cute, yet so grumpy.”

You boop him on the nose and he swats your hand away. “Are you going to tell me about yourself or continue to dishonor the memory of grumpy cat?”

A sigh passes your lips. “I don’t know what to say,” you finally admit with a wince. “My life is so boring. Like, what am I supposed to say? Hi, I’m Y/N. I work on people’s computers all day and answer boring emails and support calls. In my free time I like getting drunk and laughing at videos of cats falling off of things, playing video games with friends --most of which are men by the way, is that cool?-- and going for walks at sunset.” You pause and let him take that in. “Ooh, or should I be like every generic profile I’ve seen? I like going on adventures! Hanging with friends! Living my best life. I’m an old soul. Here for a good time, not a long time! EL OH EL hit me up on Snapchat.”

The animated nature of your features quickly fades as you slump against the cushions. “I mean and here I thought I was boring as fuck. But Chul comes along and actually proves to me that I can be topped. And not in the yummy dom way.”

Namjoon chokes on a piece of pork and smacks his chest a few times, successfully dislodging it from the back of his throat.

Jin curiously roams his eyes across your face, flickering back and forth between your eyes and lips. “Ah, so... you prefer to be the sub?”

A heat rises to your cheeks and you know answering is a trap, but the longer his question hangs in the air the more flustered you become. “Are-Are you kidding? Like I’m gonna be the sub. You know I have to control everything.”

Lies are easier to tell when they’re coated with a layer of truth, no matter how thin that layer may be.

“True.” Namjoon swallows, the remnants of his cough sputtering from his mouth.

Jin considers your answer for a moment and grins, flashing you his pearly whites. “So you dom then? What’s that like?”

The other man in the room dribbles water onto his shirt at the question. He’s about ready to give up on breathing altogether. Jin knows it, too. That’s what makes this game so much fun.

You drag your teeth across your lip, trying not to think about the implication that Jin is also not a dom. “So! Enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Jin.”

With that, Seokjin snaps his fingers and points at you. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner! People love to talk about themselves. If you’re out of ideas on what to talk about, ask your date something about himself based on whatever random information you have. Give him a chance to impress you. Take me, for example. I am the head chef at Heart & Seoul, where I give everyone a taste of my heart … and soul. Everyone who has ever tried my food says it reminds them of home. You should come by sometime. I’ll make a plate special for you, courtesy of the handsome god of cookery.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, that’s certainly a statement.”

“Ask me about my food!” he prods, nudging you with his elbow. “Don’t you want to know what kind of plate I’d make for you?”

“Jin, I already know your food is good. I don’t need to ask--”

“It’s Barbe-cute,” he blurts, clearly proud of himself.

“You’re so…” You try to finish the thought but start laughing as he breaks into his own windshield-wiper cackle. A defeated half sigh, half grumble follows the trail where your laughter leaves off. “I just feel like this is the worst part, you know? Trying to explain to people who I am and why I matter. It’s like, on one hand, I don’t care! This is awful! And I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. But then… on the other hand… What if they don’t like me? Like Chul? Chul made up his mind the moment he saw me in person. He didn’t like me and I don’t know that there’s anything I could do to change that. I feel so stupid! ‘Cause I’m like, bro, didn’t you see my photos? Didn’t you look at my profile? Like why you gotta be so judgy when we talked all day?”

The man on the couch next to you uses his large hands to anchor the wrists that you’ve unconsciously been waving around during your tirade. “Okay see, this is what I’m talking about. You need to slow down and stop waving your arms whenever you speak. Imagine you’re a sloth. Slooow motions.” He uses his grip to slowly push you back against the cushion. “Relax.”

You puff air out of your lips indignantly. “Jin, I can’t. I’m not wired like a sloth. I’m more of a...a...” You shake your head, unable to find the word you’re searching for.

“Hummingbird,” Namjoon chimes in quietly, rapidly flapping his fingers up and down to mock you.

Jin laughs at the comparison, pushing you back against the seat when you begin to rise. “Oh, little hummingbird. Sit. Stay.”

Your brow furrows and a pout stains your lips as you comply, rigid shoulders resting flush against the couch.

“Good girl,” Namjoon adds with a snicker.

Ignoring the excitement stirring in your belly at the words, you narrow your eyes at him and he clutches his heart. “Oh wow if looks could kill…”

You finally sigh, dragging your hands down your face. “Jin, I get it. I suck at everything.”

“Oh don’t start that,” he scowls, jabbing your knees with a bony finger. “You’re perfectly fine. You may be a mess but you’re actually a very adorable mess.”

“Fuck off.” You wriggle away from his touch, grimacing at the nod of agreement Namjoon sends your way. “Both of you.”

“I mean it.” Jin laughs between words. “You are a delight, Y/N. Just because you have things you need to work on doesn’t make that any less true. And I'm only telling you that you need to work on these things because you are my dear, dear friend. I want to see you succeed and live your best life." He cocks his head to one side and gives Namjoon a pointed look while you're distractedly glowering. "Especially if you're dating another mess of a human, maybe someone even worse than you. Someone has to have manners. You can't both be terrible at everything."

Jin's eyes snap back to your face as he becomes the focus of your deadpan stare. "Thanks for the pep talk.”

A hand clasps your shoulder and the weight of his arm drapes across the expanse of your back. He uses his grip as leverage to press you against his torso as he scoots closer to you. "Oh, it's okay. You just have to stop trying to knock your date out. Just try to focus on that one thing for your next one okay?”

“I kind of don’t want a next one,” you grumble, allowing your cheek to fall against his collarbone. “Not if it has to feel this bad after every time.”

Wisps of his hair tickle the side of your face as he shakes his head close to yours and tightens the hug. “You don’t give up! You can’t give up! Trust me when I say the next will be better!”

You hum a doubtful note against the fabric of his shirt and push him towards the opposite end of the couch. “If you say so.”

“I know so,” he replies matter-of-factly, catching the antsy circles the chopsticks in Namjoon’s hand are drawing in the noodles left on his plate.

Just like that he begins to feel guilty. There’s something going on here, and he can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s no doubt in his mind that he truly walked in on something he wishes he hadn’t. They’ve all been waiting for him to make a move and now it’s possible that he’s trying. Today was a dud but one thing is certain: it would be so sad to see him lose you to a stranger because he’s too scared to elicit change. Namjoon isn’t going to outright ask him to leave, but it’s written all over his face. Maybe it’s time to let whatever developments have obviously been happening between you two continue.

With a loud sigh and stretch, Seokjin rises from the cushions and makes his way to the door. “Well, I think I’ve made my point. I should get going though. Don’t let this experience bother you too much.”

You spring from the couch and catch the door as he opens it. “I’m fine. Really.”

He shoots you a questioning look but you pull him into a quick hug that allays most of the tension within it. Namjoon unfolds his legs and stands as you exchange goodbyes with Seokjin and usher him out of your apartment with a tired smile.

The door finally closes with a dull thud. Your shoulders deflate with the air in your lungs as you turn the heavy deadbolt. Namjoon’s palms find purchase on the precipice of your shoulders, fingers dipping softly into the crevasse made by your collarbones. You melt back into his touch, throwing your head into his chest when the pleasurable chill of the massage works its way down your spine.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not that stressed. Really,” you weakly attempt to reason with him, silently wishing he’d never stop. A moan rumbles in your throat, making your brain go numb.

“I know,” he mumbles while continuing the controlled movements of his fingertips. “Fist of Fury sounding good?”

“Mmm, I was thinking about something with more comedy.”

“Way of the Dragon then?” he suggests, gently leading you towards the couch in a slow waddle.

“Please don’t make me watch it in English,” you groan, shuffling in time with his strides. “I don’t think I can take that dub again.”

“Fine, fine. Hold up.” He offers an amused smile as he pushes you towards the sofa as he searches for the DVD in question.

The loss of his touch leaves a chill in its wake and you instinctively pull on the fuzzy blanket scrunched into the gap between cushions. You drape it across your torso and bury your arms underneath just as Namjoon pops the DVD into the xbox below the television. He mindlessly grabs a controller, flicks the lightswitch, and shoves the nearby ottoman with his foot until it’s closing in on the sofa. You react before it can hit your shins.

As he flops onto the cushion beside you, the sensation of your legs brushing against each other has you leaning towards him with a shiver. The startup screen highlights his face as you lift the blanket, offering coverage despite feeling the heat radiating from his body. You just want to feel someone next to you. Much to your surprise, he accepts the offer and huddles in, pressing your bodies close together.

Quelling the shakiness of your exhale, you reach over to grab the controller from his lap. Instead the muscles of his thighs flex as your hand drags across them. You’re already apologizing as you jump in place, retracting your hand as quickly as possible while fumbling to look for the controller. He looks down at your hand and then back up to your face, silently pursing his lips as he drops the controller into your palm.

"Sorry," you mumble again as you navigate through the menus, not daring to peek over at his face.

"Don't worry about it," he whispers, sprawling an arm over the couch cushion behind you. His fingertips lazily tap against the contour of your shoulder, wishing that the t-shirt was smaller, thinner, something that could expose more of your skin beneath the blanket.

You fail to contain the deep inhale that causes your chest to rise and slowly breathe out the nerves constricting your lungs. As you start the movie and set the controller on the armrest, you turn your head to look at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he parrots back at you. The warmth of his leg presses into your thigh, serving as a reminder of the wetness between yours.

“About earlier, I…” you trail off, unable to finish the statement. The needy touch-starved thoughts haven’t yet worn off and you curse your brain for letting you taint your friendship with impure thoughts of the man beside you. How could you possibly tell him that you weren’t thinking clearly before when you still want him to touch you, when your pussy clenches any time he pushes his body against you? The familiar sound of the title music fills the silence.

“Don’t worry about it,” he repeats softly. “Let’s just… watch Bruce Lee, hmm?”

His words somehow simultaneously bring you comfort and disappointment. You smile and nod, shifting your attention back to the television, though you can feel the feathery touch of his fingertips flirting with the hem of your sleeve seconds later. As you shift in your seat to relax your head against him, that same touch trails up your shoulder to brush a mess of hair from your neck before settling comfortably in the space between them. You chuckle at the old woman staring down Bruce Lee as your eyelids grow heavy. There’s no way you were even going to make it five minutes in, but you attempt it anyway.

“She lookin’ at him like a snack.” You’re relying on your thirst to keep yourself awake. “I agree.”

Namjoon snorts. “She’s looking at him like she’s gonna call the cops. Are we watching the same movie?”

“My bad. I’m self-inserting for granny,” you murmur, voice growing wearier by the syllable.

“Are you already falling asleep? We can watch it another night if you’re tired.” You can feel his eyes boring into the top of your skull as your eyelashes flutter against his chest.

“No,” you argue weakly, not bothering to lift your head to meet his gaze.

“I can feel you closing your eyes.”

“No,” you say again with a slight shake of your head that doubles as an excuse to nuzzle into the warmth of his chest.

“So if I took my phone out right now and snapped a pic, your eyes wouldn’t be closed?”

“Nope.”

“Not nice to lie,” he teases softly, smoothing the hair back from your forehead.

