#it’s just one of those movies that I can tell is unfolding & I can’t really have commentary this early in

[juniperhillpatient]

the only time I wish I had a significant other or even just a roommate is when I’m snacky enough for a bag of popcorn or mayhaps kettle corn but not enough for a whole bag & have to decide if I’m gonna a) waste half a bag b) languish in my snack cravings for the rest of the movie c) devour an entire bag & hate myself

[filthgarbage86]

I JUST HAD A THOUGHT

Okay so think about it; I’m sure Eddie doesn’t hang out with a ton of girls, not on purpose, he just mainly hangs out with the hellfire club and his band members.

Then you show up

And you fit right in with everyone. It’s so easy to talk to you since you both have similar interests and you’re very chill about everything. Sure you get excited and into the game play but overall you just like to hang and talk about similar interests! You hang out, listen to music and what not. He loves spending time with you, he feels so relaxed around you.

Maybe a little too relaxed. You don’t mind of course because you know, Eddie is just your friend. He’s made that painfully clear that he just sees you as another one of his guy friends, which is fine.

Then one day, he’s walking around town and he sees you in the video rental store talking to Robin. You guys are going crazy over something and he realizes you’re giggling and there’s something else… he can’t put his finger on it but he knows he’s blushing. He better go say hi and see what’s so funny.

He walks in and Robin greets him half assed as soon as she recognizes who it is and gives him a witty one liner.

“Whatcha guys talking about?”

“Oh Robin was just telling me about the new Tom Cruise movie that just came out. Apparently Nancy is reeeaaalllyyyy into him but he’s not really my type”

He stands there a bit dumbfounded

“You’re… you’re talking about.. Tom cruise? And your type?”

“It sounds silly but Robin says it’s a good movie! Maybe I’ll have to watch and see what Nancy sees in him” you and Robin both laugh at the thought a little bit

Eddie is just staring at you, realizing he’s caught you talking to your friend.. about boys. and he would have this ridiculous epiphany. “You really are a girl”

You stiffen a bit and it doesn’t go unnoticed “Uhh yeah… last time I checked Ed, what have I been this whole time? An alien?” You’re not dumb, again, you know exactly how Eddie saw you but this just drove the knife a bit deeper.

“No that’s not- I didn’t mean- no I just-“

Robin let’s out an exhausted sigh “look dorky ozwad, just because she plays dnd with you and goes to concerts and knows how to hang doesn’t make her any less of a girl. It’s the 80s dude, girls can like fantasy and metal just as much as they like romance”

Eddie stands there dumbfounded, he’d feel like an idiot. He knows it shouldn’t matter and to him it still doesn’t. He just never realized how “bro-y” he had been towards you. And it makes him feel silly. Now everything makes sense as to why he always likes to watch you smile and laugh (he’d do anything to make you laugh) or why he always wants to hang out with you. He likes you. More than just a friend, and not even just because you’re a girl- because you’re YOU. He just forgot that sometimes to get the girl, you have to treat her with a bit more rizz than he would a guy friend.

He’d be standing there an awful long time and your also standing there in silence, blushing profusely at everything that just unfolded. Of course you told Robin about feeling just like another one of his friends which would have been FINE with you.. but it wasn’t really. You wanted him to look at you differently, not entirely, but just enough to see you in a different light.

After that day he does. He notices the way you greet everyone with a bit of a pep to your step. How you always make sure you have a good outfit, even when you’re just lazing about. You always are prepared for every situation, and most of all, he notices every kindness you share to those around you. You’re sweet, you’re nice, and you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous. He’s been so blind this whole time because on top of all that, you go into battle every week during hellfire with no mercy. You go to metal concerts and are in the middle of most mosh pits. You are able to stand your ground in any argument big or small, and you can out do any of the guys in any random prank or dare.

You are perfect to him. He knows this. Now he has to figure out how to make sure YOU know he thinks you’re perfect.

He has no IDEA where to start

“I NEED ADVICE” as he slams the doors to the video rental place, to see not only Robin but also Steve. Perfect.

“Whoa dude okay are you finally ready to listen to other things besides screaming for 10 minutes?”

“For the last time, it is music, and no that’s not what I’m here for” he’d look at Robin and she’d smirk “ahh.. you’re finally here for lady advice I see”

“Lady advice? You? Who’s the lucky gal? Is it y/n? Took you long enough-

“I KNOW I know but I don’t know what to do.”

“Just you know.. treat her like a girl

Robin elbows him “dude, come on, what era are you two from? different wording. Treat her like she’s special. Treat her like you would do anything to make her happy”

“I would do that, but I don’t know HOW that’s why I’m here”

Robin groans “look, you guys hang out ALL the time, SURELY you’ve noticed SOMETHING she wants a guy to do for her”

something a guy could do for her…

—————————————————————

The next morning you’d be making your way to your locker when you notice Eddie is already there.

With his hair pulled back into a low messy bun. And he’s wearing a button up. And he looks like he’s either going to freak any second or faint in the process.

“Good morning Eddie. What’s with the get up? I’ve NEVER seen you this formal… are you wearing cologne?”

“Haha yeah uh- um- I am. I was trying to smell nice compared to the normal weed, beer, and cornflakes-“

“I like your normal smell”

“What? No that’s not- we’ll come back to that” You’ve been there all of 10 seconds and he’d already be flushed. you giggle and only just realize then that he’s holding something behind his back. He pulls out a bouquet of flowers, beautiful and bright

You feel so bad for trying not to laugh. He notices immediately and starts to regret everything. Of course you wouldn’t like this, or him. He puts them away but you’d grab his arm back out and take the flowers, still giggling to yourself

“I’m sorry, sorry, I’m being so incredibly rude. This is VERY sweet of you, but this is SO out of character for you. What’s going on?”

“Well you know.. after the other day with Robin I realized I’ve never really shown you.. how.. I feel about you? And like sure we play dnd together and you come to my concerts and we are together all the time because I love being around you but you.. deserve to be treated like you’re special. Because you are.. to me..”

He wishes the ground could swallow him whole

You look at him with those gentle eyes and you look back at this bouquet he’s brought you and you just smile so big. “Well.. you certainly have made me feel special right now. But next time, just know you do not have to dress up like a job-monkey. I think your jacket is hot enough”

He lights up “really? You like my jacket?”

“Duh. I like everything about you, even the nasty things, and believe me you’ve got those. But I like that you treat me like me. Like a person. Not just a playtoy or separate species. I will admit though, it would be nice if you held my hand or showed any kind of affection”

He’s looking at you dumbfounded. You’d just take it as your cue to grab his hand and start walking towards your English class together. You stop by his locker though so he can change and eventually the two of you are just as you were, but a little bit more. He gets more comfortable with you and eventually everything works out as you planned it- after all, flirting with boys especially Eddie isn’t rocket science.

[cedarwoodtears]

anything u wanna say abt until dawn?? it can be hcs, theories, whatever comes to ur mind :)

not to be creepy but i wanna hear you yap abt until dawn 😭

HI ANON so sorry im sick so i slept in. its not creepy at all dont worry hehe ill gladly talk about this stupid game all day!!! honestly its all gonna be random hcs not much correlation whatsoever

• mike is NOT a gamer. especially fighting games oh lord as much as he tries he just cannot. he’s like a permanent noob. i fear even a 90 year old grandma can match his level…doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy those games! just that he sucks at it. whenever he plays with chris or josh it’s like watching a murder unfold infront of your eyes….it’s brutal. but i mean hey with having two amputated fingers you can’t blame him. he’s surprisingly good at rhythm games though. when you think of mike i doubt you think of osu or pjsk but god DAMN he’s weirdly good.

• chris is everyone’s go-to tech support guy. your phone is being slow? your computer isn’t working? can’t figure out where your file went? just ask and he will 99.99% of the time help fix it. not before teasingly calling them old teehee he tries to explain how to prevent it from happening again but he uses all these technical mumbo jumbo terms it flies over most peoples heads. mike likes hearing chris ramble about all that though, even if he doesn’t understand it he thinks it’s adorable…(chris x mike is REAL ITS REAL!!! still calls him a dork though. always he always will. because it’s true and mike loves him for it.)

• i ideally imagine sam’s room to be the MOST comfortable place on earth. like there’s always some candle going, cute little plants everywhere, warm tones, fairy lighting, fuzzy blankets, like it’s just a room you’d feel so safe in!!! and oh my god does she always have the best snacks. movie nights at her house go CRAZYY it’s literally the ideal spot. the gang get together every so often and have them, but sam really goes all out with the snacks and drinks and decor!! josh gets a $5 entry fee just because hes josh hehe (not really but i like to imagine josh is always like “i owe you one!” when it ends..he pays in kisses and cuddles)

• jessmatt is REAL their potential relationship dynamic is so cute!!! i feel like mike is definitely not the right guy for her, matt is more mellow which imo suits her better. him and emily are cute but….idk. all i know is matt would be an absolute sweetheart to jess, like he’d spend hours looking for perfects gifts for her and remind her of how beautiful she is inside and out constantly….always admiring her and hyping her up whenever she gets insecure….i can’t sobs she’s just as sweet back to him. jess isn’t that into sports but you best believe she will ALWAYS cheer him on in football (sometimes matt gets embarrassed from how loud she does…..) and she always has some little treat for him after he wins.

• ashley having such a creative and talented mind…not only can she write, she loves pottery and painting and occasionally knitting…everyone has a handmade gift from ash somewhere in their house. and it’s not like a quick little thing no she takes her TIME!!! and it always comes in a box with a pink bow and a heartfelt note attached to it!! she is just so babygirl. always so thoughtful and imaginative her room is full of posters and her own art and it’s all so colorful and BEAUTIFUL!!!! and oh so humble she tends to downplay her skill like girl you just wrote the most gut-wrenchingly divine well-thought out absolutely incredible piece of fiction and she’s like “it’s not the best 😓” and everyone is like “ash what the hell do you mean this is the best thing i’ve EVER read”

• josh and sam….ough….ough my heart💔❤️💔❤️……as much as sam was traumatized and by everything that went down and is still somewhat hurt by his actions, she’s still there for josh. still holds him close and comforts him, still tells him it’s all going to be okay, still lets him know he’s loved, still kisses his forehead and runs her fingers lovingly through his hair….sobs so loudly AHHH!! of course they’re still pranksters to each other. the amount of dumb pranks josh pulls on her nothing is safe hehe he’s always scheming. his favorite is the whoopee coushin because it’s so dumb and incredibly unfunny it actually physically pains her while he’s laughing his ass off fucking in HYSTERICS over how unamused she is…little does he know sam’s got some tricks up her sleeve too…

• emily’s closet is UNMATCHED!!! her habit of spending ridiculous amounts of money on clothes has only furthered but no one can lie she is just…amazing with dressing. she loves going clothes shopping with the girls and somehow always manages to find something that they all love!! she’ll help the guys too but….eh…..not really her cup of tea (men’s fashion that is). she’s made up with jess and they’re friends now, but emily will always stay emily and make her sharp, witty comments about everyone and everything teehee. she is so caring and kind deep down though, and an even better friend to get advice from!! just don’t ask her how to save money better ahem she can’t help with that 😅

• also mike went back and got wolfie. they’re best friends mike has hundreds of photos of him literally just sitting. being cute. half his posts on instagram are wolfie. he has so many damn nicknames for that wolf it’s crazy he’s already forgotten like half of them. wolfie could literally tear apart his house and after awhile of him being mad he’d be like “but he’s so cute….i can’t stay mad at you bud who’s a good boy” mike your couch is unrecognizable he is NOT a good boy for that 😭❌🙅‍♂️

[brainddeadd]

Chapter Four: The Heartbreak

The turning point comes when you decide to finally tell Matt how you feel. After weeks of soul-searching and trying to decipher the confusing dance of emotions swirling between you, you come to a resolute conclusion: it’s time to lay it all out on the table. You plan it meticulously—a quiet confession during one of your usual movie nights, just the two of you curled up on the couch, the flickering light of the screen casting soft shadows around the room. You can already envision the moment, your heart pounding with both excitement and fear at the thought of finally expressing your feelings.

But as the evening unfolds, you’re blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just beneath the surface of your carefully crafted plans. You both settle in, surrounded by bowls of popcorn and half-eaten pizza, the familiarity of the routine wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The movie begins, and laughter fills the air as you share playful jabs about the ridiculous plot. You steal glances at him, trying to find the right moment, your heart racing at the thought of him finally knowing how you truly feel.

However, before you can gather the courage to get the words out, Matt casually drops a bombshell that rocks your entire world. “There’s this girl,” he says, leaning back against the couch, a slice of pizza in his hand. “We’ve been talking for a while. I think it might actually go somewhere.”

Your heart shatters in that instant. The words you had rehearsed in your mind die on your lips, replaced by a weak smile that feels more like a mask than genuine happiness. “That’s… great, Matt. I’m happy for you,” you manage to say, though your voice trembles slightly, betraying the storm of emotions raging inside you.

He doesn’t notice the crack in your voice, or maybe he does, but he chooses to ignore it. Instead, he takes another bite of pizza, oblivious to the internal struggle you’re now facing. Each word that falls from his lips—how he met her, what they talk about, how she makes him laugh—feels like daggers piercing through your heart, each slice deeper than the last. You sit there, a hollow ache settling in your chest as you listen, your mind racing with a mix of disbelief and despair.

