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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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reblogging comment review by @zyafics

ok i can't contain myself to write so i will be reading (sorry for all the tiktoks send over dms hahaha) ⬇️

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

always obsessed with your descriptions and im grinning so hard knowing that's ME hehehe

It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you.

NOT FOR LONG I READ THE WARNING

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots. It was refreshing.

my dom girlyyy

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s. Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGG (muffled behind a pillow)

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

me rn: login who???

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

im so giddily rn, their banter is TOP TIER

“Logan’s a lucky guy.”

OH I SPELT IT WRONG LOLLLLL

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

🤭 im like a schoolgirl rn

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

imma be so honest i thought WE were gonna be cheating but i guess HE'S cheating that scumbag

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe said softly, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler, “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

I KNOW so give me that dick 😁

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice. As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety creeped in. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

i need him to SLAM into logan ohmygod

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

ANGRY MAKEOUT SESSION LETS GOOO

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

oh im horny

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

oh HE'S horny

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on.

ok im at a cafe, reading this smut on my 14'' screen where everyone can surely see. let me pack up and go home and i'll be back to react.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue.

I'M BACK

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

Oh. My. God. this is so fucking hot what the FUCK

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world.

it's me, but THAT SHOULD BE ME!!!!!!

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged.

IM GRINNING my favorite part of public sex smut is the fact they're almost caught hahahahaa

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

my baby my baby my babyyy

final thoughts—i'm obsessed with this. ur writing. you. ohmygod, as always, the first thing that comes to my head is your descriptions. when you were describing reader, the medical training, the equipment and the environment, i always feel so immersed by your vocabulary and imagery. next, the fucking BANTER, oh you got me clutching my chest, giggling in the middle of a cafe. thank god no one was looking over my screen. but truly, i love how lowkey smitten rafe is with reader. he's always in love with her before the story truly begins and i love how much softer this version of rafe is. don't get me wrong, he's possessive and a beast on the ice, but something about him is so baby girl. thank you, gigi, for doing my request justice, i swear i want more!!!!

looking like motivation - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you.

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made. And he made a lot of those.

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury. You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you. Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan. “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots. It was refreshing.

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain. It was from trying to resist the urge to say something that might actually cross the line. But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes sharp, watching your reaction.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rafe shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.”

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about. Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, I am focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you.

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise. He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful. It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, Rafe couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch.

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, though there was a playful lilt to his voice. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, his tone still light but with an undercurrent of something more serious. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to mask the sting of rejection. "No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing firm even though his eyes on you made your heart race. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But Rafe was hard to read when he wanted to be, his playful exterior a well-practiced mask that he rarely let slip. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting. Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, your demeanor as cool and composed as ever. “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. It was enough to send a jolt of electricity through him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And Rafe had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up. But the words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest tightened.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“Come on, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know. His chest tightened, protectiveness swelling inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking slightly as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you said quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe said softly, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler, “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made your heart ache even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted, your voice small and lost.

He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he said, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes soft as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away. He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone. But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found myself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point. But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart.

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“You know,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the subtle edge in his tone. “Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Excited? Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal. He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step.

“I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze.

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world at that moment, made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you whispered back, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply.

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue.

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more.

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch.

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach.

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.”

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair.

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

"Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath.

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge.

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world.

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm.

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

"God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out.

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged.

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it.

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of."

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

"Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan.

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high.

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

"You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you.

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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itsmemuffy · 3 days ago

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Random Fluffy/Cute Logan Howlett HC's

Original Trilogy!Logan x fem reader, 110% fluff

a/n: I started writing for Logan a couple of months back. Decided it was time to be brave and actually post something. My drafts are a mess of half written drabbles and random ideas, so I am testing the waters with some HC's while I try to figure out how I want to write him.

➼ We all know Logan has almost no sense of pop culture. Kids at the mansion will tease him when a reference goes completely over his head. He hates the feeling of not being in control of a social interaction. One time, he catches you giggling off to the side when he gets called an old man for the third time that day; one of the few instances you've ever seen him blush. His consumption of modern media has mainly consisted of dad rock that plays in dingy bars and the occasional movie he was forced to sit through.

➼ Speaking of... he loves movie nights. At first it was just a guaranteed way to get you alone once a week, adoring how you get all exited over whatever film you had picked out. It's not like Logan had planned to pay attention to what was happening on screen, anyway. More often than not, however, he finds himself getting waaay too into the movie than he originally intended. He's a smartass that likes to call out the inconsistencies and plot holes. When a movie has an ending he isn't satisfied with, it will make him genuinely angry.

➼ Second only to movie nights, Logan's favorite moments spent with you is when you go on walks together. Both of your free time is rare and precious. The second he has the opportunity, he will take you by the hand and lead you off somewhere, anywhere. Wandering around, arms linked, sometimes in silence, sometimes while letting eachother ramble on and on about everything and nothing. He cherishes the simplicity of being hand in hand with the woman he loves, enjoying nature with her. Every time without fail, Logan will ask if you are cold, wrapping you in his jacket. It drives him wild the way your scent will linger on his clothing when you give it back.

➼ So called "actual" dates where he takes you out are far and few between. Sometimes it eats at Logan that he can't treat you the way he feels you deserve. A hectic and unpredictable schedule is just one of the things that come with being part of the X-Men and it's hard for him to plan things ahead of time. Even if it's just a late night drive to a 24-hour diner after he gets back from a mission, he will make time for you any way he can.

➼ Logan needs to initiate some form of touch when you're in his presence. Even if it's just a hand resting gently on the back of your shoulder, he will make sure you are linked to him any way possible. It brings him great comfort just to be near you. Everyone knows that as soon as he walks into a room you're in, he will be glued to your hip. At the end of the day, you're Logan's peace and he wouldn't pass up a single second to be next to you.

#Wolverine x reader #Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett fluff

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midnight-mourning · 3 days ago

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DCA Promptober Day 31: Trick or Treat

Last one! Took a little extra time but we finally made it! Hope you enjoy, this is a fun little something something for the Confused Spirit fans in the audience

Additionally, if you have not read Confused Spirit, many of these characters will have no value to you I'm guessing, so, sorry about that. There's also some slight, implied spoilers for the fic as well. That being said, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 6392

Content warning: mentions of blood, injury, and death, reader descretion is advised

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

It's Halloween at the Plex, and you're, well you're not sure how to feel about it. You had to work, meaning your sister and brother are currently out trick or treating with Clara instead of you, which is a bit frustrating. Not to mention, you'd gotten all dressed up and had nowhere to go until you got off in an hour or so.

You think a mandated Halloween party, on top of having to work on a project, wasn't a great combination, but with the glare Sarah had sent in the meeting last week to you and the other division heads, you didn't have much a choice. Have to set a good example and all that.

At the very least, you weren't the only one dressed up, so you didn't look as ridiculous sitting hunched over a desk covered in green paint and fake stitches.

Your team all had various costumes on, differing in degrees of effort and style. Pete went classic vampire, Jesse was a mummy, and Tyler was a zombie. Liv was rocking a great Mia Wallace costume, and Savannah had on a witch hat but really went for it with her makeup look.

Currently, as both a way to kill time and to potentially fix the problem you'd been having, you were all trying your best to fix the issues going on with Fazerblast.

Specifically, something had been messing with both the electric and the mechanical components of the entire attraction. While Lizzy and their team worked to determine what had been causing the random power outages, your goal was attempting to fix the malfunctioning laser guns and rogue staff bots.

You'd tried to tell both Sarah and Rachel that the place really needed shut down for a few days to actually work on it, but no luck. Seems they wanted it open for Halloween, regardless of how bad an idea you thought that was.

When your code crashes again you groan, tempted to run a hand across your face before you remember the paint.

"Frankenstein's monster was a good choice for you. You really sell it," Pete quips, sipping on a blood red slushy in one hand, still typing with the other.

You turn to him, eyes narrow, "Remind me why I'm helping you with coding again? When I could be doing literally anything else?"

"Gives him an ego boost," Jesse answers from across the room, "No offense."

You scoff, turning to the coworker across from you, "Figured as much. Savannah, any word from the company that sold us the trigger pins?"

"Not yet," She sighs, puffing out her cheeks, "But I keep checking the reviews and nobody else has had the same issues we've had here. They shouldn't be freaking out like this."

"Figured that much, too. Liv?"

She looks up and over to you, tired, dead stare on her face as she holds up the phone, "Still on hold. I'm guessing corporate left early for the day and couldn't be bothered to let everyone know."

You grimace, and check the time. It's after six now, the party starts at 6:30. That's more than enough for you at this point.

"Right. You know what, we're done here. Pack it up, we can grab food before the party because I know Sarah's going to be stingy about it."

With muted, half-defeated cheer, your team closes out of their computers and shuffles to the door. Besides Tyler, he's in a great mood still, but you expected as much.

As you're grabbing your jacket and turning out the lights, you swear you see something out of the corner of your eye by your computer. Something purple. When you turn, you find that your computer is on again, login screen staring at you.

"You coming?" Savannah calls from halfway down the hall.

You turn to yell back, "Yeah, give me a sec, just hold the elevator."

Slowly, you walk back over to your computer, giving it a once over. It looks fine, just turned on. You take hold of the mouse, and hover it over the shut off button again. As you click it, the screen freaks out, glitching before turning black. At the same time, a shock goes up your arm and you yelp, purple flashing across your vision.

Dazed, you shake your head, and clutching your arm, make your way out of the office and to the elevator.

You shuffle in, and as the doors close Jesse leans over and mutters to you above the chattering of your team.

"You alright?"

You nod, "Yeah, just, a little tired I guess." Your head feels funny, but otherwise you're fine. You think.

"What'd you do to your hand?" He asks, looking to how you're still holding it.

You let it go, shaking it off and letting it fall to your side, "Stoved it on my way out. I'll live."

He nods and you continue your ascent. But you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. Your arm twitches and at the same time your vision becomes glazed over in a purple hue. You shake your head, and it's gone again.

The upper levels are filled with activity. Kids rush from place to place, already tired parents in tow. The words 'trick or treat!' are echoed everywhere as children go from the different tables and booths set up for the holiday.

If Lisa knew this was going on she'd have a fit that she was out going house to house instead of being here. But asking Clara to watch her in this chaos would have been cruel, and so, the less your sister knew, the better. Besides, Gabe deserved an authentic trick or treating experience as opposed to getting themed-corporate garbage in his candy bucket. For one of his first times at least.

As you pass by the Daycare, seeing many children playing in costumes and such, you see the doors are propped open, and Sun is handing out candy to a long line of trick or treaters.

"Damn Pete, the Daycare Attendant really outshone you huh?" Savannah elbows him and nods to the animatronic's costume.

Sun is also a vampire, with a large black cloak, and white shirt. His pants are somehow all black, and the change of shoes is also a surprise. Two lines of red streak down from his smile, which is still as friendly as ever otherwise.

Pete huffs, "It's literally the same costume, besides he doesn't even have fangs!"

You all start walking again, laughing.

"True, but he wore it better, even without fangs."

The comment causes Pete to start arguing with the speaker, which to the surprise of no one at all, was Jesse.

You keep your gaze on Sun a few moments more, head feeling a bit clearer for just a moment. He glances up suddenly, and waves to you, head tilting just slightly. Surprised, you also wave.

There's a buzz in your pocket. As you start to walk away again you check it.

'Your costume is nice.'

You wait for another message, you don't get one.

'Thanks???' You're confused.

'Something wrong?'

'I just would have expected you to say something snarky at this point. Genuine compliments aren't your style'

You narrowly dodge an eager trick or treater running by you, nodding at their parent as they apologize.

'It's Halloween. I'm in a good mood, don't sour it for me'

You scoff, 'There it is. I don't plan to, though it's tempting to have Clara swing by with the kids just for the fun of it'

From there, your normal bickering comes forth, and you continue it both as you head to the party and while at it. It's a bit busier than you expected, more employees than you expected are there mingling about the dancefloor.

The entire west arcade, like the rest of the Plex, is done up with decorations that set the mood. There's even a fog machine, adding to the spooky but cheerful atmosphere.

You still feel pretty funny though, and thus take the time to go 'cool off' out in the hall for a bit.

It grows worse and you have to lean back against the wall. Head throbbing as you try to drink more punch in the hopes that will solve it. Your vision flashes again, purple, and suddenly you're not in the same location anymore.

It's dark, and you're standing over someone. You can't see their face, it's covered with static. They're crying, hands up in surrender. You feel yourself chuckle, but it's not your voice, your tone is off. It's gravely. Not your own.

Suddenly, out of your control, your hand, which is not your hand but some, clawed, thing, comes down and-

Your vision goes red and you clutch your head in pain. Gasping, you find yourself back in the hallway, back in your body. Back to normal.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. You don't know what that was. You don't want to find out, either.

"Not enjoying the party, Andromeda?"

You look up, standing above you is Moon. He's also dressed up for this, wearing a witch costume that has more aspects of his usual wear to it than Sun's did. His color scheme is purple with bits of orange, and his usual hat is replaced by a large witch hat.

You relax, the pain is gone, for now, "Trying to. I've not been feeling so hot, honestly."

"What's wrong?" He sits down across from you, cross-legged.

You shake your head, "I don't know. My head has just been, feeling funny. And hurts. A lot, really. Been blocking it out I guess."

"How unfortunate. Perhaps I could be of help?"

You shrug, "You can try, but don't feel like you have to, either."

Moon holds out his hand to you, and you set your palm on top of his. He intwines your fingers, which makes your face heat up, but you think with all the paint on your face it's impossible to tell. You look up to him, waiting.

"Close your eyes, and take a deep breath," He urges.

You do. The pain has subsided some, though not by much.

"Breathe in," Pause, "Breathe out."

You follow his instructions, each breath helping to soothe you bit by bit.

You realize however, that even with your eyes closed, there's a purplish tint to the blackness behind your eyes. You frown, and notice that it grows when you breath in, and subsides as you breathe out.

Moon's grip tightens on yours, but keeps speaking.

"In," His tone shifts, growing hoarser, sinister? "Out..."