“Shhh, don’t talk during movies. You’re missing the part with the soups.”

He cradles your head with a scoff, resisting the urge to impart a goodnight kiss to the top of it as you obviously doze off. Your arm falls into his lap with the sound of a dull ‘pat’. Immediately his hand carefully draws yours away from the danger zone and sets it loosely over his. The gentle twitch of your digits against his palm beckon him to lace your fingers together. Butterflies wrack their way through his stomach and he soon complies, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he does so.

Do you realize what you do to him? Probably not. Being here feels like walking a tightrope that he keeps wobbling back and forth on. But leaving would kill the adrenalin rush and leave him with nothing. He’d take the highwire any day if it meant there was a chance you could be waiting on the other side.

He’s determined to make it further into the movie, and he has every intention of nudging you awake, but not even five minutes later his eyelids droop and his neck bends back over the top cushion.

Just a few minutes. I’ll wake her up in a few minutes.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The change in volume from the end credits to the top menu of the DVD catapults you from slumber. You groan as you crane your stiff neck up towards the open-mouthed, snoring man whose warm chest you’ve been napping on. The grin creeping across your face threatens to break into a giggle, but you muzzle the sound before it can leave your throat.

The haze of sleep still clouds your mind and as your eyes travel up the dark skin that stretches up to his jaw, empty cravings for intimacy permeate the fog. Your head lolls back down and you scrunch your cheek against the base of his throat with a shaky exhale before turning towards him. You skim your lips over the muscles in his neck, shivering at the thought of pressing down. Pushing away the growing urge to suction your mouth down on his flesh, you lightly tap the side of his cheek. “Joonie.”

He groans loudly as he lifts his head off the cushion, but offers no other words of acknowledgement. Discomfort spreads across his features, brow knotting as he palms the back of his sore neck. His other hand firmly wraps itself around your knuckles, subconsciously dragging your palm across his lap as he stretches his limbs out. Heavy arms come back down and constrict you in a sleepy hug; the comfort it brings threatens to take you back into the world of slumber, but you shake off the impulse to close your eyes again.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce softly against his white t-shirt, basking in the warmth of his embrace.

He peers down at you through dark, half-lidded eyes and struggles to bring a response to the forefront of his mind. You trace your fingers along the contours of his jaw, causing him to lean into your sleepy caress. Before you can register the movement, his lips graze the precipice of your forehead and your stomach lurches into a somersault at the sensation. Wait. Did he just...?

The bubble of his dream-state finally pops. Suddenly everything feels too real. His eyes widen and his heart drops, desperately wishing he could awaken from this moment panting and sweating within the confines of his bedroom. Is there a chance you’re not aware of his embarrassing mistake? He pulls back and the sharp sound of his lips smacking together awkwardly fills the room as the menu loop resets.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, abashed features straining to look anywhere else. “I’m gonna go.” He shifts uncomfortably, wriggling out from beneath your form, but your fingers reach out and curl around the solid mass of his forearm.

“Stay,” you whisper. “Please?”

You can’t fight the way your heart is pounding, desperate to feel the tickle of butterflies in your stomach at least one more time, to find your hand enveloped in his warm, comforting grasp. Deep, dark eyes settle on yours, searching for any excuse to decline such a tempting offer. When he comes up empty, you also find yourself at a loss for words and you shake your head, trying to come up with some explanation for the blurry lines you’ve been drawing all over your friendship with him.

You rationalize that it’s not crazy to find comfort in the arms of a good friend. How many times has Jennie kissed your forehead without meaning anything by it? How many times have you held hands with her and platonically snuggled up together? Is it really so different now that Namjoon is the one beside you?

Your mind flashes back to the moments leading up to Seokjin’s arrival. You were the one to guide him towards you. Your lips never touched, and you refuse to accept the fraction of your brain that screams of its disappointment. The fact that you got close enough to expose the possibility of Namjoon as a makeout partner is a thought you’re struggling to bury. That’s what makes him different. That’s what makes it difficult to let him leave.

You know it’s selfish, but there’s a shred of something that you can’t allow yourself to acknowledge. Until you fill the void of a relationship in your life, or sex at the very least, maybe this is exactly what you need. It’s harmless, really. Just a comforting snuggle buddy. It’s harmless... right? You ask yourself again, the echo of his heavy breaths fresh in your mind. The memory plays again: one hand clasps around his neck and pulls him down towards you, the other guiding him teasingly towards the lace of your bra as your noses brush against each other; it’s enough to set your cheeks on fire but not enough to retract the offer.

“Don’t leave. Please, just… Just lay with me again?” you plead quietly. Could you sound more pathetic? There’s never been a more appropriate time to wish you were built like a computer, or at least something you could flush the short term memory from, but here you are: painfully human and seeking complacency.

You keep your eyes fixed on him as you rise, his expression never falling into the expected air of pity. Shock. Confusion. Maybe even relief. But never the pity you anticipate. The television coats his features with a soft glow and your shoulders instinctively relax as his smile molds shadowed dimples along either side of his mouth. The word of affirmation that escapes him is barely audible over the sound of the tv.

The room grows dark and silent all too fast as you tap the power button on the back of the screen. Warmth radiates from his hand as it trails down your arm, finally twining itself between your fingers as he waits for you to lead the way. Of course he’s memorized the steps to your bedroom, but he’s not about to let impatience reveal the alacrity within.

It’s no trouble to navigate in the darkness and you find yourself needlessly tugging him closer. You’re quick to hide your own eagerness under the guise of fatigue, forcing a loud yawn from your mouth as you flop back into the center of the bed. He stumbles forward a bit before catching himself on the soft mattress, quietly climbing onto it as though the weight of his body will shatter its molecular structure.

Tonight the moon is blocked by the clouds in the sky, and the unusual pitch black nature of the room is a little unnerving. It’s easy to imagine shadows moving when you can’t see anything clearly. Before you can burden yourself with unnecessary anxiety, Namjoon’s palms are dipping into the mattress on either side of you, parallel to your waist. You can feel him ascending like a silent panther, closing in on his prey. Stale air hitches in your throat as he hovers above you, a delicately placed knee sinking into the space between your thighs.

The heat from his core sears shameful desire into the surface of your flesh and you attempt to close your legs. The inside of your soft thighs squeeze against the unexpected muscular mass of his, trapping him just below the wetness you’re refusing to acknowledge. It doesn’t take long for you to become keenly aware that if he leans any further up he will be wearing it and you press your legs even tighter together, despite knowing the barrier of muscle between them makes the task impossible.

Your palm reaches up to find his face, curling under his jaw to cup his chin in a playful venture to diffuse the tension in the air. It’s closer than you expect. There’s a strange relief in the realization that he can’t see the way your jaw falls open. That relief quickly dissipates when his plump lips press against the pad of your thumb, causing your sharp inhale to cut through the white noise of the fan nearby.

He laughs softly, breath hitting your skin in puffs as your fingernail scrapes against his upper lip. This position is not exactly ideal, considering the erection beginning to form in his boxers. With one leg trapped between your thighs and the other plunging into the mattress beside you, all it would take is one lazy dip of his pelvis to allow you to feel how you affect him.

“What are you doing?” You find your voice, but it sounds hoarse and foreign, and you make no effort to hide the accusation dripping from your own guilty lips.

“I…” His heart drops to his stomach. What is he doing? The more time that passes leaves the memory of you on the couch feeling increasingly surreal, like a cruel joke originating from a desperate imagination that he’s foolish enough to believe. He squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to think of something that will fix this mess. The rain pattering against the window is soothing and it tries to wash the awkwardness from the air, but it’s not enough.

Then a lightbulb goes off, and his hand is already gently bringing yours down to the mattress. His voice is even, despite the humiliation coursing through him. “I dropped your defenses.”

“You what…?” Before you can contemplate the meaning behind his words, his hand tightens around your wrist, pressing it into the soft mess of blankets beneath you with his full weight. You strain against his grip as he begins playfully jabbing at your waist with his free hand. You scrunch your hips towards your elbow as you swat fervently in the direction of his arm to no avail.

Strong, stubborn fingers poke and prod all of the sensitive spots he’d briefly had the pleasure to acquaint himself with. You do your best to keep the laughter from spilling out, but he isn’t satisfied by the restraint you’re showing. The noises he wrenched from you earlier had been so delicious and he’s desperate to pull more, so he dares to pinch his fingers at the tender crease in your skin between your thigh and hip.

You buck your hips and cry out at the sensation, the fabric of your shorts riding up just enough to grant his fingertips access to the outermost edge of your panties. His eyes roll into the back of his skull for a fraction of a second, reveling in his success. Your hand clamps down on his bicep, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks. He would be hissing and backing off if not for the delectable sound of you stammering out a slew of pleases on repeat.

Are two fingers all it takes to make you beg me? He muses, pleased with the visual he’s created for himself in the darkness. He can feel his cock poking out from the hole in his boxers, sensitive head sliding against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“Joonie, please! I’m gonna--” A snort escapes the back of your throat and you choke back a gross fit of giggles as his fingers twitch against the cotton fringe beneath your shorts. “It’s too much!”

Those are definitely a string of phrases he’s going to file away for later. He licks his lips before loudly smacking them, enjoying the fact that you can’t see the devilish smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Really? ‘Cause, uh, I don’t feel a thing.”

His thumb and forefinger pinch against your flesh in that same sensitive area, ripping another uncontrollable cackle from you. Even in the darkness, it’s easy to tell that you’ve got tears in your eyes from the way you’re pleading with him. Your clammy fingers slide along the lean muscles in his bicep, tapping him repeatedly as though a referee will appear and save you from his relentless fingers. Your head falls back and you half-bury your face into a pillow to muffle the way you’re howling beneath him.

“Please, please, please,” you beg between pained wheezes, hopelessly bucking your hips up towards his. “I’ll do anything. Please. Please. Please. Please. Namjoon...”

He does his best to avoid your frenzied thrusts, dodging to the left and right to keep his now rock hard dick from touching any part of you. But the breathless way you’re pleading and panting against the pillows has him melting, daring him to grind his aching cock on your hips. His fingers slowly drag a delicate path away from the cotton he’d been trying to build the courage to do something more bold with. They trace invisible teasing lines downward and the abs hidden beneath your soft layers of flesh finally stop contracting. This time the final laugh that escapes you trails off into a breathy moan, body flaring with desire for more contact while simultaneously fatigued from twinging and fighting against his mischievous digits. Namjoon’s form lingers above you in the darkness with your crass groan refusing to leave his eardrums.

Hot breath fans the shell of your ear, his already deep voice somehow dropping an octave lower as the gravel in his throat fights the word bubbling out from it. “Anything...?”

Why does he keep doing that? It’s driving you insane. You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice take on this tone before tonight, even in jest, and it’s making your ears ring with how hard they’re now straining to take in more of that delicious, gruff whisper. You have no choice but to hold your breath to quiet the exhale that threatens to reveal the lust coating your thoughts.

Just as you’re certain he’s about to drop his weight onto your thigh and expose the wetness soaking through your shorts, Namjoon pulls his head back with a loud contented sigh, flopping down onto the mattress beside you. Maybe he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Can you blame him after all the mixed messages you’ve been sending? You’ve been filling pretty much every conversation with sexual tension lately; it makes sense that he would try to dish some back at you.