How could he not see the way you felt? All those moments you shared, all the laughter and warmth—it had felt like something more to you, but apparently, it was all one-sided. Your heart sinks as the reality of your situation settles in, and a lump forms in your throat. The very confession you’d so carefully planned out crumbles into dust, leaving you with an unbearable weight of unspoken words.

As he talks about her, you force yourself to nod and smile, trying to maintain a facade of interest, but inside, you’re screaming. Memories of the two of you flood your mind—every shared laugh, every long hug that lingered just a moment too long, the way he brushed his fingers against yours without a second thought. Were those moments all just friendly gestures? Did he really not see the connection you felt?

You struggle to focus on the movie playing in the background, but your mind is a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts. You want to scream that you’ve been there all along, that you’re right in front of him, willing and ready to be the one he chooses. But instead, you remain silent, your heart aching as he excitedly recounts his conversations with this new girl.

Finally, he pauses and turns to look at you, a quizzical expression on his face. “Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit off,” he says, concern creeping into his voice.

The question sends a fresh wave of panic crashing over you. How can you tell him the truth now? You can’t shatter the bubble of his excitement over someone else, especially not when you’ve spent so long building your own courage to confess. “I’m fine, just a little tired,” you lie, forcing a smile that feels like it’s made of glass.

Matt studies you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly, but then he shrugs, returning to his pizza as if you hadn’t just had your world turned upside down. You try to shake off the heaviness that’s settled in your chest, telling yourself that it’s better this way—if he’s happy, you should be happy too, right?

But as the minutes tick by, your heart continues to ache with an intensity you never anticipated. The laughter feels forced, and the light-hearted banter becomes an exercise in self-control. Each joke he makes stings a little more, each smile he flashes feels like a knife twisting in your gut. You can’t keep pretending everything is fine when the truth is, you feel like you’re drowning in your own emotions, trying to swim while he’s blissfully unaware, floating along in his newfound happiness.

After the movie ends, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts. As you stand at the sink, staring at your reflection, you can’t help but wonder how you let things get this far without saying anything. The thought of losing Matt, of him moving on with someone else while you stand by and watch, is unbearable.

You splash some cold water on your face, trying to chase away the despair, but it lingers like a shadow, refusing to be banished. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of the strength you’ve shown in the past. You’ve faced heartbreak before; you can do it again, even if it means watching him be happy with someone else.

But as you return to the living room, the weight of unspoken words still hangs heavily between you, suffocating and unresolved. And even though you smile and nod along to whatever he’s saying, your heart is still breaking, the confession you’d planned forever ago echoing silently in the corners of your mind.

[mtjester]

One of my biggest frustrations as a creator is that different storytelling mediums do a better or worse job of telling specific stories, and I only have decent command over one medium. Some stories aren’t as powerful in prose. Some stories really benefit from visual/audio elements and rhetoric. And I can’t do that well.

Like, my husband and I were talking about the battles in the lotr books vs the movies. The visuals in the movies arguably convey the scope and scale of battles better, and the music/audio certainly have a unique emotional impact. Moments when the scenes slow down and the sounds of battle fall below the music and monologues have power that maybe can’t be achieved the same way in prose. I’m not saying the movies are better than the books, but the change in medium opens up rhetorical possibilities that work really well for those scenes.

I have ideas that I picture unfolding like movies in my head. I don’t know if I can do them justice in a prose-only format. But I gotta try, because that’s what I have. It’s frustrating. I can hope that I’ll become a better writer by struggling to convey those ideas with words, but sometimes I suspect I’ll just be disappointed.

[chloecherrysip]

Just Beyond My Reach, There's Someone Reaching Back For Me (speculative mario movie fic, mario & luigi centric, around 3600 words.)

[OK SO i literally could not stop thinking about this post in the mario movie tag from last week, which turned into me trying to write out my thoughts about how the scenario could unfold, which then turned into me writing a full-fledged fanfic that's over 3,000 words long??? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. I've truly lost my common sense, but I just felt like I HAD to get this out before the movie arrives and their reunion is nothing like this in any way whatsoever.

This is a speculative fic of just one possible scenario out of millions, no actual spoilers; i'm working off info we've seen in the trailers/TV spots/promotions/etc, and all the characterization is based off those too, so it might ultimately be off-base. Please don't @ me after the movie comes out and get on my case about details being wrong! I AM IN THE PAST (and jealous of you in the future for having already seen it).

I present to you: A Version Of Mario & Luigi's Reunion in the Mario Movie That Would Cause Me Irreparable Psychic Damage.]

----

Mario hears him first. He would know that panicked yelp anywhere. 

By that point, he’s lost count of how many of Bowser’s minions he’s tried to interrogate as he fights his way through the airship. There’s so much shouting and clanging all around him, and his voice hurts from yelling loud enough to be heard over it, but he can’t stop. “Where do you keep prisoners? Have you seen someone who looks like me — but tall, skinny, and green? If you take me to him, I’ll go easy on ya, I swear—” 

it’s hard to tell if they’re just refusing to answer him, genuinely don’t know any useful information, or can’t actually communicate in a way he understands — probably some in each column. But he’s about to grab another angry Koopa by the shell and try again when there’s a commotion far off in the distance. The yell that echoes out to him is faint, but it tugs hard at Mario like a rope tied around his middle. Something from his memories, the nightmares he’s been having this whole adventure that he hasn’t told Peach and Toad about. Something instantly, certainly familiar to him in a way that few things are. 

His heart is suddenly lodged in his throat. He barrels his way past the troops and the Kongs fighting them, moving fast towards it.

The area of the airship he’s in starts to slope down further ahead, surrounding a huge open space that, judging by the flickering embers in the air and heavy heat that’s got him sweating through his shirt already, has a whole bunch of lava simmering at the bottom. On the other side of the chasm, there are a whole group of what look like angry blue penguins beating down some feisty stacks of Goombas with their bare flippers. There’s also what impossibly looks like a star, with a face and everything, beaming bright and doing twirling cartwheels in the air, giggling at the carnage underneath. And behind all that, he can see—

Mario reacts without having to think. He jolts forward against the railing, reaches a hand out, and yells as loud as he can. “LUIGI!” 

He can only see glimpses of his overalls and green hat at first amidst all the other chaos, but then pieces of the ongoing fight tumble further to either side, giving a clear view. Mario watches wide-eyed as his brother frantically swats away Goombas, shrieking and flailing his arm furiously when one snags some teeth through his sleeve until it comes loose. He looks terrified and a little queasy, but also very determined, even jumping in to help when one of the penguins gets pinned down. They seem to be working together. 

Luigi is here. He’s really here, alive and fighting and still in one piece. Mario isn’t too late. It feels like a 20 pound weight’s suddenly gone from his back that he hadn't even realized he was carrying around.

His yell is half-drowned out by the chaos, but Luigi’s head still snaps up, eyes wide and stricken and bright with recognition. “Mario?” He cries out, his voice cracking badly. He kicks another Goomba away and then starts spinning, searching the surrounding area with increasing desperation. “Mario!?” 

“Over here!” Mario wishes he had another raccoon powerup so he could just fly across the gap and reach him right then and there. He has to settle for taking off his cap and waving it in the air like a flag. “Luigi! Over here!” 

Finally, their eyes meet across the gorge. It’s not necessary at that point, but Luigi still tears off his own hat and starts flailing it around too overhead, as if just to make absolutely sure his brother knows where he is. “MARIO!” He shouts, his tired face instantly transforming into a relieved, overjoyed smile. 

“Are you okay!?” 

“Y-Yeah! I mean, define “okay,” but I, I'm not hurt or anything like — wait, how did you get here!? We’re way up in the air!”

Mario’s face already hurts from how wide he’s grinning. “Not anymore! And whaddya mean? What do ya think I’ve been doing all this time? Looking for you! You don’t think I could find you wherever you are, even if it’s a million miles in the air? Give your big bro some credit, eh?” 

A laugh bursts out of Luigi, surprised and shaky. Mario has missed that sound so much. “Right, right. I did think…I mean, I hoped, or…” His brother shakes his head, his voice failing him. He lets out a deep breath, so deep that it’s almost like he’s been holding it in ever since they were separated, still smiling like the sun. “I knew you would. Mario, you — look out!” 

Mario turns just as a hammer goes whizzing past his ear, tumbling down into the lava pit. He dodges the next one more capably and then catches the third one that comes his way. In one smooth, lightning-quick motion, he throws it back at the attacking Hammer Bro, nailing him in the face and knocking him out cold.

“Whoa!” He turns back to see Luigi staring with his mouth agape. “When did you learn how to do that?”

“It's kinda a long story!” There will be plenty of time to get into all the details about his adventure when he’s gotten Luigi safely out of an active warzone.  “What about you? I thought you were a prisoner here!” 

“I am! Or I was, I guess! We — me, and the penguins, and Lumalee,” he gestures wearily up overhead, where the blue star-thing is idly playing with a pinwheel that it somehow conjured out of thin air, “and the others — we broke out! We, ah, we’ve been trying to find a way outta here ever since, but this place is a maze and we need some kind of hot air balloon or one of those floating clown-car thingies to even get away in the first place, and—”

“Spinies at four o’clock!” One of the penguins shouts, at the same time that Mario yells “Luigi, on your left!”

Luigi jolts at the sight of the three spiky, spinning shells approaching fast. He jumps high enough to leapfrog right over them all, causing them to ricochet off the wall unexpectedly and careen off the side straight into the deep pit. 

“Nice, Weegie!” Mario cheers. “You always were the better jumper.” 

“Keep your head in the fight, soldier!” One specific penguin calls out to Luigi. He’s wearing a very fancy gold crown — probably their king? “We’re not done here yet!” 

“I know, I know, but look!” Luigi gestures excitedly across the chasm. “My brother’s here! He made it!”

“Good show! If he’s as brave as you said, he can help us beat back these dastardly troops once and for all! We’ll all see the light of day again soon!”

The rest of the penguins cheer, thrusting their flippers victoriously into the air, and then let out a wave of new, guttural battle cries. The Penguin King smiles over at Mario and salutes him before rejoining the fray. There are more of Bowser’s minions crowding the walkways on both sides, Mario realizes with a newfound wave of worry. He needs to get to Luigi now. 

“Stay right there!” He calls, starting to run alongside the railing. “Don’t move! I’m coming!”

“Are you kidding!? Wait!” Luigi starts running too, mirroring Mario. “I can meet you faster this way!” 

Mario laughs. “If you can keep up with me!” 

“You’re on!”

The road ahead of him is pure chaos, filled with attacking enemies and whooping Kongs and weapons flying every which way, but Mario runs. He runs until his heart burns, dodging and weaving, almost tripping here and there because he can’t stop looking over the gap to make sure Luigi’s still there on the other side, stumbling his way through his own gauntlet. The two areas are winding closer together, slowly but surely. They must meet somewhere. He’ll find it. He has to.

“Hey, Luigi!” He yells, breathless and happy. “Remember when we were fixing Mrs. McGrady’s sink a couple weeks ago and talking about the future? Did you imagine it’d be anything like this?” 

“Whaddya think!?” Luigi shouts back jokingly. “I-I mean, I imagined people being mad at us, but those were customers. There was definitely a lot less lava, and magic, and crazy green pipes that send you to places from your literal nightmares!” He laughs, which swiftly turns into a yelp when he has to dodge away from a red Koopa. The next words come out thicker, almost strained. “Mario, you, you’re really here, you — I missed you, I…”

Even with the distance and the distracting noise and the heavy breathing, Mario can hear the familiar tearing in his brother’s voice, and it pushes him to run faster. Luigi is so much braver than many people in their life have given him credit for, but he has a breaking point, and Mario can recognize it like the back of his own hand. Heck, he could use a good cry right about now too. They're so close. Just a little further.

He’s never been the biggest hugger — that title belongs squarely to Luigi, who always holds on a little too long, especially when Mario protests, swinging him up into the air until Mario has to grab him in a headlock and wrestle him down, both of them laughing by then — but he genuinely doesn’t know how he’s ever going to let go of his brother again once he’s within arm’s reach. 

“I missed you too! Every day!” He calls out, and if his voice cracks, well, that’s okay. “Hold on! It’s gotta be just up ahead!” There’s a solid wall coming up where they won’t be able to see each other across the way any longer, but the sharp curve of it looks extremely promising. “I’ll meet you on the other side!” 

“Okay!” 

The wall comes between them. Mario's finally in the clear, having left all the attackers in the dust. His legs and chest hurt, but it doesn’t matter. He's about to get his brother back. He feels invincible, unstoppable.

“I told you, bro!” He can’t hear Luigi at all any longer, but he shouts anyway, hoping the words reach him.  “Even if it didn’t turn out like we thought, it’s all gonna be okay! This is crazy stuff, but as long as we're—” 

Mario turns the corner and skids to a sharp stop. The words die in his throat, turning to ash.

Bowser is in front of him. 

The King of the Koopas nearly fills the entire space wall-to-wall, hulking and monstrous, even bigger than what Mario imagined. He breathes out an angry, deep growl that prickles at Mario’s skin, star-bright embers scattering in the air, the smell of burning getting stronger and stronger. But none of that is what Mario is focusing on. He’s frozen in place at the sight of Luigi, wriggling in one of Bowser’s gripped hands. A thick, scaly finger is coiled tight over his brother’s mouth too, keeping him from making any noise besides a variety of muffled, panicked sounds. 