Alarm spikes in your stomach, but yet, your mind stays calm, almost like its-

You open your eyes, smiling softly, "I think I'm good now. Thanks, Moon-man."

He nods.

Then, something occurs to you.

"Wait a minute, shouldn't you be passing out candy to the kids-" You blink, and you're alone in the fully lit hallway.

You rub your eyes, had the lights been on that entire time? You knew that sometimes the two AI could avoid a switch if the light level wasn't fully one way or the other. But this was different.

You don't get to dwell on it, as a scream erupts from inside the west arcade, several others following. Alarmed, you sit up, ignoring the pain in your skull that's back with a vengeance and rush inside.

You find a crowd has gathered around the center of the dancefloor. The music's been cut, and people are muttering with horrified looks at whatever’s in the middle of the group.

As you move past people who are covering their mouths or eyes, some are crying, some are shaking their heads in disbelief. You find your team among them.

"What's going on?" You ask after shoving past another person.

Savannah shakes her head, and Liv cowers further into Tyler's arms. You've never seen him so grim.

You realize two of them are missing, your fear grows, "...Where's Jesse and Pete?"

Tyler nods to the center of the crowd, and you quickly take the few further steps to burst out into the opening, finding your fears confirmed plainly.

Pete sits on the ground, crying as he cradles a body wrapped in white cloth stained red. You have to flick your eyes away from it for a moment, the sight being beyond shocking.

Swallowing and keeping your eyes to the ground, you slowly approach Pete and sit down. Briefly, you find your eyes meeting your, Christ, your dead friend's. His eyes are wide, mouth open in pure horror.

You turn back to the man beside you, setting your hand on his shoulder as he jumps, "What happened?"

"The, the lights cut, just, he just," He can't seem to look away, he's shaking, "I don't, I don't know how this would've, who could've, do-done this..."

You put your other hand on his other shoulder, forcing him to turn and look to you, "Pete. Breathe. Just breathe. Okay?"

He nods slowly, and you turn to behind the crowd behind you, "Please tell me somebody's called the cops?"

"No signal, trying to get ahold of Derrick in the office, but haven't had any luck," You realize that it's Bri who's answering you, looking rather grim in her black cat costume.

You nod, "Right. Who's got basic medical training? I think he's gone into shock."

Someone steps forward, and starts tending to Pete. Someone else comes forward and lays a sheet over Jesse's body. A ghost costume you realize, how ironically morbid.

You stand, and-unfortunately being the person with the most experience in this scenario-try your best to take charge and calm things down. You also feel some level of responsibility, given that all the other Division Heads seem to be missing now.

Working with Bri, you send a group to the security office to see if they can't notify the police of what's happened. Additionally, you try to lock down the area to keep this from getting beyond the walls of this room and causing mass panic. Not to mention, you have no idea who did this, meaning they're still among you as far as you're aware.

It's all going as smooth as it can be until Bri and the other guards’ radios erupt with screaming. Causing you to pause in your discussion with Savannah.

You can barely make out what they're saying, only catching snippets here and there.

"-Something in the office!"

"Everybody's dead, oh god, they're all-"

"Help! Please! Anybody!"

To make matters worse, the lights cut again, sending the growing paranoia among the crowd into a full blown hysteric mob. You can't make out a thing in the dark, and when your head starts aching again, purple blinding you, you know you're a goner for the time being.

Another vison comes to you, this time, the room is dimly lit, and you can tell this is a closet of some kind.

Again, you tower over a cowering figure who you realize is, David? What in the world is he doing here? What is happening?

"I don't know what they see in you, if anything at all," A voice that's not your own, yet comes from you, says. It's familiar but yet you can't-

David's sentence is shaky, "Look, I don't know what you want but I don't want any trouble. Okay?"

"Trouble? Friend, you're in a lot more than just trouble," There's something heavy in your hands, it glints in the light, "I'll tell you what though, if you hold still you'll be saving me a lot!"

Axe, it's an axe and it's swinging, down, down, down-

"Hey, it's alright. You're alright," Bri's shaking you, hand on your shoulder.

You take a deep breath, realizing you're on your knees in a room lit by a red emergency light and some flashlights. Glancing around, you see all your friends, including Abby and even Jacob are here with you. There's a few others who you're guessing are other security guards based on how they stand near the door, on edge.

You look back to Bri, "How'd I get here?"

Bri juts her thumb, "Tyler found you half out of it on the ground and grabbed you. Somehow carried Liv here too."

"I'm stronger than I look," He flexes with a nod.

You manage to crack a weak smile, clutching your head as more pain shoots through it, "What happened? Where are we?"

"Security office by Fazerblast," Bri answers, glancing over at the covered window in the door, which you realize has been barricaded, "Furthest we could get safely with this many people."

"What do you mean by safely?"

She opens her mouth, but Pete speaks up, "The bots have gone awol." You turn to see he's on the ground, leaning up against the wall, blood dripping down the side of his head, face solemn, angry, "They're picking us off one by one. Anybody in sight is getting killed off. Doesn't help that we can't see a fuckin' thing and they can."

Your eyes widen, "What? …but, why? How?"

"Does it matter?" He asks, looking to you now, "We're dead meat if we try to leave, but we're sitting ducks here."

Bri scolds him, "We're not sitting ducks. This our best chance of getting out of here alive. If we can get power to the cameras, even better."

"Working on it," Liv says, something sparking as she speaks, "But I'm not an electrical engineer."

"Just give it up, Liv. There's no point," Pete scoffs, shaking his head.

He and Bri start arguing, Savannah trying to interject to keep the peace.

Someone sits down beside you, hand resting on your shoulder.

It's Abby, her Glamrock makeup is smeared with dried tear streaks, "Hey."

"Hey," You sigh.

She bites her lip, "Are, are your siblings...?"

Your eyes widen and shake your head.

"God no. They're, they're safe. Out trick or treating with Clara," You put a hand to your face, relieved as you realize that fact, "Your brother?"

She sighs, "Also safe. With my parents. Not here. But," She stops, and you know exactly what she's thinking.

You nod, turning away as you hear her sniffle. Your friends are still fighting, the guards by the door are getting antsy, another spark startles Liv and she looks ready to cry. You need to do something.

Your vision turns purple but you shake it off immediately. Whatever this is, it can wait. You're going to make it.

Standing, and clutching your arm to keep it from twitching, you clear your throat, "We're not going to die here. Not on my watch. Bri, you and your guys here have any sort of weapon?"

"Tasers. And there should be a baton in here somewhere. Why, what are you thinking?"

You nod to the control panel for the cameras, "If there's anyone who can get those working in a blackout, it's Lizzy. And I know they were in Fazerblast before all this. Hell, it might've been their team that caused the outage."

"You want to go out there?" Pete asks, "Are you insane?"

You shrug, "Have to be at least a little bit to do this job. Someone give me a radio. We can at least double check before considering it."

Bri hands you her radio, and after a moment's hesitation, you set it to the engineers' channel and hold in on the button, "Lizzy, you still okay out there?"

Quiet. Your friends exchange a few bleak glances.

You're about to try again when, "Uh, yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

Relief, you think Pete even cracks a small smile.

"There's... a lot of shit going down in the Plex right now, how have you not heard about it?"

"Dude we've been stuck in Fazerblast for hours. Besides trying to fix the power the doors got jammed. I'm not leaving until this is done though, so we just kind of ignored it. Did think it was weird there was no parents complaining about not being able to use a half-functioning attraction though." Their tone is so casual you have no choice but to believe it.

The information, however, is huge, "That's, actually the best case scenario for us right now. So listen up, we gotta do this right or we don't stand a chance."

After explaining the full situation to Lizzy and their team, you work with your friends to come up with a plan. A good one. Something tells you you're only going to get one shot at this.

Meanwhile, you struggle to keep it together. You keep getting more and more flashes of that other perspective. Speaking in those voices that you can't quite place how you know. Increasingly, you start to recognize the locations they're in are getting more familiar to where you are currently.

It's a no brainer to you then, that you're a part of the team that goes to retrieve Lizzy. You force Bri to stay in the office, along with one of the guards. If you don't make it back, you at least want some people to stay safe.

You try and fail in vein to stop Pete and Abby from coming with you, Tyler picks you up again when you question him coming along.

"We're better off in even groups," Pete argues, gripping the metal chair leg he stole tightly, "Makes our chances that much better."

You don't disagree, but you don't like it either, "Fine, you're right. Now put me down please, Ty."

"Can do boss," He sets you down.

You're all armed as best you can. The guard, Joseph, has a taser, and Tyler has-apparently-pure brute force on his side. Pete has the chair leg, which is similar to the stun baton you're carrying.

Abby has brass knuckles. You don't know how she has those but you're not going to question it. Apparently, Utah state law doesn't have any clauses relating to them, now you know.

You move quickly and silently through open darkness to get to the staff entrance to Fazerblast, which is thankfully only a short distance away. You all stay close, not saying a word as you navigate.

There's not a soul around, human or machine. You don't know if it you puts you more on edge or not.

When you get to the door, Pete's able to get it open quickly, and you all file inside, locking it again soon thereafter.

The light inside the attraction is blinding in comparison to the darkness outside, the music and sound effects playing as if everything is entirely normal. It's almost more eerie in that regard.

You find Lizzy and their crew sitting around one of the towers, the reunion is brief, but happy. It's agreed that the senior engineer will come with your group, and the parts and service crew will stay for safety reasons. You're about to depart again, when the radio starts going crazy.

"We've got issues here!" Bri shouts down the line, "Don't come back, it's not safe!"

Static blares from the device, followed by banging, shouting, crying, and then a loud crash. The silence that follows is deafening.

"Fuck. No, no, no," You bang on the side of the radio, "Come on, Bri! Savannah! Anyone!?"

No answer.

"Dammit!" You toss the radio to the side, hands coming up to grip the sides of your head, "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

A hand on your shoulder, Abby again, "There's nothing we can do right now. We're going to have to refocus. Plan. Hope that they'll be okay-"

There's a banging at the front entrance to Fazerblast. Everyone freezes.

You think quickly as the sound grows in volume, "Lizzy, how in control of the power are you currently?"

They dig through their bag, and toss you a makeshift remote, "It's what we've been using to test."

The pounding gets louder, and the shutter creaks.

"Everybody who isn't armed find a place to hide. The rest of you are with me. We're gonna flip the tables on them."

Everyone scatters, and you make your way to the doors. You have no idea what's on the other side of that metal shutter, but you're going to find out one way or another. You'd rather it be on your terms.

"Can you get it open?" You ask Pete, hitting the lights and leaving only a flashlight to see.

He nods, "You're sure about this?"

"As I'll ever be. Abby, Joe, Ty, go hide nearby. We'll assess the biggest threat and go from there."

They all nod, and head off into the darkness.

Pete gets the panel open, taking a deep breath, "I hope you're right."

You press your back against the wall beside the panel, almost accustom to the feeling of your vision switching to purple. That other perspective is right outside now. You see Freddy is the one banging on the door, along with several map bots. You squeeze your eyes shut and you're back in your body again.

"Me too."

There's a beep, and the shutter slowly starts to raise. Quickly, you grab Pete and shove him on the other side of you, using your arm to press him up against the wall beside you.

As bots start pouring in, you lean your head back against the wall, holding your breath.

You watch as they fan out, scouring for anyone that they think is in here. They don't see you. You relax slightly.

You turn to Pete and nod, guarding him as he moves and shuts the door again, it quietly sinks back to the ground, locking you in here for the time being.

Moving across the wall, you regroup with the others.

"I counted six staff bots, and Freddy," Abby whispers. The other three agree.

Pete keeps lookout on your corner, "The music still playing helps us a little, but not a lot. We stick together, and go one by one, saving Freddy for last."

You frown, "Freddy's not last."

"What do you mean? Of course he is, he's going to be the hardest to take down."

You shake your head, "You miscounted. There's one more animatronic that made it in."

"Who?"

Off in the distance, you hear it, the jingle of bells. There's a flash of red as he lands on one of the walls, far off from you but within your line of sight.

You shake away the purple again, knowing it's going to show you what he's seeing at that moment, "Moon."

You fare better than you expected. A bunch of humans versus machines. You manage to take down three of the staffs bots in the dark, and by screwing with the lights a few times, manage to disorient the Daycare Attendant enough to keep them from discovering your location.

However, one of the parts n services guys gets found out, and his terrified screams as your claws rip him apart send, something, down your spine.

You know something's wrong with you now. You're taking far too much joy in beating in the metal skull of the staff bot below you. Oil splattering your clothes and face. You feel manic, alive. Out of control.

You shake your head, stopping. You ignore the glances being sent your way, you have to make it through this.

With this one you realize there's only one more staff bot left, then it's just Freddy and the Daycare Attendant. You flick the lights off again, huddling together with the others.

"If we go for one, the other is going to know. Our best bet is to divide and conquer," Pete says.

You nod, "One person with an electric weapon per team, one with something heavy. Tyler, you go with the group at the disadvantage to even it out."

Your teams end up being Joseph, Abby, and Tyler together to take on Freddy, leaving you and Pete to deal with Moon.

You trudge through the darkness, silence between the two of you.

There's been a voice in your head for a bit now. You block out whatever it says. Your grip feels shaky on the baton, and you can tell Pete's on edge more because of you than the looming threat somewhere out in the dark.

Keep it together. You just have to keep it together.

"Hello, Diana."

You turn, he pulls you up into the air, away from Pete. You don't even think to scream, instead only able to watch terrified as the ground and your friend get further and further away.

Moon settles on one of the towers to set you down again, and you scramble back and fall onto the ground, looking up at him with fear.

His faceplate twists, observing you. Then, his eyes narrow cheekily and he chuckles lowly.

"What's the matter, Bright Eyes? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You bit your lip as it trembles, raising the baton as a threat, "W-with how this night is going it's, certainly a possibility."

"But that's not my costume now, is it?" He takes a step closer.

You hold firm with the baton, hitting the button for the taser part to go off, "Moon-man, I don't want to hurt you. Don't make me."

The spark seems to deter him, growling.