In your defense, Tinder hasn’t exactly been the fun, liberating experience you’d been promised by the app’s promotional messaging, and your frustrations are starting to become palpable. Even your vibrator can’t keep up with the rollercoaster highs of your sex drive right now. Poor Joon is just caught in the middle of a very, very bad drought and you’ll be damned if you let your friendship become a casualty of your desire for a little rain.

Coward. The thought reverberates against his skull hard enough to make him shake his head as he props himself up on one elbow.

“Help me hook my laptop to my TV so I can watch movies on the big screen,” he says, cutting through the self-loathing. Knowing you’re glaring at him in the dark, he pauses. “What? You said anything.”

“Just get a Firestick. They make those things specifically for people like you. I don’t need your incompetent ass calling me every time you can’t get it working.”

“You always gotta be rude about everything?” he tuts. “Besides, Firestick ain’t gonna help with what I want to do.”

The conversation allows you to forget the shame dripping out of you and you flip onto your side to more comfortably counter his point. “You can get every YouTube video on the planet on that thing. Not to mention Hulu, Netflix, PrimeVideo… Like, you can get anything you want to watch at the push of a few buttons. Well, everything except…” you trail off, the gears in your head spinning fast enough to come undone.

He swallows, knowing you’re about to call him out. “I don’t need a Firestick,” he reiterates.

Your cheeks flush. Porn. Of course it’s porn. Just another thought you don’t need floating around your head: Namjoon jerkin’ it to whatever weird shit he’s into. Honestly, you’re almost afraid to touch the laptop with how much he’s probably used it for that specific purpose.

“Of course not.” You sigh as your palm pushes him back against the bed, eager to just forget the night and feel the same way you did last week. “You’re gross.”

He huffs at the accusation, even though he admits to himself you’re completely right and doesn’t audibly argue the point. He also doesn’t fight the way you force him down, resting his head against a soft pillow as the weight of yours comes down onto his chest. Instinctually, his arm reaches around you, pulling you closer with his fingers tented against the small of your back. You shiver into his t-shirt, briefly catching the scent of his deodorant before closing your eyes.

“So, that’s a no then?” he asks dejectedly, voice rumbling up through the ear you’ve got pressed to his chest.

You chuckle into him as you nuzzle your face back and forth a few times, reveling in the way it feels to be in such a comfortable position with another person, even if it is Namjoon. “I guess I can do it since you’re indulging me right now... I won’t tell if you don’t?”

His fingertips move down your back to idly play with the band of your shorts, tracing lazy lines across them. You tense, taking all the self control you currently possess to stop from grinding your hips into his thigh.

He hums in response, finally resting his hand respectfully above the fabric of the t-shirt at your waist. “Okay,” he whispers.

You lay together in silence, listening to the increased assault of raindrops at your window. Normally with the fan going like this you’d be feeling chilly and be rushing to pull a blanket over you, but with the heat coming off of him in waves, you’re feeling rather warm, almost sweaty. It feels like the breath in your lungs isn’t enough and you take in a few deep, noticeable inhales and exhales. Your heart is pounding like you just ran some kind of incredible marathon.

“Y/N… You ok?” Even sleepy, you can still hear the concern dripping from his tone.

You take in a couple more hungry breaths. It almost feels like a panic attack sneaking up on you. But why now? You’re not even doing anything worth freaking out about. Is it the stress of the day? Is it the embarrassment?

“Yeah… Just...anxiety...” you manage to pant out weakly, your chest heaving frantically for more air. “I’m sorry."

He fishes for your hand in the darkness, turning his face down towards the top of your head to plant a small, innocent kiss there. “Shhh, shhh, I got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trembling fingers gripping his with a sense of urgency, like at a moment’s notice he’ll melt away and you’ll be left alone. “Don’t leave, okay?”

He twines his steady fingers between yours. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’re okay. Try to breathe deeply. I’ll be right here.” He starts to inhale loudly, causing your head to rise with each deep fill of his lungs, and fall with his audible exhales.

Over the course of a few minutes, your breathing aligns with his, and you’re even holding at the same moments to help your body relax. When you seem stable, he wants to say something comforting, but simply gives your hand a gentle squeeze once he recognizes the soft snore leaving your mouth.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Joonie, did you clean your apartment before I came over?” you’re eyeing the spotless nature of his abode suspiciously. “Since when do you not throw your shirts wherever?”

He smiles, pleased with himself as he folds his arms and crosses the room before sinking into the couch. “Since you always complain about it.”

You stare him down incredulously. “It’s just… I’m shocked. It’s so unlike you.”

“What?” He scoffs. “Are you seriously gonna complain now that my place is clean?”

“Hmph. Where’s your laptop?” you question,

He pulls it from the folds in the couch cushion sheepishly. “Hold up.” He’s opening it and typing in the password as you flop down next to him.

“If you seriously left porn on here knowing I was coming over to do this, that’s on you. Gimme. I wanna see what fucked up shit Professor Kim gets off to.”

He tries to cover the screen, but you can still see the raunchy frozen frame beneath his splayed fingers. Your eyebrows raise, taking in the sight of a nude woman’s body straddling a well-endowed man on a black leather couch. It’s tough to push back the smile fighting through your pursed lips. “Couch cowgirl, huh?”

“You know…” He fumbles to close the tab and thrusts the computer into your lap, clearly embarrassed at the thought of you seeing any of that. “I don’t stand over your shoulder judging your porn choices.”

You shake your head and scoff. “What makes you so sure I watch porn?”

“I know you,” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” You laugh, beginning to navigate to the display settings. “I’m not judging. It’s just a little more tame than I was expecting.”

“You’re judging,” he declares finitely. “And what the hell are you expecting anyway? What kind of fucked up shit are you into, hmm?”

Your face flushes and you stop typing. He laughs. “See? Just that reaction there tells me you’re one hundred times worse than me. You’re just better at hiding your search history.”

You swallow hard and snap the laptop shut. “Joon, you knew I was coming over to do this today. You had all night to clear out your embarrassing stuff. It’s not my fault you’re a dumbass.”

He starts to quietly interject. “Actually, my IQ is--”

“I don’t care what your IQ is. You’re not goading me into telling you my porn preferences. I’m just here to help you get your laptop hooked up.”

“Is that why you’ve closed it?” he asks with a smirk.

You blink at him a few times. “N-No.”

He laughs again and you can feel your face burning, knowing that he’s pridefully drinking in the sight of your mistake. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to say a thing.” He leans in, closer than you expect and begins speaking in a low, gravelly whisper that freezes you in place. “I already know what you like.”

You do your best to keep your breathing steady, but it quickly turns into a sputtering mess when he cups your chin and trails his index finger down your neck, stopping just above your breast bone. With no effort at all, he guides you down with the press of his finger until you’re laying flat on your back. He steadies himself over you with a strong arm that sinks into the cushion beside your face, effectively boxing you in as he descends.

“You like it when I take control,” he announces, an unfamiliar confidence in his husky tone. “Don’t you?”

At this point, you know your jaw is trembling as it hangs stupidly open. Every word you can think of dies on your tongue as his free hand draws a line beneath your t-shirt, up your belly and teases the lace trim around one of your breasts. You shiver as he drags his fingertips back and forth in the valley between your tits, growing more and more desperate for him to reach beneath one of the cups and take you into his hand. Chest heaving, you turn your gaze away, hoping he will spare you the embarrassment of looking into his eyes with the hunger in yours.

“Yes,” you whisper weakly, knowing he’s got you. If Jimin has been teaching him how to play Chicken, he has taken it to the next level and it’s gone past the point where you think you’re able to willfully extricate yourself from the situation.

His hand shoots up from beneath your shirt to clasp your jaw, forcing your face back into position. “Look at me when you answer.“

You let a tiny moan slip at the rough contact and your eyelids flutter for a moment before meeting his gaze. His eyes are dark and eager, pupils blown out to the size of dinner plates, perfectly set to devour you. You need it now. You need him now.

“Yes…” you whimper. His hand drops like lightning down beneath your bra, molding as much of your tit as his strong grip can manage.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, clasping your arms around his neck and desperately bringing him down to meet your lips.

He moans into your mouth as he comes crashing down, greedily sucking the air from your lungs with every last taste he imparts. The hand that had been supporting his weight tangles itself in your hair as you buck your hips up into him, thirsty for more of whatever he’ll give you. The rocking passage of your hips causes him to mirror the motion, grinding his thigh deliciously up against your clit. You mouth falls open with the need to take in air at the sudden friction in your jeans. He uses the opportunity to slip his himself past the barrier of your teeth and deep into your mouth, gliding his tongue across the surface of your own.

While this has never been a thought that’s crossed your mind in the past, you can’t imagine not knowing his taste. And yet when you try to describe it and pin down his delectable nature, it slips away. Your lips crash harder around his, hopelessly searching for the moment that your thirst will be quenched and never finding it. You want him more than you ever thought possible, in any way possible. It’s like he’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time, flooding all of your senses with a ravenous need that refuses to fade, even as you drink him in again and again.

As he pinches a pebbled nipple between his fingers, you whine through a gasp and fight to bite at his bottom lip, sucking it through your teeth. You hold him in place long enough for him to prop himself up on the couch and move back. Like hell if you were going to let him have all the power.

“Please,” he groans through gritted teeth, sounding incredibly vulnerable. It’s like music to your ears. You drag your teeth over his lip slowly one last time before letting it snap back to him.

With an ease you’re not used to, you’re able to push him back and sit up, carefully untangling your legs and rising from the couch. He’s about to pull you back towards him when you point to the middle of the couch. “Sit there.”

His adam’s apple bobs a few times, dark hunger never leaving the spark in his eyes as he positions himself as instructed. Clasping the outside of his knees, you force them closer together as you straddle his lap. With your legs spread like this, you can smell how wet and ready your pussy is, so you know damn well that he can too. You should be embarrassed and hiding your face in shame. You should be, but you’re not.

Your fingers knot themselves in his hair as you slowly roll your hips across his lap. Your voice is low and husky, filled with messy impatience. You’re ready to fall apart at his hands if he’d let you, but first you want him to know how it feels. “Is this how you like it, Namjoon? Is this what you want?”

A sharp inhale gives you your answer, but you continue to roll your hips just above his lap, hoping to elicit an erection. He groans as he buries his face into your neck, sliding his hot tongue over a particularly sensitive area and latching himself on. You realize you’re going to buckle quickly under the ecstasy you’re not used to feeling. Feeling reckless and bold, you reach down into his sweatpants, grasping for the cock you know has to be rock solid at this point.

Your hand clumsily slides against the gray band at his waist, unable to even clutch the drawstrings in your haste. The harder you try, the more your fingers seem to tangle in them. Soon you find yourself trapped, unable to move your hands away from the gray material they’ve become encased within. Using the brunt of your shoulder, you force Namjoon off your neck and much to your horror the laughter spilling out of him becomes squeaky like a windshield wiper.