“Thought you didn’t know him, Greenie,” Bowser says in a low voice to Luigi. “Wasn’t that what you said? Boy, you wouldn’t like what I usually do to liars. It involves fire — a lot of it.” His rows of sharp teeth part, just enough for a big exhale, tinged with molten heat. Luigi cringes, turning his head away as far as he can manage. He’s trembling. “But lucky for you, turns out you’re not entirely useless.”

It takes a moment for Mario to come back into his body, remember how to move and think. But slowly, his hands ball into fists. A voice erupts out of him that barely sounds like his own, grave and angry, angrier than he’s ever been in his life. 

“I’m only gonna say this once, ya overgrown turtle,” he says, shifting his footing into a fighting stance. “Let my brother go now.” 

Bowser looks down at him with a derisive sort of amusement for a long moment before laughing outright. "Give me a break, shortie! You’re even punier in person — 50 of you couldn't stop me. But that hasn’t stopped you from trying, has it? You and your little friends  — your pathetic excuse for an “army,” if that’s what you want to call it. But that all ends now.” 

As if on cue, Mario hears DK and a few other Kongs turn the corner, whooping and hollering, only to pause too at the sight of Bowser. “Let’s get ‘em! He can't take us all at once!” Someone says, and there’s a rush of new movement behind Mario. Bowser turns Luigi in his hand, holding him out a little closer to Mario with a shake of the wrist — a taunt. One of his claws pulls up just a little from the rest, the sharp tip arched and pressed lightly to his brother’s neck. The implication is clear. 

“Stop!” Mario shouts, half-strangled. He must sound serious enough that DK yells “hang on, hang on!” to his brethren, grabbing them with both arms and holding them back from attacking. On Bowser's other side, Mario can see the penguins watching what’s unfolding too with wide eyes. Even all the minions in the area have gone still, weapons lowered, waiting to see what Bowser does before making their next move. The space is suddenly quiet. 

The claw finally relaxes again. Luigi’s eyes are very wide, and there are tears on his face as he stares at Mario. He tries to say something, the sound of it hopelessly muffled against Bowser’s hand — an apology, or a plea, or simply Mario’s name. 

Mario is shaking. He grits his teeth hard, desperately tries to hold himself steady again. He hopes Bowser can’t see it — but there’s a gleam in the King’s eyes, and it couldn’t be any clearer that he does. 

“Do you know how long I worked on this plan?” Bowser says, his tone softer, more thoughtful all of a sudden.  “Orchestrating these invasions, gathering forces far and wide to serve me, taking the almighty power star for myself. I’ve wanted this for years!” His wide mouth curves up, plainly wicked and self-satisfied. “And now here I am, about to rule the world like I deserve, and a couple of useless, pipsqueak plumbers from who-knows-where think they’re just gonna waltz right in and ruin it for me.” Bowser chuckles to himself. It’s a dangerous, sharp-edged sound, echoing on and on. “Ain’t that a laugh, Mario?” 

Mario doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even know if he’s breathing any longer. All he can do is glare.

Bowser shrugs. The large fingers on his occupied hand flex ever so slightly, a slow, malicious ripple of movement, all the scales glinting in a wave. “You’re less fun than I thought you’d be,” he says gruffly. "What does the princess even see in you? A tiny little killjoy who loves ruining things for others. Guess it’s only fair I ruin something of yours to make us even."

There’s no further warning or fanfare. In one brutal motion, Bowser crushes his grip tighter around Luigi. His brother’s mouth is still covered, but the way he cries out is starkly, unmistakably pained. 

Mario’s vision floods with red. Something inside of him, the patient, careful part that was still desperately clinging to one last scrap of self-control, snaps cleanly in two. He runs at Bowser full-speed, fist cocked back, teeth bared. 

“I said LET HIM GO!” 

He doesn’t make it there. Bowser, grinning outright, moves so much faster than Mario would have ever guessed he could. He spins, and his tail comes out of nowhere. The impact is like an oncoming train, catapulting Mario into the nearby wall with a sickening crack.

There’s a horrible ringing sound in his ears. His head hurts. He hears Bowser laugh, followed by a roar and a burst of fire breath, awful-smelling and close enough to singe. There’s a lot of shouting, and panic, and thunderous footsteps, moving in a hurry. He can’t think any longer. Why can’t he think? All that comes to mind is—

(They’re fifteen, hiding in their bedroom with some smuggled bandages and antibiotics from the medicine cabinet because if their mom finds out Mario punched out a kid behind the school, she will LITERALLY murder him. Luigi wraps each bruised knuckle carefully as Mario winces and complains about the stinging ointment. His brother looks angrier than he’s ever seen him before, though, and that makes him quiet again in a hurry.)

“You want him so bad?” Bowser is much further away, his voice a distant rumble over the flickering flames. Get up, Mario tells himself. He’s gasping, struggling to push himself back up with useless, trembling hands. His legs feel numb. Get up! “Then come and get ‘em already!”

(“You never stop and THINK first, y’know?” Luigi shakes his head, badly trying to hide the tears budding under his eyes. “And now you’re hurt, and it’s all my fault, and — and I don’t need you to do stuff like that for me! I can handle it, e-even if you think I can’t!”) 

“Mario!” That’s Luigi, terrified and wheezing, finally able to talk again. An intentional decision by Bowser, no doubt, just to be cruel. Mario can barely hear his brother at all, and the sound of his voice keeps growing fainter. “No! Let go! MARIO!” 

(“What are you even saying? That’s not why I did it at all!” Mario insists, using his uninjured hand to flick Luigi’s nose with a few fingers. His affronted expression at that makes Mario laugh, and the motion quickly turns into them trying to be the first one to swat each other in the face without getting blocked. At least the tears are forgotten, which is what he wanted from the start. “Don’t ya get it? I know you can take care of yourself. But if anyone wants to hurt you, they’re gonna have to go through me first. I’M the big bro, and that’s just how it is forever.”) 

Luigi! 

He’s standing again, even as his body protests every pull and push of the way, even as he’s still struggling to open his eyes. Someone strong and furry offers some extra support on his right side. 

“You okay, man?” Donkey Kong asks. “Geez, that looked like it hurt. Hey, anyone have an extra mushroom?” 

Stars are flashing across his vision, but finally they fade away. There’s a line of fire in front of them like a makeshift barrier, slowly but steadily dying out. Sure enough, Bowser and Luigi are gone. Mario’s heart lurches hard against his ribs.

“Setting a devious trap for sure,” The Penguin King grouses from further away. “Using one’s own flesh and blood! Does that dastardly Koopa’s depravity know no limits?” 

“I’m fine. Never better,” Mario groans. He points past the fire. “He went that way, right?” 

DK blinks, looking a little uneasy. “Uh, yeah, but we should probably regroup first and — hey! Wait a second, you idiot!”

Mario’s already charged full-speed ahead, jumping over the flames. Others yell after him too, saying it's too dangerous, but he’s running anyway, chasing the smell of molten heat, the faint, far-off echoes of yelling that feel like pinpricks in his lungs. 

He knows it’s a trap. He knows. He just doesn’t care.

He already let Luigi literally slip through his hands once before. Heck, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for that alone. No matter where he has to go, who he has to fight, how much abuse he has to take, he's getting Luigi back right now, and he's gonna pound that overgrown bully's face until he regrets every life decision that led to him daring to hurt Mario's little brother.

It can't be too late. He can't have screwed this up again. He'll do anything. Even if...

The feeling of something on his cap startles him out of the thought — the softest boop-boop-boop, like someone very small is bouncing on it. He assumes he’s just imagining things until the blue star-thing (Lumalee?) floats down further, easily keeping up with his top speed, humming what sounds like a lullaby. Mario gawks in its direction. 

“The biggest sacrifices are often the ones that burn the brightest, out in space,” it says, bright and sing-song. “Did you know that?”

“What are you even talking about!?” Mario yells. “Sorry, but I’m a little busy here!” 

It’s unbothered by that, twirling close enough to give his mustache a little, playful poke. “Not existing any longer is natural, inevitable. We all go into the light someday.” The way it’s staring at Mario is unnerving, as though this little, creepy star knows exactly what he was just thinking about. “You look scared of that. Are you?” 

Mario swallows thickly. 

“No,” he says. “If that’s the only way, then…” His eyes are burning at the edges, just a little. “If the people I love are safe, then it doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

Lumalee smiles a dreamy, thoughtful smile.

“Oh,” it sighs, little more than a breath. “This is going to be so much fun.” 

And then it floats away. 

Mario doesn’t have time to stop and wonder what that was all about. He throws himself deeper and deeper into the airship, even when a heavy metal gate slams down behind him to separate him from the others, even when the slabs of rock under his feet sink down into the lava from the weight and don’t resurface, erasing any way out. Mario thinks of his training, of Princess Peach and Toad cheering him on, of the exhilaration and hope he felt looking out over the Rainbow Road, of Luigi smiling in the warp zone right before they were ripped apart. He steels himself for what’s coming next.

Further ahead, he hears his brother call out for him.

Mario runs.

[fictionstudent]

"Rashomon" is such a messed up film, I loved it

I don’t usually see classic films—or anything made in the nineties. For some reason, their bad cinematography had always irked me, and their camera angles disgust me to this very day.

In the last couple decades, technology has advanced at a fast rate. And you can really see that if you’ve seen these classics. They just have a different vibe to them. And as someone who consumes a lot of latest cinema—and anime—it’s actually really tough for me to accustom myself to the cinema of that time.

But, you know what, my university doesn’t care. They made me watch Rashomon, a film by the legendary Akira Kurosawa.

For those of you who don’t know who Akira is: firstly, shame on you. Secondly, he’s one of the most influential Japanese directors who is known on an international level. His films were brimming with professional creativity and they really influence many directors. In fact, he’s the sort of director whose films are studied in film-schools.

I knew the director and what sort of a legend he was, so I was really excited for the film. But considering his last film was in ninety-three—and Rashomon, by the way, released in nineteen-fifty—I was kinda��� expecting myself to not like it…

I loved it.

So much that I can’t stop myself from writing this blog and yapping about its themes and plotline and characters and direction and all that technical stuff.

***

#01 - Plot

You know how we start reviews here, lol. So, the movie Rashomon follows a priest and a woodcutter contemplating in a shrine, under the rain. A commoner arrives, all drenched up, and begins making fire and drying himself and his clothes as he tries to make small-talk with those guys. He noticed it—the two men were genuinely worried about something. So he simply asked what the case was.

The woodcutter starts yapping about how bad the humanity is, how evil is spreading all over our tongues. He told the man the story is more horrific than war, famines, murders. The story is about how he, in the middle of the forest, witnessed a samurai’s hat, a woman’s hat, an amulet, a bunch of cut ropes, and… a dead body.

He did the obvious—inform the authorities. And what happens next is… quite absurd. So absurd that I can’t explain it here. And I don’t even want to. Just know that there are different characters—a bandit, a woman, a samurai. And all tell their side of the story about how the death of the samurai took place.

And their accounts vary too differently from each other. The bandit talks of his valor, the samurai of his despair, and the woman of her innocence.

But here’s the catch—the accounts don’t match with each other. All of them have different stories to tell. And then—spoiler alert—the woodcutter tells how he himself had lied; he had seen the whole scene unfolding, but refused to tell to the court. His account seemed to be the most trusted one, but since he had his reasons to not reveal this story to the court, you can never be too sure.

In fact, the film is known for this—you never know the truth about what actually happened. You just hear from the characters—and they won’t tell you the truth. They have their motives to lie. Rashomon Effect, a screenwriting technique where an incident is shown by different characters’ differing—and even contradictor—perspectives is loosely based on this film.

The writing of the film is done masterfully, especially in terms of the plot. And the setting justifies it—the story is based on a couple centuries ago, so you can't really know the truth if the people are not lying, because the technology isn’t so advanced yet.

***

#02 - Characters

The characters are absurd. Some of them are even screwed in their minds. And no, I’m not joking.

The bandit just cared about his image. He told the court how he lured the woman into his charms—which seems highly unlikely—and how he didn't even need to kill her man. And he told her how, after dishonoring her, he cut the ropes of the man and went for a fair fight for the woman and defeated him. The guy was just flexing shit he didn't do.

The woman, on the other hand, knew what happened with her was not acceptable. She knew that society wouldn't see her as a victim. She knew she’d get side-eyed. So she tried to convince the court of her innocence. She cried crocodile-tears. She begged for mercy. For forgiveness. And she tried to appear as innocent as she probably could.

The samurai… Imma talk about him later. But yeah, as the woman had predicted, he said he didn't see the bandit as the convict, but rather believed that his wife was at fault.

These guys are messed up in their heads. The bandit was too dumb and full of himself that he just flexed his physical and mental muscles. As is later revealed, the woman was at fault too, and she used her wits to get her husband killed. And then she ran away. And the samurai’s whole belief system was all around the place.

These characters so obviously symbolize different sorts of evils that are present in society. And the different reasons we lie. We lie because of these three reasons—we don't understand the truth, we wanna hide what we did, and we wanna make an image for ourselves. The samurai, the woman, the bandit.

***

#03 - Themes

The story tackles a number of themes, the most obvious being what’s truth and what’s lie. And, on a deeper level, why do we even lie.