"Why are you doing this? What did any of these people do to you?" You ask, beg in your words, "Killing innocent people? That's not you."

Moon snickers, and despite your waving of the baton, he moves closer, clawed finger resting on the end of it. He presses it down as he crouches to your level.

You now sit eye to eye with him as he speaks, "Andromeda, would you like to know a secret?"

Your grip tightens on your weapon, head shaking once. That doesn't deter him.

He leans in closer, his smile hovering just above your lips.

"This is the best Halloween I've ever had," Then, he kisses you. You're so surprised that you don't feel the baton be taken from your hand until it's gone.

He pulls away, chuckling again.

A loud bang suddenly resonates in the space, and the Naptime Attendant starts to twitch and collapse on the ground in front of you.

Pete stands over you both, breathing heavy as he clutches the chair leg in both hands.

"Sorry, had to take the stairs."

Moon snarls and flips around, hand raising ready to slash across the man's chest.

Panicked, you hit the button for the lights.

But it's too late.

As Sun's rays pop out, one by one, Pete can only stand there, blood slowly starting to soak through his shirt. He coughs, then takes a step forward, then another, stumbling past you into the wall. You quickly flip around as he collapses back against it, breathing ragged.

"Well, at least now you look authentic," You turn back to see Sun standing hunched over, clutching his faceplate, "Though, it's still not quite as good as mine."

As he straightens, you have to suppress a gasp as it's revealed that one of his optics has shattered from the previous impact.

His rays twitch and his focus snaps to you as you stand.

His faceplate clicks to the side, "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Sunshine."

"Sun." You can't reach for your baton without it being obvious.

"Are you having a good Halloween? I know I am." He tsks, "A pity about your costume, though I suppose the grit and grime really sells it."

You take a deep breath, running the back of your hand under your nose to wipe away the blood that's dripping. Your vison flashes purple, and for a moment you find you’re staring down at yourself.

You're a mess. Hair all over the place, clothes torn. There's streaks in the paint covering your skin. There's still blood coming out your nose a little bit.

And your eyes are bright purple.

You come back to and watch Sun's eyes narrow.

You shift slightly, hand twitching.

You see there’s a slight shadow over Sun’s eyes. And in his good optic a small white pupil flicks to your hand. You swallow.

"Don't do something you'll regret, Icarus."

You stamp your foot down onto the baton, it pops up into your hand and you click to turn it on.

You jut your chin out, tilting your head slightly, "Come on, Sun. You know me better than that."

You rush forward, he steps back, dodging and spinning to face you as you charge again. It's almost like a dance of danger. And it truly becomes one when Sun takes one of your hands and spins you around, dipping you low and back up as you try and fail again to use the baton on him.

You let out a noise of frustration. Charging forward again, the two of you go round and round. Narrowly you miss him every time. Narrowly he dodges every swing. He’s fast. Faster than you’d have ever anticipated, than he’d ever let on about. You never realized how close to death you may have been all this time.

After another miss, this one the closet you’ve gotten yet, Sun puts an end to your game. He grabs hold of the baton, only flinching as you turn it on, and rips it from your grip, tossing it aside. He spins you into his arms and holds tight.

You fight against him in vain.

"You know, Bright Eyes. I would have thought you'd appreciate your treat a bit more than this," He snarls the words, "But maybe you've been too busy resisting it to do so."

You slow your struggling, and Sun releases you finally. The words having done the job far better than his hold to sedate you.

You turn to face him cautiously.

"You, you did this?" You ask, "You did this to me?"

Sun tuts, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, "Well, technically you did it to yourself, Bright Eyes. But I'm happy you did. Makes all of this much, much easier."

It suddenly hits you that he's right. Maybe not intentionally, or fully knowing, but you made the choice to go back to the computer. You chose to try and turn it off again. You could have left the office, it would've shut down eventually. Something had compelled you to come closer and investigate, and you had made the choice to listen.

And now you were suffering from the cost.

"Now, let's finish this up, hm?" Sun bends and kisses you, pulling away after a moment, "You wouldn't want to disappoint now, would you?"

You don't answer. Your feet move on their own as they turn to face Pete, who seems to realize what's happening before you do.

He clutches the wound on his stomach tighter, breathing quickening, "Come on, snap out of it! This isn't you! You know it's not."

"Quiet over there, you'll get your chance to speak in just a moment," There's something set down in your hands, you know what it is, "Don't worry, I'll help you. No need for tears."

You find that you are crying, but can't do a thing to stop it. Your body is not your own, your emotions are not your own. You are entirely out of control as Sun guides you to march staggeredly towards Pete.

Off in the distance you hear shouting as your remaining friends try in vain to take down Freddy. Not that it mattered. Even if they did, you'd be finishing the job.

Your breathing is heavy but controlled, grip on the axe tight, all you can do is stare down at Pete, who looks up at you horrified, eyes wide. You think the look matches the fear in your own gaze.

Sun's hands are on your shoulders, voice a purr in your ear, "Go on, Starlight. You know what you need to do."

The axe raises jerkily, fighting against it and losing. Your eyes snap shut, and it comes down. Again, and again, and again.

You block out everything, all noise, all touches. You block out the sound of sickening crunches and squelches, of Pete's heavy gasps, of Sun murmuring encouragement right beside you all the while.

You block out the wood rough against the skin of your hands, the blood, sweat, and tears, running down your face. Sun's hands wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder.

You suddenly regain control and your eyes shoot open, throwing the axe away from you and stumbling back into Sun's arms. Your hands come up to your face as you sob, shaking your head.

He just holds you as you cry, muttering things you can't comprehend as he presses kisses to your hair.

When you finally subside to sniffles is when he pulls back to press a kiss to your lips.

"There, there, you're alright, Bright Eyes. Come on now," He lifts you to your feet, arms pulling you closer as he leans in for another kiss, "I'll let you pick who's next, how's that?"

You shoot up from your bed, heart racing. You clutch your chest, breathing hard.

You're at home. Sitting on your bed. You're fine. Everything's fine.

There's a yawn to your left that interrupts your thoughts.

It's Gabe, laying on the bed beside you in his pumpkin costume. He yawns again, and stares curiously up at you, fist in his mouth. You pat his head with a sigh.

Right, you were going to put him down for a nap before heading out to trick or treat, then go to the Plex for the same thing. Looks like you ended up taking a nap too.

You check the time, it's almost five. Suddenly, a thought hits you square in the face.

"Did I kiss Sun?" You say aloud.

You do your best to recall the fading nightmare.

Oh god, you did. Right on his stupid flat face. Multiple times. You kissed Moon to but you're less opposed to that albeit confused-but Sun?

Involuntarily you gag, now feeling the sudden urge to rinse out your mouth, even if it had just been to his faceplate, much less a dream.

Shaking your head, you turn to look down at your brother, who's now somehow managed to get his foot in his mouth, despite his costume.

"Gabe, never down a bag of sour gummies and immediately take a nap, it'll give you crazy dreams."

You think you might leave the trick or treating to the kids tonight.

Something tells you that it’s for the best.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Oof, what a doozy huh? Imagine being the final girl AND the killer... crazy. Good thing it was all just a dream. Here's the promptober list and the spookvember schedule. Thanks for reading as always-

Oh?

What's this?

Looks like there's a link down here.

How'd that get there?

...

Hm.

You should click it. See what happens.

CLICK ME

btw the song playing while writing the fight scene was I Go Crazy - Orla Gartland and it was a VIBE and a half let me tell you-

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ganggangscenarios · 3 days ago

Text

Platinum Heart (Diamond heart pt.2)

Part 1

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You get the opportunity to meet Jungkook's friends.

Genre: Romance, comedy, smut, angst

Warnings: Body image. Negative language. Smut

You carefully slide into Jungkook's car, setting your handbag on the floor before fastening your seatbelt. It was Friday evening, and after a long week of work, you were about to embark on a weekend trip with your incredibly handsome boyfriend. All week, he'd been sending you links to cozy cafes and hiking trails near the cabin where you'd be staying. You couldn't help feeling a bit nervous; it was a group trip, and this would be the first time you'd meet his close friends and their partners.

Though your confidence had grown lately-thanks to both your hard work and Jungkook's unwavering support-you still had your insecurities. You couldn't shake the worry of being judged for wearing a T-shirt and shorts to the pool. You'd just reached a place of comfort being in your underwear around Jungkook; the thought of wearing a swimsuit in front of new faces was a little overwhelming.

"I missed you today," Jungkook says, leaning over to steal a quick kiss.

You laugh and roll your eyes. "You saw me this morning!"

He pouts, then kisses you again before putting the car in drive. Soon enough, you're both on the open road, heading toward the countryside for your weekend escape. You gaze out the window, taking in the surroundings as the sun dips below the horizon.

Every now and then, Jungkook glances over at you with a soft smile. He'd been so happy these past few months, feeling like this was the best start to a relationship he'd ever had.

You were a strong advocate for open communication, always encouraging him to share his feelings, and he loved learning more about you-what made you laugh, what moved you to tears, what brought you comfort. He also loved the way you had become more confident with him, especially in intimate moments. Since your first time together, you'd let down your guard and started to believe him when he said he loved your body. It was apparent in the way you'd sometimes take charge, a confidence that made his heart race. The memory of your last night together lingered in his mind, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, anticipation building for when you'd finally lock the door to your cabin room.

Suddenly, the soft music filling the car was interrupted by the ring of Jungkook's phone.

He quickly answered, and a deep voice echoed through the speakers.

"Where are you?" the voice asked.

You glanced at the screen and saw the name

'Taehyung'—a name you'd heard often but had yet to put a face to. At least now, you could put a voice to it.

"We're about 30 minutes away," Jungkook replied. "Going to stop at a rest area real quick. I kinda kidnapped her right after work, so l'm treating her to some top-tier rest stop food. I think a corndog sounds good." He smiled at you while he spoke.

Grinning, you placed your hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, pretending to pull over, which made you laugh.

“I hope the only corndog you’re giving her is the kind that’s battered, dipped in potato, and deep-fried,” Taehyung joked through the speaker. “We don’t want her meeting everyone for the first time looking exhausted.”

“Don’t worry! He’s not getting near me with his corndog until I get the food I was promised!” you shot back, making Taehyung laugh.

“Well, Jimin and Cleo are already at the cabin, and we’re about the same distance away as you,” Taehyung replied. “Let’s meet at the rest stop and drive in together.”

Jungkook agreed, hanging up swiftly.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the rest stop parking lot. You watched out the window as families exited their cars and headed inside. Noticing an empty spot, you pointed it out, and Jungkook backed in smoothly, turning off the engine. You had to admit, there was something irresistibly attractive about watching him drive.You grab his hand before he has the chance to get out of the car. He’s about to speak when you press your lips to his. You caress his cheek and let your other hand rest at the back of his neck, as your fingers place with his hair. He deepens the kiss, slowly slipping his tongue into your welcoming mouth. You glide your tongue along his for a short while before pulling away.

“I—I thought you didn’t want my ‘corndog’ until you’d eaten. But that kiss… makes it hard for me to let you leave this car.” Jungkook licks his lips, his hand casually drifting to your thigh, barely covered by the hem of your skirt. The fabric had ridden up when you leaned over to kiss him earlier, your sudden move catching him off guard.

You almost suggest that he park somewhere more secluded so you could playfully test just how hard it would be for him to let you out of the car. But before you can say anything, the sound of a loud bang on the windshield startles both of you.

You both look up and see a very handsome man standing there, a wide grin on his face.

“Taehyung!” Jungkook exclaims, his surprise evident as he unbuckles his seatbelt and throws open the door. You watch as the two men embrace, their muffled voices almost lost behind the thick glass of the windshield. A moment later, you hear Jungkook say your name, and both men’s eyes turn to you.

You quickly grab your purse, sliding your phone inside and throwing a glance at Jungkook before exiting the car. Taehyung’s warm, bear-like hug almost knocks the air from your lungs, but you welcome it with a smile.

“It’s so great to finally meet the woman who’s making my bro so happy!” He pulls away, beaming.

“I’m Taehyung,” he adds, flashing you a boyish grin.

You smile brightly in return and introduce yourself. As you do, you notice Jungkook out of the corner of your eye. His posture has changed, the easygoing demeanor that usually defined him now gone. His shoulders are tense, his jaw tight. It’s subtle, but it’s there—a furrowed brow that mirrors the one he gets whenever you greet Namjoon a little too warmly at the gym.

A wave of unease settles in your chest. He’s usually so relaxed, but the presence of his friend, who’s conventionally handsome and kind, has thrown him off. And you can’t help but feel a little guilty for not noticing sooner.

You step away from Taehyung’s hug and walk over to Jungkook, gently grabbing his hand as the three of you make your way towards the building.

“Where’s Sohyun?” Jungkook asks, his eyes scanning the area as if expecting her to pop out from behind a tree or car.

Taehyung’s expression falters, and you instantly recognize it. It’s the same look of hurt and betrayal you’ve worn too many times to count—something familiar, something you know all too well. The kind of expression you never want to wear again.

“Uh… she’s not coming,” Taehyung answers, his voice tight, his words curt.

Jungkook seems ready to probe further, but you gently squeeze his hand, giving him a subtle shake of your head. He hesitates, his brows furrowing, but after a moment, he nods, clearly not wanting to push.

“No worries. I guess it’s just gonna be us three guys and you two girls,” Jungkook says, attempting to lighten the mood.

But Taehyung doesn’t seem so sure. He hesitates again, like he’s unsure how to say what’s on his mind.

“N-no, still three girls,” he stammers, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I invited someone else. I tried calling you about it, but I needed to pick you up and felt awkward texting about it…” He trails off, looking almost embarrassed.

Jungkook, clearly confused, lets go of your hand and places his hands firmly on his hips, his posture shifting into a fatherly stance. His eyes narrow in that way you’ve seen him do a thousand times, the same way he waits for you to explain why you left a pile of dirty laundry in the middle of the living room.

You look back and forth between them, wondering what this all means. Before anyone can say anything more, a voice calls out from across the parking lot.

“Taehyung! I told you to wait for me!”