“Wooow!” Jin’s disappointed voice has you breaking out in a cold sweat, frozen as you take in the broad shoulders dressed in Namjoon’s clothes before you. “Are my eyes deceitful like you? How many times have I asked if you had feelings for him? And now I catch you like this? What do you mean, none? I’m sure I asked at least once!”

As you shake the hair from your eyes and try to break free, the horror intensifies as the man before you morphs into a giggling Hoseok.

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. Dirty girl,” he chides, bringing his arms around your neck. “How long has it been? Have you forgotten how? I can help you remember if you want.”

You shut your eyes, trying to wish the temptuous voice away, but when you open them it’s now Jungkook staring at you, cackling. “Showing him your tits wasn’t enough, noona? You want him to touch you too?”

He tuts as he leans forward, and you begin to slide from his lap, which seems to be growing larger and steeper by the second. You’re desperately trying to get your hands free so you don’t fall, but it’s no use; you can feel yourself slipping away.

“Oh, are you stuck?” His obnoxious guffaw echoes into the darkness encroaching the apartment. “Well, since I’m a nice guy, let me help you with that. I’m really good with straps.”

He stands and you feel yourself fall, but he catches you by your bound hands, causing your elbows to knock against your head. You feel about 2 feet tall in his clutches as he suspends you in the air with one hand. The other starts pulling on the tangle of gray drawstrings, causing your body to twist in his grasp. With a sharp tug, he has you completely unraveling in a dizzy haze. You clamp your eyes shut again to avoid the vertigo jeopardizing the stability of your stomach contents.

You hang in Jungkook’s grasp, his cackle reverberating through your skull as you feel a gentle breeze caressing your body. As you open your eyes and look down, you realize you’re completely naked, and as you fight against his hold, your body spins. You’re face to face with Taehyung, his eyes cold and calculating as they roam across your body, searching for imperfections. He cocks his head to the side, wearing an expression of granite as his eyes slowly, painfully ascend your exposed flesh.

He blinks at you a few times before breaking into a boxy smile. “Wow. I’m glad we kept your clothes on.”

As you recover from the sting of his words, you fight against Jungkook’s grasp and attempt to swipe at Taehyung’s gorgeous face. As he leans back, his visage morphs into Yoongi, who stands there looking perplexed by your current predicament.

“Hobi’s right. You are easy, aren’t you?” He quirks an eyebrow and turns away, his form evaporating into the darkness.

Again you fight against the man holding you in place. This time you fall, but you land softly against a couch cushion with the cheshire grin of Jimin looming over you.

“Oh, Y/N… You went home with Namjoon-hyung, hmm? I thought you liked me?” His smile quickly falls into a rare scowl, all traces of mirth absent in his stone gaze. The jealous venom biting in his tone causes you to wince. “It’s fine. I have better options.”

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes and allowing the tears to fall, attempting to descend further into the cushion.

Your body congeals into the cushion, slowly melting through it and sending you hurling into the darkness. Your knees hit a hard surface with a loud crack, but it doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts like the words in your head. You know they’re right.

A spotlight appears over you, drawing attention to your lack of clothing and you clutch your knees to your chest to cover yourself as best you can. As you look around for an exit, you notice a mirror running along the wall behind you, taller than you can even fathom. Quick to disregard the sight of yourself, you turn around and there’s another one waiting ahead of you. Glancing around the room again yields dozens and dozens of mirrors in every direction. There’s nowhere you can even pretend to hide.

So you stand, tears stinging your eyes from the heartbreak of the truths you keep telling yourself. You shuffle over to the nearest mirror, feeling like your feet are sinking into sand and unable to fully rise with each step. Your reflection stares back at you: tired, cold, tear-stricken. You exhale and shove at the glass, unhappy with the person you see staring back at you. Instead of shattering or at least cracking like you expect, the glass bends in and bounces back, forcefully sending you into the mirror behind you. Your back lands against the hard surface and you slide down, allowing yourself to just sit and cry.

As you hug your knees close to your chest again, a fuzzy warmth envelops you. Clutching at the soft blanket that covers your body, you look up to see Namjoon’s dimpled smile starting back at you. He lowers himself to his knees and embraces you from behind, arms cradling you, lulling you into a place of comfort. It’s only when you stare ahead again that you can see the smile now gracing your own features.

He always finds a way to help, doesn’t he? With a contented sigh, you turn your body to gently bring your lips to meet his. The warmth of his body floods yours once more.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You awaken to your lips pressed against something hard. Your eyelids flutter a few times and you can just barely make out the shape of Namjoon’s arm pressing into your cheek. You must have rolled away from him in your sleep. Thank God. The sweat that trickles down your neck somehow runs cold and you shiver, tugging at the blanket covering your shoulders that was definitely not there when you closed your eyes. With a few deep breaths, you attempt to calm your heartbeat. You’re in your room. None of that was real. You’re safe.

Gently wiping your saliva from his forearm, you carefully shift your weight and turn your body to face him. Thankfully, he appears to still be sleeping, half tucked beneath the same blanket. What do you know? Even the human heater must get chilly sometimes.

Your heart still pounds wildly against your ribcage; it’s so loud that you’re almost afraid the sound will rouse him from slumber, but he lays peacefully beside you. There’s a hint of moonlight breaking through the clouds, and it casts just enough light to illustrate how angelic his features look while reposed. With the dream still fresh in your mind, you feel the need to reach out and make sure this is real.

Your hand gently glides through his hair before cupping his cheek and stroking it with your thumb. You catch yourself wondering how you might explain the action, should he awaken at this moment. For now, all that matters is the tranquility the subtle movement provides; it coaxes you into security. As your heartbeat calms, you rest your head on his chest. There’s a dull thumping that you can feel beneath your palm and you swear time stills as you lose yourself in its soothing cadence.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─��───

Sunshine can’t seem to clear the clouds enough to illuminate the room. It still feels like it could be too early to rise, but the sound of birds chirping over the soft patter of rain lets you know that it’s later than you might believe. You blink a few times, irritated that you’re rising at all on a Saturday morning when you could be sleeping the day away. It’s not like you have anything planned. As you stretch your spine straight up, a pair of lean, muscular arms constrict your chest and waist, lazily pulling you back into a prime spooning position.

You lightly massage the pair of forearms pinning you in place with oblivious fingertips. That’s right. Joonie’s still here.

He’s careful to keep your form from his pelvis, knowing that it wouldn’t take much for you to feel the stiff bulge tucked into the band of his sweatpants. Whatever alternate dimension he’d stumbled into last night had given plenty of fuel for his fantasies: your moans, your touch, and kiss you had nearly shared.

But with the gray fragments of daybreak twinkling through the blinds, reality has to kick in at some point. He knows there’s no way you would pass up the opportunity to make fun of him should you feel even the tip at your back. Now’s not the time to tempt the luck of the universe, not when he has you like this.

You do your best to ignore the blush creeping across your cheeks as you settle in, lacing your fingers with a firm squeeze to his. He lifts his head and sleepily sets it in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning the surface of your skin and giving you new chills with each exhale. "Morning, Geeksquad."

You hum in response, leaning back into the sensation. He breathes deeply, taking in the subtle mingling scents that linger on your form: the hint of lilac conditioner in your hair, the traces of moisturizer on your skin, the remnants of perfume spritzed some time ago, and the fragrance he can’t place as anything other than “you.” He could stay here for hours just breathing you in, trying to figure it out, but any description would fall short of capturing its perfection.

The tickle of his breath at your neck causes to you shake your head against the pillow a few times, attempting to hide the smile curling the corners of your mouth. You’re content with the scene staying as it is and you’re almost relaxed enough to drift back to sleep when the ceiling above you allows the first long creak to break through the quiet of your bedroom. Then another. And another. Soon there’s a steady familiar squeaking of the bed frame in the apartment above. An awkward silence falls between you both, but quickly fills with a rhythmic squeaking.

It was too much to hope that the noisy neighbors could put off their sexcapades until you weren’t in a compromising position with a friend. You side-eye the light fixture above you as it rattles in time with the sound of the headboard now hitting the wall. You know from experience that the noises will dull in time, but it doesn’t make right now any better.

Just as you’re about to say something, there’s a slew of loud “yes”es that cut through the room. Not daring to look back at Namjoon now, you scrunch your face into a grimace and silently pray for the bed to fall through the ceiling and crush you. Neither of you are willing to say anything, either embarrassed or enthralled by the lewd visions plaguing you as a result of the sounds above.

While you can't recall the most recent dream to grace your subconscious, an encore of the previous one pervades your thoughts. The image of Namjoon feeling you up as you make out like a couple of horny teenagers has you squeezing your thighs together and tensing your body against him.

Desire charts a course from your brain straight down to your pussy, the noises descending from the ceiling only serving to heighten the fantasy. The thought of him cupping your tits and pulling you back into his chest creeps into your mind with every second you spend tucked beneath his arms.

You bite your lip and stretch again, this time purposefully nudging your ass into him with a forced yawn. Even through a heavy knit layer of cotton, you feel the hard shape that butts up against you. A soft, sleepy groan croaks out from the base of his throat, which only allows the perverse reverie to further take over.

Dropping his forehead against you, a heavy, tight-lipped grumble sends vibrations up your neck. This, combined with the creaking bed frame and muffled moans from above, sends a hot, prickly wave of adrenaline surging through you. A restrained puff of air forces its way through his nostrils as his nose sweeps against the sensitive spot at the base of your neck.

Your pussy clenches at the sound of his weakness, like the gravitational pull of your soaking cunt can draw in his cock if those muscles deep inside can contract hard enough. You're hyper aware of the way your shorts are riding up, removing that extra barrier between you both, but you're too worked up at this point to care.

You reach back, wordlessly carding your fingers through his hair. The action elicits another faint moan into the flesh of your neck, sending the high of your adrenalin to new heights. Silent, jagged breaths wrack the outline of your chest as he tightens his arm's hold on your waist.

He makes a fist to keep himself from grabbing your hips, knuckles trembling against your belly and clearly struggling to keep things PG. But you're not having it, not after the dreams that have plagued you and the filthy things running through your mind. Hoping to lure another lewd sound from him, you wiggle your hips and shimmy your shoulders to provide the cover that perhaps you're trying to get comfortable. His fist opens and desperate fingers sink into the flesh beneath your t-shirt.

It's not a request, but a harsh demand in the form of a whisper against the shell of your ear that leaves you absolutely quaking beneath him. "You don't want to keep doing that."

The subdued whimper crawling up your throat nearly dies behind pursed lips before transforming into a pleased hum. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own, rising to challenge what may or may not be a bluff, and slowly grind back into the erection firmly planted at your backside. You're too enticed by the possibility of a gratifying answer to stop the word falling from your mouth. "Why?"

That definitely came out brattier than intended. A swarm of angry butterflies pump their way through your system. Their fluttering clogs the path to your brain that tends to lean towards subtlety. Dull fingernails dig into the skin at your hip and shoulder tight enough to leave marks. His hips thrust forward for the first time, slowly dragging the mass of his cock up your ass and then back down in delicious, languid strokes.

