#it's a little melancholy but that's usually how i feel on the swings at night

[mingimystix]

Whispers of Heartfelt Wishes

Title: Whispers of Heartfelt Wishes

Song: Heartbeat by BTS

Pairing: Mingi x reader

Word count: 852

Warnings: fluff

Summary: ATEEZ's grand birthday bash for Mingi takes an unexpected turn when his closest friends sense his yearning for a more intimate celebration.

--

The day had finally arrived - Mingi's birthday. The anticipation had been building up for weeks, and you were determined to make it the best celebration ever. With ATEEZ members being like family to you, you knew this birthday had to be unforgettable. You had everything planned out meticulously, from the surprise party to the carefully selected gifts, and even a special cake that you knew Mingi would love.

The celebration was in full swing at the ATEEZ dorm, with laughter echoing through the halls as members bustled around, setting up decorations and preparing food. You couldn't help but smile as you watched them work together, their camaraderie evident in every gesture. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were hanging streamers, Yunho was perfecting his DJ setup, San and Wooyoung were arranging a table full of snacks, and Jongho was testing out the karaoke machine - it was a true team effort.

Mingi, dressed in a casual yet stylish outfit, entered the room with a grin that lit up the whole space. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the decorations, and he was immediately enveloped in a group hug from his excited bandmates.

"Happy birthday, Mingi!" they cheered in unison, clapping him on the back and exchanging high-fives.

Mingi's smile widened even further as he soaked in the warmth of their affection. It was a sight that warmed your heart, knowing how cherished he was among his friends.

The party kicked off with energetic music, and you found yourself dancing alongside the members, reveling in the sheer joy of the moment. Mingi was at the center of attention, laughing, singing, and showing off his dance moves with infectious enthusiasm. Everything seemed perfect, but as the night went on, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering him.

During a break in the music, you subtly glanced at Mingi, who was trying his best to keep up the cheerful facade. But his eyes betrayed a hint of melancholy, a spark missing from his usual exuberance.

Yunho, ever perceptive, noticed this too. He discreetly signaled the other members to huddle together, leaving you and Mingi slightly apart.

"Hey," San said softly, his eyes concerned. "You think Mingi's okay?"

Wooyoung nodded, watching Mingi intently. "He seems a bit off, don't you think?"

Hongjoong leaned in, his voice gentle. "I think he might be missing something… or someone."

Seonghwa chimed in, his gaze flickering to you before returning to the group. "Maybe he wanted a more intimate celebration?"

Jongho cleared his throat, speaking up hesitantly. "You know, like spending time alone with Y/N."

The realization dawned on you, and you exchanged knowing glances with the members. They were right - perhaps Mingi had been hoping for a more intimate celebration, one-on-one time with you to mark his special day.

As the party continued, you found yourself being drawn to Mingi. He was standing by a window, gazing out at the night sky with a distant look in his eyes. Slowly, you approached him, a soft smile on your lips.

"Hey, Mingi," you said gently, touching his arm to get his attention.

He turned to you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a weary smile. "Hey, Y/N. Having fun?"

You nodded, stepping closer. "Of course, but I've noticed something. Is everything alright?"

Mingi sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Yeah, everything's great. It's just… I guess I was hoping for something a little different for my birthday."

You took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Tell me, Mingi. What did you have in mind?"

He looked down at your intertwined fingers, his cheeks tinted with a faint blush. "I think I just wanted to spend some quiet time with you, you know? Just us, away from the crowd, maybe watching a movie or cuddling."

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you realized how simple and meaningful his wishes were. "Well, how about we make that happen?"

Mingi's eyes lit up, his grin returning with a newfound warmth. "Really?"

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Absolutely. It's your day, after all. Let's make it memorable in the best way possible."

With that, you led Mingi away from the bustling party, finding a quiet corner where the two of you could relax. As you settled onto a couch, Mingi draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, and you felt his lips press gently against your temple.

"Thank you, Y/N," he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. "This means more to me than you know."

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, and smiled up at him. "Happy birthday, Mingi. Here's to a night of just us, celebrating you."

And as you shared quiet moments, wrapped up in each other's arms, you both realized that sometimes, the simplest gestures held the most profound meaning. Mingi's birthday had taken an unexpected turn, but in the end, it had brought the two of you even closer, strengthening the bond you shared with both each other and the rest of the ATEEZ family.

[nerosdayinanime]

I know I wasn't the person that originally asked about Giyuucore songs but that post caught my interest because you mentioned a lot of songs and some of my favorites👀

I'd really like to hear your thoughts on Gilded Lily! I've seen it taken in a couple different contexts online but idk anyone that listens to it. After Dark is another banger but I never considered thinking of it as Giyuucore. the same thing with Little Dark Age talk about blorbo, think about blorbo :)

also I listened to The Mute and The Missing Road for the tag you left on my one drabble and 😭 i see it so clearly with how so socially awkward little blorbo is

usually i think of my music taste as mainstream but not like. Popular mainstream yk? usually at least, since i started only really using spotify it kinda just Sticks with popular... (i just think the music i listen to its pretty all over the place) anyway-

Gilded Lily got me from the chorus haven't i given enough? giyuu gives his all yet still all the shit that happens to him and the people he loves... with him in mind the lyric reads as more a polite way of asking higher powers 'havent you taken enough from me?' yk?

always the fool with the slowest heart hes always behind his peers and misunderstood, negative feedback loop of hiding further in himself and straying further behind

but i know youll take me with you when he loves he gives a piece of himself, so when they're lost they take a piece of him with them i know ill take you with me the haori he so dearly cares for

we'll live in spaces between walls how ghosts are respected as existing in a third place, the border between life and death- how giyuu does something similar, as close as a ghost you can get without death- hes treats himself the same as the ghosts that haunt him

last lyric for gilded lily is manga spoliers and iirc youre an anime-only, so ill keep that one under wraps lmao

-------

After Dark is all dreams and broken memories, the echo-y voice and faraway sound of the piano all tinged with melancholy (probably shoulda put it with the sabigiyuu playlist lmao)

i see you, you see me - how pleasant, this feeling - the moment you hold me - i missed you, im sorry - ive given what I have - i showed you I'm growing - the ashes fall slowly - as your voice consoles me only alive in his dreams, the reprieve of being in sabito's arms hurts from its fleeting nature. his chance at trying to right his wrongs of being too weak, a demon's dying ashes as proof, sabito's voice (a faded memory of, distorted with unfamiliarity) telling him he doesnt need to prove himself of anything

as the hours pass - i will let you know - that i need to ask - before I'm alone - how it feels to rest - on your patient lips  - to eternal bliss - im so glad to know the false feeling of lips against his, only as good as a dream gets. (he knows it isnt real, it doesnt feel real, its heaven nonetheless) a kiss that never happened, never will happen, hes just happy to have known him at all (even if the memories are so painful)

we're swaying to drum beats - in motion, im feeling - my patience controlling - the question, i wont speak two hearts in sync as their sword swings, giyuu always holds his tounge until the perfect moment (a perfect moment doesnt exist)

we're telling the stories - our laughter, he knows me - we're leaving, we're talking - youre closer, it's calming reliving faded memories- happy times and the march to their shared grave. the impeding dread of Knowing simmers to an empty lull when their hands brush as they walk

the night will hold us close and the stars will guide us home - ive been waiting for this moment, we're finally alone - i turn to ask the question, so anxious, my thoughts a calm rest with another painful dream of a man that doesnt exist

your lips were soft like winter, in your passion, i was lost their lips meet, painfully cold and oh so dead against his, only for a moment. he opens his eyes to the crystal clear memory of the determined fire behind rounded eyes before he turned. white haori disappearing to the forest, vision blurred, red trailed down his face, what was he supposed to do now?

-------

Little Dark Age is super gloomy and sorta like. corrupted church vibes. idk how to explain that. the tone of voice singing keeping the note flat (except in the chorus) the background music echoing itself it just overall reminds me of devilman crybaby's corrupted demonic vibe. Smells Blood(kensuke ushio). dvmcb has a more Taken And Run By Evil/Satan kinda vibe whereas little dark age is more God Left Us

the lyrics are a narration, his own thoughts and feelings he never speaks aloud but says if you listen close enough.

the ruins of the day, painted with a scar dont need to explain that one

and, the more i straighten out, the less it wants to try the amount of willpower it takes him to just keep going

oh-oh, forgiving who you are, for what you stand to gain - just know that if you hide, it doesnt go away/i grieve in stereo, the stereo sounds strange - you know that if it hides, it doesn't go away self-narration, how much he still hurts despite hardening his heart against it all

when you get out of bed, dont end up stranded - horrified. with each stone. on the stage - my little dark age stranded in the stagelight, stone upon stone tied to him always weighing him down

specifically ties with the other lyric- come find us heading for the bridge, bring a stone, all the rage, my little dark age he thinks he deserves it, peoples hatred and anger at his failure, he ties the stones himself

if I get out of bed, you'll see me standing all alone, horrified, on the stage, my little dark age all of this song ties specifically to this one imagery i have of sabito and giyuu and hashira overall- theyre the ones that bare the light that destroys demons. with their strength they cast shadows for other slayers and innocent people to hide behind, still safely in the light but not being burned by it as they are.

Giyuu and Sabito were supposed to bare that light together, strengthened by eachother casting shadows where the other's weakest and baring the burn with eachother side by side, they were supposed to cast a shadow large enough to shield everyone they cared for, to not lose everyone they love again.

this line was the start of it all- waking up alone on the stage being wholly burned by the light with no respite. the blinding light instead signaling his little dark age

also yeah!!! the self-isolating, lonely theme of those songs is literally just Him. it speaks for itself so clearly i dont even know how i could explain it to someone who knows giyuu but doesnt understand how The Mute & The Missing Road relate to him. its just. Its Him man. you gotta believe me. if you only listen with your ears, i cant get in - and a heart always holds, onto missing roads MAN CMON ITS RIGHT THERE-

[housewarningparty]

playlist: on the swings at a playground late at night

message me a made up title of a mixtape/playlist and i have to pick 5 to 10 songs i think would go on it

say “playlist: title” in ur ask so i know what its for

this is a good vibe tbh

White Gloves by Khruangbin

Soft Shock (acoustic) by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Taking Off by Beach Fossils

Portland, Maine by American Grandma

I Wish I Was the Moon by Neko Case

[the-bau-quinjet]

Seven Drinks

Bucky x f!reader

Summary: There's a reason Y/N has never had more than 3 drinks around the other avengers, and they're about to find out.

Warnings: depression, thoughts of suicide, panic attacks, angst (don't worry there's fluff too)

Word Count: 4322

a/n: This is inspired by that episode of Brooklyn 99 with 6 drink Amy (I adopted that concept!) and also Halsey's album Manic. :) I hope you like it. Anything in bold is a lyric from one of the songs on the album!

Please let me know if I messed up the trigger warning tags! I've never written anything like this before, so I just want to make sure I do it right.

Masterlist

"We're having a party tonight." Tony's announcement was met with the usual groans of annoyance at having to schmooze with the typical socialites that attended Tony's party. "You know, you are so ungrateful sometimes. here I am trying to throw you a party, and you're complaining!"

"Tony, we all appreciate the effort you go to, but- at least speaking for me- I don't like people." Y/N's response was effortless, swiftly calming Tony and explaining the reactions.

"That is why-" Tony stuttered when he actually registered the words you said. "That doesn't sound like you at all. And besides, this is a party for just us. It'll be more like team building, but without any pre-planned activities. No "smarmy, rich people" to deal with." He directed his last sentence at Bucky, Steve, and Sam.

The team actually seemed excited at the prospect, albeit skeptical of Tony's motivations.

Unsurprisingly, Nat worked up the courage to question him on it first, "what's the catch?"

"No catch. Just friends, food, and lots of alcohol." His grin quickly shifted into a smirk as the entire room turned to look at you.

You groaned slightly, not wanting all the attention. "Look, there is a reason I cap myself at 3 drinks." Holding up one finger, you started to explain, "One drink Y/N is barely any different from my sober self."

Wanda quickly cut you off, "not true! You get louder." She smirked, happy to have added that tidbit of information.

"Fine." With a laugh, you admitted she was right. "I might get the tiniest bit louder." You held up a second finger to continue your explanation, but were once again cut off.

"It's not a bad thing. It's just your happy, bubbly, and slightly louder than normal personality shining through!" Nat added, seeing an opportunity to tease you for being so positive all the time.

"Thanks Nat. Anyway," emphasizing the rudeness of being interrupted twice, you continued, "two drink Y/N is more touchy feely than normal. Not in a creepy way though!"

"I love two drink Y/N. She gives the best hugs!" Thor eagerly added to the conversation, glad to have dropped by when he did.

"Thanks Thor." With a small smile in his direction, you held up a third finger. "Three drink Y/N is the perfect amount of just past tipsy to have fun without doing anything extremely embarrassing. It makes the most sense to stop there." You finished her little speech with your typical smile and a resolute nod of your head.

"Seriously, you need to relax. Just let loose this one time!" Sam tried to encourage you. With the eyes of nearly every avenger set on you, your resolve didn't last very long.

"Fine! Maybe I'll have a fourth drink." You were met with cheers as you rose from your spot on the couch, trying to prepare for the night that was to come.

--

As soon as you stepped off the elevator, you had a drink in your hand. Clearly your friends were going to make sure you got a fourth drink. even Steve seemed excited when he saw you, although his golden boy personality didn't disappear completely.

"You sure about this? I don't want you to feel pressured!" Bucky nodded, weirdly enthusiastically, before adding, "Yeah doll, don't drink more than you want to."

"You two are too sweet. Sam's right, but don't tell him I said that." You winked at the two super soldiers, emphasizing the joke. "I should let myself relax sometimes. I'm in a safe place, with friends who won't let anything happen to me. What could a few more drinks really do?" You couldn't help but smile at how true that was. You were surrounded by people who care about you.

"Oh, so now it's a few more drinks? What are we talking here, six drink Y/N? Seven?" Bucky teased.

"You'll have to wait and see, Ducky." You teased right back, knowing how flustered he got at the pet name. Steve laughed at his friend as you walked away, ready for your second drink.

--

Before long, you had your fourth drink in your hand. It was slightly odd how literally everyone was staring at you, but your were three drink Y/N at the time, so you were drunk enough not to care.

You downed the fourth drink, unprepared for the consequences.

"So, Y/N... how do you feel?" Clint braved the waters, everyone eagerly awaiting your reaction.

"That is so nice of you to ask! I feel great! I don't think I've ever been this happy." You jumped up and down, hugging Clint with a huge smile on your face.

"How did you get even happier?" Tony chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

"Do you not like it?" Like a switch had been flipped, you were nearly crying.

"What?! No!" Tony was so taken aback at the tears pooling in your eyes, he froze, unsure how to fix it. He looked around the room for help, but everyone else was just as shocked as him.

"I'll fix it!" You were at the bar, fixing another drink before anyone fully comprehended your mood swing.

You walked back up to the group, sipping from your fifth drink as if nothing happened. "What?" You questioned the odd looks, but before receiving an answer you squealed, again jumping up and down. "Let's dance!" You turned around, ready to move to the more open area before looking back over your shoulder, "Wanda! Nat! Pepper! Come on!"

The women shared a look, ultimately shrugging before joining you on the makeshift dance floor.

-

"Bucky, you've been staring at her for 20 straight minutes. When are you finally gonna talk to her?" Steve couldn't help but pester him about his feelings.

"I can't help it. I've never seen her dance so much. I mean, I know she's always happy, but this is a whole new level." He didn't take his eyes off of you, even when he was responding. "I can't tell her tonight, though. This is the most she's had to drink in years."

He watched as you moved back over to the bar, needing another drink after dancing so much.

"Here we go, six drink Y/N." Bucky gestured to the bar. Steve shook his head, but allowed the change of topic.

-

About five minutes after your sixth drink, you were somehow bounding around with even more energy. You were nearly running around the room, trying to talk to everyone at once.

"Ducky! Have I ever told you I took gymnastics lessons for 7 years when I was younger?" You were bouncing with pent up energy, excited to be sharing more information about yourself.

"No, you've actually never mentioned that." He smiled, enraptured by your childlike enthusiasm, so enraptured that he didn't notice the mischief in your eyes.

"Well, I did! Watch this." You handed a confused Bucky your now empty glass, turning and throwing your arms up. Bucky realized two late what was happening, and with both yours and his glasses in his hands, he couldn't physically stop you.

"Y/N, wait!" His shout had everyone turn and look as you flawlessly executed two cartwheels in a row.

Bucky would swear your smile got even bigger as you turned around to look at him again.

"Normally I can do more, but" you hiccuped, then lowered your voice to a really terrible whisper, "I'm a little drunk." You leaned into him, laughing as if you just told a joke.

Wanda walked up to you with a seventh drink, hoping seven drink Y/N had a little less energy, but happy to see you having so much fun. "Here ya go! One more of your favorites, just like you asked."