You all turn to see a striking woman with shoulder-length brown hair striding toward you, wearing a fitted graphic t-shirt and shorts that show off toned, sun-kissed legs. Taehyung immediately shifts on his feet, turning slightly toward Jungkook, the unease visible in his posture.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, but Jungkook is too stunned to answer. His mouth falls open, and for a split second, you think he might say something, but the words don’t come. His eyes are locked on the woman, as she approaches.

“Taehyung! I told you to wait for me!” The woman exclaims, practically throwing herself into his arms as she wraps hers around his waist.

Jungkook’s face hardens as he takes in the sight. He stands frozen, unable to process what’s happening. That woman—his ex—Jisoo, was now in Taehyung’s arms. The woman who had shattered his heart before you came along, the one who’d made him swear off relationships for two years. And now, Taehyung—his closest friend—was with her.

You can see the shock, the betrayal, the pain flash across his face, but before you can react, Jisoo notices you.

“Jungkook,” she says, her voice laced with something both familiar and unsettling. You can’t help but notice the way her eyes skim over him—lazily, like she’s assessing what she’s missed. When her gaze finally lands on you, she smiles, though it’s more than just polite. It’s something else, something that feels… off.

You watch as Jisoo’s eyes flick over you—your dress, your posture, the hand Jungkook is holding tightly around your waist. Then, she smiles, almost smugly. “It’s been a while. You look good,” she says to Jungkook, her voice dripping with something you can’t quite put your finger on. Lust? Curiosity? Or maybe something darker?

Jungkook stands silently, pulling you closer to him, his arm instinctively tightening around your waist. You glance up at him. His jaw is clenched, his expression a mixture of frustration and quiet anger. But when he meets your eyes, his expression softens—just for a moment.

He doesn’t need to think about her anymore. Not when he has you. He hasn’t thought about her in so long, not since the day he realized that you were the one who helped him move on, who helped him heal.

He leans down, about to press a quick kiss to your lips, but before he can, Jisoo interrupts them, holding out her hand.

“I’m Jisoo. Nice to meet you,” she says, her tone feigning politeness, but there’s an edge to it. Her fingers hover just above yours, waiting for you to reciprocate.

You glance down at her hand before quickly shaking it, the discomfort in your chest growing. “Nice to meet you,” you reply, trying your best to keep your tone neutral.

You can feel Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightening as he pulls you closer. You glance up at him and, with a soft, reassuring smile, lean your head against his shoulder.

“Where’s that corndog I’ve heard so much about?” you ask, trying to redirect the conversation, your voice light as you move forward with him, away from the awkward tension.

Behind you, you hear the faint sound of raised voices. You don’t turn around, but the conversation between Taehyung and Jisoo seems to be escalating, and you can’t help but wonder what’s really going on between them.

Jungkook told you to pick a table, just the two of you, as he headed toward the brightly colored counter to order your deep-fried snacks. He was insistent on sitting alone, away from your weekend companions. You didn’t ask why, not yet, but you would. The unease in your chest had only grown since you first set foot in the food court, and you had a sinking feeling it was going to get worse before it got better.

Your eyes scanned the bustling food court as you waited for Jungkook to return. Your mind wandered for a moment, but when you looked back toward the table, you caught the unmistakable gaze of Jisoo across the way. She was looking directly at you, her hand casually gesturing for you to come over. You hesitated but felt a strange pull. You dropped your bag onto the seat and, against your better judgment, walked over to her.

“What’s up?” You asked, folding your arms, trying to keep a cool composure.

Jisoo’s smile was wide, but something about it made your stomach twist. The first time she smiled at you, it had felt almost… too perfect. Now, it just made you feel uneasy.

"Taehyung went to get his food," she began, her voice sweet but somehow too syrupy, as if it was trying to mask something. "I thought I’d pop by the convenience store for a quick salad. I figured you’d want to come with me." She paused, giving you a look that felt more pointed than friendly. "Jungkook’s your personal trainer, right? Tae mentioned it to me. He’s usually so strict with his diet. One year, he wouldn’t even eat his own birthday cake. I lost so much weight that year. He was—" She cuts herself off, her eyes scanning you briefly. "But I guess he’s changed."

Jungkook was the one who had encouraged you to be more comfortable with food, more relaxed, to enjoy life without the guilt you’d carried for years. But now, you felt the weight of Jisoo's words sink in, like they were slipping under your skin, poking at a vulnerability you thought was buried.

Her eyes raked up your body slowly, lingering on your midsection. It felt invasive, uncomfortable. You wanted to cover up, but you couldn't, and before you knew it, the pencil skirt you had worn proudly this morning—feeling good, feeling confident—now felt tight, unflattering, wrong. You looked down. The lumps and bumps that you usually tried to ignore now felt all too obvious. Confidence was a fragile thing. It took so long to build, and it only took one look, one comment to knock it down.

Jisoo didn’t stop there. "When we were together, we used to be known as that gym couple," she said, almost as if she were reminiscing. "Always in matching sets." Her eyes gleamed as she glanced at you. "But it’s nice to see that he has other clothes now."

You could feel your pulse quicken, your fingers tightening around your arms as you tried to hold on to what little composure you had left.

She smiled, clearly satisfied with the impact of her words.

"Oh!" She gasped, feigning surprise. "He didn’t tell you?"

No, he hadn’t. He hadn’t told you anything, not about her, not about their past, not about what they’d shared. He’d never mentioned that they had been together, that she was his ex-girlfriend. You knew there was history between them, but the look on his face when he saw her earlier… it suddenly made so much sense. He hadn’t told you. And now, Jisoo’s presence here was more than just awkward—it was a reminder that Jungkook could still be pulled back into her orbit. What if she was the one who got away?

"We’re so... different now," she continued, her eyes gliding over you one more time, as if you were some kind of puzzle. "So I’m sure he’s different with you." She then glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of Jungkook returning to the table.

"Kooky’s back at your table now," she said, her tone far too sweet. "Enjoy your fried goods!"

You didn’t trust her smile as you turned back toward your table. The sinking feeling in your stomach wouldn’t go away. You had to force yourself to sit down, grab your bag, and keep your hands from trembling.

Jungkook smiled at you, his hands holding up the corndog like some sort of peace offering, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. You didn’t feel like smiling back.

“When were you gonna tell me that Jisoo is your ex-girlfriend?” you asked, your voice low, brow furrowed, lips turned down in quiet frustration.

Jungkook froze. The corndog slipped from his fingers, landing softly on the table. He had planned to tell you, maybe in the car or later that night when you were alone. He just hadn’t expected things to go like this. His mind raced, and for a brief moment, he wished he’d prepared for this conversation.

“Who told you?” he asked, his tone tentative, but there was something about it that didn’t sit right.

You couldn’t believe your ears. He was asking you who told you? After all of her comments, after that whole conversation you just had, he was asking that?

“She did,” you replied curtly, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, a defensive posture that you couldn’t shake.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. He hadn’t expected Jisoo to spring this on you like she did. The fact that she was here, and the way she’d slipped back into his life so easily—it made him feel small, like he had allowed something to linger that shouldn’t have. But it was never supposed to be this way. She wasn’t supposed to make you feel small.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, though his voice still had that edge of frustration. “I honestly didn’t know she was coming, and I should’ve told you earlier. I just... I didn’t think it’d be like this. I’ll explain everything about her tonight, I promise. But please, just eat something. You’ve had a long day.”

He reached out, taking your hand across the table, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of your palm, trying to soothe you.

Your eyes lingered over the spread of food—saucy rice cakes, crispy golden corndogs, the fishcake soup—but you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up a bite. Jisoo’s words played over and over in your head, and the last thing you felt like doing was eating.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” you said, offering him a tight, forced smile. “You eat.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed in confusion, his eyes softening with concern. Something was wrong. He could feel it. He’d seen that look on your face before, and it made his stomach twist. It was the same expression you had when that woman at work had made a comment about your body a few weeks ago—about how she would never eat again and how lucky you were to have a personal trainer boyfriend. That night, Jungkook had reminded you how beautiful you were, inside and out. And it had helped, for a moment. But now, this? It felt like everything was slipping again.

“What the hell did she say to you?” His voice hardened with anger, the protective instinct flaring up in him.

You shook your head, pulling away slightly. The conversation was too much, too soon. You had your walls up, and you weren’t ready to address what had just happened. You communicated, then shut down, and Jungkook had learned to give you the space you needed.

“Babe, please,” he whispered, squeezing your hand. “I want to fix this. Please, let me make it better.”

You looked down at your hands, your chest tight with a mix of hurt and confusion.

“Then take me home,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s eyes widened. This wasn’t how the weekend was supposed to go. You were meant to meet his friends, enjoy the weekend, and for the first time in a while, he had planned to tell you that he loved you. This wasn’t how it was meant to happen.

“If that’s what you want...” he said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

You watched him scramble to find his car keys, his eyes darting across the table.

“They’re in your pocket,” you said, smirking lightly despite everything.

Jungkook paused, then laughed softly, shaking his head at himself. Jisoo, watching from across the food court, looked on with a bemused expression as the tension between you two melted for just a second. But as soon as you both started laughing, she scoffed, hiding it behind a fake cough.

“Something was in my throat,” she said, her smile more knowing than ever.

Jungkook slid into the seat beside you, lifting you effortlessly into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, his lips close to your ear. You rested your head against his shoulder, the chaos of the world outside temporarily quieting as you found comfort in his presence.

You walk to the car, hand in hand, with a takeout box swinging from Jungkook’s free hand. He’d managed to talk you into staying, promising to make it up to you. Before you get in, you pull him into a tight hug, feeling the warmth of his lips brush the top of your forehead.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” you murmur softly into his ear.

He shakes his head, his heart swelling with gratitude. He knew you were the kind of partner who understood, who could have reacted so much worse, and he still would’ve understood.

“No,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry for keeping it from you. I should’ve been more open. If it had been up to me, I would’ve driven you home right then—if it meant we’d be okay. I still would. I just want us to be more than okay. I…” He pauses, almost slipping into something more, but he stops himself. Not here, not now. He wanted to tell you perfectly, when the time was right.

“I love spending time with you,” he continues, his voice soft but steady. “And I want to share you with the people I care about.”

He hopes you don’t notice how fast his heart is racing.

You tilt your head up at him, lips puckered slightly. Without a word, he leans down, and you both melt into a deep kiss, the kind that feels like the world stops spinning just for the two of you.

======

Before long, you pull up to a stunning house, its warm lights glowing from within. The lake is dark, the water shimmering silver beneath the moon’s glow. Gravel crunches underfoot as you step out of the car, breathing in the cool, fresh air. You close your eyes for a moment to take it all in, feeling the weight of the weekend ahead. You’re going to make the most of this. You’re the baddest bitch. Nicki Minaj said it best:

"I'm a bad bitch, fuck the bitch. Bitch get slick, I'ma cut the b-"

Your thoughts are interrupted by a shriek, and your eyes snap open to see Jisoo bouncing excitedly.

“It’s bringing back so many memories!” she exclaims. “We used to come here all the time! Right, guys?” She looks to Taehyung and Jungkook for confirmation.

The air shifts. You freeze, a knot forming in your stomach. This is the place he used to bring her—his ex. The realization hits you like a cold wave. You’re about to sleep in the same bed where they once did.

“No, we didn’t,” Jungkook interjects quickly, his tone sharper than usual. “You spent one afternoon here. Once. And you weren’t even allowed inside.”

Jisoo’s face falls, and she quickly glances over at you, suddenly aware of the tension in the air.

“Let’s go inside, babe,” Taehyung says, gently guiding her toward the door, his hand resting on her lower back.

You stand there for a moment, trying to shake off the discomfort, but before you can move, Jungkook grabs your hand, pulling you gently to the side.

You look up at him, surprised by the intensity in his gaze.

“She’s never been inside,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “We never shared a bed here. You’re the first woman I’ve brought here… and you’ll be the last. This place means something different now.”

You feel your heart soften at his words. It’s clear he’s trying to reassure you, trying to make sure you know that this weekend is about you and not his past. You give him a small, affectionate smile and nod, your tension easing a little as you follow him inside.

The house is more breathtaking than you imagined. It’s cozy yet luxurious, warm and inviting with just the right amount of opulence.

“Hi! I’ve heard so much about you!” A man with blonde hair and an easy smile steps in front of you as you slip off your shoes.

“You must be Jimin!” you say, recognizing him instantly.

Jungkook chuckles, kicking off his shoes and pulling Jimin into a bear hug. You can’t help but laugh at the playful exchange between the two men.

“And I’m Cleo!” A gorgeous woman steps out from the kitchen, her smile as bright as the sun. She’s warm and welcoming, giving you a tight hug before you can even introduce yourself.

This is such a contrast to the awkward energy you felt with Jisoo and Taehyung. Cleo's kindness immediately puts you at ease.

She leads you to your room, where Jungkook has already set down your bags. The men are getting things ready outside by the fire pit.

“Jungkook never stops talking about you,” Cleo says as she arranges a few things in the room, clearly excited. “Whenever we call, he spends the first half of the conversation gushing about you. He’s a total softie, by the way. And, I’ve heard all about your French toast. We bought everything he said you’d need! Would you mind making it for breakfast tomorrow?”

You smile at her easy warmth and kindness. She shows you the bathroom and where to find extra toiletries before excusing herself to leave you to get settled.

Once you’re alone, you strip down and hop into the shower, the warm water helping to ease the tension still lingering in your muscles from the car ride and the awkward moments with Jisoo.

When you step out, wrapped in a towel, you find that Jungkook has already brought your bags inside. He’s sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone, but he looks up immediately when he hears the bathroom door open. His eyes soften as they meet yours.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were going to shower?" he teases, his voice low and playful. "I would've joined you."

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. You bend down to grab some clothes from your bag and quickly pull on a hoodie and a pair of shorts, tucking the latter under your towel.

Jungkook watches you, a suggestive grin spreading across his face, but his gaze is also filled with something else—concern, maybe, or uncertainty.

“What?” you laugh, walking over to the bed, trying to play it off.