You hold back the moan building in your throat and a sharp sigh chokes its way past your lips instead. The subsequent needy, ragged inhales fill the space around you. Your back arches while your hips remain in place, causing your chest to rise as you knot your fingers in his hair. When you throw your head back and close your eyes, he bites his lip to quell the urge to pepper kisses along your exposed neck. His restraint is admirable, but the toll it takes on him is palpable at this point.

“I think you know why,” he accuses in a low whisper, dropping his forehead against you again and halting the stroke of his hips.

“I won’t tell… if you don’t,” you promise, your chest about ready to cave in on itself from the amount of pressure his arm is now squeezing into it.

Feeling brave, you offer one more subtle roll of your hips, tempting him to follow the provocative pattern. Now he’s the one who tenses. He’s still, holding his breath for just a moment in disbelief as the dull sound of the lovers above cut through the air. Then you feel the sliding of his palm across your abdomen and a greedy exhale at your ear. Fingers dig into your flesh, holding you in place as he answers your unspoken question with gentle rock of his hips. You respond with hungry need, clasping your hands over both of his as the rhythm of your bodies begin to sync.

He lets you lead the campaign to your mutual destruction. If this is hell then he’s happy to be the fiery tide at the back of a devil disguised as a moon goddess. His hips ebb and flow against whatever pace you set as you listen to the lovers upstairs and soon you find yourself wishing for more. You feel as though at any given moment his cock is going to spring free and rub against the meat of your ass-- and you're ashamed to admit that you couldn't be more turned on by the thought.

His fingers start to tease the band of your shorts as he rocks himself against your ass, savoring the way you’re panting. He slows his pace without realizing as he drifts into his own fucked-out daydream. It becomes clear you’re at his mercy when you whimper his name at his unintentionally lazy thrusts. The tides have turned.

You’re definitely about to say something you might regret --as if you didn’t have enough of that going on already. Your dripping cunt urges you to beg, to plead with him to go farther. You’ll set up as much porn on his TV as he wants. But right now, you want to be touched so badly you feel like you’re going to explode. “Please.”

What he wouldn’t give to hear you say that again. He hooks a finger beneath the fabric at your waist and dips his tongue out to wet his lips, which deliberately skims your neck. This time you moan and he finds himself echoing the sentiment as he decides he’s going to take his time with you and pull out as many “please”s as you’ll give him.

You jump when your cellphone’s ringtone cuts through the room. He holds back the sob building in his throat, leaving only choked air in its wake. It’s suddenly clear to you that the only other sounds in the room are both of your labored breaths. You strain to reach out towards the nightstand and Namjoon’s arms reluctantly give way to your movement. He immediately rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling in disbelief as you fumble to swipe at the screen.

“Why do you do this to me?” he whispers to himself, and rolls away from you to contemplate the meaning of life.

“H-Hello?”

“What uuuuup, bitch." Jennie’s voice is loud and carries through the receiver even though the volume isn’t at its highest setting.

You wince, trying to shake the lingering nerves from your voice. “Heeeeey, Jennie.” You stumble through a few incoherent syllables. “A-Are you back?”

“You sound guilty. What are you doing?”

“I wasn’t doing anything, Jennie,” you scoff.

“Doesn’t sound like it. Oh, did you go have a rebound bang after that shitty date yesterday?” she asks excitedly.

“What? No! I was just minding my own business. Relaxing.” You swallow, sparing a glance at Namjoon. “Alone.”

He raises his eyebrows at you and your roll your eyes, mouthing the word ‘what.’

“Okay, okay! I got it. I don’t need to hear about how great your vibrator is again. I get actual sex from actual real people, Y/N.”

Your mouth falls open and you cringe at her statement, tearing your eyes off of Namjoon’s giggling form. He folds his arm over his face to hide his laughter, but from the corner of your eye you can still see his body convulsing.

“You know what!” You shriek, rising from the bed and scurrying out of the room as fast as possible. “I don’t need this. Is there a reason you called?”

“Obviously you don’t check your email. I’m on my way back but Taehyung stopped by and asked me to retouch those photos he took.”

“Taehyung drove all the way there to ask you that?”

“He was apparently out this way for a gallery or something. I don’t know. He stopped by with a flash drive and asked me to work my magic aaaand ta-daaa. Well. Open your email. It works better if you can actually see what I’m ta-daing about.”

You swallow, putting her on speaker as you open the mail icon on your phone. Sure enough, there’s an email from Jennie with several attachments. Your eyes skim along the text in the body of the email and settle on the photos below. Holy shit.

“Well? What do you think? Pretty good right? I mean I haven’t touched them all but Tae and I picked out what we thought were the best of the best for your profile. He liked the artsier looking ones, but I said hey man, sex sells. And it does, Y/N. So sell that shit. Put em up, get some matches! Oh and don’t worry I didn’t use any liquify shit to make you look thinner or anything. I just focused on accentuating your natural beauty and fixing the lighting with some adjustments to levels and curves, maybe a few color balance filters. Honestly though, Tae knows what he’s doing with a camera and I didn’t have to do much for most of them. Some cropping and smoothing out wrinkles in the backdrop to make it look more like a real beach. Adding some plants in places for dimension.”

You stand there staring at the photos, quietly taking in just how gorgeous the pair have made you look in each one. “Honestly they look so good. But this is so much work for my stupid profile,” you mumble as you scroll through, admiring the images that you still can’t believe are you.

“Y/N, sweetie. I love you. You’re a catch and I can’t wait to see you find the person who will appreciate and love you even half as much as I do. But you need to get laid. Badly. Right now you’d probably fuck anything that moves. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you banged that meathead Jungkook. Even though we both know he’s a fuckboy. Totally pump-and-dump type. One hundred percent not boyfriend material. Not even worth the trouble of a fuck, honestly. But you know we on about those arms… I’m pretty sure he’s the only person we know that could actually do your fantasy of being fucked against a wall and, like, not even be tired from holding you up...” she trails off, lost in her own thoughts.

The words don’t embarrass you, even if Namjoon can hear them; you’re too distracted to find yourself even remotely fazed. You’re too lost in the work they’ve presented here, too shocked to say much of anything because of how excellent a job they’ve done. Can this really be you? Is this what you look like on a good day?

Namjoon listens in, taking this opportunity to inspect his own arms. He flexes the scrawny muscle in his bicep, trying to will it to grow bigger with a glare. His head snaps up. Your fantasy. She said ‘your fantasy.’ Is that really what you like?

He looks back down at his muscles, entertaining the possibility of such a scenario. It seems challenging, but not impossible, considering he’d half-carried you up three flights of stairs not too long ago. Then again, that’s a little different than holding someone up while thrusting into them and not giving a sloppy performance. What a fucking thought. Restraining the urge to palm himself over his sweats, he brings a curled finger to his lips in contemplation while eavesdropping on the rest of the conversation you don’t seem interested in hiding.

“And because you fucking suck at selling yourself, this is the easiest way to you get there. You get the sex out of your system and then you find mister right --or misses right; I don’t judge!”

You sigh, knowing she’s the one with experience. Jennie has a new prospect every week, but she knows how to utilize others’ infatuation to her advantage, get what she wants, and discard them as she sees fit. And she does it so effortlessly that you can’t help but envy her. She would know better than you could ever hope to.

“Thank you, Jennie. Really. I-I’m so grateful. Just… thank you. I’ll put these up and see if I get any hits.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Y/N. It’s no big deal. Dudes are gonna be lining up to get in that pussy, babe. Don’t even worry ‘bout it, ‘kay? Love you bitch.”

“Love you…” The call ends and you wander thoughtlessly back into the bedroom.

Namjoon’s shit eating grin says everything that he doesn’t, but you settle into bed beside him and choose to ignore the look he’s giving you in favor of scrolling through the images again, completely disregarding the way you two were previously dry-humping to the sounds of your neighbors going at it. Namjoon’s frustrated sigh lets you know he hasn’t forgotten.

“Apparently Taehyung and Jennie worked on these together,” you say, pulling up the first one to show him. “Do you…” You hesitate, suddenly feeling shy and you nervously on your earlobe. “Do you think this is okay? Like am I lying to people if I put these up? I feel like they’re too good. I feel like they’ll expect this all the time and I don’t think that’s really fair.”

Namjoon’s eyes soften as he takes the phone from your palm. He licks his lips as he scans the details in the photo: the curve of your smile, the sweetness in your eyes, the way your head coyly rests upon your shoulder. You’re beautiful, as always. Makeup doesn’t really change that. But your smile radiates positivity and light in this particular instance; you’re practically glowing.

You twiddle your fingers together as you wait for the verdict, unable to read his stoic expression. “Well?”

His eyes roam from your face down to the photo a few times and he cracks a smile. “I think you need to stop worrying. I don’t see a difference.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you think I look too… good there?”

He mirrors your confused expression. “I think you look as good as you always do.” He catches himself when your confusion turns into bashfulness. “You know, for a nerd.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at the short lived compliment before propping your head up on his chest. Your finger pokes the screen, swiping across the images one by one and taking some time to review them with him. Not a single insult passes his lips. There’s nothing but praise spilling from him, finding something unique and genuine to compliment you on with each photo. He must sense your insecurity because he pauses each time and reminds you that he’s not being paid to say nice things. You silently thank him for at least trying to build you up. Surprisingly, it helps.

“I guess I’m using them then,” you sigh in defeat, rolling away from him as you take the phone back. You’re already downloading the photos so you can set them to your profile.

Namjoon rises at the opportunity, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of you actually finding someone. Because Jennie is right. With photos that actually do your beauty justice, people will be flocking to you in droves. It seems too real now that you’re eagerly putting them on there. “Tinder won’t know what hit ‘em,” he says dejectedly.

You’re too distracted to properly catch the disappointment in his tone. “I hope so.”

“Hey... I’m gonna go, Geeksquad. I just remembered I made plans with some of the guys and I want to make sure I run all my errands ahead of time.”

You hum a note of approval and almost miss the way his face twists in anxiety because as you look up, he transforms his stress into a soft smile. Still, you see just enough to know you’re being a rude bitch right now and it’s bothering him.

“I’m sorry.” You drop the phone and cross the room, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Thank you for staying with me, Joonie. I… really appreciate you. I’m a mess and you always take care of me. So thank you. For real.”

“I know, Geeksquad.” He strokes your head a couple times before taking a few steps back. It hurts too much to say what’s on his mind.

“And, um… before Jennie called I…” You lock eyes and you mouth the words you wish to say, but they don’t come as you want them to, “just got caught in the moment. I’m sorry.”

He blinks at you a few times before vigorously nodding. “Yeah.” He clears his throat after hearing the crack in his own voice, bringing it a few octaves deeper to protect his ego. “Yeah, uh, me too. Don’t even worry about it, okay? I’ll, uh, I’ll text you when I know what we’re doing.”

You nod enthusiastically, a grin spreading across your face. “Okay!”

With that, he disappears and you hear the unlocking of your door and the soft click when it closes behind him. Picking your phone up from the bed, you struggle with setting the order of the photos. You save and resave different combinations for about 10 minutes until a notification blocks your screen. You’ve got a match.