"Thank youuuuuu!" You shifted to hug Wanda, leaving Bucky to miss your added warmth.

-

You sipped your seventh drink slower than the rest, quickly running out of energy. Sliding the empty glass across the bar, you slipped out of the party unnoticed, making your way to the kitchen for some pickles- your favorite drunk food.

Your seventh drink hit you just after you opened the pickles. Gone was the happy, bubbly persona you showed the world. The mask slipped away, leaving you alone to contemplate your life choices.

You made your way to to the lounge just outside of the kitchen, choosing to lay on the floor behind the couch and stare out of the large floor to ceiling windows.

-

"Where's Y/N?" Bucky glanced around the room, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Huh? Oh, she said she wanted a snack." A very drunk Wanda turned to look at where the food was set up, scrunching her face in confusion when she couldn't find you. "Weird. Maybe she went to the bathroom?"

Bucky, having noticed your absence 8 minutes ago, didn't think you left for a bathroom break. "Maybe." Plus, you always took the girls to the bathroom with you. His eyes flitted about the room, taking one more glance before deciding to go look for you.

He decided to head for the kitchen since Wanda said you wanted a snack. He laughed at the open jar of pickles, knowing you at least passed through this room. He put the pickles away before popping his head into the lounge area.

"Y/N?" He called out, figuring this was the most likely location for you to end up.

You hummed in response, not moving from your spot on the floor. Bucky walked further into the room, slightly confused as to why he could hear you but not see you. That is, until he realized you were laying on the floor behind the couch.

"Why are you on the floor?" He smiled when he found you.

"I'm just looking at the sky." Your voice held a melancholy air as it floated through the room. Bucky's smile faltered, not used to hearing you sad. In the three years he's known you, he's only ever seen you sad because of a movie or tv show. Otherwise, you were quite literally always happy.

"Why-" he faltered, unsure how to check on you. "Is everything okay?" he nearly choked the words out, feeling slightly stressed at your sudden gloominess.

"Yeah." You took a deep breath, slowly letting it out in a deep sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... I don't know." You sigh again, still looking at the sky.

Bucky chances another question, wanting to get you talking since you're acting so off. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel... so sorry." You words were so soft that Bucky could barely hear them.

"Sorry?" He tried to hide his confusion, matching your soft tone as he sat down a few feet away from you. "About what doll?"

"Just... because I feel so sad." Tears pooled in your eyes, but you didn't stop staring at the sky.

"What are you sad about?" It's taking everything in him for Bucky not to hold you right now. He doesn't want to make you even more upset, especially because he's never seen you like this.

"No one around me knows who I am..." He watched as a tear rolled down your cheek, shining in the light from the moon.

Bucky moves closer, just close enough for him to reach out and hold your hand. You squeeze it, instant relief flooding through him that he hasn't crossed any boundaries.

He goes to speak, but you cut him off. "I'm not breaking. I won't take it. And I won't ever feel this way again." Your voice is harder, as if your angry with yourself.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay to have feelings. You're allowed to feel like this. Don't push it away. Talk to me. Why don't you think anyone knows who you are? We're all here for you, Y/N." He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, trying to convey how serious he is.

You let out a dry laugh, wiping the the tears from your cheek. "My self preservation..." Bucky can tell there's more to, choosing to wait for you to continue. "All of my reservations..." You sigh again, sitting up, you scoot closer until you can lean your forehead against his shoulder. "I bottle it up. I'm my own biggest enemy." You let out another dry laugh, shaking your head without moving it from its resting place on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky wraps his arm around you and leans his cheek against your head. "Take your time. You can talk to me." He whispered, trying to keep you talking without getting mad at yourself again.

"Well, I'd like to tell you that my sky is not blue, it's violent rain." The sounds of your sniffles break his heart. "I just pretend everything's fine because that's what I had to do when I was younger." Rather then interrupting, Bucky continues to rub small circles on your hand and your back, encouraging you to continue when you're ready. "Can I tell you a story? I... I think it'll help explain some of it."

"Of course. Anything you need, doll." He curses himself for the pet name, not wanting you to think he's joking. He just can't help it when it comes to you.

"Thank you, ducky." You chuckle, but your words are just as sincere as his. "You know I have two sisters, and I love them with all my heart, but sometimes growing up with them was hard. My older sister, she put so much pressure on herself to succeed. And, she did. She was so good at everything she did, that I felt like I had to be just as perfect.

With my younger sister, it was like it was effortless. She put just as much, if not more pressure on herself. but, she could do anything she tried to, with almost no learning curve. I always felt this crazy amount of pressure to be just as good.

My parents, they didn't really help with that. I mean, they were so supportive and I'm so grateful to them, but it was a lot of pressure. The summer between my junior and senior year of college, I wanted to get an internship. Ya know, to get some experience. It would set me up better for getting a job after graduation.

I spent months looking and applying, but nothing was working out. So, I went home for the summer. My mom would come home everyday and ask me if I got a job yet.

I spent nearly every waking hour looking for a job, even just a part time one for the summer. So one day, when we sat down for dinner and she asked if I got a job yet..."

Bucky could feel how tense you were telling this story, but he knew you needed to get it out.

"I told her, 'no, not yet' and she just seemed so disappointed. She asked if I was even applying and I snapped.

I yelled at her, something that had never really happened before. I told her I was trying. I was doing everything I could. She yelled at me for yelling and said it wasn't unreasonable to ask for updates.

I yelled right back. I kept saying I spend all day everyday trying and just when I finally get a break, she walks in and brings it all up again. I was stressed enough without her constant reminders.

I ended up running away from the table, in tears. I hid in the bathroom, there... there was a pair of scissors on the counter and I really thought about killing myself that day."

The tears are pouring out of you at this point. Bucky threw caution to the wind. He picked you up, maneuvering you to sit across his lap and lean your head on his chest. He kept rubbing circles into your back, murmuring words of encouragement.

"My younger sister tried to check on me, but I wouldn't open the door. My mom stomped down the hallway to her bedroom. I was full on having a panic attack in the hallway bathroom. I think I stayed in there for an hour before I went back to the dinner table.

My dad was in the kitchen. He put my plate in the microwave to heat up dinner for me. I ate through near constant tears, it only got worse every time he tried to ask me what happened. Why I snapped like that.

I wanted to apologize to my mom for yelling, so after I ate I went to her room. I knocked, and when she told me to come in I opened the door. I just remember her looking so angry.

I apologized. I told her I was sorry for yelling. She said something about not being unreasonable again. I cried again. When she asked what was wrong, I told her I was scared.

I couldn't put it into words though, so when she asked me 'of what?' I just shrugged. Then, she asked me if I was on my period.

God. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell at her again, To make her understand 'I only wanna die some days. But if I decide to break, who will fill the empty space?' I decided that day that I would never try to tell anyone how I actually felt."

Bucky holds you as you cry. You're not sure how long it's been when you can finally breathe enough to talk again.

"I just, so many people have bigger problems then me. I grew up in a loving household. I went to college and made friends. I got a job after I graduated. So why am I so sad sometimes? I just wanna scream but what’s the use? At night, I lay awake and I stare at the door, I just can’t take it no more."

Bucky continues comforting you when he speaks again. "Just because other people have problems, doesn't mean yours are irrelevant. You are 100% allowed to feel however you feel, even if it seems like there's no reason for it. Have you ever thought about talking to someone about all of this? I know you just said you haven't told anyone how you actually feel for years, but I think it could help." He smiled nervously when you raised your head to look at him.

"I have actually. I joked about it a lot with my roommate right out of college. I always used to say 'everybody needs therapy' as a joke. Of course, I meant it. Most people probably do need therapy." You laughed, moving your arms around Bucky's neck to hug him. "Thank you for listening to me. I like talking to you."

Of course, Bucky noticed your smile didn't reach your eyes. He was confident in his words when he spoke again. "You can always talk to me. I'll always be there to listen." He followed that with a less confident "What's been bothering you today?"

"Oh, nothing that serious. It's just all pent up inside, ya know?" You smiled again, hiding your face so he couldn't see your lies.

Of course, he could still hear it in your voice. "Y/N, you can tell me. I want to be here for you."

"I... It's just, my insecurities are hurting me." You laughed at yourself. "Here we go with the fucking riddles, again. On the plus side, I think I've cried so much I'm back to one drink Y/N."

"Well, it has been 3 hours since I left to come find you." You were grateful for Bucky's joke, needing something to lift the mood a bit. "But, don't try and change the subject. I still want to know what's got you all sad." His words were light, but you knew how serious he was.

You took a deep breath, burying your head in his neck. "How could somebody ever love me?" You spoke into his shirt, not moving your head back even an inch.

"You know I can't understand you when you talk into my neck like that." Bucky tried joking, but even he knew it would do little to calm your fears.

You moved back, lips still grazing his skin when you repeated yourself, "how could somebody ever love me?"

Bucky wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you how much he loves you. He would gladly spend every day of his life loving you, but he didn't think this was the right time. Not when you just poured your heart out to him. So he settled for the almost truth.

"Anyone would be lucky to love you. You are selfless. You put everyone else first, no matter what. You always make sure everyone has a reason to smile, even when things aren't going right. You tell the best jokes. You're great at cuddling." He squeezes you closer to him, emphasizing the point. "You are beautiful, inside and out. Everyone who comes into contact with you automatically has a better day. You are incredibly strong and independent. I've never met anyone so incredibly good. Even Steve. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you."

His words brought more tears to your eyes, pooling in the corners. "Then how come everyone that I’ve dated says they hate it cause they don’t know what to do with me? I feel broken."

"They were all idiots. You're not broken. Not even a little bit. You're learning how to express your feelings. You just need someone who would take it slow." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, struggling not to tell you everything.

"I wonder if you’d take it slow." Your eyes go wide when that slips out. You hadn't meant to make things uncomfortable. One look at Bucky's face has you freaking out. He looks stunned. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that. It just slipped out! Oh god, you've been there for me all night and I go and fuck it up by admitting I'm in love with you."

Your eyes grow even larger. You would move out of his lap, but his arms are still holding you in place. "Shit! Maybe I'm still drunk because apparently I have no filter." You say the last part more to yourself, but he can still hear you.

"Y/N?" Your name comes out of his mouth in a soft whisper.

"Yes?" You cringe internally at messing everything up.

"I would take it slow." He smiles, leaning his forehead against yours while he waits for you to absorb his words.

"Yeah?" You whisper back, a smile ghosting your lips.

"Yeah." You both lean in, exchanging soft, slow kisses and sleepy smiles.

--

The two of you ended up falling asleep leaning against the back of the couch. The sun streaming through the windows, combined with the noise of the other avengers in the kitchen, wakes you up.

You nudge Bucky, grinning when he pulls you closer.

"C'mon. Let's get some breakfast." He groans again, but eventually stands up.

The two of you walk into the nearly full kitchen, surprising everyone by coming from the lounge rather than the elevators. They share amused expressions, unaware of the emotional hurdles you jumped last night.

You head right for Sam, hugging him tightly before moving on to hug everyone else.

"I just wanted to thank you all. For encouraging me to live a little last night, but also for being there for me." Tears spring to your eyes again, shocking everyone but Bucky. "You're all like a family to me and I'm so glad I have you all to lean on." You made your way back to Bucky, leaning into his side while he poured both of you some cereal.

You smile when you look at him, kissing his cheek before sliding into the stool next to his.

As if broken out of a day dream, Sam sputters out a question. "What the hell did seven drink Y/N do last night?" Thrown off both by your behaviour with Bucky and the short emotional speech.

"Oh, seven drink Y/N is an emotional little bitch. I think I cried eight years of suppressed tears." You laughed, grinning at Bucky when he squeezed your hand. "Also, I think I need a therapist." Your casual admission has Tony spitting out his breakfast.

"What the hell happened last night after you disappeared from the party?" He guffaws, trying to put the pieces together.

"Also, why aren't you even a little bit hungover?" Nat chimed in, upset at missing out on seeing you anything but cheery.

"Well, to answer Nat first, I don't get hungover. Never have, even the one time I blackout out." You shrugged at everyone's slightly jealous expressions. "To answer Tony, I had an emotional breakthrough. Bucky helped me talk through it, something I never thought I'd be able to do. Long story short, i'm going to learn how to share my feelings instead of suppressing them all."

"Suppressing them? What are you talking about? I've literally never felt anything but happiness from you before?" Wanda questioned the new development.

"Well, that's because I'm really good at hiding how I feel. I'd rather not go through it all again, so just watch the security footage from the lounge last night, yeah? I want you all to know, even if it took seven drink Y/N to share it." You quickly finished eating, pulling Bucky to the doorway.

"While you do that, we're going out. Bye!" Before they could question anything else, you ran to the elevator, dragging a very willing Bucky behind you.

"We're going out?" He questioned when the elevator doors shut.

"Yep. Get dressed, I want to see all your favorite places in New York. Even if they're different now. Take me to all your favorite spots." You both smiled, sharing another soft kiss before parting to change for the day.

"Hey," Bucky called, causing you to turn over your shoulder, "I love you."

"I love you too."

[rodr1cks]

Heather Hills | 2.5k

part two

neighbor trope where you’re in love with Rodrick but he can’t stop pining after Heather Hills, takes place during Dog Days

warnings: noncon touching (our ass gets grabbed), swearing, smut, heather is a huge bitch

Tonight was the night. You picked out a black silk dress that hugged your body perfectly. You looked... nice? Nicer than usual, at least.

Still, your mood was melancholy, you weren’t too excited to watch Rodrick drool over Heather all night. Despite this, you put on a smile and met Rodrick outside.

His band members, Rowley, and Greg were crowded together in the back. They always left the passenger seat to you, such gentlemen. As soon as you opened the door you were bombarded with wolf whistles and crude remarks from his cronies. “Rodrick if you don’t tap that I will!” The guitarist exclaimed while eyeing you up and down.

“Guys, guys stop, please,” Rodrick seemed a little unnerved by the banter. After that, the van was silent all the way to the party.

Upon arrival, you began to unpack the van, unloading equipment. “Hey, hey, hey, pretty girl like you doesn’t need to do the heavy lifting,” the guitarist said to you as he winked. He always went out of his way to make you uncomfortable. You laughed a bit to appease him, then walked away.

Gross.

The band was set up and Rodrick was clearly nervous.

“You don’t understand, y/n. This has to be perfect.”

You knew the importance of this going well but you couldn’t decide if you wanted it to. On one hand, he could get Heather Hills, the girl of his dreams. On the other hand, he’d be crushed. Poor Rodrick has already taken enough beatings from the girls at your school.

“I know, you’ll be great, though,” you were unsure of that statement.

“You always know what to say.”

He walked away, ready to start the set of a lifetime.

The guitarist approached you again. “Wish me luck sexy,” he whispered and smacked your ass playfully. You gasped, tears threatening to form in your eyes.

Just brush it off, you’re okay. You need to enjoy the show.

You tried not to think about his pathetic little mustache and the giant pimple that sat squarely between his eyebrows.

Why did Rodrick hang out with such scum?

The first notes of the song rang through the tent. Rodrick was… singing? Heather Hills did not look amused. Panicking, Rodrick signaled to Greg, “FULL DIAPER!”

Dear god.

Banners unfurled and cannons sounded. It was a complete disaster. Somehow the chocolate fountain went haywire and coated half the crowd with liquid chocolate, including Heather. Shit. Rodrick was done for.

Everybody pitched in with loading the van and you were out of there in no time. You feared Heather would’ve killed the lot of you if you lingered any longer. Greg and Rowley were the only passengers this time. You and Rodrick were in the front seat, not speaking.

“Rodrick, can I tell you something?”

You knew Greg and Rowley were caught up in their own conversation but you didn’t want to risk them overhearing, so you whispered. Rodrick nodded.

“Your guitarist, h-he uhm, he kind of touched me before your set.” Rodrick’s eyes widened. “Where?” he asked you sternly. “He kind of grabbed my ass.” You looked down, embarrassed. “Great, now Heather hates me and I’m short a guitarist.”

On the way back to Rodrick’s, you passed a gas station and you asked him to pull over.

“Rodrick let me out at this gas station, pretty please!”

He groaned and pulled into the lot. You ran in and made a beeline for the fridges in the back.

Where is it, where is it, ah!

Mint chip and cookie dough, both your favorites. You checked out and ran back to the van. Rodrick looked over, delighted when he saw your purchases. “He ruffled your hair and muttered a thank you. You smiled, “And that’s not all,” you pulled out two candy bars for the chocolate coated fugitives in the back.

Rodrick parked on the street in front of The Heffley household.

“Alright, everybody out!”

Greg and Rowley filed out as did you. Rodrick stayed put. “Aren’t you coming?” He nodded at you, “I have something to take care of first. Put the ice cream in the freezer and take a shower. Get that chocolate off of you.” He gestured at your hair and face which were coated in chocolate.