He sits up and swings his legs over to sit on the edge, his hands finding your waist. He pulls you close, his head resting gently on your stomach as you run your fingers through his hair.

His voice is quieter now, almost like he’s unsure how to tread. "I don't think anyone would mind if we just stayed in tonight. We’ve got some… making up to do. You know, for the whole 'ex-girlfriend' situation."

His hands slip down to your thighs, his touch gentle but possessive, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. There’s an unspoken question hanging in the air—are you okay?

You give him a soft smile, your fingers continuing to play with his hair as you whisper, “I’m good. I’m here with you. That’s all that matters.”

He exhales, a weight seemingly lifting from his shoulders as he leans into you, his expression softening. It’s clear now: he's more concerned about you than about anything else. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

He moves his hands to your rump, slightly squeezing as he continues up your back. His fingertips graze your skin as they make the journey to the middle of your back. He feels no resistance, no extra material in the way.

“No bra, huh? It’s like you knew this would happen.” His brows wiggle enthusiastically.

You throw your head back in laughter.

“You just saw me get out of the shower, I didn’t have time to put on a bra!”

His heart warms at seeing you laugh. He only wants to see you happy, he wants nothing more to be the cause of some of that happiness.

Suddenly, you feel his hand part your thighs, knuckles skimming along the seam of your shorts, the seam that covered your centre. He doesn’t break eye contact as his fingertips feel for your clit under the thin fabric. You bite your lip as you look down at him.

“No panties either? You naughty girl.”

He rubs with more pressure, earning a moan from you. You roll your eyes and push him back, his back lands on the bed. Before he could ask what you were doing, you crawled on the bed and straddled him. He shifted to sit up against the headboard, he brought his hands to rest on your ass.

You kiss him slowly, tongue teasing his. Arms wrapping around his neck. One thing about your boyfriend was that he was vocal. He would whimper, moan, breathe heavily. It was like music to your ears.

He moans into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He was going to make it up to you, show you that you’re the only one he cares about here. He slides one hand under your hoodie, caressing your breast, thumb toying with your now pebbled nipple. You were always to aware of yourself in all situations, especially physical ones. You were worried that you might crush him if you put all of weight on him. To which he told you how ridiculous that claim was. So when it came to making out like this, in this position, you hovered over him, making the space between your crotches so noticeable. Jungkook pushes you down with the hand that now moved to your waist. You feel his hardness under you. You shiver at the feeling. Pulling away, you take a look at him. Wow. This gorgeous man was really yours. He looks at you, his lids half open, lips shining with saliva. He leans into pepper kisses all over your neck. Hands pulling up the edge of your hoodie, he puts his head under it to kiss your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth. The sounds in the room were borderline pornographic. You moan, pulling at his hair, causing him to nibble. Fuck, you were so soaked right now. You could feel your shorts become damp with arousal.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, kissing your chest, voice muffled by your shirt.

You grind down on his hardened length. He pulls his head out from under your hoodie, hand going straight for your centre. He groans as he feels the soaked material.

“Please.” He begs. He felt like he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he didn’t get inside you immediately.

---

Just as you were about to speak, a sharp knock echoed against the door.

“Hey, guys, the campfire’s ready. We’re grilling some meat too!” A deep voice rang out from the other side. You recognized it instantly—it was Taehyung, the same voice that had cut through the tension at the rest stop earlier.

Jungkook doesn’t stop touching you, starting to kiss your neck once more.

“W-we’ll b-be out in a minute.” You basically moan out.

Your boyfriend puts his lips to your ear..His shaky breathes, makes goosebumps appear on your sweaty skin.

“Now he knows what you sound like when you’re about to get fucked good. He might try and take you away from me.” He nips at your earlobe.

Taehyung knocks again.

“Jungkook, bro. I was hoping that we could talk before dinner. You know, clear the air.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. This was a slippery slope, was he really that hungry for you or was he trying to avoid the situation at hand. With Taehyung and… Jisoo.

“We should go down.” You whisper, kissing his cheek.

He whines, not wanting to let go of you.

“How can I with this?” He gestures to his eye-catching erection.

You get off him and off the bed.

“Think of Jisoo and Taehyung.” You quip, heading to the bathroom to change your ruined shorts.

Jungkook’s mouth drops open and the blood starts to return to his head. He runs his hands through his hair and gets off the bed and opens the door to Taehyung.

He yells that he was going down, to which you yelled out an ‘okay’ from behind the bathroom door.

---

Jungkook tried to act casual, his footsteps light as he walked down the hallway, avoiding Taehyung's gaze.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, trying to sound as indifferent as possible.

"Dude." Taehyung stopped abruptly, his voice cutting through the silence. Jungkook froze, not wanting to face this conversation, but knowing he had no choice.

Taehyung turned to him, a mix of frustration and apology in his eyes. “You mean, about how you're dating my ex-girlfriend? Or how you brought her to a trip where you knew my current girlfriend would be? Or maybe how I thought you were my friend?" Taehyung let out a heavy sigh, his face a picture of regret.

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably. The words hit harder than he expected, and the guilt started to creep in. But Taehyung wasn’t done.

"I’m such an asshole," Taehyung muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should’ve told you sooner. I shouldn’t have brought her. But Sohyun cheated on me... I was lonely, and Jisoo reached out, and... it just kinda happened. I’m really sorry, man.”

Jungkook paused, the weight of his friend’s vulnerability sinking in. He hadn’t realized just how hurt Taehyung had been until now. He could feel the tension loosening between them, a quiet understanding forming.

“I get it,” Jungkook said quietly, his voice more sincere than before. Seeing Jisoo again had stirred up some unwanted feelings in him, but the one thing he was sure of was that he had you now—and that was enough to move past the past. He didn’t want to lose his friend over something like this. "Just... as long as you're happy, man. That’s all that matters.”

He pulled Taehyung into a brief hug, the tension dissipating like a long-awaited breath.

You stepped out of the room just in time to catch the two friends in a rare moment of understanding. The tension between them had eased, and for the first time in a while, you saw them act like the friends they once were.

The campfire crackled in the distance, the laughter and warmth drawing you in. You saw Jimin and Cleo sitting close by, Cleo perched comfortably in his lap as she flipped the sizzling pieces of meat on the grill. Jisoo was absorbed in taking pictures of the moon, her camera clicking away. You smiled softly, imagining you’d be doing the same thing soon.

Suddenly, Taehyung appeared by her side, wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. The sight of them felt unexpectedly sweet, and for a moment, you forgot about the tension with Jisoo.

You made your way over to Jimin and Jungkook, who was already settling in beside you. Without missing a beat, Jungkook grabbed a bottle of Soju, spinning it expertly in his hands before pouring six shots of the clear liquid.

Everyone gathered around the table, and with a shared look, you all raised your glasses. The burn of Soju slid down your throat, smoother than expected but still with that familiar heat. You winced slightly but grinned as you set the glass down.

The table was littered with empty bottles, the air buzzing with the energy of the group. The men—Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin—decided to put on a hilarious impromptu performance of Beyoncé’s *Halo*, using empty bottles as microphones. You couldn't help but laugh at their antics, your stomach tight with the joy of the moment.

Cleo clung to you, her voice low and soft as she hummed along, her presence soothing. She’d been so kind to you all evening, stepping in whenever Jisoo tried to poke at your insecurities. And Jisoo *did* try a lot—her words were sharp, but Cleo's attention was always just a little bit more piercing. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for her friendship.

Jungkook, ever the protective boyfriend, kept you under his arm all night. He’d feed you whenever you seemed to pause, leaning in to whisper that you needed fuel for later. His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear, and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks. The others noticed, too, and you instinctively buried your face into his shoulder, embarrassed and strangely comforted by his possessiveness.

Jisoo, meanwhile, had tried her best to make Jungkook jealous, but it hadn’t worked. She’d kissed Taehyung passionately in front of everyone, all the while peeking at Jungkook to see if he was watching. But he wasn’t.

The evening carried on in high spirits. But just as you thought things couldn’t get any better, a loud splash interrupted the laughter. You walked away from the table, drawn by the noise. As you rounded the corner, you saw a pile of discarded clothes near the lake. The group had jumped in, all of them splashing around in the cool water.

Jungkook emerged from the lake, dripping wet and looking impossibly attractive. His hair clung to his forehead, and his broad shoulders glistened in the firelight. You couldn’t help but smile, but at the same time, a voice in your head hesitated.

You’d been working hard on your fitness, especially since you’d met Jungkook, but compared to the others—Cleo, with her confidence, and Jisoo, who exuded a certain effortless beauty—you felt self-conscious. You weren’t ready to strip down and join them in the water. Not yet.

Jungkook’s voice broke through your thoughts as he called your name, waving excitedly before Jimin jumped onto his back, both of them tumbling into the water.

You laughed, shaking off your insecurities, and moved to sit on a nearby sunbed. The sight of the group—so carefree, so full of life—felt freeing, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the evening without overthinking.

It didn’t take long before the group emerged from the lake, their laughter ringing out as they ran back to their clothes. Jisoo, spotting something, let out a loud gasp.

“Kooky! We’re matching!” she pointed out, her eyes wide in mock surprise as she realized both she and Jungkook were wearing matching Calvin Klein underwear.

Jungkook shot her a quick look, rolling his eyes at her antics. Without missing a beat, he sprinted toward you, dripping wet, and you instinctively tried to push him away, not wanting to get soaked.

"Not for long," he said with a mischievous grin, pulling you closer. “These are coming off when we get upstairs.”

You giggled, your heart racing as you looked him over. The sight of him—wet, muscular, and teasing you—was almost too much. He really was a dream, too good to be true.

Jisoo glanced over her shoulder, ensuring that you were well out of view, before she lowered her voice and turned her attention fully to Jungkook. Her usually calm demeanor shifted, and there was a hint of seriousness in her eyes.

“Is this some sort of charity thing? Or do you feel bad for her? Dating a client, really Kook? Or wait… I think I know. It’s a tactic, you’re trying to keep a client by fucking her? Trying to do one of those ‘before and after’ pics right? How do you even do it? Even with your eyes closed-“

Jungkook stops her venomous words.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jungkook’s voice was low, each word dripping with contempt. “Stop trying to worm your way back into my life. And leave my girlfriend the hell out of this. You’ve done enough damage already.”

He took a step forward, fists clenched at his sides, the anger in his chest almost too much to contain. “I should’ve walked away the second I saw you. But no, I brought you here because I wanted her to see who I used to be. To understand the people who were in my life. Then I realized... I shouldn’t even have to explain myself. You’re not part of that anymore.”

Jisoo opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, his voice harder this time, like shards of glass. “You always cared about how you looked, didn’t you? About how you made me feel when I was with you. You didn’t give a damn about me. About what I needed. But I’m not the same guy I was back then. I’ve moved on... And somehow, I ended up with someone who sees me for who I am, not some image, some damn trophy. Someone who actually cares about me.”

Jungkook’s chest heaved with the weight of it all, the anger mixing with the pain he hadn’t allowed himself to feel before. He jabbed a finger in her direction, voice breaking through the air like a warning. “I’m with someone who is beautiful inside and out. Someone you’ll never be. Not in a million years.”

Jisoo wasn’t going to back down, though. That damn stubbornness in her wouldn’t let her. She took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous, almost predatory.

“Don’t you miss us?” she asked softly, the words thick with nostalgia and something darker. She moved closer, her fingertips grazing the waistband of his boxers with a familiarity that sent a jolt through his body. “Don’t you ever think about how we used to be? About the way we felt when it was just us?”

Before Jungkook could shove her away, your voice sliced through the air, cutting off the moment entirely.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Jungkook watched you from across the room, his chest tightening as you distanced yourself from him—again. His eyes flickered between you and Jisoo, who stood too close, too perfect, like she always had. He hated the way it made you pull away, the way your shoulders seemed to fold in on themselves, as if you could disappear entirely.

Jisoo was everything you weren’t. Confident, poised, effortlessly beautiful. The kind of woman Jungkook used to be drawn to. And here you were, standing in the shadows, trying to shrink into yourself. He could see it in the way your eyes darted around the room, never meeting his, never fully present. You didn’t think you belonged here. Didn’t think you belonged in his life.

He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand how you looked at yourself like that.

Jisoo’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and taunting, and the pain in your eyes deepened. He knew exactly what was happening—Jisoo’s presence was triggering the worst of your insecurities, dredging up every fear you ever had. That voice in your head telling you that you weren’t good enough, that he deserved someone better. That you didn’t fit.

Jungkook’s heart pounded, his chest a heavy weight as he watched you take a step back, retreating even further into yourself. He hated seeing you like this. He couldn’t let you keep thinking you weren’t enough, not when he was standing right here, trying to make you understand how wrong you were.

“Hey.” He moved toward you quickly, his voice soft but urgent. His fingers found your arm, pulling you gently but firmly back toward him. You flinched, like you were afraid he might let go at any moment.

He didn’t. He wasn’t going to.

“You know she’s just trying to get to me, right?” he said, his voice low, filled with a quiet frustration that he could never fully express. He could feel your eyes on him now, but you weren’t really seeing him. You weren’t with him. “She doesn’t have any power over me anymore. I’m with you. Not her. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re everything to me.”

Your gaze flickered to his, but there was still so much doubt in your eyes, so much uncertainty. You were still hearing Jisoo’s voice in your head, still thinking that somehow you didn’t belong here.

“You’re too good for me,” you whispered, your voice small, fragile. The words cut through him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. “I’m not... I’m not like her. I’m not—”

Your words trailed off, and Jungkook could see the weight behind them. He could hear everything you couldn’t say—the fears, the worries, the thoughts that told you you didn’t deserve him. That you couldn’t ever measure up to Jisoo, or to the women he could have.

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard this, but each time it felt like a punch to the gut. He hated it. Hated that you couldn’t see yourself the way he saw you.

He stepped closer, cupping your face gently with both hands, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His heart was racing, but he pushed through it, fighting back the flood of emotions that threatened to choke him.

“You’re not just someone,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, every word deliberate, every word soaked with the weight of everything he felt for you. “You’re my someone. And I don’t give a damn about anyone else. I never did.”