The film is an example of… those kinda films where characters are really screwed up, the story is really screwed up, and all the stuff that happens needs to be psychoanalyzed. Like Chainsaw Man. Or something like that. I hope you kinda get what I’m trying to say. This sort of story may not be realistic, but it seems to explore the darker sides of humanity and is based on simply complex characters who are screwed in the head.

The film answers a pretty important question—why we lie. There are different characters, different perspectives on the murder, and none of them seem true. Every one of these characters seems to be lying one way or the other. Even the most unbiased, trusted account—that of woodcutter’s—could be false, since it’s revealed how he had his own reasons to lie.

You don't know the truth. Not even in the end. You don't know who to believe and who not to—that’s what the film has taught you.

All these characters had different sort of motives to lie. The bandit tried to show what kinda womanizer he was and how clever his plan was. He tried to do the impossible, get what he knew he couldn’t get, and still came out victorious.

The woman, on the other hand, tried to convince the court how she did nothing wrong—in fact, wrong was done on her. She even tells the court how sinful she felt, and then tries taking her own life because of it.

The samurai, who had died, was contacted through a spirit-medium. He told the court of the despair he felt, the sense of shame he was drenched in, and the loss he faced after the incident. He said how he saw the real face of her wife that day, which depressed him so much that he killed himself. For the sake of the plot, let’s say all that spirit-medium stuff was real.

Everyone had a reason to lie. Everyone wanted to show themselves in a particular way—the bandit wanted to show how clever he was, the woman wanted to show how innocent she was, and the samurai wanted to show how depressed he was. The woman put all the blame on the situation, the bandit on himself, and the samurai, oddly enough, on his wife.

Another theme I saw being well-approached was that of patriarchy. I mean, the story is set in Japan centuries ago. There were a lot of talks on the honor of a woman. The samurai didn't see how his wife was raped, he believed it was his wife’s fault. From his account, you can’t say he hated the bandit—the rapist—one bit. But he despised his wife. He told the court how his wife switched sides, even though the woodcutter’s account says how her wife freed him after being raped and begged him to kill the bandit. But the samurai refused to fight him for a ruined woman.

Those are not my words, for the record.

Also, the woman then, quite shrewdly enough, attacked their male-egos and made them fight a duel. Where the bandit killed the samurai. And she ran away from the place after that.

The samurai’s story tells us how messed up his patriarchal beliefs are. And how the woman quite easily made him fight for her just with a simple you’re-not-a-real-man-if argument.

And, according to the woodcutter, they didn't even know how to use swords—something that none of the two guys ever told the court. Rather, they were busy telling how quite bravely they fought.

So, on a thematic level, the movie is quite well-thought. I still believe there must be a lot of themes that I’ve completely missed—that’s how dense this story is.

***

Conclusion

Watch the film. I didn't want to, but I’ve given you a lot of spoilers. And because of this alternating between what to hide and what not to, I did a pretty messy job. So I want you guys to watch the film. And then come back here again, on this blog.

And yeah, I hope you guys have a good time reading it. I yapped too much, but I wanted to yap more, lol.

[nii-chans-rabiddogs]

Weird Doctor

TWs: drugged character, restraints, muzzle. It's extra long, but I'm not sure where to cut it so I haven't. lemme know if i need to add any other TWs if theyre missing, please. Have fun <3

@cupcakes-and-pain @maracujatangerine

It feels like I’m floating in syrup, cuz everything is nice and quiet and slow, but it’s also too cold to go back to sleep. I wriggled around until realizing that I’m not on a bed and there is no blanket, sadly. I opened my eyes enough to figure out that the cement I’m laying on isn’t covered by anything. Why would I sleep on cement? It’s not warm or comfy at all, and I always trip over the cracks and skin my hands or knees, it's the worst. Wait, there’s a blanket, but it's on the other side of the room and I don’t wanna get up. I stared sadly at it for a bit, letting my brain melt away. Eventually I got too cold and tried to get up, but my arms shook and everything started spinning just a little bit so I laid back down. I huffed, and tried to remember what happened but I kept getting distracted by how cold it was. Why would anyone ever make it so cold? Why would you torture yourself like that? It has to be at least 71 degrees for me to feel comfortable and even then I hide under the blankets. It definitely isn’t that warm in here, and I wanna leave but the only way out is a weird door with a flap at the bottom. 

Actually, the door looks like those ones in movies, yknow? The ones for cells to hold the prisoners, all steel and whatever metal doors are made of. It looks really heavy though, and the room is pretty dark. I can see alright, but there’s no light coming in anywhere. There’s also a ring in the center of the room, which is a trip hazard. You shouldn’t put things out in the middle of the room with no light source, someone’s gonna break the ankle tripping on it. I wouldn’t though, cuz I never trip ever and anyone who says I do is lying and should be banished from my kingdom. Wait, I don't have a kingdom. Do I? Oh well. It would be nice to have a kingdom, just relaxing all day getting to eat all the chocolates and not having to do anything. Maybe I should start my own kingdom, but people say it’s hard. All you gotta do is declare yourself king though, so I don’t understand what they think is hard about that. Maybe they can’t make themselves king? I could make all the people kings, but only if they promised to leave my kingdom alone and give me chocolates.

Suddenly, the door was shoved open, and I closed my eyes against the very bright light that came with it. That was scary, it dragged on the ground and made a really loud noise that hurt my ears. I opened my eyes to glare at it, so it wouldn’t do that again. Oh hey, when they get here? There was someone standing in the door, with a weird thing in their hands. 

“Oh good, you’re awake. Let’s get this on you, I need to take you down to the medbay. You lost quite a bit of blood, and we need to fix that. Getting more is a pain, by the way, so if you lose any more I will drain you dry myself, understood?” They said, walking up to me with the weird thing.

I tried to say something but it hurt and I started coughing, which hurt more. I huffed, cuz I couldn't do anything else. The guy crouched down, setting the weird thing on the floor nearby. He unfolded the weird thing, which had other things inside. He grabbed what looked like one of those shock collars for dogs, but without the spikes on the inside. She- wait, is she a guy or a girl? I can’t tell. Oh well. They slid it under my neck before pulling it tight and clicking it together. Rude, I’m not a dog. I’m not even an animal, everyone can see that. Maybe they need glasses? The weird person was wearing a doctor trench coat, which is even weirder than a normal trench coat, actually. The weird doctor pulled another thing from the little pile that was already mostly gone, and it looked like an odd fabric mask.

He lifted my head up and placed the cold metal part under my chin, and pulling the top metal piece over the bridge of my nose. I tried to watch, but my eyes went cross eyed and made me dizzy, so I just stared at the weird doctor again. They tugged on it before clipping the two back straps together around the back of my head, and then making it really tight somehow. I winced and tried to move away but the weird doctor just yanked my head back and told me to stay still or else, so I stopped wiggling and glared at them. They started pulling on something on the side of the mask thingie, and then that side was really tight and I couldn't open my mouth at all. They started doing the same for the other side, and I tried to move again but it was hard and really slow, so the weird doctor just shoved me back onto the floor.

He yanked my hands behind my back and click-clacked super handcuffs onto my wrists, right over the cuts from before. I tried to pull on them, but it just made my wrists hurt really really bad so I just laid there while the weird doctor went out past the door. It was still cold, but now it was worse cuz i can’t move and everything hurts. Weird Doctor dragged in a moving bed, like the ones in hospitals for patients. Weird, a doctor would never let it get this cold. I’ve never seen a doctor before so I’m not sure. Or a hospital. Movies show them all the time, and they always seem really loud with everyone yelling and weird machines beeping or screaming. Maybe Weird Doctor is a worker for a quiet hospital? Quiet hospitals seem like they would be more secret-ier, so they have to be super secret and make sure nobody tells.

“Alright, runt. I’m going to lift you and if you kick me, I will break your ankle. Behave.” 

That was the only warning I got before Weird Doctor lifted me up in the princess carry and set me down on the moving bed. I wanted to kick him but it felt like I was gonna throw up and I didn't wanna do that. I can’t even open my mouth at all, and I didn't wanna have to swallow puke. That’d be really gross and icky. I jerked when my wrists got crushed under me, and it felt like someone lit them on fire so I rolled onto my side. I took a deep breath, but it didn’t make me feel any better, and nothing made any more sense. Hopefully Weird Doctor could fix my wrists, and maybe give me some chocolate. I’m really hungry, but I can't ask for anything cuz my throat hurts, and the mask keeps my mouth clamped shut. 

Weird doctor started pushing the moving bed out of the dark room, and out into the hallway. I didn’t look very different, but there are lights which is nice. No one will trip, cuz now they can see the ground. Unless they’re distracted, like the one time Detective walked into a door while reading a case paper. He dropped like he was shot too, which was funny cuz he cussed like a sailor, whatever that means. I heard Ms. Secretary say that to someone, but I'm not sure what it means. He did cuss a lot though, and he said I shouldn’t repeat any of it to anyone who looked like a reporter.

We passed by some other rooms, but they all had the same type of door, so I couldn’t see in. I heard something whimpering in one of them, maybe a dog? That makes me sad cuz doggies are really nice and fun to play with, they shouldn’t be hurt. Maybe if I ask really nicely, Weird Doctor will help them too? We passed more doors, and I could hear yelling from some of them, which was scary. I don’t like when people yell, cuz they get really loud and mean and scary. Weird Doctor just kept pushing the moving bed along, and the yelling went away. Weird Doctor is kinda nice, but I don’t like the super-cuffs cuz they hurt my wrists more, or the mask cuz i cant open my mouth at all, or it’ll pull on my nose and make that hurt too. Maybe if I was good, Weird Doctor would get rid of them? And, and maybe if i was really super good i’d get chocolates and something to drink. My throat felt really dry and scratchy, and that was worse than it hurting cuz I can’t scratch my throat. 

Weird Doctor walked us around a corner, and suddenly there was an old elevator, like the ones in the scary movies. It looked a little different though, cuz there’s red blotches everywhere and I thought rust was orange. Maybe rust gets darker the longer it's there? The elevator jerked, and suddenly it felt like I was climbing but without actually doing anything. It was cool, but also made me feel sick again, so I ignored it and listened to the music that was playing from somewhere. IT was really nice and calming and made me feel sleepy again, but I don’t think Weird Doctor would like it if I fell asleep again. The elevator dinged, and Weird Doctor pushed the moving bed out of the doors. The walls were really bright, and they were white. I was right, this is a hospital! But it's a quiet hospital, cuz I don't hear anyone yelling, and nothing is beeping. It’s really nice. They pushed the moving bed really, really close to another bed, and lifted me onto that one instead. Why would they do that? The other bed was just fine. Probably a Quiet hospital thing. Weird Doctor undid the super-cuffs, but then they rolled me onto my back just to strap my wrists down to the bed. This is a little unnecessary, I couldn’t do anything before, so what’s the difference? They walked off, so I just laid on my back and rolled my head to watch them. Weird Doctor pulled out a tall, rolling thingie and hooked a red bag to it. 

They dragged it over to me, and shoved a needle into my arm. I huffed at the prick, but then the tube it was connected to started to fill with the red stuff. It looked really super familiar but I can’t remember. It was definitely a hospital thing though, but usually the bags are clear. Maybe I get to have a special bag cuz I'm a special boy. I’m the specialiest of boys, so that makes sense. Weird Doctor kept walking around and grabbing things and setting them on the table right next to the bed. I didn’t see that, maybe it's to hold all the chocolates and medicine things Weird Doctor is setting down. They need to make sure to leave enough room for the chocolates, though, or else I’ll have to beat them up. Chocolates are the most important-y things ever. 

I blinked slowly as Weird Doctor started filling needles with something, but it’s getting hard to stay awake cuz it's warm. The heat made me tired, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Hopefully Weird Doctor wouldn’t be mad at me, but they also never said anything about not falling asleep, I think. They’ve been nice so far though, cuz they haven’t yelled at me at all. Still don’t like the mask thing, so he’s not the nicest but he’s nice enough. I rolled my head over t o look at the ceiling. It was a pretty grey color, and I stared at it while falling asleep. Blue would be prettier though, I think.

[harveyhawkscripts]

[A4NB] Letter From a Friend [Comfort for coming out gone bad] [Nonbinary listener]

AN: Listen. I know this isn’t the usual script, more of a monologue, but I had writer’s block. I might still have writer’s block. So have something short, sweet, and super sappy.

Synopsis: The speaker and listener are best friends and roommates. The listener returns from a visit with their parents and immediately locks themselves in their room. Knowing that the listener had planned to come out to their parents, the speaker writes them a letter and slips it under their door.

Usage:

- Okay for monetization

- Please credit me as Harvey Hawk :)

- Tweaks, improv, and pronoun changes are okay! Just please do not rewrite the script completely.

Google Doc

Key:

[SFX and Action]

(.) Short Pause

(...) Longer pause

(Voice instruction)

Word Count: 655

—

[Paper unfolds]

BEST FRIEND (VOICEOVER):

Hey buddy,

By the way you’ve hid yourself away, I’m going to assume that coming out to your parents didn’t go well. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but I want you to know that I’m always here for you.

Take some time to be alone, but don’t isolate yourself for too long.

(Gently) I know you have a tendency to do that, you silly goose. Remember there are people you can go to for love and support. I know that’s what you wanted from your parents, and it’s what you deserve, but you and I both know how unfair the world can be.