What could he need to do right now? Probably off to find Heather Hills and beg for her highness’ forgiveness.

You did as he said and borrowed his shower for a bit. You felt instant relief as the warm water trickled down your shoulders, chocolate melting away along with your stress. After your shower, you grabbed one of Rodrick’s t-shirts.

Lending you a shirt was the least he could do, considering the hell he’d put you through.

What a fucking night it’s been.

You sat around for a bit, awaiting Rodrick’s return. You heard the door swing open downstairs. He walked up the stairs to his room, ice cream pints in hand. You smiled at him before your gaze lingered down to his knuckles.

“Holy shit, Rodrick. What the fuck did you do?”

He looked down, “Well you told me what my guitarist did to you and I- I couldn’t help it. He needed to know what he did was out of line.”

Your jaw dropped, “So you what? Broke his nose?” He rolled his eyes at your theatrics, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Had Rodrick really beat somebody up for you?

“So are we gonna eat this ice cream or what?”

You both sat on Rodricks couch, limbs entangled, eating your ice cream. He looked over at you, “Switch?” You shrugged, passing him your mint chip and grabbing his cookie dough. For the next half hour, you both sat in silence, processing the night’s events.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Heather.”

“Y’know, y/n, I realized something while I was performing. Heather Hills wasn’t by the stage cheering me on, Heather Hills doesn’t go out of her way to be kind to my family, Heather Hills wouldn’t look that good that tiny black bikini of yours,” Rodrick smirked, “and most importantly, Heather Hills didn’t buy me my favorite ice cream to make me feel better. Heather Hills doesn’t care for me like you do.”

You weren’t really processing everything. Was he hitting on you? Or flirting or… He cut your thoughts short by grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him. “Woah what are you-“ He shushed you and grabbed your ice cream from your hand, setting it on the table.

Rodrick grabbed your hands, halting your mindless fiddling. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how good you are to me earlier, y/n. I know that probably made you feel like dog shit.”

You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, it did. But, you know now?” He placed one of his large hands on your cheek, using his thumb to stroke your face gently, “Yeah, pretty girl, I do.”

Pretty girl. Your stomach churned and your face turned bright red. Rodrick leaned in slowly and gently kissed you. His lips felt heavenly, they were soft and warm and better than you could’ve imagined. “God I’ve wanted to sink my teeth into you ever since I saw you in that little bathing suit.”

His voice was low and guttural, nothing like you’d heard before. This was a new Rodrick and you had no idea how to react, all you could do was sit there and stutter helplessly.

You could melt. Was this really happening? You had to check.

“Is this really happening?”

You felt him smile. He licked a stripe from your collarbone to your jaw, “You tell me.” You moaned quietly as his grasp on your waist tightened.

“How long have you wanted this, y/n? Wanted me?”

Your stomach clenched at his words, might as well tell the truth. “Since sophomore year. I-I went to one of your gigs and you didn’t see me” His hand moved to your breast and you sucked in a breath. “You looked so good on stage, I knew I wanted your hands all over me,” you managed to gasp out.

“I knew you were there,” he said matter-of-factly. You froze. “I told my mom, part of why she likes you so much, thinks you’re supportive of me or something.”

Is he serious, this is humiliating.

“I remember what you were wearing, too. A little red dress, you stood out. Never knew the neighbor girl cleaned up so nice until that night.”

He must’ve sensed your embarrassment, “Hey, it’s okay, no need to be shy.” You eased up a little bit, your hands finding his hair and gently pulling. “Atta girl.”

As things got more heated, he got more eager. At one point he looked up at you, silently asking for permission to remove your shirt. You nodded, laughing at him, “A gentleman, I see.” He made stern eye contact with you,

“I don’t have to be.”

He tore your (his) shirt over your head and stopped when he found you were wearing nothing underneath.

“Naughty, naughty girl.”

You wanted his shirt off too, along with everything else. You wanted to see him, feel him. You made quick work of removing his t-shirt and discarding it on the floor behind you.

You could feel his hard on through your panties and it was driving you insane. “Rodrick,” you panted, “I need you, please.”

The hand he was using to roll your nipple between his fingers moved to your clit and rubbed gentle circles over it. “Since you asked so nicely,” he grinned.

Your hand flew on top of his and he winced. “Oh shit, right, your hand! I’m so so-,” he flipped you onto your back and stood up from the couch. Your stomach dropped before you understood what he was doing. He fought with his belt for a moment before pulling it off and sliding his jeans and boxers off.

Christ he’s big.

He resumed his position on the couch and began stroking his cock while hovering above you. He leaned down to kiss your collar bone sweetly.

You muttered one last plea before he positioned himself in front of you.

“Are you ready for me, pretty girl?”

God there he goes again.

You arched your back up in response, letting out a small sigh of desperation. This was all so new, you had no idea Rodrick could be so… well spoken?

Rodrick took a deep breath as he bottomed out. The air was knocked out of your lungs. Fucking Christ. He split you in half with ease, groaning as he rolled his hips against you.

“R-Rodrick?” He muttered something indistinct in response. “Is this your first time?” He looked kind of embarrassed. “Yeah, uh, it is, yes.” Part of you was happy it was his first time. The other part of you felt bad for him. You knew that if girls would’ve just given him a chance, they’d see how incredible he was-

You were torn from your thoughts by Rodrick pulling out and slamming back into your willing body. You nearly screamed. He continued at an absolutely brutal pace.

“Jesus christ, Rodrick, never knew you could do this,” you gasped out, eyes rolling back.

He smirked down at you before pulling out, grabbing your hips, and flipping you over onto your hands and knees. Your head was pressed sideways against the arm of the couch but you didn’t care. Rodrick quickly got back to work, fucking you to the beginnings of your orgasm.

“Rodrick, I’m gonna-“ He grabbed your hair and yanked hard so your back was against his chest,

“Cum on my cock.”

That was all it took, you were gone, shaking and pulsing around him.

After a few more strokes, Rodrick was gone, too. He was grabbing your ass and grinding his hips against you as he finished.

Gently, he pulled out. He rubbed a hand over your ass and admired your raw, red skin.

You rolled back over, panting. “My god, y/n, how did I live without this for so long?” You smiled lazily at the ceiling. He kissed you, clearly spent. You both sat on his couch, heavy panting filling the room.

Rodrick looked over at you, “Ice cream?” He stuck the cup filled with melted sludge in your direction. You put your hand up in protest, “No thank you.” He shrugged, “More for me.” Roderick slurped the melted treat from his spoon. You couldn’t help but laugh at him.

God, Heather would despise this man.

“You know Heather slapped Rowley, right?”

“What? no way?” Rodrick laughed.

“She sure did. Don’t worry though, Rowley got to eat chocolate off of Madison.”

You both spent a moment laughing to yourselves.

You were absolutely satisfied, you could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, on Rodrick’s ratty couch.

“Let’s get you to bed y/n.”

“But I don’t wanna go home, Rodrick!” You whined.

“Who said anything about you going home?”

“Y/n, Mom’s at a writing seminar with Manny and Dad’s at some civil war retreat thing.”

Was he inviting you to stay the night? “Call your mom, tell her you’re with your friend… uh… Heather.”

Giggling, you did just that. “Wait a minute, your parents left you alone with Greg?” He swatted at you playfully, giving you a goofy glare.

Rodrick stood up and offered out his hand. You decided to be cocky and deny his help. In your attempt to stand up, you stumbled, nearly eating shit.

“Woah, woah, easy there tiger,” Rodrick said snarkily, grabbing your waist before you hit the ground. You hadn’t expected to be so unstable.

“Alright, do you want my shirt back, gorgeous?” You nodded sleepily.

He grabbed the previously discarded shirt from the ground and slipped it over your head. He then pushed your hair out of your face and placed a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

Rodrick led you over to his bed. It was a twin but you guys would make it work.

He disappeared for a moment and came back with a rag. “C’mere sweetheart. You turned to face him slowly as he sat down on the bed. He began tenderly wiping between your thighs.

“Look at you, so beautiful,” he mused. Out of instinct, you looked away from him. “I mean it, y/n.”

He climbed into bed with you, his lanky limbs making comfort difficult.

“There we go,” he sighed after you both finally found a comfortable position. You closed your eyes and Rodrick began tracing lines over your lightly clothed back. You could hear the summer rain pattering against his window and you sighed out, completely satisfied.

Nearly asleep, you noticed something in the corner of Rodrick’s room. His black and white one star’s with tire marks plastered over them. You rolled your eyes and laughed to yourself.

Heather fucking Hills.

+ literally don’t even speak to me about the grammar or the poorly written smut. act like you do not see it ty. and please send me rq’s!!

[taechaos]

Blackmail

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Jimin offers you information on Jungkook, but your friendship is misconstrued by Jungkook who ends it singlehandedly with one video of you professing your love to him between moans.

warnings: dubcon, fingering, degredation, mild squirting, manipulation

word count: 2.8k

a/n: jealous kook doesn't realize he's jealous. this part is a bit extreme, so beware ><

One doesn't come across someone like Jungkook every day. It's fate that you met him in your first year of college, extending to your second where he grows closer to you; fair, it's clear that he only intends to use you for his academic success, but you've deluded yourself into thinking you're in love with each other. Growing up, you only had your dysfunctional family to teach you about how to love, how to think. As long as Jungkook needs you, he will love you, and you’re willing to do anything to be with him, only him. You need him to live.

Birds sing in the background as you lay on your stomach on the grass of the yard across the campus. It’s sunny and breezy, the perfect spring day as you work on Jungkook’s research paper due next month. You compiled multiple credible sources in a separate file to create an outline for his essay the moment he forwarded the assignment to you. You want him to praise you, pet your hair, kiss your cheek for starting so early so he can turn it in before anyone else. He would be proud, flashing you his pearly whites and adoring eyes. The reward motivates you to work harder and you’re relentlessly skimming through articles while counting down the minutes of Jungkook's lecture. He'll be outside with his friends in 7 minutes.

With a bad childhood, you don’t care to befriend many people. You only have a few friends to keep you company and you’re socially awkward outside of that group. You’re content, so you steer clear of boys who try to sabotage your relationship with Jungkook. Jimin, however, doesn’t get the memo.

Typing away on your laptop, a shadow looms over you to give you a break from the sunlight. You glance up and stop swinging your legs absentmindedly when you recognize the shadow; it’s a boy with frames and a tight collar adorning his neck.

Park Jimin is a typical nerd whereas you’re more of a closeted nerd. When you’re in love, you usually put more effort into your appearance to impress the one on your mind, but that doesn’t work with Jungkook. It’s always other men giving you their attention through second glances, and that includes Jimin.

“What do you want?” you rudely greet. Jimin is ruthless with his attempts at pursuing you; he’s the perfect gentleman, and often volunteers to do group tasks with you. He is never mean to anyone, and has a squeaky clean reputation, but his only flaw is that he can’t take a hint. You don't bother being friendly to him because you don't want friends.

"I want to know why you look so happy," he bends over to curiously glance at your screen, "while doing homework?"

You slam the monitor closed to stop his ogling. "You wouldn't get it. And stop watching me," you sternly say.

"What's your secret?" he grins and sits down on the grass next to you with crossed legs. His upper body serves as a shade and you stop squinting.

"There is no secret, I was just in a good mood until you came along." You're not upset, but you don't want to lead Jimin on and he won't leave unless you blow him off.

"Thinking of Jungkook?" he teases with a mischievous smile.

"Are you stalking me?"

"No, you're just too obvious," he chuckles, but the sound is strained. You don't notice his melancholy as he continues, "You were doing his homework again?"

You shift on your propped elbows a little uncomfortably. Jimin doesn't need to know what you do in your free time. "Yes," you answer anyway.

"You know he has daddy issues?"

Your eyes round as your discomfort dissipates instantly; he's piqued your interest. "Really?"

"Yeah, he has a tough exterior but he's actually a real softie."

An involuntary smile carves on your face before it falters as you ask, "How do you know this?"

"We went to high school together. I can tell you some stories if you want," he boasts when he realizes he has your attention. The context makes his heart sink, but when he imagines your lovesick grin is directed at him, it fills him with joy.

"Tell me, tell me! Please."

"Weeell," he draws with a lopsided grin, "don't tell him I told you this, but he used to hate girls. I don't know if he still does, but back then he couldn't even stand talking to a girl."

"Why?" your eyes are wide with interest as you whisper.

He shrugs, "No idea, but he hit a girl once when she wouldn't stop clinging onto him. Not like drop-kick her," he laughs, "he just shoved her on the ground. Be careful with him, okay? He can be very aggres-"

"You guys forming a nerd club now?"

You gasp when you hear Jungkook's voice. When you look up at him, he's almost glaring as his eyes flicker from you to Jimin. You're gleeful at his approach, because he never comes to you unless it's about a new assignment. It flutters your heart to see him without any papers in his hand.

You don't take his subtle insult to heart as you immediately respond, "No, we were just talking. H-Hi."

"Pull down your skirt, you look like a whore. I can see your panties all the way from the gates," he seethes in distaste. You instantly sit up with a blush and tug your skirt down to your knees. He looks back at Jimin who's glaring at him under his lashes, "The fuck's your deal?"

"Nothing," Jimin grits. Although he hates Jungkook's guts, he's too smart to fight a lost cause. He has his own set of muscles, but it isn't enough. It's best to accept defeat now.

"Did you start on the paper?" Jungkook asks you.

"Yes, I-"

"Good," he cuts you off and crouches to peck your lips by pulling the back of your neck. You're stunned when he pulls away and nonchalantly walks off to his friends.

Jimin follows him with his eyes and mutters under his breath, "douche."

Your heart is racing and you clamp a hand over your chest as a lovestruck smile spreads across your face. You know this is your end of the bargain, but it never fails to shrivel you up in delight.

"Are you two dating?" he mumbles as he pulls on the grass with a pout.

"Something like that," you exhale as you caress your lips.

It’s become routine to link up with Jimin where he reminisces his high school memories and you don’t doubt a single word he says unless it sheds a bad light on Jungkook. You’ve learned so much about him in the past few days, and you’re eager to know more. He likes energy drinks to this day, he was athletic in school and often got into fights. He began interacting with girls when he entered college, as Jimin says, “only for a quick fuck.”

Though it hurts Jimin that you only talk to him for information on Jungkook, he can’t bring himself to care when you hang onto every word he says with a glint in your eyes like you’re doing now.

You're sitting in the bustling cafeteria across from Jimin, sipping on a homemade strawberry lemonade from your thermos, and you don't notice Jungkook glancing at your table every now and then. It is the first time he doesn't feel your heavy gaze on him. Jimin does notice however, because he is facing him every time he receives a threatening ferile look.

"He could become a lawyer with how much he blackmailed the teachers to give him a good grade," Jimin tells you as he glances back and forth between you and Jungkook. "He's quite dangerous, you know. He's manipulative, a liar and has no empathy-"

"He's clever," you counter defensively, "he knows how to get around the system."

He makes a disgruntled noise from the back of his throat with a grimace. "I don't think the judge would listen to that."

You laugh at his comparison of the conversation to a court hearing. Jimin can be funny sometimes, and you have to admit that he's not that bad of a friend either. You've come to enjoy his company without the topic of Jungkook the past few days, but talking about him is always appreciated.

"Are you the judge then?" you cheekily ask.

"I might as well be, since I'm not biased like a certain someone," he teases with a grin.

"A lawyer has to see the bright side of things, but if I was the prosecutor, I wouldn't tell you that your lecture is in five minutes."

His smile falters as his eyes widen; you remember his schedule? He ran late for a lecture yesterday, but he’s in disbelief that you reminded him today. "Th-Thanks," he breathes as he packs up his belongings before giving you a curt, shy nod. His heart pounds when he walks away, and he resists the urge to look back at you.

It's a good idea, because that's when Jungkook settles down on his former seat.

"I'm thinking you might be forgetting who you belong to," he starts as he gets comfortable on the stiff chair. You instantly smile at his appearance.

"No, I'm very well aware of it." Your tone is high-pitched in excitement.

"It wasn't a question."

"Oh..."

“You talk more than you work,” he observes with a quirk of his brow. “One would think another nerd would be a better influence on you.”

“I work at night,” you defend worriedly, “I promise I’m not slacking off. Can I get a kiss please?”

You’re so adorable when you’re needy. He hides a smirk with a bite of his lip; he thrives from your loyalty to him, but he knows Jimin is a threat to it. He wants you to stop talking to that freak, and he justifies it as a concern for his grades. “I’ll kiss you when you’re not procrastinating. Do you think you deserve even a pat on the head?”

“I do! I’m halfway done with the research paper, please Jungkook,” you beg pathetically, “I-I’ll show it to you, I have it with me right now.” You start unzipping the case of your laptop until he holds up a hand for you to stop.

“You’re going to read it to me, but not here.”