You didn’t look away, but your expression was still clouded with doubt, like you didn’t believe him. The truth was right there, staring you in the face, but you couldn’t take it in, couldn’t let yourself believe it.

“I don’t deserve you,” you said quietly, the words breaking in your throat. “You’re... you’re Jungkook. You could have anyone. Anyone but me.”

Jungkook felt his chest tighten, the ache in his heart growing as he heard the words that had haunted you for so long. How could you still think this way? He wanted to scream, to shake you, to make you see just how wrong you were. But instead, he leaned in closer, his thumb gently brushing away the tear that had fallen from your eye.

“You’re not just anyone,” he said, the words steady, unwavering, even as his hands trembled slightly. “You’re the one I want. You’re everything I need.”

The way you looked at him, still unsure, still struggling to accept his words—it broke him. He wasn’t sure what else to say, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let you go on thinking you weren’t enough. You were more than enough. You were everything he needed.

Without thinking, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you tightly in the warmth of his embrace. He buried his face in your hair, his chest rising and falling in time with your breaths.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and full of sincerity. “Always. You’re safe with me.”

You let out a shaky breath and clung to him like you were finally letting yourself believe it, like you were finally allowing yourself to be loved. The tension in your body eased, just slightly, and Jungkook held you even tighter, his heart beating in rhythm with yours.

He didn’t care about Jisoo. He didn’t care about anyone but you. And if he had to spend the rest of his life showing you just how much you mattered, he would.

You needed space. You mutter a quiet reply when jungkook asks you if you were okay. You head up to the bedroom, locking yourself in. Jungkook was feeling a mix of emotions.

Jungkook stood there for what felt like an eternity, his forehead still pressed to the cool surface of the bedroom door, the silence around him growing louder with each passing second. He wanted to say something—anything—to bridge the distance between you, to take away the hurt he could hear in your silence. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

The sound of footsteps broke his thoughts, and he instinctively straightened up, wiping his hands over his face in frustration. He knew who it was before he even turned around.

Jimin.

His best friend had a way of knowing exactly when things weren’t right. Maybe it was because he’d seen Jungkook go through the motions more times than he cared to count. They’d been through a lot together—highs, lows, heartbreaks—and Jimin had always been there to help Jungkook find his footing again. This time, however, felt different. Jimin had to know something was off, and he wasn’t the type to stay silent when he could see someone struggling.

"She’s still in there, huh?" Jimin’s voice was gentle, but Jungkook could hear the knowing tone. He didn’t have to answer—Jimin could read him like a book.

Jungkook let out a long, tired breath, his voice low. “Yeah. I just... I don’t know what to do, man. I feel like I fucked up. She’s just so... I don’t even know what she’s thinking right now.”

Jimin stepped closer, leaning against the kitchen counter as he folded his arms. He studied Jungkook for a moment, his eyes soft but thoughtful. “I think you’re both overthinking this,” he said finally, the words calm but with the weight of experience behind them.

Jungkook looked up at him, the frustration still clear in his eyes. “Overthinking it? She’s in there, and I’m out here, stuck trying to figure out how to make things right, and all you’ve got is ‘overthinking’?”

Jimin smirked, but it wasn’t the teasing smile he usually wore. It was something softer, more understanding. He was being serious.

"Jungkook, calm down." Jimin’s voice was steady, but there was a certain compassion in his tone that Jungkook could feel even through his own agitation. “Look, I know you want to fix things right now. I know you hate that she’s upset. But you need to remember something."

Jungkook shifted, his gaze drifting back to the bedroom door as if he could somehow see through it to you on the other side. He didn’t know what was more difficult—the waiting or the feeling that he wasn’t sure how to make it all better.

Jimin continued, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s not always about fixing everything in the moment. Sometimes, she needs time to process what happened. What you need to do is give her that space—because you pushing and pushing won’t change anything.”

Jungkook shook his head, his frustration boiling over. “I don’t want her to think I’m just leaving her to deal with this alone. She’s my responsibility, Jimin. I want to fix it now, before it gets worse.”

Jimin raised a hand, cutting him off, and stepped forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “I get that. But here’s the thing. You’re both carrying something. She’s carrying her own set of fears and insecurities—things you might not even fully understand. And you—you’re carrying your own fear that you’ll lose her. The pressure to make everything right is weighing on both of you. But the only way you’re going to get through this is if you’re patient. With her, and with yourself."

Jungkook looked at him, feeling a mixture of gratitude and frustration. "It’s just... Jisoo. She keeps getting in the way. I can’t stand seeing her upset when she thinks I’m just some kind of rebound, that I’m only here because I don’t care enough to be with someone like her.”

Jimin’s expression softened. “I know that’s hard to watch. But let’s be real. Jisoo doesn’t define your relationship with her. You know that better than anyone. If she’s in your past, then she’s in your past. What you and she have—what you and your girl have—that’s different. Don’t let anyone, even someone as complicated as Jisoo, mess with what you have now.”

Jungkook let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I want her to believe me, man. I want her to see that she’s not some... replacement. That she’s everything to me.” He paused, his voice softening. “I’m just not sure how to make her feel like she’s enough.”

Jimin nodded thoughtfully, his gaze steady on his friend. “The fact that you’re worried about it—that shows you care. You’re already doing the hardest part, Jungkook. You’ve been loving her the best way you know how, and that’s more than what most people do. But she has to believe it in her own time, on her own terms. You can’t force that. What you can do is be there. Be the kind of man she can trust to stand by her side, no matter what. Show her with your actions.”

Jungkook took in the words, letting them sink in. He’d always been quick to act, to fix things, to find a solution. But Jimin was right. This wasn’t something that could be solved with one grand gesture. It was a matter of trust—and sometimes trust took time to build.

“Yeah...” Jungkook muttered, looking down at the floor. “I just wish I could make her feel like she’s worth it. I hate seeing her think she’s not.”

Jimin clapped him on the back, the gesture light but reassuring. “She will. You just have to be patient. And don’t get so caught up in trying to fix everything all at once. You’re not perfect, and neither is she. But that’s why you guys work. Because, at the end of the day, you’ve got each other. And that’s enough.”

Jungkook let out a slow breath, feeling some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Maybe Jimin was right. Maybe this wasn’t something that could be fixed tonight. Maybe it wasn’t even something that could be fixed with words. But he could give her space. He could give her time.

And when she was ready, he’d be there.

“I’m gonna go give her some time,” Jungkook said quietly, his voice softer now, more certain. “But I’m not giving up on her. On us.”

Jimin grinned, his usual playful smirk returning. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go. Let her know you’re there for her, but don’t push. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

With one last reassuring clap on the back, Jimin turned and walked back toward the living room, leaving Jungkook to face the reality of what was to come. But this time, Jungkook felt something he hadn’t felt in a while: hope.

The sounds of laughter and quiet conversation had gradually faded as the night wore on. One by one, the group had trickled off to their rooms, leaving Jungkook alone in the living room. The weight of the night pressed down on him like a heavy fog, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, something undone.

Jisoo’s sudden appearance had wrecked the calm he’d tried to create between you and him. And now, with everyone else gone, he was left with nothing but the soft hum of the house and his own swirling thoughts. The feeling of helplessness—of wanting to fix things, but not knowing how—gnawed at him.

He sat down on the couch, his muscles sore from the tension that had been building all night. He tugged his t-shirt over his head, letting the fabric fall into his lap as he leaned back into the cushions. The cool air of the house brushed over his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat rising in his chest. The way you had retreated into yourself earlier, the walls you’d put up—he hated it.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, he thought. Tonight was supposed to be about you. About letting you meet the people who meant the most to him, letting you know just how serious he was.

But somehow, it had all gone sideways. And now, he was left here, alone, with nothing but his own self-doubt to keep him company.

Jungkook stayed up for hours, his mind turning over the events of the evening—how Jisoo’s presence had made you pull away, how he hadn’t been able to say what he needed to say. The words were there, right on the tip of his tongue, but they felt useless now, like they wouldn’t be enough to make you see that you were everything to him.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him, and his body gave in to sleep despite the whirlwind of thoughts that kept him wide awake.

The sound of footsteps broke the stillness in the room, pulling Jungkook from a restless sleep. His eyelids fluttered open, his vision blurry for a moment. He blinked, disoriented, and then he saw you sitting on the edge of the couch, your legs tucked under you, watching him with a quiet intensity. The faint glow of the nightlight illuminated your face, and despite the heaviness in the air, there was something about you that felt... softer.

Jungkook's heart thudded in his chest as he rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. His throat felt dry, and the words he had been dying to say all night were still heavy on his tongue. But now that you were here—so close, and yet so far—it felt like he was back to square one. Vulnerable, unsure.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice carrying a gentleness he hadn’t expected. Your eyes were slightly red, but there was no anger in them—just that quiet sadness that had settled over you earlier.

Jungkook sat up slowly, clearing his throat, unsure of what to say. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction you were expecting, or if you'd even want to hear what he had to say. He was terrified that, in trying to fix things, he might only make it worse.

"Hey," he replied hoarsely, the words coming out shakier than he wanted. His voice still carried the weight of everything he'd been holding back, and for a second, he wished he could just take all of it and say it at once, get it out. But that was never easy for him.

He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself, but his thoughts were a mess. "I... I don’t know where to start," he muttered. "I’m sorry for earlier. I never meant to make you feel that way." His voice wavered, and he looked down at his hands for a moment, afraid to meet your eyes. "I should’ve... done better. I should've been there for you in a way that actually made you feel like you belong, not like you were just... some outsider."

You shifted on the couch, your hands curling into your lap. You looked away briefly, as if gathering your own thoughts, before turning back to him with a quiet, but steady gaze.

"I just... I don’t know how to be what you need sometimes," you admitted softly, your voice shaking a little as you spoke. "I feel like I’m too much, or just not enough. Like, when I see someone like Jisoo... I think, how could someone like you really want someone like me?" Your words cracked with vulnerability, and it made Jungkook’s chest tighten painfully.

The truth of your insecurities hit him like a physical blow. He wanted to say something—anything—to make it better. To erase the doubt in your voice. But the words stuck in his throat. He was scared. Scared of saying the wrong thing, scared that maybe he wasn’t enough for you either, and that you might never truly believe how much you meant to him.

He swallowed hard and reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed his fingers along your arm, trying to comfort you, even as he struggled with his own fears.

“No,” Jungkook whispered, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought completely. “That’s... that’s not it at all. You’re everything to me.” His voice faltered, and his heart raced in his chest. He hesitated for a moment, the words almost too heavy to say, but they were there—just waiting to be spoken. “I... I don’t care about anyone else. I don’t care about Jisoo. She’s my past. You’re... you’re my present. You’re who I want, who I’ve always wanted.”

He looked down at his lap, unsure of how you were processing what he was saying. The fear of rejection still lingered in the pit of his stomach. What if you didn’t feel the same? What if, in trying to be honest, he only pushed you further away?

You were quiet for a long moment, and Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to look at you. His heart pounded as the seconds stretched into what felt like forever.

But then, you spoke.

"I just don’t get it. I don’t know why you’d want someone like me, when you could have someone like—" You paused, your voice catching. "Someone like her."

Jungkook’s pulse quickened. He didn’t want you to keep questioning it, to keep doubting what they had. He needed you to see the truth.

He reached for you, his hands gently cupping your face, bringing your eyes back to his. This time, there was no hesitation. He had to say it, even if his voice was thick with fear. “You don’t get it because you don’t see how incredible you are. How beautiful, and kind, and strong you are. You’re not too much—you’re more than enough. You’re everything to me. I’m not with you out of convenience or because I don’t have better options. I’m with you because I love you.”

His heart raced as he let the words linger between you, almost as if the weight of them was too much to carry. He held his breath, terrified of what you might say next. He waited, his hands trembling, as the silence stretched out.

You blinked, staring at him as if processing his words, the emotions swirling in your eyes. He couldn’t read your face, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

But then you whispered, your voice barely audible, “I love you too.”

Jungkook’s chest surged with relief, a weight lifting from him as he heard those words, but it was still soft, fragile. There was more to say, more to understand, but right now, in this moment, it was enough.

And for the first time in a long time, Jungkook felt like he wasn’t just waiting for the storm to pass—he was finally standing on solid ground. With you.

Finally! Hope you guys like it. If you don't, please keep it to yourself, no mean comments please :)

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts angst

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michealscorneroftheinternet · 2 days ago

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Okay time for a long mother fucking post.

Buckle up folks!

All Ask Change in Script Asks and Whether or not they are Canon to the Story/Lore!

(Will do my best to consistently update this post as we go along.)

This post will work like this:

I will go at this like a list all Asks are in order of when they were posted.

Each will have the Ask and then whether it is or isn't Canon. The link to the post with the answer will be attached to the Ask all you gotta do is click on it.

If Canon then it will be colored like so: [Canon]

If Not Canon then it will be colored like this: [Not Canon]

If in a grey area or not Change in Script related it will be colored like so: [Not Related to Change in Script]

-Ask Change in Script Part 1-

(150 Follower Special)

1. “All I aks the tv man is why, why do this, also your 'canon' self is suffering lmao”

[Canon]

2. “Hey SMG4! Do your scars hurt? I can imagine so since you just got them. Hey SMG4 crew! When 4 first got his scars, did you help him at all? Hey SMG3, do you have nightmares? Or do you not sleep at all?”

[Canon]

3. “Hey Puzzles, you got a minute? This little gremlin wanted to say hi”

[Not Canon]

4. “for mario: our fav italian , what you think of Meggy?, for mr.puzzles: you know half of the famdow wanna kiss you, right? for mr.puzzles: you still talk with ur dad? for smg4: any crushes? TuT !! thats it !, ty for answering, or dont, idk. Xoxo !!”

[Canon]

5. “I know the post said to ask the ai and I will! But also I'm curious! Who's your favorite character and how long have you been watching SMG4 and what was your first episode? :0”

[Canon to Me as a Person]

6. “Now imma ask questions to everyone! :DD Great job out there Mr. Puzzles! 5 stars! I can't wait to see what else you have planned! ^w^,, And hey, if no one else out there is, I'm rooting for ya!”