It's okay to hurt. Don’t try to pretend you don’t; I can tell. You always try to hide it. You act like you don’t care what your family thinks, but I know how much you care for them.

Don’t worry, it won’t hurt forever.

When I see you, you’ll probably shrug and say you don’t need anyone’s approval to be nonbinary. This is true, but I know how broken up you were when you came out to your sister. I can only imagine how this must feel.

You said yourself that despite your problems with them, your family was your support system for so long. I know you’re torn up that they don’t accept this part of you. Especially given what a large part of you it is.

Just to let you know, I accept every part of you. It’s important that you know that.

(Amused) Remember that year when you brought me to my first Pride Fest? Thanks for that. I was so nervous, but you let me follow you around like a lost puppy and showed me all the cool events. Remember how I tripped on the train of that drag queen’s dress? That was mortifying! She was so sweet about it, though. I know that memory always makes you laugh.

When you’re ready to come out of your room, would you like to have dinner? I’m making something other than casserole! We can pop on some Muppet films if you want. Those always make you feel better, don’t they?

We can even watch Muppets from Space, even though it’s my least favorite Muppet movie and it’s not even canon. I know you love Gonzo, our nonbinary icon, but I can’t understand your affinity for what is objectively the least impressive Muppet movie. But since I love you, we’ll watch it.

And yes, I’ll fast forward through the Noah’s Ark scene in the beginning. It kinda freaks me out, too.

Make sure you hydrate! Take your medicine as well, if you haven’t.

By the way, I’m proud of you. Not just for telling your parents, but for all the growth you’ve done over the years. You’ve really come into your own, you know. Even if you say you’re not where you want to be in life, I think you’re in a pretty good place now.

Things like a house and your dream job seem far away, and maybe they are! But right now you have a roof over your head, dinner in the kitchen, and a best friend who loves you very much. I think that’s a good start. And if anyone can go far, it’s you.

Something tells me you needed that reminder. Your confidence seems to take a hit each time you visit your family. Maybe we should talk about it sometime? If you want to.

One more thing. You know who you are better than anyone else, period. There are people who will try to make you doubt your identity, but they haven’t spent the years exploring the depths of you that you have. Not even your mother knows you better. Trust and believe in yourself; your gender is your own journey. And I’m with you every step of the way.

See you when you’re ready.

END

[astrobei]

hi suni!! 73, 90, and 94 for the writer asks if u feel like it <33

hi parker :^)) i need u to know i tried posting this like 4 times and every time it would not save my answer to the last question so !! FIFTH TIME’S THE CHARM !!

73. how do you visualize scenes? do you see it like a movie in your head, or do the words just flow?

oh this is so interesting and one of those things i don’t rly think about while i’m writing bc it just Happens? but now that i’m thinking about it i definitely definitely see things kind of like. acted out in my head !! especially when describing body language and dialogue and stuff like that it’s super helpful and easier than descriptions or prose because i just get this mental picture in my head of the scene and i can like hear the characters talking kind of and i just write down the dialogue/movements/setting as i see it or as it unfolds in my Mind. if that makes sense !! thinking about it i feel like writing is actually more visual than descriptive for me because i really do just see stuff in my head and just describe what i’m picturing and i think the reason why i get so carried away with scenes where there’s a lot of dialogue/movement is because i am but a mere meat vessel that exists for transcribing whatever my Brain sees

90. do you notice your own voice in your writing style?

oh my god yes 100% !! even as someone who finds it hard to objectively perceive their own writing(i can’t for the life of me tell you what i think my style is or anything) but genuinely whenever i write it’s just a stream of my own consciousness and i think it shows !! especially when i write mike and his internal monologue im literally just getting momentarily possessed by his spirit and then word vomiting onto the google doc <3 what’s also funny is that i’ve had 3 different people send me this line from my fake dating fic and say “you” bc i really do just. threaten to hit things with a stick on a daily basis so. short answer: Yes !

94. do you prefer dialogue or description?

ooooh i would say dialogue !! it comes a lot easier to me and that’s where the bulk of my Overwriting problem lies because i just think it’s so much fun !! especially like. silly lighthearted banter and flirting and for building tension and when i’m visualizing a scene in my head the flow of conversation back and forth is a lot easier for me to picture than describing something and it feeling a bit repetitive if that makes sense? plus i feel like the characters’ voices really get to come through !! i love my inner monologue and description of course but dialogue is definitely where i get carried away :^)

[screenmaven]

Film Review: Point Break

Okay, my dudes 😆

I just finished watching this movie about a week or so ago, and it was a first watch for me. It stars Patrick Swayze, Keanu Reeves, Lori Petty, and Gary Busey. Now, I love me some Patrick Swayze, he was just so special and was one of the best souls, but I’m not really a fan of Keanu at all. He just doesn’t do anything for me and I’m not talking in the looks factor, I’m just not a fan. I’m sure he’s a great guy and some of you are probably like really? But yes, really. To each their own. He was okay in Paula Abdul’s video Crush though.

I enjoy a good surfing movie always, same for most skater films, so as I was looking up movies to watch in the 90s this one peeked my interest. I also have a thing for surfers. Known a few in my day and their ambiance is really special. I really don’t like shoot outs in film. (This film has them). I know they are pretty cinematic and all, but guns/violence kinda freak me out. For instant, I love Scarface, but I can’t watch the chainsaw scene, but I can manage the ending to some extent. I think it’s the inhumane way certain gun/violence scenes unfold and probably cause it touches on trauma. I think I’m better with shooting action scenes, if there’s a true cause behind it, like you’re fighting for your life or getting vengeance. I do better viewing those type of scenes and understand those more. I also think part of me enjoys things like being a mob wife for the glamour, and I’d like to think I could pull off some sort of bank heist, but in reality I’d feel too guilty to do any sort of thing. I swear my conscious saves me. 😆

Storyline is decent, FBI Agent Utah (Keanu) gets in with some Surfers to find out who is robbing all these banks dressed up as former presidents. He becomes close to one of them Bohdi (Patrick Swayze) and his friend (Lori Petty) Keanu’s romantic interest. Though he has a job to do, to stop Swayze’s group and serve justice, he also becomes somewhat bonded and connects with different aspects of his life by knowing the criminal surfers. I really enjoyed Utah’s and Bohdi’s connection and understanding of one another through it all. It’s nice to see a storyline telling both sides of good and bad.

If you’re looking for some gnarly chase scenes, extreme sports like sky diving, and some mad swells, this movie is definitely for you.

I’m also presently watching Miami Vice and some Baywatch, so I guess I’m in a beachy type of mood. I mean we just went through an awful arctic blast, even here in the south, so I’ll take any warmth I can get.

Until next time - happy filming 🤙

[lyfactually]

[thunderstorms and the fates] 20230508

in movies, the thunderstorm is usually a clear sign of impending doom—one that you might try to escape, but there’s a great chance it’ll hit you right at the very moment it you least expected it.

i was one of those superstitious people who believe in “luck” and “misfortune” and everything in between. the existence of the fates weaving my life into the way they want it based on my actions is a thought i have in mind since i was a child. even now, i still wear “lucky shorts” each day we have a dreadful class i just want to survive unscathed. i don’t believe the idea that what we do now won’t cause a life-altering change to what lies ahead in the future. why, you may ask? because if a very small and thin but sharp needle can draw out so much blood from me, how much more can a careless action affect an integral part of your life?

times like this makes me want to hate impulse or feelings or whatever that drives us to act so rashly as if we’re running out of time. well, sure, we are running out of time, but who can tell us that aside from those watching us parade around the earth as our life story unfolds before their eyes?

so we assume. people let themselves think that they’re gonna die tomorrow anyway so why bother following all the rules and be a goody two shoes instead of enjoying what life offers? but what if this belief is the very thing that would lead you to your impending doom?

thunderstorms make people scream. like a speeding cat approaching your way, or a cockroach trying to fulfill its dreams of being a butterfly. however, what set thunderstorms apart from these examples is the element of surprise. you’ll never know when or where a thunderstorm would hit. yes, a lighting might give you a warning. it gives kids time to cover their ears, or adults to hide their fear with an unnoticeable flinch and tend to the crying children. however, we can’t really see it unless we are brave enough to face the rage of the skies.

what’s the point of all this, you might ask? i don’t actually know. maybe it just so happens that there is a thunderstorm right outside my window, and that i write to hide my fear instead of covering my ears and cowering behind my mom. well, life sucks, but i believe i had a hand on everything. life won’t suck if i wasn’t built this way. like what i have mentioned earlier, i believe that there are fates. i am a great believer of destiny. but behind all that, i know that i am one of the fates.

ah this is nonsense. up to this point, i can’t, for the life of me, think of a connection between thunderstorms and the fates. me? i guess the connection was me.

because i had my fair share of thunderstorms, most of them not accidental and usually occurs after a bad decision of mine.

there are errors because i usually write random ideas as i think of them and just let grammar be damned ;)

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

okay hey! not sure if you take requests..but what if the reader, eddie and steve played a game strip poker together? and it took a turn into reader “doing it” with eddie and just steve watching and like touch himself?

OH MY GOD?? 😩😩🥵🥵

okay, so imagine it just started off as any other game. i’m thinking eddie is your boyfriend, while steve might be your best friend? maybe you guys are stoned or a little bit tipsy (not fully drunk), too. i get those vibes, anyway! but i digress, let’s get into it.

you, steve, and eddie are playing the game according to the rules, and it seems fine enough. that is, until you start losing articles of clothing, and eddie & steve can’t stop staring at you. it’s understandable for eddie to stare—after all, he’s seen you naked many times—but steve? your best friend? it doesn’t actually make you feel as awkward as it should; in fact, it’s actually a little bit arousing.

you throw a wink at both of them as every article comes off of your body, with steve becoming flustered and eddie just smirking. they stare at the bra you’re wearing when your shirt comes off, at your panties as you lose your bottoms, and eddie had been playing terribly on purpose so that he can get naked with you. he has a plan in mind, one that is unfolding quite nicely, by the looks. not only is steve staring at you, but he’s also taken to gawking at eddie—all of which is starting to get steve pretty hard.

eventually, you & eddie end up completely naked, with steve still mostly clothed. eddie proposes a “fun idea,” as he calls it: you & eddie, since you both lost terribly, should fuck in front of steve as his reward for winning. everyone was on board with it, and eddie started off by pulling you into his lap and kissing you as hard & as sloppily as possible. that turned into a 69 on the table, which then turned into you cumming on eddie’s face, and that turned into eddie fucking the shit out of you in one of the chairs. currently, he’s sitting up and you’re riding him in reverse cowgirl so that you can look at steve, bouncing desperately on eddie’s thick cock as he moans in your ear.

all the while, through everything, steve is jerking off to it. eddie is dictating steve’s pace, however, and tells him to slow down if he gets too close, or to speed up, or to play with his balls, or fuck his own fist. steve would have normally hated being bossed around like that, but fuck, what is happening in front of him was the hottest shit he’s ever seen. steve harrington was no stranger to dirty magazines, or the very rare dirty movie, but this had all of it beat. hands down.

“give him a show, sweetheart,” eddie rasps in your ear, a smirk in his voice as he brushes some hair from it. “it looks like he’s already enjoying himself quite a bit.”

“eddie,” you mewl, his hands squeezing your breasts from behind. he bounces them a bit in his hands before letting them go, giving steve a full view of your bare tits. he then leans you forward a bit, holding your hips so that you don’t fall. you hold onto the table with one hand, anchoring yourself a little as he starts pounding into you with a hot groan. “fuck, you…”

“what?” eddie asks, his hand around your throat as he forces you to look at steve again. “say it for both of us, y/n. what is it?”

“you’re a fucking god,” you breathe, and you hear him laughing behind you before he gives your ass a swat. he pulls you back up, so that you’re riding him from behind again. “no one could ever fuck me like this. no one but you.”

“harrington wishes he could fuck you like i do,” eddie says smugly, licking a stripe up your neck as he looks at steve. his long hair is in his face, as well as some of your own, but he doesn’t break eye contact with the other male. “christ, he’s really going to town over there.”

it’s true, too. steve moans breathlessly, his lashes fluttering as he tries hard to fight his orgasm. after all, he doesn’t want to disappoint eddie, or you, for that matter. he wants to be good and obedient, because he knows eddie well enough by now to know that he could be tough in his punishments. you’d told steve all about them in the past, after all, in as much detail as possible without it being weird. however, steve doesn’t have to worry for long, because what eddie does next solves his little dilemma.

eddie pulls you off of his lap and throws you onto the table, with your head hanging off the side. you moan filthily as he pushes inside of you again, face twisted in pleasure as you look at steve. eddie is ramming into you, his mouth all over your breasts as he moans filthily himself, teeth leaving marks as he bites at your skin. after a moment, he glances up at steve, using one hand to quickly beckon him over.

“c’mere, harrington,” eddie coos. “you’ve been such a good boy tonight, and i think you deserve a reward for that.”

steve swallows and stands on shaky legs, his hard cock still out as he does so. eddie smirks, moving one hand to your jaw as he coaxes your mouth open. you know what’s coming, and it turns you on so goddamn much that you almost cum right there. eddie pushes two fingers into your open mouth, humming in satisfaction as he presses the pads of his fingers to your tongue. he holds your jaw open that way, his eyes trailing upward to meet steve’s.