When he stands up, so do you in a haste. He leaves the cafeteria with you hot on his tail, almost jogging when his strides are much bigger compared to yours. You resemble a clueless lamb following a lion, desperate to hold his claws with your hooves. You don’t know where he’s leading you as you walk down the halls until you stop in front of a door. You’re about to freak out when he swings open the door, but you realize the lecture room is empty.

“You want me to read here?” you inquire meekly. It’s a little intimidating to do it in complete silence, because you have a tendency to stutter when reading out loud and you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Jungkook where no one can talk over you. 

“Yup.” He snatches your laptop case from your hand with the handle, and roughly opens it before placing the device on the front row wooden desk. It’s a large hall, and the desks stretch out to the half of the room. You’re feeling stage fright for no particular reason; it feels like reverse claustrophobia. “Open the document and give me your phone.”

You don’t question him and hand in your phone before going through your files on the laptop. Jungkook is looking through your contacts and grins when he finds himself saved as: the love of my life ♡. Jimin is saved by his name, and he finds his WhatsApp through his information below. Once he opens your empty chat with him, he switches to your camera and pushes your back so you’re bent over the desk. You sharply inhale and ask, “Kook?” 

“Don’t get distracted now,” he lightly scolds and starts pulling down your pants. You stopped wearing skirts after the incident a week ago to appease him. You stammer with your back arched, and your ass is on full display for him. It’s humiliating. “Start reading.”

“H-Humans are- Jungkook?” you warily look back at Jungkook when he slides the slit of your panties to the side.

“Are you slacking off?” he condescends. 

You bite your lip anxiously and continue reading, “Humans are social animals that n-need social interaction,” Jungkook spits in his hand, “the extent of our social relationships is the most important predictor of h-happiness.” You squeal when you feel wet fingers graze your folds, but you know better than to stop and ask what he’s doing.

“Continue,” he coaxes softly as he brushes his fingertips over your pussy lips. 

“Um, o-one of the main reasons our brains have developed the way they have is so that we can be social,” you speak between shaky breaths. Your cheeks are tinted crimson with embarrassment from his touches; why is he pleasuring you when he specifically told you, you didn’t deserve any? “Being happy a-all of the time is neither possible nor desirable.”

“Is it now?” He slips a finger in your cunt and you involuntarily let out a cry as you push your body forward. You don’t notice him holding up your phone behind you while slowly sliding his finger in and out of you. His saliva is mixing with your arousal as you answer in a gasp, “Yes.”

“Tell me why.”

“B-Because negative feelings are natural. When it comes to negative feelings, the most important thing to remember is to learn,” you pause to exhale with quivering lips, “to control certain potentially harmful thoughts.” You whine his name when another finger is added to your heat. You’re moving your hips back and forth until he slaps your wet folds as a warning. “Sorry,” you peep and continue in a breath, “Happiness all of the time entails epistemic irrationality.”

It’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you just want to indulge in his thrusts, but you’re encouraged to stop reading when he doesn’t comment on your moans. His pace is quickening and you chase his fingers with your hips, cum dripping down his wrist as you mewl.  

“You enjoying yourself, whore?”

You nod and whimper, “So much.” You’re clutching the edge of the desk as he fingers you with fervor.

“And you're my girl?” 

“Yes, all yours, I love you so much,” you pant, not stopping for a moment to question his words. He has a full view of your sopping wet cunt on the camera, and he lightly blows on you, making you shiver. He’s recording you confess your love for him while getting fingered.

“Only me?” he presses.

“Only you, Jungkook, I love you more than anything,” you slur as you start to feel a knot in your stomach.

“Then pee.”

“Wh-What?”

“Touch your clit and pee.” He removes his fingers from your clenching hole and takes a step back. “Prove your love to me.”

You mourn the loss of his hand while staring wide-eyed at the floor. You’re contemplating his demand as your hand slowly reaches down to your clit. Is he asking you to squirt? Your breathing is shallow as you near your climax, and you still don’t know if you’ll go through with his requirement.

It drips out in tiny drops as you come undone, moaning as clear liquid spills out of you for only a few seconds. 

“Good girl, my good little girl,” Jungkook whispers as he intently watches you humiliate yourself in the name of love. You’re twitching and trembling in shame when he stops recording you and sends it to Jimin without a second’s waste. “Are you okay, baby?”

You hum with a pout as you collect yourself by standing up straight, a sway in your posture. 

“Give me your panties, you’ve made a mess on the floor,” he chastises as he holds out a hand. You slip and step out of them before giving it to him. In return, he passes your phone before feigning a gasp, “Shit, I think I sent Jimin a video of you when I was trying to forward it to my phone.”

Your mouth falls open as heat consumes your entire being. “H-Huh?” Tears brim in your eyes almost instantly; your heart is pounding from anxiety.

“How will you ever look at him now,” he empathizes with a fake frown. “He must think of you as such a slut now.”

“Let me delete it,” you panic as you open your phone. “Wh-Where is it?”

He motions you to give him the phone and opens WhatsApp after. “He’s already seen it.” There are two blue ticks under the message.

“No, no, no,” you pull your hair in agony with a whimper. You quickly put your pants back on and cry as you do so.

“I guess that’s the end of your friendship,” he raises his eyebrows to himself without a hint of sympathy.

“What do I do?!” you wail and fling your hands in stress.

“Avoid him. I’ll make sure he won’t leak it.”

He steps forward to lean in your face intimidatingly. “And don’t talk to him ever again.”

You don’t exactly have a choice now, do you? 

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch. 9

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8

'I’ll see you later', she said.

But 'later' never comes.

After the days that have passed, it doesn’t look like it will, either. Your schedule is changed to working the day shift, permanently. When you ask about the change, the Grand Chambermaid tells you it is a direct order from Lady Alcina.

A few months ago, you would consider it a gift from heaven. The morning shift is absolutely safe and maids trip over themselves in happiness to get it for however long. It means the daughters are asleep and the halls are quiet; that there is no danger of blood drawn over the slightest misstep.

But you are not happy. If anything, it feels like there is a thorn lodged in the back of your throat, hurting you from within.

Keep your head down. Do your job. Map every nook and cranny of the castle. You repeat the same words to yourself to give you a driving force, a sense of purpose… yet it is not escaping that your mind reels right back to.

It’s her.

It’s the way she would pop out of nowhere, going “rah!” just to get your blood pumping, then break into little giggles before gluing her body to yours, to bask in your warmth. The way she would fidget when she couldn’t keep still. Her quiet laughs when something genuinely amused her. Her cool touch. Her voice. Her breathy gasps and hooded eyes in the dark above you.

The time you despised Cassandra seems so distant now it may as well have been a different life. She is —perhaps always will be— many things you should detest. But she hasn’t been any of them around you for so long.

The initial cuts on you turned to scratches, then to simply the drag of her dark-painted nails over your skin. She stopped terrorizing the other maids. Her time in the dungeons below the castle diminished.

There were times when you were laying in bed together that you even considered the playful girl there with you had the potential be someone you could see yourself love.

From what you hear some of the maids whisper… that girl is no more.

At first, you don’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it.

Until you see one of the girls —Valia, if memory serves—downing one painkiller after the other and clutching at her bandaged chest during breakfast. And you make the mistake of asking what happened.

“This is all your fault!” she snaps and swings her hand to hit you, but you stop her and pin the limb down, rattling the table.

All eyes in the room shift to you.

“Calm yourself.” you warn her.

“She wasn’t like this before! What did you do to displease her and have her take it out on us, huh?!” she demands, tears in her eyes.

Then you understand. Cassandra did this to her.

As the older maids come to separate you, taking her away and trying to soothe her, you find your appetite is gone. You take your leave from the room and get to work an hour earlier than you’re supposed to.

It isn’t easy when every glance at a window reminds you of her scream, or when every flying insect that enters your peripheral brings forth the image of her body breaking apart from the cold.

-

-

You don’t notice how long you’ve been working for, until your surroundings are positively bathed in shadows. When you look out the nearest window, the sun is nowhere to be found in the sky.

Oh, no. You start to stress. You should have left ages ago.

Hurried steps take you through hallways you know the daughters don’t frequent as much. It is the long way around to your room, but distance is the least of your worries.

A familiar laugh from the other end of the corridor sends every attempt to calm your nerves right into the trash.

You are suddenly overcome with the urge to say her name, to see her, to make sure she’s alright so you can erase the image of her form crumbling from your mind.

But.

There is a reason Alcina had you working the day shift. And Cassandra would have come to see you if she wanted to. It’s not a pretty thought, but reality usually isn’t. You’ve come to terms with that from a very young age.

So you bite your tongue and keep walking, eyes fixed on the carpet. Part of you is relieved to hear Daniela’s giggle follow her sister’s voice. Cassandra can focus on her and pass you by like she does the decorations around –which, considering the past days, is probably all you were worth to her, anyway.

The distance between you gradually diminishes…

You’ve almost passed her by when Cassandra stops. At least you know her well enough to brace for it.

The next instant, nails are digging through the skin of your biceps and your back is pinned, hard, against the wall. You gasp but you’re too proud to cry out. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“I thought mother had you working during the day.”

There’s ice in her voice as she says it, though her eyes have a strange look about them you’d almost describe as melancholy. You know how they light up at the prospect of hunting and killing. This isn’t it.

“Forgive me, Lady Cassandra. I lost track of time.” you reply back. An accusation you can't quite erase is adrift somewhere in your tone.

Her lips twist. She rips your shirt and opens bleeding cuts on your flesh with how harshly her nails pull out of you. The force shoves you sideways, into the faint alcove of a shut window.

Her hand comes to your nape and traps your head there. You can feel her entertain the idea to squeeze harder. Perhaps hurt you enough for everything that ever was between you to completely die. And still your body, the worst traitor of all, welcomes the feel of her breath by your ear when she leans in.

“How come you haven’t used it yet?” she asks. “You know our weakness now, Alexia.”

And she’s right, isn’t she.

How come you haven’t used it to escape? You know it’s below zero degrees outside. Certainly, you could make up an excuse to yourself about the winged monsters lurking around the castle or that you may not make it to the village with that much snow. But that’s all these are. Excuses.

“Come on, the window is right here.” Cassandra hisses and forces your hand to wrap around the handle. “Open it.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Daniela take tiny steps to the side, to avoid the blast of cold should you indeed decide you want them to feel what you feel. “Uhh… Cassandra…?” she says, quietly.

And suddenly you see red for reasons that have nothing to do with the sharp fucking sting on your arms. You can’t contain the anger that bursts out of you like lava from a volcano—

You jerk back with all your strength, actually managing to move her a step away.

“Maybe you get off on it but I sure as hell don’t hurt the people I care about!” Even when they don’t care back.

You’re certainly no stranger to the feeling.

Cassandra freezes up. Daniela’s eyes flit between the two of you like she’s debating calling out for either Bela or her mother for help, before the storm brewing in the air really fucks something up.

Cassandra’s hand shoots forward and closes, tight, around your throat. She presses close, close enough for you to feel the phantom caress of her mouth over yours as she speaks;

“If you don’t want to hurt me, make sure I don’t see you again. Because if bleeding you out is the only way I can be with you… I may take that deal.” Her fingers tremble on your jugular.

Then she’s gone, dragging her sister along with her. You can’t breathe any easier even without her cutting off your airway.

“…so…. does this mean I can have Alexia now?” Daniela’s voice faintly reaches your ears from down the corridor.

Cassandra only grabs her by the nape and pushes her into one of the rooms in response.

-

-

Crimson-red travels down your body along with the waterdrops and rolls around the drain in hypnotic swirls. The cuts on your arms would hurt if your heart wasn’t already in pieces.

But who is there but yourself to blame? You knew what you were getting into was no wise idea. You knew you were fucked when it stopped being about your survival. You knew. Yet you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more with her.

And now every single one of your issues and insecurities rises up like a tsunami ready to sweep you with its force and crush you amidst the wreckage.

It seems to be an inescapable curse in your life that everyone you care for leaves you in shambles, one way or another.

It started with your father, when he abandoned you and your mother for a wealthy woman, never to return. Continued with her bringing you to this superstitious, shitty village and soon after leaving you due to an illness. The first girl you fell for fled one night without telling you a single thing. Only a half-assed letter was dropped behind for you.

And now Cassandra discards you, as well, like a broken toy she cannot stand to see yet stubbornly refuses to let go of. You are left bleeding inside and outside, feeling more and more like how she used to call you;

A plaything.

The word never quite bothered you, but now it makes something inside you boil.

Like everyone else, Cassandra has left.

So why should you be the one to stay?

[alrightberries]

our sorry little hearts

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

❈ genre: angst. ❈ word count: 1.6k

❈ summary: Levi hasn’t seen your traitorous Eldian face in years.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. war. mentions of blood, death, and violence.

a/n: you’ve heard of enemies to lovers, now get ready for... lovers to enemies. this takes place during the liberio invasion aka S4 E6. based on a love like war by all time low.

(also don’t tell anyone but this is me lowkey warming up after not writing for so long)

There’s something oddly nostalgic about seeing you again on the battlefield.

Levi recognizes your usual battle stance; feet a shoulder’s width apart and hands tightly clutching the handles of your sheathed blades. You’re wearing the scouting regiment’s outdated white uniform, green cape hiding the leather straps your missing brown jacket usually would. He’s not surprised you’re not wearing your wings of freedom jacket, though; he was, after all, the one who sliced it in half during your escape with Zeke on the Cart Titan’s back. He hasn’t seen it, but he’s positive that a long scar runs down the length of your spine.

“Levi,” he hears you murmur, and he pretends that his heart doesn’t ache after hearing his name slip from your lips for the first time in four years. “I—... Levi,”

He feels his chest tighten. You still look as beautiful as he remembers you to be, and the fact that you still take his breath away is something he hates. It’s been a long while since he last stood on a battlefield with you. Only this time, there were no trees to swing from or titans to kill; no reassuring squeezes on the shoulder or cheeky kisses when no one was looking; no small smiles or stolen glances across the field as your horses galloped through Titan Country. No— this time, you wore different colors and fought on opposing sides.

“Levi, talk to me,” your tone is airy, said in what seemed to be a mixture of built up anticipation and disbelief. But there was something in your voice— something he couldn’t quite place. Was it relief? Longing, perhaps? Maybe even regret. But Levi pushes those thoughts aside in favor of gritting his teeth and giving his traitorous wife a stone cold stare. “Levi, talk to me, please.”

He refuses to reply. His hands are shaking from how hard he was gripping the handles of his blades, and he swears his heart was going to burst out of his untrimmed chest from how loudly it beat at his ribcage. There are about a million and one emotions swirling around his head— betrayal. anger. sadness. melancholy.

And he doesn’t know which one takes over him when he charges at you full speed.

There’s a grunt followed by the sound of metal clashing against metal, and Levi’s not surprised to see that your reflexes are still as sharp as they were before. His own cape whips in the wind when he turns to land another strike. But then he hears sound of your hooks digging into bricks, and he’s quick to take your little fight to the air in pursuit of you.

He knows he has to be at the plaza to save Eren’s ass but he also knows that he had at least seven minutes before he had to go. He’ll make this quick.

“Levi,” he hears you call out. You’ve led him further away from the plaza— maybe intentionally or unintentionally, he doesn’t know— and he’s only now realizing that you both stood on the side of a building, the hooks on your gears the only thing keeping you up. “My love—-”

“—don’t call me that,” his heart twitches and he sneers. It’s the first thing he’s said to you in years and god did you miss his voice, miss him in general. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that,”

“Levi,” you breathe, but the deep growl that escapes his lips is enough for your words to die in your throat.

“Stop,” he says. “You’ve lost the right to speak my name; you’ve lost the right to wear that cape,” his eyes land on the silver chain you wore around your neck, a gold ring hanging in the middle. It matched the one he had back home, the one he secretly held at night and kissed sorrowfully when he felt like breaking down. His voice is quieter, almost pained as he speaks, “you’ve lost the right to wear that ring. You’ve lost the right to even look me in the eye after what you’ve done.”

His words sting and your throat tightens when you once again remember the look of pure and utter betrayal in his eyes when you confessed you were a spy on behalf of the Marleyan government. The way he froze, hoping you were lying; yet the tears running down your cheeks and the apologies that slipped from your lips as you got down on your knees and begged him for forgiveness left no room for contest.

“Levi, we don’t have to fight, please just hear me out. I’m still the wife you loved—-“

“No,” he cuts you off. “My wife is gone. She died in the battle for Shiganshina.” your lip quivers, and he continues to speak. “You? You’re an enemy. You’re as good as dead to me.”

Your words once again die on your tongue when he charges at you, and you just barely manage to leap away. The edge of his blade scrapes against your thigh, and blood paints your trousers red when your feet land on the cobblestone streets.

Every attempt you make after, any attempts at conversation is silenced with a swift swing of Levi’s blades, almost as if he were seeking catharsis through violence.