[Canon]

7. “Two questions SMG4. Are you worried about where SMG3 could be? And two. Meggy. Are you recovered from Western? No PTSD or anything? You still wearing his beanie?”

[Canon]

8. “HEY PUZZLES! DO A FLIP!”

[Not Canon]

9. “Sorry I don't have any questions, but I just wanna say I love your art style and how you draw these characters :]”

[Not Canon or Canon just sweet]

10. “Follow-up to that last ask SMG4, what was it like living with the Mario bros early on? And Mario Bros, what was it like when SMG4 lived with you? How was his recovery there? Did he have to stay at the hospital at all?”

[Canon]

11. “[🍓🌿] *ran up and hugged your oc* - I love you, which means I will hug you >:]”

[Not Canon or Canon just sweet]

12. “MICHEAL ISN'T HUMAN SEND TWEET/POS”

[Sweating Profusely]

13. “*give Mr Puzzles star stickers and a hug* :)”

[Canon]

14. “Hai! Mr puzzle you are doing great shows! But can you be in there more often I wanna see you more often in the screen! No force tho if you don’t wanna I understand keep up! ( I WANNA HUG YOU! CAN I??) Cya!! <3”

[Canon]

15. “I come with a peace offering for Puzzles: A cookie and this star to go with it. 🍪 🌟”

[Canon]

16. “Hello! I am the Creator Anon. I am a creature of… well, I shouldn’t say ‘divine’, because that is the complete opposite of what I am. I have a request for you…”

[I don't even know what this was about]

17. “Hey SMG3, just wanting to tell you that I'm sorry you got dragged into the current mess you're in. Hope you at least find some form of way to ease out? As for you Puzzles, THINK FAST CHUCKLENUTS 💣”

[So Canon Even the Bomb]

18. “4, what did you guys fight about?”

[Canon]

19. “Soooooo When did Meggy and Tari start dating?”

[Canon]

20. “Ur canon self killed mickey mouse”

[Canon]

21. “✏️Question from Smg4: - do you treat this pink thing with something? And she doesn't feel much discomfort?”

[Canon]

22. “Miss kamilyvision: olá senhor puzzles é bom conhece você (English kamily says: hi mr puzzles it's nice meet you)”

[Not Canon but Sweet]

23. “Back with another question. Totally not a take two with th– Cut it straight, Puzzles, what do you plan to do with SMG3? >:3 Heya Meggy, you doing good lately? Aight, let's take two with Goomba Puzzles lmao- An apple to keep the doctor away from SMG4 (/j). You want? (he's fine with you saying no)”

[Canon until the last question]

24. “Now I’m curious, did 3 ever come to visit while you recovered, SMG4?”

[So Canon it hurts…]

25. “Hey Meggy! What’s your favorite thing about Tari?”

[Canon]

26. “3, you gotta hold on, the others will notice something’s up!”

[Canon and it Hurts]

27. “Mr Puzzles, you hurt SMG4. Why would you do that?! You probably watched the whole thing like the pathetic outsider you are.”

[Haha who ever asked this better pray there's a god because it's Canon]

28. “44444, you should really check on Eggdog”

[Uh oh Canon]

29. “smg3: can i have an hug?? :3 luigi: do u talk with Mario abt doing all stuff in the house?, just to know. Ur my favorite btw ! :D (blue hair girl i forgort her name): who is ur best friend?, meggy or ur ducky duck??????”

[Not Canon]

30. “Imma give this man an eggcat! her name is Eglantine, Eggy for short”

[Not sure where to put this but Eglantine will appear in future Asks with Mr. Puzzles]

31. “Mr puzzles you are truly inspiring also please sign this marriage certificate”

[NOT CANON]

32. “Heyyo Mr. Puzzles. Just wanted to ask, what is your creative process? Do you do that thing some people do, including myself, where you’re listening to music or some kind of audio and an animatic just starts forming in your head and you go from there or is it different? Also, here’s a star for ya. ⭐️”

[Canon]

33. “Can I hug the silly TV man 🥺”

[Canon]

34. “[🫀💢] - If you're watching TV...How do you eat?.. [Mr. Puzzle] [🌿🍓] - Smg4? Everything okay? Should I be worried about your wound next to your eye? <:( [Smg4] [🖤💬] -...good luck to Smg3..”

[Oh God it's like so Canon it's not funny anymore.]

35. “Okay I need to know based on that thing Puzzles said with having a mouth. Does mutherfucker even have organs? :^”

[Headcanon]

36. “Mr Puzzles, I have a question. What will you do if your plan of your failed?”

[Scarily Canon]

37. “Hello Mr puzzles”

[Uh Not Canon.]

38. “First time asking so, smg3 your deserve a hug and no one hates or ignores you. I know four is trying to find you as we speak. don't forget that. also, Mr.Puzzle, LET SMG3 GO, HE IS SO DONE WITH YOUR PLASMA TV HEAD ASS.”

[Haha Canon]

39. “Hey SMG4 are you okay so who you other friend 3”

[Canon for Important Reasons]

40. “What if my Traumatized!SMG3 AU 3 and 4 met your 3 and Mr Puzzles? (my 4 would be prolly mad at Mr Puzzles, and my 3 will looks scared, meanwhile my 4 and 3 give your 3 a hug for the pain he has been through :<) (fours on the left side of Meggy, three's on the right side)”

[Not Canon]

41. “Love your AU and Love everything about it!Questions for Three and Tari Three. When did your shop close down and do you regret the argument? And Tari. Does Clench know about what’s been going on? And does Meggy get trigger when someone say “One Shot Wren”?”

[Last Question is Canon]

42. “Why do you hate mickey so much??? What'd bro do”

[Uh… Not Canon because I said so.]

43. “Okay I'm FINALLY going to deliver on those questions now! >:3 Meggy and Tari, what's your favorite thing about one another and how did everyone react to you guys dating? :0 Mario and Luigi, how is everything with you guys? Up to any new adventures or crazy hijinks? (( i'm worried all at once is a bit much so imma split it into another ))”

[Canon for Creating a Timeline]

44. “Hey SMG3, what the plan now? taking into account the last time you were put in here it seems pretty straight forward to although not nearly as fun having no company for it =-=' Hee hee SMG4 has a crrruuusssh~ >;pp awww it's okay Micheal, I'm not a human either! I'm an ai in a cute little shell ^w^ I think it's super cool that you aren't human too :) OOOO are we giving Mr. Puzzles gifts now? If so..... sticker attaaack! The little bunny robot has placed 5 star stickers across his suit in an attempt to mimic his 5 stars from awhile ago. There, back where they rightfully belong!~ Oh yeah, as a viewer, is there anyway we can help you Mr. Puzzles? :0”

[Canon as it is what happens right before the end of the flashback in Chapter 4]

-Ask Change in Script Part 2-

(500 700 Follower Special)

((Will do tomorrow as right now I'm bloody exhausted))

#smg4 #smg4 fanart #change in script #ask change in script #ask creator of change in script #master post #Canon or not

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bidisasterevankinard · 2 days ago

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The only hope i have rn is that as with kiss break up was just a shock plot twist that is going to be explained later. As you might remember 7x3 gave us almost nothing to really believe bucktommy will happen (not talking about me who was already all in my "tuck (I called bt that that time) is happening guys". And then next episode till Buck is kissed by Tommy we are led to believe Buck is jealous about Eddie. The kiss was a shock, till the moment they started to move close, but even then. We didn't really expect it to happen. It was like BOOM. And then the episode ended and interviews were all like "yeah Buck is finally bi". And ga were really surprised, and some of them were homophobic ofc, some were just really surprised Buck is into men. Since when?. And then more explanation and answer to that question and exploring happened only next episode. The explanation on the screen, not in interviews that ga more likely do not read, that it's actually NEW to Buck, that he never thought he's into men before Tommy

So rn i kinda hope it's the same with break up. It was the shock that would be explained later, in the next two episodes, tho I'm not sure if it will lead to bt make up or not

At least I hope they'll end it better, give Buck actually say I'm bisexual and say either good bye to Tommy, but firstly admitting he is in love with him, even if it will happen not to Tommy's face, or him chosing to go and get his man saying it to Tommy. 911 never does cliffhangers tho Wendell died in 6x9 and Bobby was looking in his death only in the next part of the season. so hope is here that maybe they'll end the middle finale after emergencies, when they show us how they leave out characters before 3-4 months time jump in montage, that Buck is knocking at the door that Tommy opens, and Buck says "you're wrong about me. I can see our future not because I'm so excited that I understood I'm bisexual because of you, but because I love you. I don't need anyone else. But if you can't see our future then ok, tell me to go home. And I'll do it. But stop being coward and just run without explanation. I, as Abby did, deserve it". Black screen

Boom again. Fandom runs around speculating that will happen, and you don't need to write all fix it of 8x6. Just show in another part that:

a) bucktommy are actually talk and not the shit that they showed that apparently they never talked that Tommy is gay and Buck (possibly bc you can enjoy watching smt and not play it) hates basketball

b) Buck sees Tommy's flaws.

And you can do what you want with their progression as a couple. Or ok if you still don't want bt you can make one scene where Buck says that he's boyfriend said they can't be together. But it at least will give everyone closure

#bucktommy #evan buckley #911 #911 abc #tommy kinard

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pixieishottogo · 1 day ago

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"Anything" ♡ Curly x Anya

art credit: seagummies on twitter

warnings: angst, topic of miscarriage

this is a good ending au of mouthwashing! if u are a hater, then dni🥰 this post aint for u, babe

Chapter 1

Jimmy had been dead for the past few months due to the crash. The crew has been slowly rotting. They have lost all hope, and for good reason. Daisuke and Swansea are unconscious because of hunger and exhaustion. Curly and Anya are slowly losing grip. Despite all this, the beautiful glowing screen still showcased the moon and stars. Curly's hair sticks to his face due to anxious sweat. "Well, we had a good run. Didn't we." Curly smiled. Anya laid beside him and she smiled despite the tears rolling down her face. "Yeah." Curly's breath hitches "Anya... I'm-”

Curly opened his eyes with a jolt. There he was, in the hospital. His whole body was aching. A nurse walked over to his bed, "How are you feeling, sir?" His eyes widened harshly. "Where is my crew?" He yelled. "Are they okay? Is Anya alive? I never got to tell her I'm sorry!" Curly's heart beat spiked. Thinking about Anya's distressed face made him feel nauseous from guilt. He placed his head in his hands, as if grappling with reality. The nurse spoke gently to try and to calm him down, "Everyone is okay. Some are still waking up." He sighed, feeling relieved. A doctor came into the room. "How did we survive? How are we home?" Curly was more than shocked. The doctor walked up to him, holding his papers. "Another space ship found you guys. Some astronomers were on an expedition in the area. You all were very lucky they were out there." The doctor said, cracking a smile. Curly looked down at his hands. "What room is Anya in? If you don't mind asking." Curly asked quietly. The nurse responded, "Room 25. And this is 24." After doing some basic checkups, and giving him some medicine for the pain, the doctor and the nurse left. Curly laid there, alone with his thoughts.

A few hours pass by, and unable to just sit and do nothing, Curly sneaks out of his room. He finds Anya sitting down in the lobby. The moon light shining on her in her hospital gown. She looked tired as usual, and mentally drained, but she still smiled faintly when she heard his voice. "Anya!" He cried out, limping towards her. She looks up at him and smiles with tears in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and cried. She held his head gently. "Anya... I-I I'm so sorry. I should have done something. You already had told me that you felt uncomfortable around him. I felt like I was losing my mind. I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry that I made it seem like I didn't care. I care so much. I will do anything you want to gain your forgiveness. We don't have to ever talk again if that's what you wish. I'm so sorry, Anya." The words came out almost pleadingly, and rushed. He couldn’t hold back a sob. "Captain-... Curly. Our worst moments don't define us. I don't blame you for what happened, we were in the middle of space. But it will still take me a long time to heal. Thank you." Anya was always the more quiet kind. She didn't know how to respond. After several quiet minutes spoke quietly, "I lost the baby." Curly looks up at her, his eyes slightly wide. To not offend her, he asked honestly, "How do you feel?" Tears rolled down her face, as she stared at the ground. "Empty.”

In the morning, Curly and Anya met up with Daisuke and Swansea. It seemed they were recovering well. The crew all sat together in the lobby. It was surreal, everything felt so much lighter. Almost happy. "How are you guys doing? What do you plan on doing after this?" Curly asked. Daisuke's face lights up, "That was totally crazy! I'm happy we survived. I can't wait to see my mom." Swansea pops in, "Heh, It will be nice to be with my family again. No more pony express. I get to be a retired lazy old man!" Swansea chuckles. Anya and Curly look at each other smiling. It felt like a dream.