“she’s got a pretty mouth, doesn’t she?” eddie asks, grinning when steve nods. “she gives the best fucking blowjobs in the world, steve. it would be criminal for you to miss out.”

eddie keeps your mouth open, and steve looks to you for consent. you nod to give it, and he says: “i…will this change anything between us?”

“only if you let it,” eddie says to him, gesturing to your mouth. some drool is running down your cheeks, because your head is partially upside down off the table. “go on, harrington. get yourself a piece of her.”

[yanbub]

them falling in love w/ u as ur best friend

albedo, xiao, kazuha and thoma x gn!reader

hcs, sfw, crack/fluff, cw: my favoritism on albedo, modern!au, 796 words

reblog or else kazuha is gonna cry

note: im leaving ? possibly but whatever. dont mind the possible typos, i don't proofread ok

albedo ;

albedo is usually smart but once he starts to notice some changes to how he feels about you, he doesn’t have an answer. you know that albedo has the tendency to be touch deprived — so touch deprived that people would’ve thought you were a couple already before you explain that you’re just best friends. but why does it whenever he holds your hand, his grips seem tighter lately? as if he doesn’t plan or want to let go of his grip? it’s possible that you’re overthinking but you know albedo. he was never this desperate.

him realizing that he fell in love with you as a big “oh shit” moment. it just came crashing to him and he didn’t even think of it thoroughly. with the wind blowing onto your hair on a late afternoon in the streets, albedo finally realized that he likes you. he realized a lot of things during that moment — he realized how he sometimes loses his rationality around you, how he’s becoming what’s lesser on how he usually is, and how you’re the person who can only make him unfold in such ways. albedo shook his head at you and smiled and you looked at him in confusion.

“albedo? what are you smiling so stupidly at?” you asked. “nothing. i’ll walk you home now, it’s getting quite late.” he replied.

xiao ;

the shy one, always wanting to keep your business to yourselves. you two still bond in public but it may just look like you’re just friends and not “best friends”. however, behind closed doors, xiao gets a bit of an attitude. he acts more childish alone with you — something that’s very much unexpected from the usually composed xiao people would see. but you find it cute on how his eyes sparkle at his favorite food if you get for him.

if albedo was confused about his feelings, xiao is even worse. he’d go through multiple stages on how to realize if he’s in love with you. it’ll probably be a slow burn too, since he has no idea if his feelings are actually romantic towards you or if it’s just platonic since he’s your best friend. he’s very much conflicted but wouldn’t him staring at you longer (than usual) be one of of the many explanations on how he’s in love? how about him being the shoulder you’d cry on every time it’s hard for you, and how about those times where he’d want to hold your hand longer?

he’ll need to clarify his emotions soon.

thoma ;

malewife (literally) and he acts like a mother to you. if you wouldn’t take care of yourself then he will. god, you can’t forget how antsy he gets every time you’re sick. make it a small fever or a cold he’ll be taking care of you. he knows that you know how much he cares about you, but sometimes he wonders if your relationship is really just platonic as your best friend. but how? how can it possibly be platonic when your lips would almost meet when you look at each other, squished at the large crowd? how can it even be platonic when he’d take you out on little dates (and yes, a date even though you’re “best friends”) during the weekend?

it’s frustrating. it was frustrating that thoma couldn’t even know if your relationship is even platonic at this point. he knows he loves you, he just doesn’t want to ruin what you have now and he doesn’t know how to tell you these big feelings he’s been holding onto.

kazuha ;

messing around the fucking library, watching movies together, it may seem that kazuha doesn’t hold romantic feelings to you as your best friend but he does. it’s visible on how he looks at you. everyone can see it — everyone but you. he knows that you can get… rather oblivious at some instances but this time it’s really obvious. he doesn’t get why you haven’t noticed it yet. were you in denial? do you not want to get faced with these hints he leaves every now and then? kazuha can usually read you (he’s your best friend after all) but at this issue, he gets so conflicted.

with a flick to your forehead, you yelp at the short period of pain that rushed at you because of kazuha. he sighs at you again before correcting you for what it seems like the nth time today, all because of your homework. he too is having other thoughts as he teaches you — why haven’t you noticed it yet? when will you ever take notice of his feelings? but he gave up on thinking about the matter.

kazuha is after all willing to wait patiently for you, anyways.

[letarasstuff]

Hug it out!

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and I swear, if this flops I'll cry, because this is THE cutest fluff I came up with in a while

Summary: Some days are good, some days are rough with two toddlers. This is a rough day for Spencer.

Warnings: Except for tooth rotting fluff, the smallest bit of self doubt as a father

Wordcount: 1.2k

✨Masterlist✨ ____________________________

It’s one of those days. Days, where Spencer is reminded how difficult it is being a single father to a pair of toddlers. From the moment they wake up, which is several hours before their regular time, Spencer knows he is in for it today.

“Ok, who wants juice?” He asks with an enthusiastic voice, trying to lift the mood. His youngest, two year old (Y/N), woke up due to a nightmare and came into his room at four in the morning to make her father cuddle the bad monsters away (her words, not his). Unfortunately she takes after her father regarding her clumsiness. While trying to close the door to Spencer’s bedroom quietly, she lost her balance and smashed it shut. That’s how he ended up with two children in his bed, cuddling close to him and still complaining about the closeness.

The grumpy kids light up a bit at the suggestion of the fruity liquid. “I wan da blu ‘up!” (Y/N) exclaimed. And there does the father see the next quarrel between the siblings incoming. “No! I always use the blue cup!” Her brother, who is three years her senior, argues. He is pretty possessive of his things, which is understandable given the fact that for the majority of his life he didn't have to share his things..

Spencer lets them exchange a few arguments about who should get the cup. Seeing that they are not able to solve this problem on their own (maybe because they are tired children or because the arguments presented by both sides are not that convincing), he decides to intervene.

“Why don’t you share the cup? This way both of you can have it and take a sip from it”, he suggests. But his idea meets his own germaphobia. “Don’ wan’ sha’e. Brother can hav’, I don’ wan’ his germ”, (Y/N) says defeatedly with a sad expression. Spencer can’t take offense in her answer, knowing he would react the same way. “Don’t you want your sippy cup anyway? With that you can also play later without worrying about spilling something”, he asks her in a gentle voice. This is met with a small nod and a tired yawn.

With breakfast and getting ready for the day out of the way, Spencer lets the two of them watch a bit of TV while he mingles around the household for a bit. It’s a free Saturday and all of his prayers wish that it stays that way, especially now, knowing that this day won’t be easy for their babysitter. Sometimes siblings just don’t get along.

“NO! No blanket fo’t!”, he hears (Y/N) shout. The father puts his son’s shirt that he was folding down and goes over to the living room. There he sees his children fighting over the big lavendel blanket that always lays on the couch. “Hey, what is this about?” He asks in a firm yet mild voice. A big part of his parenting is that raised voices only will lead to more raised voices and not quiet.

“I want to build a blanket fort with her, but (Y/N) is just too stubborn and wants to take a nap on the couch with the blanket. Dad, can you tell her that a blanket fort is way cooler than just sleeping please”, the older one complains, pointing to his sister.

Trying to think quickly on his feet for a solution, because a fighting pair of kids is more frightening than staring down eye to eye with an UnSub, Spencer stalls some time by taking the blanket and folding it.

“You have to understand Buddy that your sister still is pretty small and she needs to take naps throughout the day, because her small body doesn’t have enough energy for the whole day. And (Y/N) had a really bad night, so a nap would not be wrong. Maybe we can build a fort together and you two can watch a movie in it and lay down for a bit?” Making it not sound like he should take a nap too, even though this is Spencer’s intention, does the trick. A little bit later the siblings lay on pillows under blankets with blankets above them watching their favorite movie. They surprisingly quickly decided on a movie and saved their father another lecture.

This gives Spencer time to prepare lunch while finishing laundry and other important tasks in the household. As the food is cooking and everything else is done, he sits down with a book in his hand. A content sigh leaves his lips. Finally some peac-

“(Y/N)! THAT IS MY PART OF THE BLANKET!” “NO! I need blane’t too!” “You can’t even say blanket, because you are a baby. Go to sleep baby, I wanna watch the movie!” Quickly the father is back on his feet and strides towards the living room. Once again his children fight over that one blanket.

“Enough is enough, I need you two to come out there”, he says in a firm voice. Slowly both of them crawl out from the fort, looking somber. “I’ll ask each of you to tell me their side of the story, if you want, you can describe to me what happened. After that I want you to apologize to each other and hug it out, understood?” The children nod.

“Ok, does anyone want to explain something to me?” (Y/N) immediately shakes her head. “No, no ‘plaining, no ‘plaining. I good, I vewy good nowww.” Hearing her father talking in such a deep and serious tone is something she only witnessed a couple of times, that’s why she knows that listening now is important.

“And your brother?” He also shakes his head, knowing that nothing he has to say is worth the fuss he made. “Alright. I want you two to hug it out, because even though sometimes you both fight, you have to remember how much you love each other. Do you understand me?”

They nod again. “Sissy, come here. I didn’t want to call you a baby, you are my cute little sister.” The young boy carefully puts his arms around his sibling and gives her a kiss on her head. “I sowwy too, I lub you, bwotha”, she tells him and returns the hug.

Spencer watches the scene unfolding in front of him with an exploding heart. Parenting usually means doing things without seeing an immediate effect. It’s like stirring a boat blind, not knowing if he goes in the right direction or is close to hitting a rock and smashing the whole boat. But moments like these, especially on off days like today, show him that not every decision he made was wrong.

Later the small family lays together under the blanket fort, the father with a child in each arm, one sleeping and the other one talking about the movie they are watching and Spencer doesn’t want to change a single thing in the world.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[mercurygguk]

winter soldier | jjk

genre; winter soldier/avengers au, angst/smut/fluff

pairing; winter soldier!jungkook x avenger!female reader

summary; the love of your life died during ww2, they honored his death. you had never imagined you’d ever see him again until you’d join him in death, but here he is and he’s trying to kill you. he’s not himself at all. you, however, insist that the man you used to know is still in there somewhere.

word count; 6,764

warnings; descriptions of war/battle/fight scenes, descriptions of scars, the rest of the avengers joins the party, reader is like Cap A but not like Cap A, you know??, jungkook looking hella hot with his long hair and steel arm, inspiration from ‘captain america: winter soldier’, swearing, SMUT; explicit sexual activities, oral (f. receiving), love making at its highest- nothing kinky, just plain ol’ sex

a/n; okay so um, i’m binge-watching the avengers movies atm and i was watching Captain America: Winter Soldier. i kid you not, throughout the entire movie i was imagining what jungkook would look like as the winter soldier- jungkook combined with superheroes is like the perfect story, amirite?? ;)) enjoy!

ps. once again, i didn’t proof read so ignore my possible mistakes lol

(for reference, this is what jungkook’s hair looks like in this fic)

War.

Terrorizing. Horrifying. Absolutely petrifying.

There are several words to use when talking about it, describing it, reliving it. Once you’ve experienced it, it will haunt you till the day you die and even beyond that. There isn’t much positive to take from it, not many positive memories come to you as you think back to the time during war. Only one positive memory returns to you from those dark times...

Him.

Him who did not fit in with the military services due to his lack of strength and speed. Him who never let anyone step upon him and evolved with the job. Him who never backed down from a challenge or an order given from the highest ranks. Him who had braveness unlike anyone, loyalty like no other, a will to fight for what’s worth it and to win. Him who made you fall for him without meaning to. Him who promised he would always come back to you, no matter what happened.

And then one day he didn’t. They had told you he went down in the fight, died for his country, for his team. He hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice himself, thrown himself towards the threat in the hopes of ending it for everyone once and for all. That he did. He killed himself in the process of saving everyone else.

A hero is what they had called him. Honored his name, saluting as they all stood facing his military photograph, serious faces and emotionless eyes all over. Tears had filled your eyes that day, but they didn't fall. You refused to let them. There was no way you would cry because of a liar. A coward, really. Anger kept you going, anger aimed at him. A rage so intense that you would convince yourself that you hated him. Some people would call you selfish, selfish for hating a man who sacrificed himself for everyone else. They were right. You were selfish. But love makes you selfish, and you loved him. So ridiculously much.

Years later, decades into the new century he remains as a positive yet heartbreaking and frustrating memory in your mind and heart. You haven’t aged a day thanks to the advanced technology and the project you offered to be the experiment of, in the end of the war. After his death and the war seeming more out of control than ever, you thought there wasn’t much more to live for, so you volunteered. A successful masterpiece, professor Kim had said as you regained consciousness on the lab table. You were his greatest, most succeeded experiment. You still are, except for the fact that Kim Namjoon is no longer walking among people on earth.

Now you’re living as the successful masterpiece he has created. Stronger, faster – young too even though your real age is something near 98. It doesn’t show. You look like any other 23-year-old but with extraordinary strength and speed. Being a part of a team as the Avengers truly has given you a meaning of life, a purpose that you didn’t feel you had before joining this outstanding team of superheroes as some would call you.