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clarinette07 · 6 years ago

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More Than Anything Else in the World

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge

#whiskey-cokenfanficbirthdaychallenge

Quote Challenge #24: “You should eat a waffle! You can’t be sad if you eat a waffle”

Summary: Reader is part of the SHIELD team that works closely with the Avengers. After a long mission, she comes home to quietly celebrate her birthday with her special family recipe only to be joined by the surly Winter Soldier. Little do they know they both will learn something new during their time shared together that will change their lives for the better.

A/N Thanks to my wonderful Beta @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog for always giving such wonderful feedback and helping me brainstorm in a new universe & Happy Birthday to my birthday twin @whiskey-cokenfanfic, hope you enjoy this fic, Love!

This mission had been a long one. Three and a half weeks away for a surveillance op that was supposed to only be a week-long, TOPS! (Great intel, Sam!) Now she could finally sit and enjoy her annual indulgence: Birthday Waffles! (Not that anyone knew they were birthday waffles. To everyone else, it was just another plate of yummy waffles.) Walking into the kitchen, she begins to gather all the necessary supplies when he walks in. Mr. Doom and Gloom himself - the Winter Soldier, grumpy as always, but that wasn't going to keep Y/N down. No, Sir! What some saw as an excuse to leave the room when he walked in, she saw it as a challenge. What positive reaction can I get from him today? She'd ask herself. If it was a smile, she'd take it. A multi-word answer, Score! Anything more than a silent look then walking away, she would consider a win.

So with that in mind, today's attempt would involve including the one person everyone considered cold and distant to join her in the activity that brought her the most warmth and joy in her heart.

"Hey, Buck, you hungry?"

"Hey, Y/N. Whatcha cookin' up today?"

Bucky, the once lively, extravert that was the life of the party and envy of all men and women alike had changed a lot over the years. Y/N remembered the stories that Cap would share about his best friend from Brooklyn and it broke her heart to see the shell of the former Hydra Winter Soldier. It wasn't until she noticed he would linger quietly in the kitchen when she would be making a pie or something for the team for dinner that reminded him of the old-time family-style meals that he started to open up to her.

Breakfast was one of those special times for them. When everyone else was sleeping in after a rough mission, Y/N just wanted to be in the kitchen and Bucky secretly just wanted to be near Y/N. He may not have talked about it much, but she brought a sense of calm to him that he never thought would be possible again after what Hydra did to him. There was just something about her homey, welcoming nature that brought him back to the '40s and allowed him to feel more at home in Stark Tower.

Here was her chance! Maybe he'll want to help me today, not just eat and run away?

"Waffles! Would you like to help me?"

This could all go south in an instant, but Y/N had to take a chance. It was her birthday wish, after all, to try and grow closer to the handsome Winter Soldier, and everyone knows the way to any man is through his stomach.

"Uhhh, Sure, I guess I could try and help," he nervously responded.

"Great! You're gonna love 'em! They're a family recipe."

As she finished gathering the necessary supplies and got him to measure the ingredients, she prepared the toppings. Fresh cut strawberries, chocolate sauce, and homemade whipped cream. YUM!!! When the last waffle was poured into the machine, they got their plates prepared to eat. Y/N was giddy with anticipation while Bucky just looked at her with wonder. Finally, after a long debate in his mind, he finally asked the question that has been plaguing him for a while.

"Why are you always so happy? Even after crappy missions, you're still happy and cooking all this great food. How do you do it?

Y/N was a bit taken back by his question, but she did want to grow closer and he couldn't have set her up with a better circumstance with which to do so. Taking a deep breath, she thought to herself, Well, here goes nothing!

"Well, Bucky, that's a really interesting and deep question. I'm not entirely sure how to answer it, but I'll try my best to." She said with a shy and bashful smile. "I've always been a happy child for the most part, and when anything would go wrong, my mother would always tell me that it was for a reason. Whether it was to keep us safe or end up blessing us in the long run, I just learned to look at life as if it were a glass half-filled, because it can get rather depressing if I start to let everything get to me and weigh me down. Like this latest mission. It was terrible, and even though it took much longer than I hoped, I can still eat my birthday waffles and remember the good times, no matter what the day. My mother used to sit me down when I was having a bad day and tell me, 'You should eat a waffle! You can't be sad if you eat a waffle!' And you know what? She was right! I've never been able to stay down while eating a yummy, delicious waffle." She says with a smile lined with whipped cream.

Bucky took in all that she said, but then one detail hit him like a bolt of lightning from Thor's hammer.

"Wait? Did you say birthday? When was your birthday??? Why did no one say anything about it? Tony never misses an opportunity to celebrate and throw a party."

Ducking her head down with a blush, "It was on Tuesday, July 23rd", she explains how she had her files sealed so that no one, not even SHIELD, could access the birthdate, just the year she was born. Since her family's tragic passing, she never felt the same celebrating it without her loved ones around, but over time she healed little by little and was able to make the special waffles again without crying, only the good memories remained.

Well, if he didn't love her before, hearing this just made his heart swell for her even more. He vowed from this day forward to never let her go through another rough mission or birthday alone again.

"Well, Dollface, Happy Birthday. I hope all your wishes come true."

"Thanks, Bucky, that means a lot to me."

From this moment on, Bucky's cold demeanor had thawed around Y/N and over time, her wish did come true. They grew closer and eventually started courting. Some old habits die hard, but it was one attribute that Y/N welcomed. It was so flattering to be asked to be courted by Mr. Barnes and before they knew it, another year had passed between their times cooking together, going on missions with the team, and then finding time to go on dates. One morning Y/N is woken up by the smell of something absolutely delicious and she wakes to find Bucky at the foot of her bed with a tray in hand filled with her birthday waffles and a candle on top that reads "Birthday Girl". Bucky quickly places the try down and wipes a stray tear from Y/N's face that had slipped without her knowing.

"Oh, Dollface, you should eat a waffle! You can't be sad if you eat a waffle" he says with a charming smirk and a wink. Throwing her arms around his neck she whispers

"Thank you, Buck. I love how you make me feel so special and loved."

"Because you ARE special and Loved, Doll. More than anything else in the world."

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge #whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge

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ralfmaximus · 5 years ago

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Snow White and the 1026 Dwarfs