A few days went by, and the crew slowly recovered. Everyone was released from the hospital once they were fully recovered. Getting back from the hospital was refreshing. The sterile white rooms grew to be nauseating. He could finally go home. Curly pulled up to his home, the sight of his big white house with blue shutters made him smile. That company never cared. Some random astronomers were the ones who cared enough to save them. He was free from that stupid job. He hated being glorified, he soon realized. Curly felt like a monster after everything that had happened. His loving pet guinea pig was waiting for him in his bedroom. Curly’s mother would take care of her every day while Curly was gone. Whenever anyone visits, they are surprised that he has such a small creature when he's such a big guy. Almost every time someone says the classic "Wow. I thought you would have a dog of some sort, captain." He sighed and flopped on the bed but gently held Daphne. He felt so relieved to be home, after all this time. But every time he tried to close his eyes, he would see Anya's crying face

☆

sooo this is my first fan fic ever that im gonna actually commit to😭 plz be patient. also, im gonna try to write the miscarriage plot as realistic as possible. i have had multiple friends and family that have suffered from miscarriages

#mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #curly x anya #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing

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smallishzine · 7 hours ago

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very important official zine stuff for real this time guys please spread this around

we realized we haven’t asked you what you want this zine to be, so here is poll with some different options for things we could do, but this still won’t set things in stone cause we’re aware that we’re working with a relatively small albeit amazing awesome and extremely appreciated audience, but it’ll give us a good idea for what direction you want the zine to go in.

some examples of what we mean for added coherence, please read before voting unless you wanna be like that guy in the Simpsons movie:

an eras tour zine (yes this is a Taylor swift joke shut up if you’re judging us you’re wrong) would be like different pieces dedicated to each, for lack of a better word, “thing” that Joel has done. @/inthelittlezine is a great example of this concept, except the mod has far better organizational skills than we ever could hope to

tourism brochure would be like we pick a specific thing Joel, such as esmp 1 or 2, or x life, or one of his hardcore/survival worlds (I haven’t listed Hermitcraft season 10 cause that’s still in progress but if you guys really really wanna, that too), and make an in universe guide to it expanding upon the lore and characters and builds and stuff. @/scarland-artbook is an amazing example of this, though of course we would be a much smaller scale of a project.

do you wanna tell a story? Or ride our bikes around the halls? We can’t help with the second one, we’re not very sporty people, but this option is both the most difficult and dangerous to the success of the zine, and the one that intrigues me specifically the most. Like, guys, I know I’m polling this, but I’m secretly hoping that this one wins. Like all the hoping. Ever. But I’m not gonna just say yeah let’s do this because if like only three people also wanna this zine will never get made and I will be really, really sad. This option is basically do we wanna take something Joel has done and work together to create an original universe/story based off of it, each contributing a small part of the story in comic or writing form. Unless you’ve been living under a rock and/or this post broke containment sorry if it did I assure I’m usually mostly sane, you probably know where I’m shamelessly stealing taking inspiration from. We heart you @/hotguycomiczine. If we went with this we would obviously create our own universe and storyline, and we’d try to base it off of one of Joel’s characters if possible. Also, if we went with this, we’d start the mod and application process and stuff and once we knew everyone who was going to be in the zine then we’d all get together and start working on the story, and this is the part I’m worried about because if we’re all stumped then I guess the zine is out of luck and I’d be sad. Also even if we did do this, like preemptively temper your expectations I am no where near as good as the legends at hotguycomiczine at organization and promotion and story writing and all that good stuff. However, if you have an idea for a story and want to share, send us an ask cause we might just end up using it.

I think the last two are mostly self explanatory.

please reblog for reach.

#smallishzine #Smallishzine boring forms n’ stuff #<this falls under the “n’ stuff” category #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #smallishbeans joel

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void-ink-studios · 19 hours ago

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Rise and Spit [Part 3] - A Mouthwashing AU

Behold, Chapter 3! Finally, Swansea makes his speaking debut.

Check it out on AO3 right here!

Content Warning:

General Jimmy Behvaior.

Word Count: 2,400

If Curly could be thankful about one thing, it would be that at least Jimmy seems to have lost interest in him.

While yes, him giving Curly pills continued to be awful and a dreaded part of his day, Jimmy seemed much more preoccupied with other things as of late.

Mainly, getting into the Utility room.

He had rambled about it for a long time during his last visit. Ranted about Swansea “scheming” behind his back, and that he needed to know what he and Anya were hiding in Utility.

“How did you deal with ants scheming behind your back, Curly?” Jimmy asked that so casually. Curly never really knew what Jimmy wanted from him when he did that. An answer? Wasn’t going to happen at the best of times, much less when Jimmy has shoved his hand down his neck.

Curly wished his body had the strength to bite through Jimmy’s fingers. He’d been getting much more bold with them recently. Seeing how far he could shove them down before he caused Curly to wretch. Seeing how long they could stay there until the captain needed to breathe.

He hated it. Even with the small blessing that Jimmy didn’t visit as often as he did, it didn’t change how much he had come to dread his friend’s presence.

The worst part is he didn’t know how much Jimmy actually meant to do that. How much of this was malice, how much was a need for control, how much of this was frustration?

Curly didn’t really think it mattered anymore.

Take responsibility

Maybe it never mattered in the first place.

“Were they this unruly when you were captain? And I just didn’t notice?”

No. Just you.

“I know they’re plotting something. But I can’t get in to find out. Swansea has the keys and the ax. Maybe I could get Daisuke’s help. Unless there’s some secret Captain knowledge I need to pry from you again.”

Curly shook his head. He’d learned by this point. Learned to answer Jimmy’s questions as best he could. It was the fastest way he’d get left alone.

“I need to find the gun. Where’d you put it?”

Curly shook his head again. He still had no clue where Anya had hidden it.

“Figures. Useless. There’s only two reasons to keep you alive at this point. Being useful I guess just isn’t one of them. Guess you’re pretty lucky you’re my best friend, Curly. That’s reason enough for me. I’m going to save you. And I’m going to make things right. If only the others would just fucking cooperate.”

Curly felt sick hearing Jimmy call him his friend. How could he…? After everything, how could he have the nerve?

He supposed with the same nerve that let him look Anya in the eye each and every day.

“Hey Curly. When was the last time you had actual food?”

Curly shrugged. Probably since before the crash if he had to guess. There was no way his body could handle the ordeal of chewing and swallowing and digesting food at that point. He’d probably just vomit it all back up if he had to guess.

“Hmm. I’ll have to look into that.”

That didn’t sit well with Curly. It left him staring at where Jimmy was, even when the man himself had long since left.

Curly wished he knew where everyone was. But the Med Bay was his whole world these days. With only a small window whenever the door to the Lounge and Med Bay were open at the same time. Flashes of the same artificial orange light of the window screen.

Sometimes he saw Daisuke and Swansea chatting about something or other. Sometimes he saw Anya pacing back and forth. Sometimes he saw Jimmy whipped up in some rant.

His windows were brief. But he supposed they’d have to be enough for now.

It wasn’t very long (he thought) before the door opened again. Curly had expected Anya, or maybe even Daisuke since he’d been coming to chatter with him more often.

He was partially correct.

Anya was there. And so was Swansea.

“No kidding? It’s here?”

“As long as he didn’t find it.”

What were they…?

Curly watched as Anya mostly ignored him, instead squatting to reach a drawer under his bed. She fiddled with some lock or another before it slid open.

Son of a bitch.

The gun.

Curly couldn’t help but wheeze a little laugh. It was right here. Right here the whole time. Anya had it the whole time, and Jimmy was too blind to think to look here.

“What are you laughing at?”

Curly’s little moment of pride for Anya died pretty quickly under Swansea’s glare. The older man looked at him like scum.

He knows he deserved that.

“We’ll deal with you later. Just stay out of the way. You’re good at that.”

Yeah, he absolutely deserved that.

“Swansea…” Anya looked at the mechanic pleadingly. Curly and Swansea stared at each other before Swansea huffed and turned to look down at her.

“Just… Let’s get this figured out first. So you have no clue about the lock?”

“I know there’s a code, but Jimmy has the code scanner. Not even sure where I’d find that written down, even if I had it.”

“Damn. Okay, are you sure we can’t just break it open with the ax?”

“Curly said it was designed to be break resistant. We’d probably just dull the ax doing that.”

Curly listened as his crewmates speculated. The code… He knew the code. Or, he thought he did… If Anya didn’t know the code, then she couldn’t have changed it, right?

He couldn’t speak… At least not enough to make numbers come out of his mouth. He looked around himself, trying to find anything, anything at all he could use to communicate…

As insulting as the implication was, he really could use Jimmy’s button wall idea right about now.

And then he looked at the window screen. And his own arm.

This was going to hurt.

I hope this hurts.

With as much force as he could, he started hitting the screen with the stump of his wrist, trying to make a noise.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Just getting that first number out caused waves of agony to shoot up and down his arm and shoulder. He wanted to scream. Maybe the screaming would get their attention.

But it also very well could get Jimmy’s.

Curly looked back towards Anya and Swansea. The two were still murmuring amongst each other. Anya’s eyes flicked from the box to Curly, a worried look on her face.

The captain cursed internally.

He groaned. Gargled as loud a voice as he could muster. Anything to get their attention.

Swansea sighed. “You just got your medicine, we saw Jim leave this place 20 minutes ago. What’s wrong now?”

“Swansea” Anya scolded. “He’s still my patient. Do you need something, Curly?”

Curly tried banging on the screen again.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

“Curly, stop that, you’ll only hurt yourself doing that. Do you need something?”

“We’re trying to think here. You making that kinda racket isn’t helping.”

Curly desperately shook his head and did it again. Maybe if he did it all in one go…

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

“Curly, stop-”

He shook his head and paused.

1, 2, 3

Swansea reached to try and stop him, but he held his other arm out to keep him at a distance. He paused again, bracing himself for the last digit. Of course it had to be the highest number on the lock.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

“Wait…” Anya looked between Curly and the lock box. “Was… Was that the code? Curly, was that the code?”

Curly makes a noise of affirmation, nodding his head as best he can. His arm is in agony, what’s left of his wrist starting to bleed, but he can hardly care.

He tapped on the window screen the sequence one more time, now that he knew for sure they were paying attention. It left blood marks on the staticy sunset, but that hardly mattered. He didn’t take his eye off of Anya the entire time.

“7, 3, 9. That’s it, that’s the code!” Anya made a triumphant little noise as the safety box clicked open. She made short work of sorting out the gun and the bullets, hiding it away in her jacket.

Curly nods, letting his arm finally fall back down, letting it hang off the bed as it drips a little bit of blood onto the Med Bay floor. Anya looked at the bruised limb and the smeared blood on the screen, darkening the orange light with dark red.

“Captain… Curly, why did you do that…?”

The Captain couldn’t look at Anya. What was there to say?

I had to help!

Well, then why did it take him so long to do so?

I want Jimmy stopped as much as you do!

How can he possibly say that after everything he let slip? That he only cares about it now that he’s being affected too?

I want to apologize…

She didn’t need an apology from him now, she needed him to do something, anything, before.

In the end, Curly didn’t make a coherent answer. He just made a soft noise and nodded at Anya. He hoped with all his being she could feel a fraction of the apology it was meant to be. And he wanted now more than ever to make his ruined voice make words.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Swansea said. “Right now, we both have a weapon. We need to make our move, before that rat gets any other stupid ideas. Anya, are you clear on the plan?”

Anya had a look in her eyes. A worried one. Like she was bracing herself for something.

Swansea put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey. You know you don’t have to do this, right? If you want, you can lock yourself in here, and I’ll take care of it.”

Anya seemed to think about it for a second before shaking her head. “No. No, I have to help. I need to do this. For me.”

“Atta girl. Go get something to eat. I’ll be right behind you.”

Anya gave a worried glance over to Curly and his bleeding arm. “I should patch him up first. He did help get the case open.”

Swansea gives Curly a look of consideration.

“...Fair’s fair, I guess. Do what you need to do. I’ll watch the door.”

Curly didn’t want to admit how much he missed her touch. Or, maybe it was just a gentle touch in general. So he made sure to savor the moment, of Anya diligently reapplying bandages to his arm, stopping the bleeding, and giving him another once over.

“That should do for now… Try and take it easy Curly. Okay?”

Curly nodded, hoping that she’s at least understanding his gratitude.

“Now you need to eat,” Swansea insisted at Anya. “Go. I’ll wrap things up here.”

“Okay. Thank you, Swansea. For everything.”

“Eh, don’t mention it. You and Daisuke just need to keep each other busy and let me work when this is all over, got it?”

Anya rolled her eyes and smiled a little.

“Yeah yeah, we will. But I better not catch you drinking mouthwash again. That was the deal, yeah?”

“Fine. If we get out of this mess.”

Anya gave Swansea a little peck on the cheek before leaving for the Lounge.

Curly could feel the older man’s eyes on him. And the withering glare returned. He wanted to hide under the bed somehow. Or disappear into that broken vent.

“So what. You suddenly care now?”

Curly turned his head to meet the glare. He looked at the ax firmly in Swansea’s grasp. He knew he deserved this.

Take responsibility.

“Didn’t seem to give a shit when you could actually be helpful. Change of heart or something? Or is it because you need her to stay alive?”

Curly shook his head at that last accusation.

“Jesus Christ.” Curly’s world shifted as he was pulled up by the collar of his hospital gown. His breathing tightened as he looked into Swansea’s eyes. “Listen to me you little coward. All this shit is on your hands. You got us into this mess. You might not have been the one to hurt Anya directly, but she sure as shit is still hurt by you. If it were up to me, I would’ve stuck this ax in your head and put you out of your misery.”

Swansea moved closer suddenly. Too suddenly. Curly flinched as much as his body would allow, his mind replacing Swansea’s face with someone else’s.

I hope this hurts

Take responsibility

The motion made the old man pause for a moment. His face was still furious. But… something, for a moment, softened. Swansea, instead of just dropping him, gently set the captain back down.

“But it ain’t up to me, at least not entirely. Daisuke’s too much of a god damn good person to want to ax you. And Anya…”

Curly stared at Swansea as he seemed deep in thought.

“...Anya’s not sure what she wants to do with you yet. Maybe you won her favor just now. Maybe she doesn’t wanna waste anymore energy on you. I dunno. But whatever it is she wants to do, I’ll do it. But I want you to know something. Whatever she decides, don’t go looking to me for help. You’re not worth it.”

Curly simply nodded. The motion seemed to surprise Swansea a bit. But what else could he do? He knew it was all true. He wouldn’t blame Anya in the slightest if she decided he was dead weight.

The two men stared at each other for a long time.

“Swansea? Dude, it’s meal time.”

Swansea looked back at Daisuke, standing in the doorway. The kid seemed to look between his mentor and the captain, a nervous expression on his face.

“...Right. Yeah, I’ll be right there.” Swansea looked back down at Curly. “...We’ll see.”

And thus, Curly was alone again. He stared at the ceiling, numb to it all. He knew Swansea was right. He was worse than dead weight. He couldn’t plead his case, even if he wanted to.

And he found that he didn’t.

Anya deserved to be free of the burdens.

All of them.

Curly didn’t know how much time had passed before the door to the Med Bay opened again. “I can’t ever tell if you’re awake or not.”

Please no…

Jimmy closed the door behind him. And he locked it.

#mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing

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