But as you stand here, in the middle of a battlefield that is scarily similar to those back in the 1940’s, you feel small. Gunshots fire around you, flying past your head and ringing in your ears. Explosions going off from the shots fired by Stark, Iron Man as he’s known as. The grounds breaking from the power of Thor’s hammer, the bad guys falling like flies in the hands of Widow. You’re watching it all unfold, breathing for a split second as robots are charging at you with red, glowing eyes.

For God’s sake, just how many of these are there?

Keeping yourself from rolling your eyes in pure annoyance, you set off running towards them with an unmatched speed, fists up and ready to take them out. One goes down after another, surrendering to your very angry, very powerful fists. Your patience is running thin as the robots keep appearing from left and right, setting their focus on you as demanded by whoever’s controlling them. A person you haven’t managed to find yet, but determined to hunt down and put a bullet through their head.

“Hey, Thor!” You call out to the nordic God flying around you, punching fists through robots and throwing his hammer at them. He glances your way, finding you surrounded by robots, too many for you to fight by yourself. “A lil hand here?”

He nods in response, immediately dropping to the ground and plunging his hammer into the asphalt on the ground, lightning seeping through the ground and into the robots, taking them down and splitting them in half. Thor throws a smug smirk at you before turning back around to fight another round of robots. You roll your eyes, about to run off when shots are being fired at you.

“Shit!” You hiss, running to hide behind a tipped-over truck while fishing out a gun from the strap around your thigh. You lean out, aiming in the direction of the shots. There is a man with long, dark hair, a black mask covering half his face and a silver arm that does not look familiar at all. The mysterious man steps onto the railing of the bridge he fired shots from, hard glare focused on you as he steps out and lets himself fall to the ground beneath the bridge. He lands on his feet, supporting himself with the silver fist into the asphalt. He stands to his height, walking straight towards you and leaving a mark in the asphalt where he had landed. Your eyes widen as he holds up a machine gun, opening fire at you as you scramble to run off while loading more shots into your gun.

Peeking around the corner of the brick building you’re hiding behind, you hold your gun up to aim at him. You fire a bullet, hitting his silver arm. He doesn’t budge, the bullet not even leaving a bump in the silver.

“What the-” you gape, firing shots again. He holds his silver hand up, the bullets bouncing off like they’re made of cotton, still walking towards you with eyes focused on you. There’s something about him that seems familiar – maybe his build? Or the way he walks? Or was it the slightly curly hair on top of his head? You can’t quite pin it as you watch him get closer, fists clenched tightly at his sides as if he’s ready to throw punches at you. You contemplate running to him, throwing the first punch at him before he gets to you. There is a slight hesitancy in your body as you can’t shake off how awfully familiar he seems the closer he gets to you. Knowing what the right thing to do is, you step out from your hiding spot, collecting all strength as you charge at him. A yell of anger and confusion rumbles from your chest as you jump on the last step, fist pulled back only for it to be forced forward and into the center of the mysterious man’s chest.

He stumbles back slightly, gaining his balance quickly before he steps closer, throwing a punch at you as well. You dodge, throwing your leg into his side in a strong kick. He grunts as he catches your leg, pulling on it to force you towards him. You ram into him, his clenched fist connecting with your jaw. You groan in pain as you fall to the ground, landing before his feet. Squinting at him, you watch as he kneels down over you, holding you down against the ground. As he stares at you, raising his hand to deliver a punch to your face again, you realize it as your eyes meet his. You gasp softly, not believing the sight in front of you. It’s a known fact that you would recognize those deep, brown eyes anywhere in any given moment.

“J-Jungkook?”

The sound of your voice, the sound of his name falling from your lips has him freezing for a split second. His eyes shift between yours as he slowly begins to sink his fist. But not even seconds later he’s raising his fist again and that’s when you can tell that he does not recognize you. He is looking at you as if you’re a complete stranger, like he didn’t spend the last year of his life telling you that he loved you more than life itself.

His gaze fills with the only feeling he feels, hatred. He moves to force his silver fist down and into your face, a face he used to call beautiful as he traced his finger tips along the edges. You barely dodge it, trying your very best to meet his eyes again as you call his name.

“Jungkook!” You fight the tears that are brimming your eyes as you continue to dodge his hits the best you can, “Hey! It’s me!”

He’s not holding off, continuing to throw punches at you and hitting the asphalt as you squirm in between his thighs. He’s impeccably strong, the asphalt cracking under the jabs of his fists. His thighs are keeping you in place as he pins you to the ground, your arms locked along your sides. You know he’ll punch you to death if you don’t get inside his head. It seems nearly impossible as his eyes are trained on you, emotionless and angry, only a small glimt of the man you used to know in them.

“____! Might wanna duck down a bit,” Tony shouts as he flies in your direction, his glowing hand aimed at Jungkook.

Your eyes widen in horror as you scramble together all the strength you have, throwing Jungkook off you and away from the deathly ray of light coming from Tony’s palm.

“No!”

The shot hits the asphalt a few meters away from you, nearly grazing Jungkook but it doesn’t, thankfully. Tony is shocked as he comes to a halt in the air, staring between Jungkook and you. You wave a hand at him. “I got him,” you assure him as you pant out breaths of air, nodding towards Widow and Thor, “go help the others.”

The man in the iron suit in front of you seems to hesitate for a second as he looks at you. He catches the pleading look on your face, glancing back at Jungkook for a moment before nodding at you once and flying in the direction of Widow and Thor, aiming his shots at the robots that are still coming from all sides. You turn your attention back to Jungkook, the body of the love of your life but not the eyes or mind of him.

“Jungkook,” you try again, slowly stepping closer as he stays still, slightly shocked that you had saved him from Iron Man’s deadly shot, “it’s me, ____.”

You’re begging, tone pleading him and hands up in surrender as you slowly step closer to him. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling in deep breaths. His eyes are dark, cold and distant as you get even closer. He’s frozen in his spot. He seems confused behind that hard expression, confused because you look less terrified than you did before realizing who he is. He doesn’t flinch or move away from your hand as it inches closer to his face, reaching for the black mask on his face.

“Hey,” you softly say, hesitating to touch him as you let a single tear escape and roll down your cheek. Something flashes in his eyes as he looks into your wet eyes, a small hint of recognition, familiarity too. Maybe he remembers. You hope he does. He lets you pull the black mask off completely, the strong line of his jaw appearing in front of you as well as his pink lips you used to kiss so often in that hidden place you liked to meet almost every night. “It’s me,” you whisper, “it’s ____.”

You’re afraid you’re imagining things as tears build up in the corner of his eyes, his jaw tightening. It’s too much for him. The memories returning with full force, the emotions filling his chest and warming it for the first time in 70 years. He wants to cry. He doesn’t know whether it's happiness because you’re right here in front of him, after he thought he would never get to see you again as he took his last breath back in 1944, or sadness because he’s well aware that he almost killed you if you hadn’t pushed him off you.

“____?” His voice betrays him as it cracks, your name coming out in a croaked voice. More tears escape as you hear your name falling from his lips for the first time since that morning in the military camp where he said ‘see you soon’ and then never returned. He freezes as you throw yourself at him, arms wrapped around him as you pull him closer in a tight hug. The sniffles and muffled cries you let out breaks his emotionless, cold heart and filling it with a warmth he hasn’t felt in so long. A tear escapes from the corner of his eye as he lets his own arms snake their way around your waist, hugging you just as tight as you hug him.

Relief.

That’s what he’s feeling.

Jungkook wanders around inside Stark’s office, eyes exploring things as he calmly runs his silver hand over them. You watch him from a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest. Worry is filling your entire body as his back is turned to you. He still doesn’t seem like himself. There is something about him that makes you anxious, something about him makes you wonder if he’ll turn at any moment, falling back into whatever sort of amnesia he has been experiencing for the past decades.

You jump in surprise when the door opens beside you, revealing Tony. He notices your jumbled state, giving you a small, half smile. You turn your eyes back to Jungkook who’s picking at an ancient-looking sculpture on Tony’s desk causing Tony to take a step closer.

“Hey! Buddy!” He calls out, catching Jungkook’s attention. “Don’t touch that, please. It’s antique.”

Jungkook steps away from the desk, hands up in mock surrender, emptiness in his eyes as if he couldn’t care less about Tony’s antique sculpture. No one really cared about that sculpture. It’s doomed to break at some point when it’s placed in his office, in the Avengers building.

“Tony,” you catch the attention of the older man, looking straight at him with hopeful, desperate eyes, “can you help him?”

He turns to face Jungkook, looking him over from head to toe. “Friday, give me a scan of whatever’s controlling Jungkook.”

Anticipated, you wait while biting a nail. Jungkook doesn’t move an inch as Friday scans him for anything to help Tony figure out a way to help. He’s glancing from Tony to you, his eyes meeting yours. Seconds. It takes seconds from his stare meeting yours to something flicking behind his dark brown irises, something inside of him snapping like the tips of someone’s fingers. Your eyes widen in panic as you move to stand between Tony and Jungkook.

“Tony!” You shout, moving fast as you try to get in between the two men. Tony has already activated his iron hand, catching Jungkook’s silver fist right before it hits him square in the face. You come to a halt, staring in surprise as Tony tightens his hold on Jungkook’s fist, forcing him to the ground. “Tony, please, don’t hurt him. He’s not in his right mind!”

“Oh, really?” Tony scoffs, sarcasm dripping from each word. A small yelp leaves your mouth as Tony kicks his knee up under Jungkook’s jaw, knocking him out. Jungkook falls limp to the floor, eyes closed as he’s kicked unconscious by Tony. You kneel down beside him, brushing his long strands of hair out of his face. He looks peaceful as he lays there, completely unconscious, and yet there’s a furrowed look on his face, like he’s never free from whatever that is controlling him. You sigh deeply, head dropping as you cradle Jungkook’s hand in your own. Tony’s palm rests on your shoulder. You glance up at him. He gives you a small, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help him,” he tells you. You nod, knowing he spoke the truth.

“Thank you.”

The frustrated look and furrowed eyebrows are gone. He looks genuinely peaceful this time, long lashes resting on the top of his cheeks as he rests beneath the sheets on your bed. You can’t help yourself as you reach out, palm cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone in a soft caress. Hopefully you’ll have the love of your life back once he wakes up from the deep sleep Tony put him in.

You’re about to move away, retrieving your hand from his cheek just as you hear him whimper softly. Turning back to him, you watch as his lower lip begins to quiver, eyebrows furrowed tightly together. “No,” he whimpers again, head shaking in his sleep. “Please, no! Don’t!”

Worry fills you once again as you sit on the edge of the bed beside him, hands cupping his face between them. “Jungkook,” you softly call, trying your best to wake him without startling him. “Jungkook, my love, please wake up. Please!”

Startled, you gasp as his eyes shoot open, his lips parting as he gasps for air. He’s looking right into your startled, widened eyes. It takes a minute for him to realize who you are and where he is, the surroundings not seeming familiar at all, but it feels nice. The aura, the warmth and the dimmed lighting in the bedroom where he’s tucked under the sheets.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you smile, not sure what to say to him. Tony had made sure to help him, get whatever that was controlling him out of him, his head to himself now and slowly filling with memories, both good and bad ones. “How are you feeling?”

He groans as he moves to sit up. You help him straighten up, making sure he has a pillow for his back as he leans back against the head of the bed. He closes his eyes tightly together as he drops his head back, still trying to calm his erratic breathing. You sit back in the chair you had pulled to the bedside when you got here.

“I feel…” he begins, words feeling foreign on his tongue as he speaks with a croaking voice. He sighs deeply. This is a lot for his head to take in in just one day. “I feel like my head is about to explode.”

Your smile is careful as you look at him. “Makes sense,” you softly say, watching him glance at his arm only to notice the silver is still there, like he had hoped it would be gone. It’s easy to tell the arm itself is a symbol of a very dark time as he looks at it and then looks away from it. He isn’t fond of the silver arm, obviously having a love-hate relationship with it as it has given him power and strength he never had to begin with and problems he never voluntarily wanted in the first place. There’s pain in his eyes as he glances at you, shame as he cowers under your gaze.

You frown deeply. “What happened to you?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. He closes his eyes, not really wishing to go back to those dark times where his life was saved and changed for the worse. The dark times where he became a shadow of himself and a manipulated soldier, brainwashed to take orders from others.

“I, uh, I don’t think-“ he stumbles over his words.

You place your hand over his actual hand, your thumb brushing the skin there. He glances at where you’re touching him before looking up at you. You’re hurting, it’s easy to see. It’s not your own pain though, it’s his. You’re feeling pain for him, hurting because he went through things he never should have, things where death would’ve been much less painful. You want to kiss him, kiss it all better if that was possible.

“You can tell me,” you whisper, pleading him to confide in you, to tell you what happened to him all those years ago.

He sighs deeply, turning his hand over to wrap it around yours. A rush runs through your stomach as he grips onto your hand with a hold so tight that you find yourself promising him silently that you’ll never let go again by giving his hand a small squeeze.

“They found me a few days later,” he starts, gaze focusing on the way yours and his fingers intertwine with each other like they’re meant to do it, “in the ruins of buildings. I-I wasn’t fully awake when they did, only just coming to my senses again after the explosion that was meant to kill me.”

You’re focusing on his hand in yours now, not able to look into his eyes as he tells the story of how he ended up here, 70 years later, and still looking like himself but with longer hair and impeccable strength.