You grit your teeth. “You’re never going to listen to me, are you?”

His silence and steely glare is all the answer you need, and you sigh. Your stance shifts, and the grip on your blades changes; you were finally taking an offensive stance, Levi notices. Blocking his blows wouldn’t be enough— you couldn’t reason with him no matter how hard you tried, and you couldn’t win with just defense. You had to outsmart him; you had to win. You had to.

“I’m sorry, levi, but losing isn’t an option for me. Not this time,” you murmur.

You didn’t want to fight him, he could see it in your eyes. But you were fighting for something, for someone more important than him. Your eyes— the first things he fell in love with, the ones that were usually fiery and full of life— are soulless, almost solemn when he sees you run at him full speed, and Levi pushes down the hurt he felt at the thought of you loving another as he charges at you too.

A tear silently falls down your cheek. You loved levi, but you loved him more. You were fighting for him, and he was waiting for you back at home.

There’s a grey little building in the Liberio Intermittent Zone, somewhere between the gates and the plaza. The gunshots and explosions just barely reach the drab building, and the smoke rising into the air is the only thing visible to the naked eye of the chaos unfolding at the plaza.

A Marleyan soldier, donned in white and war medals, stands in front of an open window. She’s got binoculars in her hands, and she peeks through the eye piece to watch as two figures fight. Their capes create shadows of black where they flutter, and their silver blades gleam in the moonlight.

She smirks. Your negotiation failed, just like she said it would, and now you had no choice but to fight to the death.

Good, she thinks, that Eldian scum’s doing her end of the bargain.

She leans back and a satisfied hum leaves her lips. She turns to look at the little boy, no more than four years old, sat on the bed. The red Eldian arm band clasped around his arm brings a grimace to the soldier’s face. She can’t believe she got stuck with babysitting some lowlife scum.

“Is mommy doing well?” he asks timidly. He doesn’t even know that you were out there about to murder a man, but the kid was smart; he at least knew your job carried a heavy weight.

“For now,” she replies. The boy’s jet black hair bounces slightly as he nods, and his slanted eyes are downcast, staring at the floor. His silvery grey orbs dare not make contact with hers.

The boy looked almost nothing like you— if anything, she was sure he looked to be the spitting image of his unknown father. Strong genes, the father must’ve had.

She finds amusement in how tense the boy was around her; at least his whore of a mother had the decency to teach the kid his place in the world. He was worse than an Eldian, the lowest of the low— he was half Paradis demon. He should’ve never been born. They should’ve beaten you to death along with your unborn child like she’d suggested when you came back from Paradis knocked up.

“You can kill me, but spare my baby, please.” she remembers you begging. “I didn’t even know i was pregnant. Not even the father knows.”

Still, maybe it was a good choice to keep both you and the demon child alive. As much as she hated to admit it, you were a skilled soldier— one of the best they’ve ever had. Threatening your life meant nothing to you, but threatening your child’s? All they had to do was suggest it, and you’d follow their commands like an obedient dog chasing after a dangling treat.

“When’s mommy going to come home?” the boy suddenly asks.

“Soon,” she replies, eyes once again gazing through her binoculars. “If your mother does her job well, she’ll be back soon.” There’s a telephone beside the soldier, ready to make the call should you ever stop fighting. A sniper awaits her signal.

“If she doesn’t... well,” she laughs. The door to the small room you called home is locked, and the loaded gun hidden in the soldier’s pocket is a weight she’s familiar with. “Do you believe in god?”

“No,” the boy shakes his head. “Who’s that?”

“Tell you what, kid. if your mother fucks this up, i’ll personally see to it that you meet him soon enough.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[sadisticyouko]

A/N: Self indulgent. Just felt like writing Kurama but couldn’t really think of anything. Quick little visit

Genre: Kurama x Gn! Reader

Summary: You feel nostalgic for a past that’ll never be again and usually spend that time alone in contemplation. Kurama decides you’ve spent enough time alone, and to come visit him next time you feel this way.

There were a lot of places you liked to visit to enter into your melancholy state undisturbed. There was the cemetery, with lush rolling fields of grass and freshly watered flowers on each time darkened stone. The corner of the library, desk hidden away by the pillars of books. Sometimes you took the long drive to the ocean to look out over the pitch black waters over the pier in the middle of the night. You just needed a safe place to let down your mask. Let the ache take over. Be someone else while no one was watching. Only strangers in passing to worry over you. No one of real consequence.

But you had promised him not to be alone next time an overwhelming sadness came over you. You promised you’d visit. Even if it meant just sitting in the garden, not a spoken word between the two of you.

That’s how you found yourself with an uneasy hand resting on the white gate leading to the garden. The heavy white paint peeling to reveal a rusting color underneath. It was the back entrance to his mother’s house. She didn’t live there anymore, having moved into a new home with Kurama’s step-father, but he took over the place, unable to leave his childhood home. You knew she visited often, you really hoped she wouldn’t be here today. Not on a day when you really didn’t want to exist. Not want to socialize. Even coming here was probably too much.

Your hand slipped off the rail as you turned back to your car.

“Leaving so soon?” His familiar voice called out to you.

You let out an exasperated sigh. Of course he would’ve sensed you. Of course he’d hide out of sight, waiting, watching to see what move you’d make next without his immediate interference.

You turned to find him on the other side of the gate with a gentle smile on his face. His white shirt was crumpled and dirt-stained, jeans with grass stains on the knees, and heavy brown gloves pulling the lock aside to swing open the gate. You let him lead you through the narrow alley until you both arrived in the blossoming garden of his home. It looked bigger every time you visited. Greener, fuller, more of an exaggerated painting than something real. The air was cleaner back here. Crisp and refreshing. Gently tinted with the sweet scent of florals and oak from the massive tree by his window. No matter how much time passed since the last time you visited, you always found yourself assaulted by the sense of “home” his garden would always project.

He passed you and knelt back down to an empty bed of dirt he had been working on. Fertilizing the soil, digging new patches. You watched as his body moved with ease, falling into an old pattern he had earned with time. So perfectly human, he looked. With his bright red hair pulled into a knot at the nape of his neck. He fit into this world better than you did. Better than a real human.

“Hand me that packet of seeds on the table, would you?” He called to you without turning his attention away. You retrieved the packet and brought them to his side, placing them delicately in the center of his gloved hand.

He tore the packet open and reached for your hand, turning it so the palm would face upward and dropped a few there in the center. “Here,” he said, before showing you how to poke a hole in the fresh earth and drop a few seeds in. How far apart the spacing should be. How many.

“I don’t have gloves,” you grumbled.

He rolled his bright green eyes with a smirk. “You’ll live.”

You glared at him, forcefully prodding at the earth before dropping the seeds in and covering it up. It went on like this for a while, until the earth was neatly organized with rows of baby seeds in fresh soil. He brought a watering can and showed you how to drizzle them with moisture. Placing little wooden sticks above each one as a marker.

“Grab that blanket and have a seat over there,” he motioned to a wide open space between two beds of roses. “I’ll be right back.”

You did as he said, dragging the grey plaid picnic blanket over to the spot he pointed at and sitting down beneath the sun. It was a gentle autumn evening. The sun was gentle as it washed over you, the light breeze cooling you off. You finally found yourself in solitude. Laying down. Peering up at the dimming sky. Slow rolling clouds over a neighborhood you would never fit into. The gentle scent of roses was relaxing, you found yourself leaning over to the nearest bush and lightly running your fingertips over the brightest red petal.

His footsteps are light and easy to miss, but you never fail to recognize the familiar cadence. In a moment, he’s kneeling beside you. You feel him kneeling there, though you don’t look away from the flower.

“This is what we just planted.”

You turn your head and stare in shock at the blackest rose you’ve ever seen. Shooting straight up, you delicately take the onyx stem in your hand and turn it over, watching as the light’s rays disappear into the velvet folds. “Did you make this?” You ask, turning it carefully to avoid the thorns.

“It’s a special hybrid I came up with. A unique combination between the flora here and in the demon world.” He watches as your attention remains solely fixated on his little experiment. A small warmth in his chest at the wonder in your eyes. He hadn’t seen you this excited in far too long. “I know you’ve always wanted one.”

You laugh at his admission. Pulling your attention from the black rose and into his deep emerald eyes. “Not since I was a kid. An emo kid,” you laugh again. “You don’t have to embarrass me.” You move to push his chest playfully, but he captures your hand with his. Letting your fingertips rest against his warm chest before letting you go to stand.

“You’re still you,” he smiles as he helps you up, “and you can visit that small part of you whenever you like. I’ll keep them here for you, safe until you return.”

You look down at the rose again, taking in the gentle sweet scent it still held. “Thank you.” You turned the rose in your fingertips once more before pulling the redhead in for a tight hug. Your cheek pressed against his firm chest, you wrapped his arms around his midsection. Hugging tightly. The light scent of roses and sweat clung to him. He let you hold him tightly for as long as you needed, keeping his arms protectively around you. Always knowing just what you needed.

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 6

Sunshine

Summary: Reader finally goes back home to meet Levi & Luna and discovers the true reason behind her fallout with him.

Chapters: Five | Six | Seven

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Fluff, Spice - non-explicit , Modern AU

Word Count: ~ 2.7k

Inspiration: Shall We - Chen

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall, @badbitxhbuckybarnes , @sweet-assh0le ; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

Being at the patisserie today was difficult. You were exhausted after staying up all night in anticipation of how the day would go. The thought of returning to your old home that evening to see Levi and Luna combined with the revelation bombs that Hange had dropped on you yesterday had your heart in your throat for a good part of the day.

You were so distracted that a dozen eggs went flying from your hands when Miche tapped on your shoulder from behind during one of his usual visits, causing a huge mess on the kitchen floor. You had blown up at your new assistants Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie for looking at you wrong when they rushed to help with cleaning up the mess, after which Miche had officially ordered everyone to stay out of your way.

Your head rested on his shoulder, as you ate a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich, sat in the breakroom during lunch hour. Mikasa sat opposite you, quietly analyzing your body language, contemplating whether breaking the silence would be the correct choice to make. The television news anchor’s gibber-gabber played like white noise in the background while you chewed on the dry bread at a frustratingly slow pace, your eyes glued to the Aztec patterns on the ceramic backsplash beyond the sink. After hearing you sigh for the fourth time in three minutes, Miche decided to finally speak up.

“You do realize you’re not going to war, right? It’s just your little girl, not a titan. What has got you this terrified?”

He was right. Why were you overthinking this? Luna was your own daughter. She could never hate you, could she? Would she despise you for not being there for her for the last two months? What if she refused to see you today? What if she refused to see you at all? Your breathing began speeding up again.

“Oi!”, Miche jerked his shoulder and shook you out of your thoughts. “Stop worrying, will you? It'll be just fine.”

This resulted in another sigh from you and an eyeroll from the two.

Hours flew by in a matter of what felt like seconds. It was already time to leave for the much-awaited reunion. You assured Miche that you were okay to drive when he offered you a lift. Upon beginning on the familiar route you took every day for the last five years before you moved, memories of the long periods you spent stuck in traffic, longing to see your family after an exhausting day at work flashed before your eyes. Unlike then, you were hoping to be stuck in it today, just so that you could buy more time to prepare yourself.

But obviously, life had other plans. You zoomed past surprisingly empty roads and didn’t have stop at many red lights. And before you knew it, you pulled up on the street outside the house, your house, within fifteen minutes. You sat in your car frantically shaking your leg and running your hands through your hair, looking at the little home where you had spent both the best and the worst days of your life.

Light emanated from the large windows, the Prussian blue front door that you and Levi had painted yourselves, was closed, the lawn was freshly mowed, and Luna’s swing set sat on the grass just like it did while you still lived there. The sight made your heart warm, but you couldn’t get yourself to walk towards it. You gripped the steering wheel and laid your head on it, trying to calm down, until a knock on the window caused you to jump. You looked up to find Levi hunched over and motioning you to step outside.

“Oi! You’ve been parked here for thirty minutes. Are you coming home or what?”, he asked when you lowered the window.

Home?

You decided to finally leave the comfortable confines of your vehicle and slowly made your way to the house, your heart beating rapidly. Levi’s hand found yours; the warmth from his fingers intertwining with yours made your breath hitch.

“It's going to be okay. She’s really excited to see you.”, he assured you when you met his eyes.

Inhaling deeply, you stepped inside the house. Everything looked exactly how you remembered it. The sheer white curtains lining the French windows were gently blowing with the breeze, the rich cherry-wood grandfather clock that stood ticking away at the far end of the living room, books were lined neatly on shelves, family pictures were mounted on the wall, warm yellow light from the lamps illuminated all these features - it was all unchanged. You were instantly drawn to the pictures. Letting go of Levi’s hand, you moved to stand in front of the wall, softened gaze roaming through them and reminiscing the happy memories they brought back.

“Mama!” You were roused from your reverie by a voice you yearned to hear for the last two months. Immediately, Luna had clung to your leg like a koala bear.

“Loonie!” you squealed, picking her up and pulling her into a solid embrace.

“I missed you, Mama!”, she reciprocated with an equally tight hug.

“Oh, I missed you so much more, baby girl!”, you didn’t realize when you began sobbing.

Levi, who was happily watching your reunion from a distance, walked closer and placed his hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as a reminder for you to stay strong.

“I’ll get dinner ready. Moon beam, why don’t you take Mama up to your room?”, he drew Luna’s attention as you stole some moments to compose yourself. The little one zealously tugged on your hand and guided you upstairs yapping in excitement the whole way.

You watched in awe as she told you story after story about everything she could possibly remember since the day you last saw her. Her angelic voice was like cool water to your parched ears. What took you so long to come back here? All the fear of rejection vanished in thin air as Luna modeled the new dresses you just gifted to her, and showcased the toys and books that her doting Papa, uncles and aunts bought. She insisted that you tie her hair into two space buns like you always did before because apparently, “Papa never gets it right like you do.”

Levi leaned against the door frame and smiled at the sight of Luna theatrically narrating an especially thrilling story about her encounter with a ladybug in the backyard. He clicked a mental picture of his little girl's dramatic oration while you marveled at her as if she sprinkled the stars up in the sky. As soon as she was finished telling how the polka-dotted bug landed right on the ridge of her nose, she spotted her father and announced that the three of you were to immediately commence with a tea party.

Akin to the rest of the evening, Luna insisted upon sitting on your lap as you sipped on hibiscus tea that Levi brewed while she drank the warm turmeric latte that she requested you to make. You peppered the top of her head with kisses as the walls of your home reverberated with more tales about her day at the park, and about a puppy that tickled her fingers by licking them. At 8:00 PM sharp, Levi declared that it was time for dinner when you finished your respective beverages.

His signature dish, Tonkotsu ramen was on the menu that both you and Luna gobbled it up in no time. For dessert, you brought her favorite strawberry ice-cream mochi that you made yourself at the patisserie. You two ladies chatted away and Levi participated every now and then.  You couldn’t help but think how perfect this felt and going by his serene expression, Levi seemed to be mirroring your thoughts.

Bath time after dinner had been a routine as the three-year-old was still learning to eat by herself and more often than not, made a big mess. You volunteered to bathe her while he cleaned up.  He slet out a content sigh when Luna’s laughter accompanied by yours echoed through the house as you splashed her with water while she played in the tub. Even the most beautiful music in the world did not hold a candle to this harmony that was falling on his ears.

When it was finally time for bed, Luna was in deep slumber within minutes, drowsy after a warm bath and a fun-filled evening. You reclined on the bed by her side, caressing her hair and listening to her mellow snores, and Levi sat on the armchair by the bed, catching up on some reading, occasionally glancing at the pair of you.

It was tranquil. The light from her moon-shaped night lamp dimly illuminated the room. The dream catcher that you made for her swayed over your hear. Nothing but sound of the soft breaths of your baby and of Levi occasionally turning the page of his novel filled the air. There was no stress, no negativity, only peace of mind. With closed eyes, you took it all in, this life you missed so much.

You had been entranced for a while before feeling a soft tap on your forearm. Levi signaled you with his neck to head outside. Right as you tried to get out of bed as gently as possible, a little hand gripped yours tightly.

“Mama, don’t leave.”, the melancholy in Luna's sleepy voice tugged on the strings of your heart. You opened your mouth to respond, but words refused to spawn.

“Moon beam, Mama will be back home with us soon.”

Levi was now on the bed beside you, caressing Luna’s hair with one hand and clutching yours tightly with the other. It was hard to decide whether the sudden flutter in your heart was a result of bewilderment, or from the warmth of his words.

Making sure she was really asleep this time you both lightly kissed the snoozing baby, snugly tucked her in and made your way downstairs.

“Tea?”, he offered while entering the kitchen. You obliged, making yourself comfortable on the couch, not ignoring the sudden Deja- vu that dawned upon you.

He soon returned with two steaming cups of fragrant chamomile tea and sat next to you, stretching his arm on the backrest. He absentmindedly twirled strands of your hair between his fingers as you both sipped the hot beverage in a serene silence.