Snow White woke up in the strangest little bed! She'd happened upon the small, cozy house deep in the woods, found nobody at home, and promptly crashed in the first bed she'd spotted. Sleep claimed her then, dragging her away to a place of relative peace and calm... carefully letting her ignore how tiny all the furnishings were, how oddly low were the ceilings and fixtures. And now, the next morning! What odd little men surrounded her! Normally she'd be alarmed by close proximity to so many strangers, but the events of the past day had granted her an oddly calm outlook on life. Nothing much rattled her anymore. Snow White blinked sleepily, yawned, and stretched. The men watched her every movement, transfixed. "Do you talk?" She asked experimentally. One older man -- tiny, rotund, and wiser than the rest with a long white beard -- glanced around at the others and nodded. He adjusted his spectacles and stepped forward. "I'm Doc," he explained with a jolly chuckle. "And these are my friends: Smarmy, Ragey, Explainy, Glossy, Pookie, Pesty, Grippy, Inebriated, Teary, Swampy, Piggy, Catty, Hitler, Stroky, Zombie, Mooky, Tandy, Fakey, Twinky, Biggie, Munchy, Stingy, Intrepid, Gabby, Shitsnacks, Packy, Growly, Sleazy, Pervy, Ookey, Maggy, Slither, Effy, Jelly, Freezy, Snuggy, Dippy, Toothy, Banger, Loathsome, Smelly, Loofa, Eerie, Jenny, Zoidberg, Fatty, Porkey, Cutty, Brazen, Krabby, Outlandish, Irony, Queasey, Juicy, Ugly, Wonky, Appealing, Lectory, Terminator, Off-putting, Shorty, Irregular, Hissy, Silky, Hardy, Whacker, Ginny, Pammy, Lovely, Chasey, Numby, Abba, Unmentionable, Phreaky, Gawkey, Spooly, Dairy, Flamy, Pickley, Jammy, Croaky, Diehardy, Sordid, Boasty, Rumbly, Klepto, Siggy, Serendipity, Touchy, Thrifty, Cassy, Noxy, Woggly, Gaggy, Beauty, Bluto, Easty, Larky, Sleepy, Hottie, Cloggy, Muffy, Busty, Flouncy, Oly, Wordy, Floopy, Bently, Winky, Rampy, Twitty, Rutty, Witchy, Boxey, Sexy, Sicky, Blazey, Googly, Chemistry, Humpy, Bloggy, Palsey, Tranny, Nipply, Creepy, Jumpy, Weekly, Dready, Burny, Stjnky, Potty, Poofey, Affable, Sippy, Yeachy, Volatile, Jacky, Pokey, Tumbly, Stinky, Hippie, Restless, Frosty, Slicey, Grabby, Bashful, Milky, Lenny, Slick, Losty, Dramatic, Subliminal, Peeny, Inserty, Botfly, Whipser, Edgy, Strutty, Gamey, Goaty, Slammy, Hickey, Murdery, Lickey, Quiet, Bastard, Sprainy, Griefy, Freeky, Snicky, Snobby, Destructive, Pagey, Hefty, Freepy, Dreamy, Tinny, Jaunty, Larpy, Yelpy, Pumpy, Techey, Wackey, Krappy, Porky, Banny, Lawdy, Spikey, Noxious, Robby, Forky, Woeful, Cringley, Roasty, Grumpy, Queefy, Slabby, Qwerty, Oaky, Rusty, Donner, Bitey, Ernie, Bratty, Reddy, Alky, Pearly, Tooky, Clingy, Rapey, Contagious, Wheezy, Toasty, Nosy, Hungry, Cupid, Woofy, Wicked, Kitty, Slappy, Silly, Oogly, Quagmire, Chumpy, Spocky, Secretive, Yukku, Checky, Goofy, Porney, Seepy, Angry, Junkie, Dumpy, Cagey, Handy, Ghastly, Bunny, Narky, Crummy, Tipsey, Wizzy, Peachy, Splashy, Frighty, Towley, Rangey, Twitchy, Birdy, Blotty, Wheely, Tweety, Mealy, Tazey, Boozy, Mopey, Icky, Hacky, Mental, Pasty, Guffy, Yelly, Picky, Lucy, Bloody, Doomy, Balky, Sharky, Moby, Tastey, Clunky, Happy, Nancy, Fry, Puke, Zany, Sweaty, Pimply, Poppy, Testy, Classy, Scratchy, Righty, Smegma, Pissy, Schmutzy, Proxy, Preachy, Prey, Baddy, Westy, Clumsey, Jumbo, Pawy, Jaundiced, Masturbatey, Spasms, Wiley, Pukey, Havok, Puffy, Startled, Prissy, Snoopy, Ruffian, Iggy, Acid-Refluxy, Nifty, Dressy, Gomer, Flabby, Deadly, Smalls, Neurotic, Hideous, Shecky, Blondy, Skunky, Yummy, Victor, Jewy, Arny, Neuty, Biff, Toady, Humpty, Moogly, Grassy, Corny, Feisty, Angsty, Creamy, Techy, Lopsey, Queeny, Stretchy, Mo, Spanks, Regretful, Snarfly, Underpants, Ready, Lanky, Splenda, Naggy, Faily, Yakky, Sizzly, Jokey, Pacey, Spooey, Traumatic, Screamy, Tucker, Pimpy, Beady, Roughy, Snoozy, Roofy, Quimbly, Brewy, Gumby, Pointy, Hooky, Writey, Shimmy, Bulgy, Nootsy, Bingey, Mooby, Dunky, Sully, Neurtsy, Woey, Jiggy, Prietsly, Terry, Forgetful, Comfy, Romney, Campy, Northy, Giggidy, Dipsy, Beefy, Poledancey, Apocalypse, Woozy, Evil, Talky, Vapid, Freaky, Whackey, Inserto, Bleaty, Chufty, Scuzzy, Crispy, Tepid, Snazzy, Sqealy, Grotty, Jimmy, Nanny, Godlike, Furious, Booty, Wolfy, Cumpy, Toily, Crumbly, Biggo, Boggly, Ironic, Belchy, Flaily, Killy, Puggy, Wendy, Gloomy, Verbosity, Listless, Twisty, Waffles, Archy, Wheatley, Iconic, Klassy, Pauley, Bruiser, Prefunctory, Ruffy, Poopy, Zuckerman, Snappy, Oily, Shakes, Yiles, Priggy, Airy, Godly, Hotty, Lassy, Fudgy, Wooky, Bursty, Leggy, Soggy, Soulful, Walky, Unkillable, Bindlestiff, Pathy, Soothy, Lolzy, Spiffy, Trekky, Toothsome, Goldy, Daffy, Yucky, Pappy, Snowy, Dancy, Sappy, Lana, Cursey, Drippy, Cackles, Fuzzy, Malignant, Ghosty, Quality, Hurty, Schulty, Fizzy, Toughy, Tweaky, Starry, Jigsaw, Piney, Magnanimous, Softy, Denty, Damned, Intolerable, Dodgey, Spazzy, Ropey, Socky, Moomoo, Sammy, Dampy, Cracky, Zippy, Whorey, Likey, Wooy, Spewy, Farty, Perthy, Kinky, Peely, Wetone, Squeaky, Frenzy, Noisy, Danny, Flippy, Fartsy, Gravy, Barfy, Loopy, Regular, Nedly, Quacky, Sloppy, Snooki, Crampy, Wetty, Appealy, Boofy, Snotty, Kwazy, Nutty, Regal, Zappy, Candy, Scary, Shakey, Yeasty, Trampy, Runty, Turgid, Icey, Dusty, Adolph, Pocky, Shitty, Nasty, Cranny, Mommy, Monkey, Prickley, Lumpy, Snippy, Quaffy, Wendigo, Opulent, Henny, Prancer, Pervo, Pippy, Rotund, Cavey, Dazzle, Clooney, Rumpy, Pudgy, Spunky, Ralfy, Questy, Dwarfy, Limpy, Rugby, Junky, Insideous, Assy, Hizzy, Hotsy, Honey, Punky, Blingy, Spinny, Nicky, Spindly, Lacey, Banshee, Feely, Baldy, Rabbity, Lunky, Swarley, Damply, Whiley, Splattery, Squirty, Alcoholic, Foggy, Denny, Berty, Zinny, Mammy, Delicious, Dropsey, Vixen, Beary, Beatlejuice, Knobby, Loudly, Meaty, Teethy, Drinky, Woz, Wanky, Scuffy, Swimmy, Gummy, Posse, Milly, Wallop, Pouty, Ruby, Chicken, Poofy, Funny, Smugly, Spinry, Grimey, Ripley, Savory, Schmuckey, Stainy, Quivery, Pooly, Droopy, Lappy, Herpy, Able, Goosey, Dapper, Beasty, Dazy, Giggy, Drowsy, Lowly, Coolie, Slutty, Burby, Nippy, Firey, Sniffy, Glassy, Factory, Cheney, Slidey, Chippy, Kludgy, Orly, Meany, Kreepy, Pooley, Ninja, Whizzy, Victim, Iffy, Saggy, Kenny, Floppy, Nabby, Sickley, Groggy, Liquidity, Hussy, Jinxy, Kewpie, Lampy, Saxy, Dexter, Doleful, Dandy, Peggy, Mooey, Slashy, Drunkey, Homo, Rolly, Hoggly, Healy, Salty, Gropey, Ghouley, Whirley, Faggy, Weedy, Teaser, Dasher, Ego, Artsy, Quippy, Insanity, Beastly, Chappy, Sparky, Zesty, Tasty, Bumpy, Tappy, Uggy, Herky, Greasy, Weakly, Grungy, Jeery, Menthol, Ouchy, Trollface, Morty, Pandy, Scooby, Miley, Racky, Upchuck, Stumpy, Spongy, Slurpy, Kiley, Tummy, Incindiary, Tokey, Flighty, Pussy, Porker, Pranky, Itchy, Spongey, Fuckey, Stuffy, Quiver, Dreary, Ravey, Dirtzy, Tanky, Crabby, Besty, Dregs, Killzy, Wackry, Daisy, Killer, Chevy, Tacky, Stimpy, Tiny, Buffy, Piggie, Crufty, Stabby, Oozey, Unlucky, Beatnik, Twitly, Kingly, Aery, Ogly, Gimpy, Shanky, Trippy, Fingery, Trumpy, Quackey, Cringey, Hokey, Emergency, Flowery, Tinky, Wifey, Crowley, Gassy, Gingery, Bobby, Tender, Penny, Nutso, Mighty, Crazy, Klinky, Blitzen, Clappy, Slitty, Leaky, Queasy, Wallaby, Buddy, Bootlicker, Peeky, Sadistic, Lovey, Glowy, Pickles, Gingerly, Misty, Lofty, Mickey, Wrappy, Ridiculous, Perky, Tangly, Sprockets, Lackey, Awful, Crassy, Runny, Nasal, Frigid, Doggy, Leafy, Planty, Stealthy, Soapy, Draggy, Queery, Texty, Undie, Davey, Fucky, Futurey, Lefty, Sickly, Diseased, Cranky, Nukey, Gangly, Totty, Dummy, Flakey, Lizzy, Tighty, Froggy, Gunny, Doily, Blotto, Seizey, Lazy, Venty, Blacky, Sandy, Immotral, Spangly, Clowny, Falsey, Loosey, Hanky, Wavy, Shifty, Annoying, Navy, Broody, Cunty, Impressy, Tuffy, Anonymous, Dickey, Pugly, Trolly, Kissy, Reflexy, Prawny, Obnoxious, Duffy, Kingy, Clicky, Nosey, Weepy, Phony, Frenny, Blinky, Neutral, Icony, Southy, Jetty, Teeny, Brutus, Wiffy, Smuggy, Busy, Plucky, Fisty, Spotty, Smokey, Chokey, Lippy, Tammy, Baggy, Powerless, Whitey, Typo, Mimsey, Tiki, Slurpee, Tearful, Flamey, Boozey, Moochy, Jewlery, Wobbly, Bossy, Randy, Curmudgeon, Grampy, Treacherous, Tonedeaf, Handsy, Speedy, Lulzy, Marty, Smacky, Rooky, Frightened, Piggly, Artful, Plowy, Bitchy, Barky, Preppy, Sunny, Rocky, Whappy, Hiney, Spanky, Whammy, Deafy, Mathy, Brainy, Fishy, Barfly, Swifty, Clueless, Dizzy, Lordy, Swindly, Pony, Snooty, Twix, Banksy, Wisty, Squirmy, Brewery, Scrappy, Slippy, Trollop, Ballsy, Willy, Rappy, Sneezy, Addy, Icy, Earny, Fidgety, Schooly, Klangy, Wistful, Metal, Lucky, Obsessive, Henzy, Huggy, Sassy, Agey, Pinky, Horny, Benny, Passy, Tingly, Rippy, Reagal, Freebie, Tossy, Slippery, Touchey, Kermy, Wiggly, Druggy, Hippy, Sweety, Dougie, Crappy, Peaty, Nazi, Faulty, Swirley, Crunchy, Bully, Flambe, Biddy, Hoppy, Bangy, Punny, Unsavory, Derpy, Jizzy, Ratty, Unlikable, Gently, Droppy, Ren, Smithy, Knotty, Deady, Chicky, Jerky, Flatulent, Billy, Pithy, Humphrey, Hansel, Poopie, Snuggly, Loki, Dopey, Yippy, Ridonkulous, Cody, Blatty, Renny, Parky, Prancy, Banananery, Yukky, Cheaty, Lossy, Scruffy, Silty, and