“I didn’t recognize them. They wouldn’t tell me anything. They took me to this place, a bunker or something like that. There was this huge laboratory inside with equipment way ahead of its time,” he looks confused as he relives the horrifying moments, “I was placed in a chair and the next thing I know they’re sawing my arm off-“

You whimper. “Oh, god,” tears dwell in your eyes as you grip his hand tightly.

“____, I have never felt as much pain as I did that day,” he looks you straight in the eye, the pain from that day flashing over his face as he recalls it, the feeling of it. “And all I could think about while they turned me into this- this monster… was that I lied to you.”

You shake your head in denial. “No, Jungkook,” you whisper, “you couldn’t know. You couldn’t.”

He offers you a small half-smile, remorse covering his features as he reaches up with his silver hand, careful as he lets the fingertips of it brush your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry I gave you an empty promise,” he whispers, silver fingertips brushing against the side of your face. You cover it with your own hand, letting him cup your face in the cold silver. He leans closer, hissing lightly as pain shoots up the side of his torso. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come back to you like I promised.”

“You did though,” you sigh deeply, resting your forehead against his. “You’re right here.”

He nods softly, his eyes shifting between yours.. “and I won’t leave again,” he assures you before hesitating, shrugging as he adds; “unless you want me to.”

You chuckle through the tears that had built up in your eyes. He’s smiling at you as you reach up to cup his face in your palms, brushing your thumb across his cheeks. He’s watching you, still not quite believing that you’re here with him. After so long. 70 years of wondering if you’re still alive. 70 long years of wondering where you were in the world. 70 unbearable years of longing for your touch, your soft, plump lips that made his heart stop beating for a few seconds each time they would touch his in a kiss.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he whispers into the small gap of air space between you and him. “Each time I’d return from a mission and become myself again after being under mind-control, you were the first thing on my mind. To be honest, I don’t think you ever left it. You’ve always been there with me, in the deepest parts of my consciousness. You kept me sane during the missions, kept me from forgetting myself completely.”

Listening intently, you close your eyes as your thumbs continue to brush over the skin on his cheeks. He continues, a deep sigh falling from his lips and clashing against yours causing goosebumps to rise upon your body. You’re shocked that you have gone this far without smothering him in kisses. You don’t want to risk anything, waiting patiently for him to make the first move in the direction of more physical affection, whether it’s a touch of his hand, a hug or more.

“And when I realized it was you earlier today...” his voice cracks, “when I realized I almost killed you- I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for that.”

“You can and you will,” you softly tell him, the undertone of your voice stern, “you didn’t kill me. You wouldn’t. You were gonna recognize me sooner or later.”

He exhales shakily. “You don’t know that,” he almost snaps, eyes closed tightly as he drops his silver hand from your face. He pulls away from your touch, the warmth of him disappearing the further he moves away. He’s not looking at you. Tears are threatening to spill as you stare back at him, lips slightly parted as you want to speak up. You want to tell him he’s wrong, but you already know that he will not take your words for what they are. He, and you, know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t pushed him off when you did.

“You’re right,” you say, catching his attention again. He barely glances at you, noticing the small remnants of tears in your eyes before looking back at his silver hand, clenching and unclenching it. A tear rolls down your cheek. “You’re so right, Jungkook. I don’t know if you would or not.”

You get up from the chair you’ve been sitting in since you brought him back to your apartment. Jungkook still refuses to look at you as you move onto the bed, crawling closer to him. You don’t hesitate as you lay a hand on his shoulder and throw a leg over his to straddle his lap. He finally looks at you, eyes slightly widened at your actions. His eyes meet teary ones again, his silver arm moving out of an old habit as he reaches up to wipe your tears away.

“But I like to think you would.”

Your lips press against his before he can reply to your words. Jungkook gasps and then grunts in response as you press your mouth to his, desperately and needy. His body freezes beneath you as you kiss him, tasting his lips for the first time in an unbearably long time. It takes him a while to realize that you’re kissing him, finally kissing you back as he cradles you in his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. The silver arm keeps a tight grip around your waist, holding you in place as the other runs up your thigh.

Pulling away, you gasp for air, letting your forehead rest against his. Jungkook is breathing heavily, his breath once again clashing against yours as you both catch your breath. Your eyes meet, seconds after he’s kissing you again, your tank top riding up as the silver arm keeps you tight against him. The silver touching your skin causes goosebumps to cover your skin, a chill running up your spine as you cup his face. His tongue licks against your bottom lip, you let him in. A moan escapes your lips as his tongue touches yours.

“I’ve been holding myself back ever since you woke up,” you whisper against his lips, making him smile as his hands slide under your top, pushing it up before pulling it over your head completely. You return to his lips, catching them with your own as you reach for the hem of his t-shirt. He helps you pull it off, your mind elsewhere as you throw it onto the floor. Your hands rake down his body, over the tensing muscles of his abdomen as he moves his kisses down your cheek and further under your jaw. Your breathing is ragged as you pull away, only a few inches so you can glance down at his torso. The sight horrifies you, your fingertips brushing over scars and healed wounds.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as you glance up at Jungkook, his eyes meeting yours for a few seconds before you look back at his chest. Your eyes wander, over his both small and larger scars to his silver arm. You feel your heart tightening as you take in the way the silver arm is sewed onto his body. You hesitate to reach up, Jungkook’s eyes on you as you let your shaking fingertips brush over the burned, scarred skin that keeps the silver arm attached. “I- This…”

His human hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. “I know,” he agrees without hearing the rest of the sentence. You look back at him, finding relief in his eyes as you rest your palms against his chest. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he then says.

“They literally cut off your arm,” you point out, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t even imagine how much pain he must’ve been in when they did this to him. “I wish I could have spared you this pain, spared you the torture you went through.”

He smiles softly. “I know, ____. But there's no way you possibly could’ve.”

You're carefully running your pointer finger along one of his scars when you look up at him, eyelashes framing your eyes so perfectly. He thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, even more so than the last time he saw you. You can’t do anything to stop the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I love you so much, Jungkook.”

His breathing stops for a second, his heart skipping a beat. He hasn’t heard those words since 1944. He didn’t even hear those words that morning you had sent him off, he hadn’t said those words when he promised to return. He should have. That way you’d never be in doubt of his love. He wonders if you’ve loved him since or if there has been anyone else in the meantime to love you the way he should’ve.

Silently, you watch him as his thoughts run one hundred miles per hour. Your palms are sliding from his chest to his shoulders and further up his neck to cup his face again. The love he feels is evident in his eyes as he focuses on you.

“I love you,” he whispers, carefully turning you over onto your back only for him to hover over you. You’re watching him, tingling in your stomach as you hear the words fall from his lips. He returns to kissing you, kissing the skin on your cheek, your neck and further down to the very top of your chest, right beneath the collarbones. He glances up at you as he kisses his way down the valley of your bra-covered chest. “I didn’t say it enough back then,” he mouths against your skin, another round of goosebumps rising beneath his lips, “I should have said it more. I’m sorry.”

You exhale deeply, arching your back into his touch as he reaches your navel and moves even further down to the waistband of your pants, your spandex pants that you so elegantly wear whenever you have a mission with the Avengers.

“Stop apologizing,” you breathe out, eyes closed as you succumb to his touch. The silver hand brushes over your stomach as it runs up to your chest, unclasping your bra on the front. It falls to the sides, revealing your perky nipples to the crisp air. You gasp softly as a silver hand brushes over both, the cold steel doing nothing but erecting them even more. “I've always hated it when you apologize.”

He smirks softly against your lower stomach, pressing one last kiss to the skin there before pulling the silver hand down to pull off your pants, and panties too. The pants are barely on the floor before he returns to your lower abdomen, kisses being spread across your hip bones and pubic bone. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his long hair as he runs his hands up the inside of your thighs. He spreads your legs, revealing your throbbing core to him.

“God, I missed this,” he breathed out, the air of his words hitting your wet folds. “Having you like this, all to myself.”

You whine from above him. “Jungkook,” you whimper, “please.”

It doesn’t take more for him to lean closer, tongue licking a stripe up between your folds and to your clit, his silver arm sliding across your abdomen to keep you down as he eats you out for the first time in decades. One would think he had lost his touch and knowledge of a woman’s body, but you can say that he certainly didn’t as he roots himself between your legs, tongue licking your wetness and prodding at the entrance.

“Oh god,” you moan, softly gasping for air as his human hand rests on top of your one thigh, fingers digging into the flesh there. You’re in heaven, on the ninth cloud as he slurps your arousal, licking your folds and clit as if his life depended on it. “Fuck, Jungkook!”

The sound of your name toppling from your lips as he hits a certain nerve makes his body flush with a warmth he almost forgot what feels like. You’re writhing in the tight hold of his silver arm, squirming as he licks you to your release. The orgasm is approaching fast and hard, Jungkook being the sole reason for it. No one could ever get you there as fast as him.

“I’m s-so close- oh!,” you pant, your walls clenching as Jungkook’s actual fingers slide into you. He pumps his hand in and out of you in a pace that is perfectly building up your orgasm. He takes nothing but a glance into his eyes as he leans down to softly kiss your clit that you’re toppling over, hitting the wall of your orgasm. “J-jungkook, my god!”

You jerk away as he leans forward, tongue licking up your release, tasting it on his taste buds. He hums with a small smile as he glances up at you, loving the way your eyes are almost bulging out of your head at the sight of him between your thighs. It takes nothing more than a few seconds before you shitting up, Jungkook meeting you halfway in a kiss. Tongues clash against each other, the taste of you on his tongue as he kisses you deeply, needingly.

“Please fuck me,” you mumble in between kisses, a desperate whining tone attached to your words. “Make love to me, Jungkook.”

He seals your words with a kiss, giving you a silent promise of doing just that. As if he’d lick you out and that would be it. No way.

You watch, teeth biting into your bottom lip, as he gets off the bed to remove the sweatpants you had dressed him in when you got back, getting him out of those military pants with belts and buckles all over them. His cock springs free, slaps against his abdomen as it stands proud into the air. A rush runs through your stomach at the sight, mouth slightly watering. Once the sweatpants and his boxers lie on the floor by his feet, he crawls back onto the bed. He moves closer, pushing you back onto your back as he hovers over you. You’re glancing at his silver arm for a mere split second, your hair reaching up to run along the hard edges of it. Jungkook can’t feel your touch but he’d like to imagine that he can as he watches your palm brushing over and further up to the nape of his neck. His eyes move back to lock with yours. You’re looking at him just like you did that last night of intimacy you had back in 1944, the night before he was sent off on a deathly mission. A huge wave of emotions hits him as he glances from your eyes to your lips and back again.

“I love you,” he softly says, eyebrows furrowed together as he looks at you, “so much, ____.”

You smile, pulling him down to meet you in a kiss. The kisses are soft, tender even as he reaches down to line himself up with your entrance. You gasp into his mouth as the tip of his cock prods at your folds. A hand of yours tangles back into his locks as he pushes inside, the tightness overwhelming for the both of you. He rests his forehead against yours, your breaths clashing together between you as he buries himself to the hilt.

“Shit,” he hisses, glancing down at your connecting hips. “Can i move?”

You nod your head, whispering, “yes.”

Jungkook watches the way your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pulls out and pushes back in, the sight causing him to do it again and again, wanting to see you lose yourself and succumb to the feeling of his cock brushing against your walls.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp as he gives you a particularly hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin as he hits that exact spot that makes you whimper out a soft, whiny moan. You’re clawing at his shoulders, his neck and chest as he sets a rhythm, keeping it steady as he grinds into you. He grabs your leg with his silver hand, helping you to wrap it around his waist. The other follows suit, locking with your other behind his back. He hits deep inside of you, his veiny cock sliding against your walls so deliciously.

It’s like that last night you had with him all over again just with more longing and more desperate kisses. Your stomach tingles with the overwhelming amount of emotions you’re feeling in this exact moment as you look up at him – his long hair slightly damp at the roots, his toned chest glistening in sweat as he works you both to a release, to a high you’re both so desperately in the need of.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as you unawarely clench around his length, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Don’t do that or I’ll cum right now.”

“Sorry!” You squeak, chuckling as he eyes you with a small smirk. God, you wanna ride him so badly. “Oh, Jungkook,” you moan breathily as he hits your spot again. He’s watching you, eyes running over your face as it contorts in pure pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he grunts, leaning up on his hands to get a better angle. He rams his hips into you, his strength coming to show as he thrusts into you harder than ever before. The power of his thrusts have you seeing stars as your second orgasm nears you. Jungkook can feel it as you clinch repeatedly around him. He won’t last much longer if you continue to do that.

High pitched moans tumble from your parted lips as he speeds up his movements, desperately trying to get you over the edge before he topples over himself. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as you reach your high, the orgasm hitting you like a bullet.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan, breathing ragged as he continues to fuck you to get himself to cum. His breathing is uneven, not matching his thrusts as all as he moves in and out a few more times before stilling inside of you, spilling his load and painting your walls inside.

“Fuck, I love you,” he breathes out as he drops his forehead to your collarbone. You’re smiling widely as you run your fingers from his shoulders and up into his hair. He lifts his head to look at you as you push his long, brown hair out of his face. You know him too well when he gives you a look, a small smirk on his lips. A joke is coming. You can just feel it. And you can’t help but grin at him as everything feels exactly like 1944 again. Also, you want to punch him for his next words:

“Not too bad for a 98-year-old, huh?”

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