“I owe you an explanation.”, Levi finally began.

You turned to face him, with your back now resting against the arm of the couch. Poles apart from his usual calm demeanor, he looked... fidgety. His puffed the already plump pillows beside him, eyes glancing over everything in the room but you. Your continued silence was enough sign for him to go on with what he wanted to say.

“Uh... You are the first person I’m about to tell this to. In fact, I have never even uttered this out loud before. I only just came to terms with it myself.”, he exhaled sharply.

“What is it, Levi?”, you urged.

"Okay. Here goes. Something in me changed on the day Luna was born. I knew that as a father, I was expected to be her protector; that's what I was told a father should be. But- But I was too afraid for her. It was an obsession, almost blinding. It started with keeping the kid out of harm's way at all costs. But it just deteriorated from there. As she grew up, she wanted to try new things and explore. And you, like any parent would, encouraged her to do just that. It makes me sick to even say this, but my urge to shield Luna got so bad that I started to perceive you as a threat to our own daughter. I got these splitting headaches and I’d black out and lose track of what I was saying or doing every time things didn’t go my way. I didn’t even realize when I pushed you far, far away until it was too late.”, he sighed, his gaze locked on the blank television screen in front of him.

Your stomach was in twists, horrified face exuding your inability to grasp what you just heard. There was a long, pregnant pause as he waited for you to say something... anything.

“How could you?”

Levi and you had been together for a long time even before you married. You were offended that he could feel this way about you. It made you furious that he put you, Luna and himself through so much pain. Neither of you could control tears from being shed as he continually begged for your forgiveness.

"I knew I had fucked up, the moment I signed those papers. I turned our whole world upside down with my own hands. My mind felt like a prison that I could not break out of, and instead of letting you help me, I abandoned you.", he despaired.

Your rage started to evaporate when he described how lost he felt the moment you were gone; how he had hung on to Luna like his life depended on it, just to maintain his sanity. He was barely sleeping and the frequent nightmares he had were only making things worse. He told you how he had been working hard on controlling his impulses - starting by trusting Furlan, Isabel, Hange or Erwin with taking care of her in his absence.

“I can’t express how much I regret letting you go, love. I wish for every second of every day that I hadn't done it.”, He was breathing raggedly, as if trying hold back another wave of tears.

You quietly stared at him, unable to think of anything to say to him.

“It is getting late. I should leave.”, you sniffled as you began to gather your things.

Your mind was in scrambles; the heartache threatening another breakdown. It was almost midnight, the tea had done its job and you were exhausted, causing your feelings to be much more amplified than they would be otherwise. The last two days had been too much to process.

He nodded in despondency and watched you walking to the door.

It reminded him of something.

This.

This was his nightmare coming true. Again.

In his dream he was stuck to the floor, robbed of his voice, his limbs frozen. He couldn't let that miserable dream win this time. He needed to stop you. He had to have you back. He couldn't let you leave.

Not again.

Just as you were about to step out, he called out your name and reached out for your hand.

“Stay.”, he whispered, almost too softly.

“Levi, I have to be at work early tomor...”

“Why are you such a dumbass? Do I really need to spell everything out for you?”, he interrupted.

“You’re not helping your case right now.”, you raised your brow.

“I love you, you idiot. I let you go once, and I don’t want to do it again. I wont survive being away from you any longer. I need you. I horribly failed at being a good husband. But I promise I’ll make everything right if you give me another chance. Please.”, he begged, the lone tear running down his cheek shone in the dim luminescence of the room.

Dumbfounded, you gaped at his anguished face. You were wordlessly taking in what he had just said when he mistook your silence for rejection and turned around, looking dejected.

“Levi!”, you clutched his hand and pulled him towards you.

Your bodies collided, faces just a few inches away from each other's. Reaching for his face with your other hand, you wiped the tear away with your thumb.

“Kiss me.”, you breathed.

He looked... befuddled, unable to comprehend the words that just left your tongue. Getting impatient, you took it upon yourself to close whatever little distance that remained between you.

And like pieces of a puzzle, your lips met; perfectly merging together as if that’s where they always belonged. The stars that twinkled in front of your closed eyes accompanied were by ecstatic explosions in your heart and butterflies in your stomach. His lips tasted like sweet chamomile tea, with hints of the tangy strawberry from earlier. His touch was so gentle that you were transported back in time to the balcony of his old apartment where a shy Levi took all evening to muster up the courage to kiss you after your first date while it snowed outside.

The tenderness soon heightened into fiery passion when his hands wandered down to your thighs to pick you up and pin you against the door, slamming it shut. Waltzing tongues, heavy breaths, frisky hands; you were like two starving animals who were just presented with their favorite meals, hungrily grabbing the other and moaning into each other's mouths. He began to fiddle with the hem of your shirt, pulling it up with one hand as the other held you firmly against the door.

“Oi! What the fuck?”, Levi resembled a child who dropped his ice-cream on a hot summer day when you swatted his hand away.

“Slow down, Tiger. What’s the rush?”, you smiled coyly while wiggling out of his grip.

“I-I uh...”, He looked dazed, unable to form sentences.

“I love you too, Levi. I never stopped. But I don’t want to get hurt again. It has only been a day since we reconnected. Can we take this slow?”, you sighed, smoothing his hair and straightening out his shirt.

“We’ll go at whatever pace you’d like.”

A/N: So, did you ever expect to be Levi's Modern AU Zeke Yaeger? 🙊😬

Chapters: Five | Six | Seven

[yeojaa]

GIRL we need a devil in a new suit drabble where jungkook gets jealous pls bless us😭😭❤️

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  kook being hilarious and naive, reader being a little frustrated but head over heels, smut in the form of:  titty sucking (kook is a big boob guy in this), cunnilingus, kook wanting to love you forever.  wc.  2.1k.  author note.  i am... so in love with this couple so what was meant to be a “kook gets jealous and breaks reader’s back” turned into... this.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t get jealous.  Not because he doesn’t care, or he’s unaffected, or any other negative connotation under the sun.  He doesn’t because he’s him, too soft and sweet and silly to believe the worst in people.  (This, coming from the man who’d steered clear of dating apps and blind dates because he was worried he’d be hurt.)

Once, you’d been waiting for him to pick you - he’d been running late, dinner with his parents and younger sister - and he’d found you chatting politely to an old fling of yours.  Well, maybe not so old.  A recent fling, a friend of sorts.  Someone who’d swanned into your life during your college years and had remained there ever since, popping his head in from time to time. 

You’d always been on good terms, caught up for lunch every six months or so when he’d return home from his overseas job.  In the past, you’d found familiarity in the shape of his hands, the neon outline of his almond eyes and pouting lips.  He was good in bed, as charming between the sheets as he was on the street.

But your heart belonged to Jungkook now - had, before you’d even realised it - and Taewoo was just another guy.  Another face in a crowd.

Still, you’d thought your beloved boyfriend would have some sort of reaction.  Maybe a quirk of his perfectly groomed brows, a certain tightness belying his displeasure in the softly peaked bow of his mouth.  You’d spied neither after extracting yourself from the hug and waving goodbye.  Jungkook had been sunshine and sweetness, opening your door for you and stamping a kiss to your cheek.  

That night, he’d loved you how he always had, with you crying his name and making a mess of his sheets.

Another time, you’d been at a work function.  One of those ridiculous galas you loved, full of women in their highest heels and men in their swankiest watches.  (You’d worn Aquazzura that night, Jungkook with an Audemars Piguet loose around his wrist.)  

He’d stuck close to your side, far more interested in the way your dress hugged your figure, cut intimidatingly high over your thigh and revealed the swell of your ass at juuuust the right angle.  Yejin had been the only one to tear him away, insisting on shots that you knew she couldn’t handle.  Anything went if free booze was involved.

Thirty minutes later - give or take, since you hadn’t had a watch of your own on - your boyfriend had returned, flushed and adorable.  There’d been a garden of colour creeping over the expanse of his chest, peeking around the collar of his shirt and disappearing into his neatly tousled strands.  He’d giggled his way back to you, somehow completely oblivious to the man that’d found you at your table and settled himself into the spot labelled Jeon Jungkook.

The imposter had been affronted, gaze narrowed at the younger man who was a little too loose, a little too smiley.  Wholly out of place at an event like this, where people spent too much time up their own asses, noses held aloft and business cards exchanged.  

(One of the reasons you loved Jungkook so much.  He was a breath of fresh air in a world you thrived in - found humour in, at the very least - carrying you high above the clouds with the sound of his laughter.)

“Hi, baby.”  Your darling boy smothered you in kisses, traced them up and over the exposed expanse of your shoulder, nosing against your skin, utterly unbothered by the man shooting him daggers, wishing him ill from the spot he’d wrongly claimed.  

Of course, he’d thought Jungkook was making a point - claiming what was his - but that was so far from the truth you’d almost laughed when he’d spoken, voice carrying above the slightly laboured breaths of your lover.  “I guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

You’d smiled, nodded with a hand threaded into cornsilk curling over Jungkook’s nape.  “Looks like it.”

(Then your idiot love - your big-hearted moron, your doe-eyed baby - had come up for air, cheek resting in the palm of his hand.  “Where’s your friend?”  He’d asked, eyes so wide you couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his question.)

Such was the kind of person Jungkook was, with an unwavering belief in the goodness of others, a silver thread outlining everyone’s silhouette.  You sometimes wondered what it would take to drive him to any sort of displeasure, any sort of emotion beyond quiet melancholy (seldom seen but heavily felt, when the rare occasions rose) or easygoing amicability (his default setting).  Not that you’d ever push to see that, of course.

You were happy.  Hopelessly in love.  You wouldn’t have traded him for the world - couldn’t even fathom doing anything to hurt him.  

And yet, you discover albeit by accident - it’s really not that hard.  All it takes is a pretty girl.

“This looks incredible,”  she says, standing close, long dark hair falling in a fluid curtain down the line of her back.  It’s the loveliest shade, cool-toned beneath the boutique lights, and reflects colour like a waterfall.  You’d complimented her on it when you’d stepped into the fitting area, a handful of hangers set across the rolling rack.

Fingers smooth over embroidery, revelling in the feeling of it over your skin.  It’s a beautiful thing, black tulle that hangs to your fingertips.  Not Jungkook’s preferred style - he much prefers harnesses and so many straps it might as well be a cat’s cradle - but you think he loves it nonetheless. 

(You’d confirm, but he’s been stoically silent, seated in the plush chair tucked beside the privacy partition, normally soft gaze hard and trained on his phone.  He doesn’t seem very much in the mood to talk, hardly reacting with each outfit change.  A nod here, a smile there.  Not even the most scandalous of the options - a black corset decorated in Leavers lace - had elicited his usual enthusiasm.)  

“You think so?”  You’re not insecure about your body - know what it looks best in, which assets to play up.  Still, it’s nice to hear from someone other than your doting boyfriend, the people caught in your orbit.  

The sales associate nods, beams at you in the multiple mirrors.  A hand of her own drifts over the thin strap of the slip - an innocent gesture that dislodges wayward strands of hair from beneath.  “Of course— and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to sell it.” 

You nod, satisfied.  Even if Jungkook doesn’t seem ecstatic, your own joy makes up for it, buyer’s delight spilling over.  “I’ll take the satin robe, the blush silk set, and this in the violet.”  

“Great choices,”  she hums, pulling back the curtain to the adjoining change room to allow you privacy.  Silence follows as you slip the delicate number off, returning it to its hanger.  You don’t expect when the brunette continues speaking - presumably to your surprisingly surly boyfriend.  “Don’t you agree?” 

“Yep.”  He’s never been a man of few words, usually so full of excitement that he rambles when he doesn’t mean to.  

It’s a dead giveaway - a confirmation that something’s wrong.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to broach the subject, your purchases already paid for and a firm hand on the small of your back the moment you’ve stepped out of the dressing stall.  “Jungkookie?”  You mean it quietly, just for the two of you, but falter when he slots his fingers between yours and all but tugs you out of the boutique.  You hardly even have a chance to toss the helpful girl an apologetic smile, imposing glass swinging shut behind you.

“Men—men are fine.  I don’t have to worry about them.”  There’s a confidence you’re so proud to see, turning his words as solid as the weight that rests against your hip, sears burning heat into your bared skin.  “No other man is going to love you better than me.  But women?”  A shudder runs the length of his imposing frame, tugs his shoulders up to his ears and tingles the small of his back.  “Women are scary.”  (It’s a sentiment he’s echoed in the past.  In particular, months ago when you’d insisted he dive into the dating scene.)

Hands thread through his too-soft strands, twirl the ends around your fingers as he speaks, nearly muffled into the crook of your shoulder.  He’s being so tender, giving you all the love he has to offer as he writes his insecurities into your skin, offers them with the wet of his tongue.

“A woman might sweep you off your feet and steal you away.”

You laugh then - sound snapping past your teeth before you can tuck it away.  It filters loudly into the baies scented candle you’d lit when you’d gotten into his apartment.  

Jungkook whines in response - a terribly endearing sound that makes you roll your eyes but only with affection (always with that) - and buries his face into your tits, sucking your nipple into his mouth with complete disregard for the tulle that acts as a barrier.  Saliva stains the material, makes it stick to your hardened bud as he laves over it with his tongue - bites surprisingly gently - and tugs it just hard enough to have you keening.

“S-s’not funny,”  he huffs, palming your other breast in his broad tattooed palm.  When he continues, he bites into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against whatever lies beneath your flesh.  “She was flirting with you.”  

It’s less of a sigh of annoyance - more sensual, drowning in need.  “She was not.”

He nips at the delicate flesh again, spreads crimson marks all across the sensitive skin until it’s a mosaic beneath the fabric, his finest work painted by his second favourite brush.  “That’s what you think but she was.”  The hand previously kneading your skin drops, flat of his palm sliding easily over your bare pussy.  

There’s zero hesitation when he slots his fingers on either side of your clit, catches the delicate pearl against the webbing of his hand and applies pressure that has you bucking beneath him.  It’s not nearly as aggressive as he normally is but it’s just as good, paired with the sinful motions of his tongue and teeth. 

“She wants to be the one doing this,”  he continues, saliva pooling across your chest, slipping into the valley of your breasts only to be licked up by the flat of his tongue.  He continues even once you’re clean, skin sticky and a little gross but so erotic it makes you quiver.  Then he descends, pushes the hem of your new slip higher, and licks another stripe from the joint of your thigh up to your belly button.  Repeats it again, moving lower with each pass until he’s sucking your clit into his mouth.  “She wants to be the one tasting this pretty, pretty pussy.”

You reach for his hand - the one somewhere near your ribs, side of his wrist soothing against the ladder of bones - and tangle your fingers together as he drives you mad, tip of his tongue switching between sweet kitten licks and tantalising figure eights.

“Baby,”  you coax, reprimand almost.  Jungkook’s never this lenient, never this sweet on you (not inside the bedroom, at least).  It brings you to a different high, his love folded into lovely origami cranes you tuck into your pockets and the spot you’ve carved out for him within your chest.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean literally - refers instead to the sound of your voice when it leaps three octaves, bounces between sultry and singed, burnt at the edges by the fire he brings to life. 

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”  Despite how the words muffle, come broken between the glide of his tongue within your fluttering walls, you can hear the sincerity in them.  The earnestness that begs you to promise him this simple thing.  “Not for her.  Not for anyone.”  

“I won’t leave you,”  you answer, threading the vow between your fingers as if they’re the thread binding your love story together.  “Not for her - not for anyone.”

[ejzah]

Could you do a fic where one evening Deeks just drives aimlessly until he sees the first seemingly quiet beach? He hopes that getting away (even if not very far or for very long) will help Kensi relax after a tedious day at work.

A/N: I may have tweaked the premise for this one a little bit. Some angst and fluff. Takes place earlier in their relationship.

***

Escape

“Do you ever wonder would happen if we left work and just kept driving?” Kens asked. Her tone was slightly idyl, but Deeks could hear the underlying exhaustion.

“Where do you want to go?” Deeks asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, anywhere.” She shrugged, like it truly didn’t matter. He supposed he should have guessed her mind wasn’t in the best place when she asked him to drive.

It hadn’t been the worse day ever, not by a long shot. But the case had involved two teens who’d gotten in way over their heads, with the outcome not in their favor. Watching a couple of kids screw up their lives so badly was tough.

“Ok, how about we go for some bulgogi?” he suggested. “That usually gets you dancing.”

“Eh.” Kensi shrugged again, her usual enthusiasm for the Korean dish absent. “I just wish that it felt like we actually made a difference. We just do the same thing every day with the same result.”

She drew her legs up, shifting her body away from him, and pressed her forehead to the passenger window.

He started to open his mouth, intending to say something ridiculous. Usually, it was enough to distract Kensi, get a smile, sometimes a laugh or two. He had a feeling that tonight no matter how charming or silly he was, Kensi wasn’t in the frame of mind for jokes.