Drifty." Snow White laughed and clapped her hands with delight. "My, there certainly are a lot of you! I'm ever so sorry for barging in here uninvited, but I don't really have a home any more... would you mind terribly if I stayed for awhile? I can cook and clean and--" Doc raised a hand, interrupting her gently. "We'd be honored if you stayed!" All 1026 dwarfs nodded in agreement, and were so thrilled they threw Snow White a party to celebrate their new friendship. The party lasted late into the evening, and everyone passed out with full tummies and a happy smile lighting their faces. The next day the dwarfs arose early and prepared for work. Snow White cooked them breakfast and when it was time to leave they all lined up at the door to bid her farewell for the day. Snow White expressed her gratitude by kissing each dwarf on the forehead: Smarmy, Ragey, Explainy, Glossy, Pookie, Pesty, Grippy, Inebriated, Teary, Swampy, Piggy, Catty, Hitler, Stroky, Zombie, Mooky, Tandy, Fakey, Twinky, Biggie, Munchy, Stingy, Intrepid, Gabby, Shitsnacks, Packy, Growly, Sleazy, Pervy, Ookey, Maggy, Slither, Effy, Jelly, Freezy, Snuggy, Dippy, Toothy, Banger, Loathsome, Smelly, Loofa, Eerie, Jenny, Zoidberg, Fatty, Porkey, Cutty, Brazen, Krabby, Outlandish, Irony, Queasey, Juicy, Ugly, Wonky, Appealing, Lectory, Terminator, Off-putting, Shorty, Irregular, Hissy, Silky, Hardy, Whacker, Ginny, Pammy, Lovely, Chasey, Numby, Abba, Unmentionable, Phreaky, Gawkey, Spooly, Dairy, Flamy, Pickley, Jammy, Croaky, Diehardy, Sordid, Boasty, Rumbly, Klepto, Siggy, Serendipity, Touchy, Thrifty, Cassy, Noxy, Woggly, Gaggy, Beauty, Bluto, Easty, Larky, Sleepy, Hottie, Cloggy, Muffy, Busty, Flouncy, Oly, Wordy, Floopy, Bently, Winky, Rampy, Twitty, Rutty, Witchy, Boxey, Sexy, Sicky, Blazey, Googly, Chemistry, Humpy, Bloggy, Palsey, Tranny, Nipply, Creepy, Jumpy, Weekly, Dready, Burny, Stjnky, Potty, Poofey, Affable, Sippy, Yeachy, Volatile, Jacky, Pokey, Tumbly, Stinky, Hippie, Restless, Frosty, Slicey, Grabby, Bashful, Milky, Lenny, Slick, Losty, Dramatic, Subliminal, Peeny, Inserty, Botfly, Whipser, Edgy, Strutty, Gamey, Goaty, Slammy, Hickey, Murdery, Lickey, Quiet, Bastard, Sprainy, Griefy, Freeky, Snicky, Snobby, Destructive, Pagey, Hefty, Freepy, Dreamy, Tinny, Jaunty, Larpy, Yelpy, Pumpy, Techey, Wackey, Krappy, Porky, Banny, Lawdy, Spikey, Noxious, Robby, Forky, Woeful, Cringley, Roasty, Grumpy, Queefy, Slabby, Qwerty, Oaky, Rusty, Donner, Bitey, Ernie, Bratty, Reddy, Alky, Pearly, Tooky, Clingy, Rapey, Contagious, Wheezy, Toasty, Nosy, Hungry, Cupid, Woofy, Wicked, Kitty, Slappy, Silly, Oogly, Quagmire, Chumpy, Spocky, Secretive, Yukku, Checky, Goofy, Porney, Seepy, Angry, Junkie, Dumpy, Cagey, Handy, Ghastly, Bunny, Narky, Crummy, Tipsey, Wizzy, Peachy, Splashy, Frighty, Towley, Rangey, Twitchy, Birdy, Blotty, Wheely, Tweety, Mealy, Tazey, Boozy, Mopey, Icky, Hacky, Mental, Pasty, Guffy, Yelly, Picky, Lucy, Bloody, Doomy, Balky, Sharky, Moby, Tastey, Clunky, Happy, Nancy, Fry, Puke, Zany, Sweaty, Pimply, Poppy, Testy, Classy, Scratchy, Righty, Smegma, Pissy, Schmutzy, Proxy, Preachy, Prey, Baddy, Westy, Clumsey, Jumbo, Pawy, Jaundiced, Masturbatey, Spasms, Wiley, Pukey, Havok, Puffy, Startled, Prissy, Snoopy, Ruffian, Iggy, Acid-Refluxy, Nifty, Dressy, Gomer, Flabby, Deadly, Smalls, Neurotic, Hideous, Shecky, Blondy, Skunky, Yummy, Victor, Jewy, Arny, Neuty, Biff, Toady, Humpty, Moogly, Grassy, Corny, Feisty, Angsty, Creamy, Techy, Lopsey, Queeny, Stretchy, Mo, Spanks, Regretful, Snarfly, Underpants, Ready, Lanky, Splenda, Naggy, Faily, Yakky, Sizzly, Jokey, Pacey, Spooey, Traumatic, Screamy, Tucker, Pimpy, Beady, Roughy, Snoozy, Roofy, Quimbly, Brewy, Gumby, Pointy, Hooky, Writey, Shimmy, Bulgy, Nootsy, Bingey, Mooby, Dunky, Sully, Neurtsy, Woey, Jiggy, Prietsly, Terry, Forgetful, Comfy, Romney, Campy, Northy, Giggidy, Dipsy, Beefy, Poledancey, Apocalypse, Woozy, Evil, Talky, Vapid, Freaky, Whackey, Inserto, Bleaty, Chufty, Scuzzy, Crispy, Tepid, Snazzy, Sqealy, Grotty, Jimmy, Nanny, Godlike, Furious, Booty, Wolfy, Cumpy, Toily, Crumbly, Biggo, Boggly, Ironic, Belchy, Flaily, Killy, Puggy, Wendy, Gloomy, Verbosity, Listless, Twisty, Waffles, Archy, Wheatley, Iconic, Klassy, Pauley, Bruiser, Prefunctory, Ruffy, Poopy, Zuckerman, Snappy, Oily, Shakes, Yiles, Priggy, Airy, Godly, Hotty, Lassy, Fudgy, Wooky, Bursty, Leggy, Soggy, Soulful, Walky, Unkillable, Bindlestiff, Pathy, Soothy, Lolzy, Spiffy, Trekky, Toothsome, Goldy, Daffy, Yucky, Pappy, Snowy, Dancy, Sappy, Lana, Cursey, Drippy, Cackles, Fuzzy, Malignant, Ghosty, Quality, Hurty, Schulty, Fizzy, Toughy, Tweaky, Starry, Jigsaw, Piney, Magnanimous, Softy, Denty, Damned, Intolerable, Dodgey, Spazzy, Ropey, Socky, Moomoo, Sammy, Dampy, Cracky, Zippy, Whorey, Likey, Wooy, Spewy, Farty, Perthy, Kinky, Peely, Wetone, Squeaky, Frenzy, Noisy, Danny, Flippy, Fartsy, Gravy, Barfy, Loopy, Regular, Nedly, Quacky, Sloppy, Snooki, Crampy, Wetty, Appealy, Boofy, Snotty, Kwazy, Nutty, Regal, Zappy, Candy, Scary, Shakey, Yeasty, Trampy, Runty, Turgid, Icey, Dusty, Adolph, Pocky, Shitty, Nasty, Cranny, Mommy, Monkey, Prickley, Lumpy, Snippy, Quaffy, Wendigo, Opulent, Henny, Prancer, Pervo, Pippy, Rotund, Cavey, Dazzle, Clooney, Rumpy, Pudgy, Spunky, Ralfy, Questy, Dwarfy, Limpy, Rugby, Junky, Insideous, Assy, Hizzy, Hotsy, Honey, Punky, Blingy, Spinny, Nicky, Spindly, Lacey, Banshee, Feely, Baldy, Rabbity, Lunky, Swarley, Damply, Whiley, Splattery, Squirty, Alcoholic, Foggy, Denny, Berty, Zinny, Mammy, Delicious, Dropsey, Vixen, Beary, Beatlejuice, Knobby, Loudly, Meaty, Teethy, Drinky, Woz, Wanky, Scuffy, Swimmy, Gummy, Posse, Milly, Wallop, Pouty, Ruby, Chicken, Poofy, Funny, Smugly, Spinry, Grimey, Ripley, Savory, Schmuckey, Stainy, Quivery, Pooly, Droopy, Lappy, Herpy, Able, Goosey, Dapper, Beasty, Dazy, Giggy, Drowsy, Lowly, Coolie, Slutty, Burby, Nippy, Firey, Sniffy, Glassy, Factory, Cheney, Slidey, Chippy, Kludgy, Orly, Meany, Kreepy, Pooley, Ninja, Whizzy, Victim, Iffy, Saggy, Kenny, Floppy, Nabby, Sickley, Groggy, Liquidity, Hussy, Jinxy, Kewpie, Lampy, Saxy, Dexter, Doleful, Dandy, Peggy, Mooey, Slashy, Drunkey, Homo, Rolly, Hoggly, Healy, Salty, Gropey, Ghouley, Whirley, Faggy, Weedy, Teaser, Dasher, Ego, Artsy, Quippy, Insanity, Beastly, Chappy, Sparky, Zesty, Tasty, Bumpy, Tappy, Uggy, Herky, Greasy, Weakly, Grungy, Jeery, Menthol, Ouchy, Trollface, Morty, Pandy, Scooby, Miley, Racky, Upchuck, Stumpy, Spongy, Slurpy, Kiley, Tummy, Incindiary, Tokey, Flighty, Pussy, Porker, Pranky, Itchy, Spongey, Fuckey, Stuffy, Quiver, Dreary, Ravey, Dirtzy, Tanky, Crabby, Besty, Dregs, Killzy, Wackry, Daisy, Killer, Chevy, Tacky, Stimpy, Tiny, Buffy, Piggie, Crufty, Stabby, Oozey, Unlucky, Beatnik, Twitly, Kingly, Aery, Ogly, Gimpy, Shanky, Trippy, Fingery, Trumpy, Quackey, Cringey, Hokey, Emergency, Flowery, Tinky, Wifey, Crowley, Gassy, Gingery, Bobby, Tender, Penny, Nutso, Mighty, Crazy, Klinky, Blitzen, Clappy, Slitty, Leaky, Queasy, Wallaby, Buddy, Bootlicker, Peeky, Sadistic, Lovey, Glowy, Pickles, Gingerly, Misty, Lofty, Mickey, Wrappy, Ridiculous, Perky, Tangly, Sprockets, Lackey, Awful, Crassy, Runny, Nasal, Frigid, Doggy, Leafy, Planty, Stealthy, Soapy, Draggy, Queery, Texty, Undie, Davey, Fucky, Futurey, Lefty, Sickly, Diseased, Cranky, Nukey, Gangly, Totty, Dummy, Flakey, Lizzy, Tighty, Froggy, Gunny, Doily, Blotto, Seizey, Lazy, Venty, Blacky, Sandy, Immotral, Spangly, Clowny, Falsey, Loosey, Hanky, Wavy, Shifty, Annoying, Navy, Broody, Cunty, Impressy, Tuffy, Anonymous, Dickey, Pugly, Trolly, Kissy, Reflexy, Prawny, Obnoxious, Duffy, Kingy, Clicky, Nosey, Weepy, Phony, Frenny, Blinky, Neutral, Icony, Southy, Jetty, Teeny, Brutus, Wiffy, Smuggy, Busy, Plucky, Fisty, Spotty, Smokey, Chokey, Lippy, Tammy, Baggy, Powerless, Whitey, Typo, Mimsey, Tiki, Slurpee, Tearful, Flamey, Boozey, Moochy, Jewlery, Wobbly, Bossy, Randy, Curmudgeon, Grampy, Treacherous, Tonedeaf, Handsy, Speedy, Lulzy, Marty, Smacky, Rooky, Frightened, Piggly, Artful, Plowy, Bitchy, Barky, Preppy, Sunny, Rocky, Whappy, Hiney, Spanky, Whammy, Deafy, Mathy, Brainy, Fishy, Barfly, Swifty, Clueless, Dizzy, Lordy, Swindly, Pony, Snooty, Twix, Banksy, Wisty, Squirmy, Brewery, Scrappy, Slippy, Trollop, Ballsy, Willy, Rappy, Sneezy, Addy, Icy, Earny, Fidgety, Schooly, Klangy, Wistful, Metal, Lucky, Obsessive, Henzy, Huggy, Sassy, Agey, Pinky, Horny, Benny, Passy, Tingly, Rippy, Reagal, Freebie, Tossy, Slippery, Touchey, Kermy, Wiggly, Druggy, Hippy, Sweety, Dougie, Crappy, Peaty, Nazi, Faulty, Swirley, Crunchy, Bully, Flambe, Biddy, Hoppy, Bangy, Punny, Unsavory, Derpy, Jizzy, Ratty, Unlikable, Gently, Droppy, Ren, Smithy, Knotty, Deady, Chicky, Jerky, Flatulent, Billy, Pithy, Humphrey, Hansel, Poopie, Snuggly, Loki, Dopey, Yippy, Ridonkulous, Cody, Blatty, Renny, Parky, Prancy, Banananery, Yukky, Cheaty, Lossy, Scruffy, Silty, and Drifty each trooped past Snow White and received a farewell kiss and by the time she reached the end of the line her lips fell off.

18 notes · View notes