So he kept driving, passing by their normal exit completely. When he glanced at Kensi, he saw her blankly staring reflection in the glare of her window. He wasn’t exactly sure where he intended to go, but he needed to do something to get Kensi out of her head.

It wasn’t until he was pulling into an empty parking lot, that Kensi looked up with a slight frown.

“Wait, Deeks, where are we?” she asked, showing the first sign of emotion other than exhaustion.

“A beach,” he answered simply. “C’mon.” Deeks held out his hand, wiggling his fingers until Kensi took them with an annoyed sigh.

They walked down to the shore to watch the sunset which streaked the sky with deep pinks and purples. It was a phenomenon that never ceased to amaze Deeks no matter how many times he saw one.

When the light was almost completely gone, Kensi wandered along the edge of the water, collecting smooth, thin rocks, which she expertly skipped in the even water. Deeks stayed back a few feet, once again leaving her to his thoughts.

It seemed like they were the only ones around, so he dragged a few pieces of drift wood into a makeshift bench. After maybe twenty minutes, he stepped back and surveyed his work with a satisfied nod.

“Are you planning on spending the night?” Kensi asked softly from behind him. He turned, seeing the faint glow of her face in the moonlight. Kicking a bleached piece of wood with his shoe, he shrugged.

“Eh, I used to do this with Ray when we were kids. We’d build forts, or castles if we were feeling fancy, and pretend that we’d live there forever.

“That sounds nice.”

“It was,” he agreed. “Until someone made us go home. But while we were in our castle, it always felt like we ruled the world.” He smiled a little wistfully and sat down on the top branch, swinging his legs. He patted the spot next to him, encouraged when Kensi sat down, her shoulders brushing his.

“When I was little, my dad would take me to the beach to have rock skipping contests. Dad could skip one five or six times. The first time he showed me how, all my rocks sank right to the bottom. I was so disappointed,” Kensi shared, sounding more reminiscent than melancholy. “Dad told me it was ok that I didn’t skip any since it was my first time. As you probably expect, I wasn’t satisfied with that answer. So, dad spent three hours, teaching me the perfect technique until I could skip a rock at least three times.”

“Wow. That’s pretty amazing.”

“Even though my arm was really sore the next day, I was too proud of myself to care.”

“I can just imagine little Kensi Blye, breaking records and taking names,” Deeks teased.

“That might be a bit of a stretch, but I think it’s safe to say I was the most skilled rocking skipping six year old out there,” Kensi said.

“You know what else we used to do?” Deeks asked suddenly, grinning as another memory resurfaced. Kensi gave him a suspicious look while he started tugging off his shoes.

“What?”

Instead of answering, Deeks stripped his t-shirt over his head and reached for the front of his jeans.

“Oh no.” Kensi chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not going skinny dipping on a public beach, Deeks.”

“Kens, I would never ask you to go skinny dipping on a public beach,” he assured her, now standing in his boxers. “Underwear, however, is totally acceptable.”

He winked, jogging backwards towards the water, beckoning for Kensi to join him. After another 10 seconds of hesitation, she threw her hand up in the air, and kicked her jeans and boots off. She left her t-shirt on, quickly running into the water up to her waist despite the chill.

Ducking under the water, she smoothed her hair back. She looked beautiful in the moonlight. More importantly, their was a lightness in her movements. She waded closer and twined her arms around Deeks’ neck, pulling herself up against his chest.

“Thank you,” Kensi murmured, kissing him with cool lips. “This is just what I needed.”

“Good.” He brushed a few strands of wet hair back from her temple. God, he would do anything for her. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Kensi echoed, curling into the warmth of his arms.

***

Thanks for the prompt!

[beardrabbles]

composed together. [ ♡ ]

characters: venti, reader

warnings: alcohol mention

word count: 3,029

notes: been trying out venti as a muse on a roleplay blog i have, but I wanted to have a crack at writing a reader with him. i'm not a poet in any sense of the word, so i'm sorry if isn't up to venti's standards lmao. if you tolerated all the rhyming, you deserve a gold star and a high-five.

You had tried so hard to make it back in time, but were disappointed when you returned to find Mondstadt barren of the usual Windblume decorations. There were no wreaths or elaborately decorated banners, no potted plants sporting twirling pinwheels. The scent of fresh flowers and baking goods persisted, but it didn’t carry with it the festive spirit. People were, once again, content to ask for help rather than tend to their own needs.

‘ And that’s why I missed out.  .  . ’ You brooded. It was because you offered yourself as a member of the Adventurer's Guild that you had found yourself pulled away from your home. You had been promised that the job in question wouldn’t take you longer than three days, give or take a day depending on how well you did. But, as it turned out, you had been gone for an entire week. And in that week, the festival had come and gone.

Windblume had never been about the romance for you. Every year, you looked forward to the food and atmosphere, letting the spirit carry you away. This year, however, you had held onto the fleeting hope that someone might show interest. Or that you might gather the courage to approach the one you so adored. You knew it was a lame excuse to depend on one holiday to steel your nerves, but the time and your chance had dashed past in the blink of an eye.

“Shouldn’t have taken the damn commission.” You slumped at an outdoor table near The Angel’s Share, a half-empty tankard of cider resting in your hands. You drummed your fingers along the side of the tankard, willing yourself not to be bummed. The holiday would come around again next year, you reminded yourself as you downed another gulp. “But I’ll probably get sent out then too.”

You stooped forward even further, cheek nearly pressed flat to the table when the familiar sound of plucked  lyre strings thrummed in your ear. You sat straight so abruptly that you made yourself dizzy, your need to look around rapidly for the source not helping the fuzzy feeling in your head.

“Venti?” You called his name with such unbridled hope that he couldn’t keep himself hidden for long. A giggle sounded above you, and you felt your diminishing mood soar when you spotted the colorful bard sitting along the eaves of the tavern, beloved lyre in hand.

“The one and only!” He cooed, soaking in your glee. “Looks like you started without me.”

You frowned and peered down at your table, noting the two other empty tankards. Cheeks flushed from embarrassment, you pushed them aside, as if that would make them ( and your shame ) disappear. “Look, I just got back and I find out I missed out on Windbl——!”

Eyes up, you realized too late that Venti had vanished from the roof. You blinked once, then twice, your cider-addled mind slow to catch up. Where did he go?

“I was wondering where you’d gone off too.” His voice bobbed along the air, light and playful, and it tugged your attention like a hook pulling along a caught fish. He sat across from you, his chin resting in his palm and bright eyes twinkling with eternal mischief. “Missed Windblume, huh?”

“Mhmm.” You grunted and polished off the rest of your drink, mood dropping again. “I was looking forward to it too. Did I miss anything important?”

Venti hummed and leaned back in his seat. Absentmindedly, he toyed with the strings of his lyre. “Let me think. Margaret thought of a new, non-alcoholic drink and it went over pretty well with the kids and those looking to keep themselves a little more dignified during the festivities. Our own Honorary Knight was named this years Windblume Star! Oh! That’s right, I taught a class on the art of expressing ones love though poetry.”

You snorted.

“You taught people to write poems?” Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “At what cost?”

“Come noq, Y/N, do you really think I could put a price on the ability to write out what a person’s heart yearns for most?” He paused, saw your deadpan stare, then let out a nervous chuckle. “A few bottles of holiday-exclusive wine is all I asked for.”

“Begged is more like it.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “How many bottles exactly?”

“Enough to tide me over.” Answered the bard vaguely.

“Is there any left?”

His silence was all the answer you needed. You groaned, let your head hit the table, then left it there as your forehead throbbed. Venti, sporting the rare flicker of guilt across a normally jovial face, leaned forward to pat at the back of your head.

“Hey, don’t be down. I have an idea!”

You lifted your head, but your eyes were downcast and dulled. “Is it a bad idea? I don’t think I want to mess with anyone right now, Venti.”

“I thought of the idea, so of course it’s a good one! And we’re not going to mess with anyone.” Venti grinned from ear-to-ear and stood, offering you a single, delicate hand. You gave it a hard stare, wondering what sort of troublesome plans he had brewing in his head. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to come up with a believable excuse as to why you couldn’t indulge him.

Leaving your empty tankards behind, you stood and took Venti’s hand. You stumbled the slightest bit before finding your footing. “What’s your idea, O Great and Fantastical Bard?”

“Since you’re being so kind as to lavish me in well-deserved compliments, I’ll tell you.” He winked at your withering glare. “You’re going to help me compose a song!”

“How is that going to cheer me up? I’m not poetic.” You grumbled. Venti clicked his tongue as he guided you away from the tavern and towards the cathedral.

“That is wildly untrue, Y/N! Everyone is capable of expressing themselves through poetry.” He argued.

“But I’m not good at rhyming or thinking of pretty words.” You countered. Venti sighed and gave your fingers an encouraging squeeze.

“That’s not what it’s about. No one said that poetry was meant to impress people. If it does, that’s a bonus, but the point is to shape your feelings. You write how you feel, not how you want to sound. If you don’t rhyme, that’s fine. If you want to use big words, then by all means! Short words are still words, and they can still carry your thoughts with them. There are no rules with it comes to poetry, no matter what some stuffy scholar might say.” He tugged your hand and pulled your arm up high, leading you into an impromptu twirl. Unable to help yourself, you fell into a fit of laughter that instantly lifted your mood.

“I guess you’re right, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me.” You followed along, a new spring in your step. Venti shrugged.

“Practice means progress!” He clearly wouldn’t allow you to wallow in your negativity, and you were quietly grateful for it. If there was anyone that could lift you out of a funk, no matter how deep and depressing it may be, it would be him. 

Venti lead you past the statue of Barbados and around the side of the cathedral, where he perched on the side of a stone railing. Beyond you sat the lake, it’s surface a constantly shifting sheet of vivid oranges, cheerful yellows, warm reds and sleepy blues. The sun was setting, and soon night would fall, but Venti didn’t seem concerned. If it didn’t worry him, then it didn’t worry you, so you found a seat beside him and made yourself comfortable.

“The breeze is nice.  .  .” You let your eyes fall closed, skin kissed by a gentle twirl of the air against your heated cheeks. You couldn’t see then how Venti’s lips quirked up subtly, an adoration in his eyes that not many earned. He watched you for all of one, still moment before your eyes opened and he was forced to look elsewhere.

“Yeah, it is. So!” Quick to discard the hammering in his chest, Venti pulled forward his lyre and cleared his throat. “About that song——”

“What is it about?”

“Unspoken love, the kind that lives in your chest and makes every moment spent with the person you adore both exciting and painful.” His fingers strummed one string, then another. You frowned, the first few notes squeezing at your heart.

“Why is it unspoken?” You wondered, keeping your voice low.

“Because, sometimes, confessing is more selfish and cruel than never saying anything at all. Because opening up one’s heart may lead to more pain than you first expect.” The melancholy notes only proved to add more hurt to your chest, but still the bard smiled.

“Do you really want to write a song that sad?” You weren’t sure that your flimsy mood could handle thinking about such a morose subject.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand, dear friend~ The reason for love’s silence is upsetting, but the love itself is anything but!” Venti began to swing his legs, and you felt the breeze pick up. Green eyes turned up towards the sky, while a subtle tinge of pink touched his cheeks. “I’ll think of the first few lines, then you chime in with whatever your lovely little mind and heart think of first. Alright?”

“If you say so.”

“Great!” Skilled fingers began to play, the heart of the music beating in time with your own. “I want it to start like this: I want always to treasure your warm soul and kind eyes.  .  .”

You waited for more, but were met with a calm quiet. A single glance from the bard, and you suddenly felt as is everyone in town could hear and see you. Face burning hot with embarrassment, you looked out towards water rather than at your companion.

“I want always to treasure your warm soul and kind eyes. Hmm.” You breathed in deep and muttered the first thing that came into your head. “Every smile and glance like a hard-earned prize.”

“Good! And you said you weren’t skilled at this.” Venti beamed, the sheer glee behind his praise lifting your mood higher still. “Let’s keep going. Next line: Your voice it rings like the sweetest prayer.  .  .”

You thought hard again, arms crossed tight and lips pursed. This was as difficult as you thought it might be, but Venti’s enthusiasm was infectious. So, again you offered the only words that rose to the top of your mind. “.  .  . a blessing from lips so fair.”

Venti hummed, the sound soft and low in his chest. “Indeed they are.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Moving on!” He slipped from the stone railing and came to stand in front of you, posture loose and playful even as he came dangerously close. “I adore you, I do. My heart is yours, it’s true. Little skips and steady pounding, my dear, you are astounding.”

Feeling him so near, his eyes mirthful and intent on you, you couldn’t help but to shrink into yourself a little. You grasped the railing you sat on and hunched your shoulders, eyes glued to your feet. If only those words were meant for you. Oh, but then what would you do?

“Is this meant to inspire other people to think of their love, or are you thinking of someone in particular?” You couldn’t and wouldn’t dare to hope, but you had to ask.

The strumming stopped, but you didn’t turn your gaze up.

“Perhaps I am,” Venti purred coyly, “why? Is there someone you’re thinking about?”

“Don’t be such an imp.” You kicked a foot out, but he was quick to step aside. Your aggression, though harmless, pulled a laugh from the bard. “I might be thinking of someone.”

“Who is it?” Venti pestered. “Do I know them?”

“Maybe.” You sported a cheeky smile of your own. Venti moved in an inch or two more to your side, leaving only a breadth of space between the two of you.

“Do they inspire you?” He asked. You sighed, completely unable to contain the need.

“He does.”

“Oh, so they’re a he, are they? That narrows it down.” He tittered and let himself play a soft, ambient tune. “Does he know how you feel?”

“No way!” You let out a bark of laughter. “Been trying to keep it a secret.”

“Why?” Venti blinked, appearing thoroughly baffled. “He should know!”

“What was it you said? Confessing is selfish sometimes.  .  .”

“Using my words against me. Cruel.” Venti sighed. “You really won’t tell him?”

“Not until it’s right, and not until I’m strong enough to accept the possibility that he might not feel the same.” Your smile was feeble and didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Chances come and go, away with the wind they blow, so I hold these lovelorn words inside my chest, never to be confessed.”

Venti frowned, watching as your fingers pressed and rubbed at the sudden ache right where your heart sat. His own reacted in kind, the horribly familiar grasp of doubt squeezing at his chest. He knew those thoughts and feelings all to well.

“In your heart the feelings run deep, but darling, don’t put them to sleep.” He reached out again when you dismissed his lyrics with a scoff, only this time you didn’t hesitate to place your hand in his. He didn’t drag you away from where you sat, but let his fingers slip between yours. Your heart stuttered a moment, the gentleness of the gesture filling you with gratitude and trace amounts of confusion.

The breeze picked up again, and you thought you could still hear the gentle song of the lyre despite him being preoccupied.

“Look at me.” He voice dropped to a whisper, so soft and airy that you almost didn’t catch it. But when you did, you bashfully locked your gaze with his. The sweetest smile pulled at his lips, the glimmer in his eyes so sincere that it made your own eyes prickle at the very corners.

Why did you have to fall for someone like him? Why couldn’t you have fallen for someone forgettable, or someone that wasn’t almost always within reach?

“Listen to my words, find them true, only a moron would reject you. You are wanted, loved and adored, you are more precious than any treasure hoard.” Venti arched himself forward, his forehead meeting with yours. Music continued to play in your ears, making the air around his words sweet. Could you believe them when they came from someone as flighty as him? You wanted desperately to, but you had to argue, to contest his open fondness for you.

“By the time the day is done, you’ll have said that to everyone.” You countered. Venti couldn’t hold back a laugh, his head moving away from yours. Already, you regretted sassing him. Come back, stay close.

“You’re getting better at that. While it’s true that I love to sing peoples praises, what I give you aren’t throwaway phrases. You’ve caught me, dear heart, and I want to surrender, allow me to bask in your unending splendor.”

You snorted and gave him a harmless shove. Venti grinned and gave in to your push, but he was near again in an instant.

“It can’t be that hard to believe that someone would love you. Don’t you believe me?” His question hung heavy in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth opened and closed, and each time your words failed you. Only after a long moment of listening to you stammer did Venti cautiously lean in. “Should I be selfish?”

“What does it mean for a bard to be selfish?” After a moment of mental screaming, you felt a smirk tease at your lips, but it was short lived. “Aside from drink all his wine before sharing it with someone?”

“Selfish bards do many, many things.” He spoke slowly, making sure each word dragged and lured you in. “I’ll admit it was silly to drink all the wine without you, but I can make up for it.”

You hummed contemplatively, each passing second tugging you closer and closer.

“How?”

“More wine?” He offered. You pulled a face.

“Mmmn, maybe. And?” Your mind was numb at this point, the idea that you two were so close making every inch of your body squirm. You had only daydreamed of sappy little scenarios like this, so living one out felt too good to be true. You were waiting to wake up, in fact, because this couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be tempting the idea of confessing to you when the entire world of Teyvat could offer him better.

“Songs written just for you?” Venti’s grin broadened, but there was a hitch in his breath when you nudged the tip of your nose against his.

“Anything else?” You egged him on, catching a flare of darker green in his eyes. He said nothing, but the way he moved his hand to touch your cheek spoke volumes. “How about a share of the apples you pick every day, or some mora, or——?”

“You’re talking too much.” He muttered, lips only a fraction away from yours.

“That’s rich coming from you.  .  .”

His breath was warm and welcome and mingled with yours for all of one second before you felt the notion of a kiss. It was then that the bell above the cathedral chimed, it’s proximity and the intensity of the clap jarring you and the bard from your shared trance. You jerked away, flushed and wide-eyed, while Venti clicked his tongue. Vexed, he glared up towards the cathedral.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I need to go.” You scrambled from your spot, heart hammering so hard in your ears that it almost drowned out the sounds of the bell. “I forgot to see Katheryne about the commission!”

Venti arched a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.” You vaulted over the railing and contemplated running off without another word, but it didn’t feel right. Rather than succumb to cowardice and embarrassment, you turned to face the bard. “Tomorrow. We’ll do this again, I promise, and.  .  .”

“And?”

“We’ll finish where we left off.”

“I was hoping you’d say that!”

[ladymercysletters]

The Moment I Knew// Anthony Bridgerton - Chapter 6

Word Count : 1239

Warnings: Angst B*tches!!

A/N: based on this request from @albeeox. Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7

Violet Bridgerton watched with delight as her second son strolled arm in arm with a young lady. And not only any young lady, but a very suitable lady who he had known since childhood. All Violet Bridgerton had hoped for her children was that they were fortunate enough to marry for love: and by the looks of it, Benedict had secured just that in the form of a childhood friend.

Not that Violet Bridgerton was the only one to get the wrong end of the stick; the entire ton was practically buzzing with news of the ‘match’ having seen Benedict and Y/N together on many an occasion, smile and laughing together as they walked. In truth, neither Y/N or Benedict had noticed anyone paying them any mind: in each other they had found kindred spirits in heartbreak and secrecy. Benedict was glad he had someone older than Eloise to talk to about his dasires from life, and Y/N was happy to have a confidante to talk to about Anthony; especially one so close to him.

It was the day after the duel that Y/N awoke to her maid entering her room, followed briskly by the clattering of her mother, brandishing the latest Whistledown as she burst in behind her.

“Oh Y/N! Look, Lady Whistledown has written of you” she said, dramatically thrusting the now crumpled paper at her second-born. “We had hoped to tell you ourselves but to have it printed in Whistledown, where all the ton may see it. Ooh” she wailed in excitement.

Across the Square Benedict ambled lazily downstairs, cravat barely tied into position as he entered the breakfast room. The usual buzz of the Bridgerton breakfast room came to an abrupt halt as Benedict opened the door. He looked up innocently to see every one of his siblings staring at him. Eloise appeared to be somewhere in between elation and annoyance, Francesca was just elation. Colin looked as pleased with himself as ever as he chewed on a piece of toast whilst Gregory and Hyacinth showed matching grins on their faces. Anthony however, was staring daggers at him over his morning paper, the only one to not look directly at him. Bewilderment would probably best describe Benedict’s expression. His mother beamed at him as she approached him gently.

“Now don’t fuss Benedict.” She began, circling the table, towards him. “But Lady Astley and I were talking, and we had noticed that you and Miss Y/N have seemed to form an attachment. So being the wonderful, caring mother I am, and knowing my son has always been a little shy of his feelings, I asked for you.” She finished, straightening his collar that had stuck into his cravat.

“Asked what? What have you asked?” Benedict searched, confused. He strode into the room, taking the paper from Eloise’s hands to see the extent of his mother’s damage. And that was the day that, to equal surprise, Y/N and Benedict found out that they were engaged to be married.

The following weekend The Bridgerton’s played host to a celebratory ball in honour of your engagement. You had barely had a chance to see Benedict, or any Bridgerton for that matter: having spent most of your time being pushed and pulled by your mother, into various gowns and having several colour swatches and flowers thrust in your face for approval. You had managed to sneak a note out to Benedict, via your maid, asking him if he had known of this plan, or consented to it at all. You had only managed to receive a reply before the night of the ball, and so as your already anxious hands helped to pin the last of the pearls into your hair, your mind couldn’t help but drift to seeing Anthony again.

Your mind had been swimming so much with thoughts of yours and Benedict’s engagement that you had almost completely forgotten about your argument with Anthony – and his subsequent visit to your home the night of the next ball. Your mind reeled with thoughts of that night: with every word of love he whispered into your skin you had hoped that, should he survive, he would make you his. However, both he and the Duke had appeared to survive their stupid egos but Anthony has not so much as written to you. And after making a fool of yourself once, he was certainly not going to do so again.

. You gathered yourself as your maid returned, holding out your evening gown and laying it on the bed as you stood, ready to dress for the Ball. The evening was practically in full swing by the time you arrived. You had hoped, however much in vain, to slip in quietly and perhaps even get a chance to speak to Anthony, or even Benedict, before you were caught up in the whirlwind of Mama’s and jealous ladies all vying to know how you snagged a Bridgerton. Unfortunately, that was not to be. No sooner had you stepped into the hall than you were surrounded by congratulations and well wishes … no doubt all angling for a front row seat to your wedding.

By the time you made it to the other side of the ballroom, and to Benedict, you were exhausted. He handed you a glass of champagne and you both stood in melancholy silence as you observed all of the happy guests. “I’m sorry Y/N” Benedict said mournfully as he finished off his wine and popped the empty glass on a nearby side table.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.” You sighed, looking around the room “I suppose this is it then”

“Yup. By the end of the season we’ll be married.” the words left his mouth thick and uncomfortable and the following silence hung in the air. You felt sweaty and a little bit sick at the thought of marrying someone you did not love, and at such short notice.

“It won’t be that bad will it?” you smiled nervously, looking up at him for some sort of comfort.

“No. It’ll be fine.” He tried to comfort you, although by his short words you could tell he felt the same as you. “It’s not like we’re not friends I suppose.” He raised his brows as he sipped on another glass of wine – where had that come from?! “I consider you a great friend Y/N” he looked back down at you with a genuine smile, which in all fairness did manage to bring you some comfort. It was true, Benedict was a true friend to you, and confidante, and you supposed it was some comfort to know that despite the circumstances, you would be marrying a friend. He handed you another glass when he noticed yours had emptied, you supposed that was a useful trait in a husband, and you both continued to stare into the middle distance, coming to terms with your fates.

Across the room Anthony was practically boiling over. He had started the night with a stern talk from his mother. You will not ruin Benedict’s night with your moping! I don’t know what this is about but it stops tonight. The words went round in his head constantly through the evening. When the ladies started circling. When the congratulating began. And when you entered the room; his heart practically stopped. Jumping up into his throat as if it were to throw itself at you.

[offthedust]

5 with megumi pleasee

#5 “i miss you. i am bad at being apart.” from this list with megumi

thanks so much for sending <3333

this makes me a lil sad to write bc thinking about not being able to be with megumi??? heart wrenching.

if you’re not around for whatever reason (long distance?? long trip?? fight?? breakup??) it would be so different for him than you just being busy and not able to see him that day.

he’s fine being his own person and doing his own thing, but he just misses you.

like I honestly think he would be down so bad lol. during the day he would keep his headphones in 24/7 playing angsty music that he usually doesn’t listen to and everyone can kinda tell he’s a little out of it, but megumi for the most part is pretty good at hiding how he feels (not that he can fake a happy face, but he’ll insist everything is fine and try not to look too different from his normal lowkey melancholy self).

at night: all the lights off, laying on his bed, playing sad music, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. he wishes he could push it all down, and not feel at all, but he can’t. he feels all of it, and suffers through it, like he always does.

ok sheesh I’m making myself more sad here’s da rest below the cut

“I… need help.” you heard a loud crash in the background of the phone call, and ran to grab your shoes.

when your phone rang a second ago, you were surprised to see megumi’s name pop up. your heart felt mixed emotions as it buzzed. the two of you hadn’t been on speaking terms for two weeks now. he was your best friend, and you both knew it was more than that, but you weren’t ready yet. so when he confessed his feelings to you one night, it was… awkward. megumi didn’t understand why you didn’t want to be with him, the bond he felt with you was different from anyone else he had ever met. however, you were too scared to ruin your friendship if the relationship went sour, and you tried to explain that you just weren’t ready. you wanted to be with him, more than anything, but it was a terrifying thought at the same time. so you went from close contact to a cold distance.

“gumi, I-“ you wanted to bite your tongue after letting the familiar nickname slip your lips.

“I’m behind the school downtown. hurry. curse here.” his voice sounded strained, and you continued running down the hall toward his location.

finally reaching the school, you ran around the corner, slowing down to see what was going on before you rushed in.

you hid behind a wall, and peeked your head out to see that the curse’s back was to you, megumi fighting in front. you made eye contact with him, and you sensed him trying to say, “not yet.”

his face looked badly bruised, blood running from his lips.

you kept your eye on him, and slowly took steps towards the curse.

finally, megumi nodded to you, and you both launched your cursed techniques at the same time, resulting in a pincer attack.

once the curse was disoriented, you sprinted and jumped onto its shoulders, swinging yourself around to finally exorcise it with your technique.

you landed with your feet on the pavement as the curse slipped away.

megumi took a step over to you, and you turned to look over at him.

you were so happy to see him, his gaze felt warm and familiar. there was a bit of strain in his eyes still, and he looked more tired than just fighting-with-a-demon tired, like he needed a good night’s rest. you looked at each other in silence for a minute, and megumi finally gathered the words, “I miss you. I am bad at being apart.”

“I miss you too,” you said quietly, reaching for his hand out of instinct.

he interlaced his fingers with yours, playing with your hand.

“i’m sorry, let’s just go back to the way things were. it’s better than this.”

“no, gumi, you were right. I want us.”

“you want.. us?”

“yes,” you replied, swinging your arm and his with your interlocked fingers together.

he blushed, saying, “well.. all right.”

you both started walking back towards the dorms, and megumi muttered out, “oh, and thanks.”

[parvulous-writings]

Medbay magic // Angela Ziegler (Mercy) x Reader

Request:    Ello, It's me,Ya bor. So I wanted to request a lil' something- Can we get a one shot where Angela (Mercy, for those of yall that don't know (: )nurses the reader back to health, but ends up falling for the reader with all the time they spend together? Then she's super confused about her feelings and doesn't know what to do about it, and she's too scared to tell the reader, but... turns out the reader has always kinda liked Angela too, and they confess to Angela-And they all live happily ever after- 😭🤌No but fr ily bor ❤

Requested by: @rey-is-not-a-skywalker​​

Summary: The reader and Doctor Ziegler develop feelings for each other :)

Warnings: N/A

Words: 1.3K

Notes: I would like to thank one of my old classmates for the word soup conversation :) My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

You had been in the medical bay for nearly a week now. It wasn’t so bad, you supposed, you were being looked after well enough. You were frequently seen by several different doctors, one whom you greatly preferred over the others. Your favourite doctor was none other than Angela Ziegler, the best medic on the force. This wasn’t just your opinion either, this was just a common fact that everyone accepted. Under her care you had been nursed back from near death to almost perfect health. You swore on your own life that she was magic, it was like nothing you had ever seen. That wasn’t the only magic she used though, you were sure of it. She had managed to work her way into your heart as well, and you held her higher than any other. 

During your time in the medbay, you had several deep conversations with Angela, when there wasn’t all that much for her to do, and she needed something to keep her mind busy. Most of the time they started as nonsense words that she would respond to fondly- word soup, she dubbed it. It was mostly obscure facts or some line of thought that didn’t make much sense.  Angela’s personal favourite conversation was one from when you were half sedated due to the pain of your wounds, and you started spouting drivel about Sciron- an old figure in Greek mythology, who would ask passers by to help him was his feet.  When they knelt before him, he would suddenly give them a kick over the cliff into the sea, where the victim's body was devoured by a huge monstrous sea turtle which used to swim under the rocks. How you remembered about such an obscure figure in common knowledge Ziegler didn’t know, but your words were even stranger.  “What if the turtle was Sciron’s brother?” You posed, staring up at the ceiling as Angela patted down your bed, making sure you were comfortable. She laughed quietly at the absurd idea and shook her head slowly.  “As interesting as the theory is, I do not think that that is what the Greeks were striving for when telling that tale...”  “But why else would he feed the turtle, well, people?”  “I do not know- but there are many instances of strange stories such as this, yes?”  “I s’pose so..” You mumbled, pursing your lips in thought. “But like it could be his half brother, right? Cause that would explain-”  “Quiet down now, you need rest, not stress over fiction turtles and the men who feed them.” 

Why was this Angela’s most fondly remembered conversation? Purely because of it’s ridiculousness. It wasn’t often that such strange topics popped up; no matter what Captain Amari would have had people believe.  Plus you didn’t remember it, and thus she could use it to entertain you in future.

Soon enough, Angela was conflicted as she walked to deliver you the news of your discharge from the medical bay. She was happy for you; she understood how frustrating it can be to be cooped up in one place for any prolonged amount of time. But she was almost... Melancholy, beneath that joy. With you leaving the medbay, she was unsure when she’d get to see you properly next. She didn’t get much free time when off the field or out of the medbay. Most of that free time was spent taking care of herself and her mental health, and was often only late at night. She wanted to spend more time with you so badly, that it made her heart practically ache from the thought of not seeing you for an extended amount of time. She had become enamoured with you, as unprofessional as that was.  As she approached your bed, clipboard in hand, she took a deep breath. She forced a wide smile onto her angelic features, and cleared her throat to capture your attention when she got close enough.  “Any news, Doc?” You ask with a small smile, to which she nods.  “Yes, actually. You’ve finally been deemed fit to leave the med bay.” At this information you looked rather happy, and Angela couldn’t fault you for such a feeling. 

As you started to sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed, Ziegler also moved round to offer you some help should you require it. Your legs are a little weak after staying in bed for so long, so you are a little wobbly  when you first get to your feet, but you don’t fall over, which is a very good sign in Angela’s eyes. “Thank you, Angela...” You smile at her, referring to everything she had done for you during your time in the medical ward.  “Bitte.” She replied, quite curtly. “Before you go, actually, there’s a couple of things I’d like to talk to you about...” Your brows furrow as she keeps talking.  “Is... Is something wrong?”  “No, no, not at all.” Angela assured you, understanding why you may be anxious about her words- usually when doctors or medical practitioners say something like that it’s never really good. “Far from it, actually.” This put your mind partially at ease, but not by much. She tried to give you what was an encouraging smile, but all it really managed to do was set your heart a-fluttering. Angela cleared her throat quietly.  “So- it may seem a little bit out of the blue for me to say something like this, I am well aware.” She started, trying to keep herself calm as she started to open up a little bit. “During your time under my care, I have... Grown rather fond of you; attached even.” With every word that passed her lips, you found yourself more and more awestruck. You silence seemed to unnerve Ziegler, causing her nerves to skyrocket. She remained outwardly calm, though. She didn’t know what to add to what she had said to improve it or make it less awkward, so she just stood there, tapping her fingers anxiously against the others. 

“Really?” Is all you can think to ask, your voice laced with an incredulous wonder that sounded closely akin to adoration. You would have asked if she were joking, but you knew very well that Angela wouldn’t joke about something like this. “I...” You trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase your next sentence adequately. “I’m rather fond of you too.” You settled to using her own words to describe your feelings. The look on Angela’s face told you that she probably didn’t think she’d get this far. “Oh...” She seemed at loss for words. 

You both stood their for a moment, trying to think of what to say to each other in light of these revelations. After about a minute or so, you broke the silence. “So.. Would you want to get a coffee, or tea sometime?” Your words seemed to break Angela out of a daze, and she gave you a rather large smile.  “Ah, yes, that would be lovely... Tea, and maybe some chocolates? I can bring some Swiss chocolate... It’s the best.” She told you with a quiet chuckle, and you nodded eagerly.  “That sounds good to me... What about time- when are you free?”  Angela had to think for a moment, “I’m off shift next Thursday.. What about five o’clock?” She asks, and you nod happily. “Wonderful!” She chuckled. “I shall see you then... I think you should get going before Morrison starts complaining that I’m keeping you back unnecessarily... I do believe he wishes to see you.” She informed, the fondness starting to show through in her voice.  You nod in gratitude.  “Thanks, Angela... Could I call you Angie, now?” You asked, rather cheekily. Angela rolled her eyes a little bit at the question.  “We’ll see. Now get going.” She hit your shoulder playfully, before moving away to fill in the paperwork about you being discharged. She gave you a final wave, and blew you a kiss as you walked out.