#it's at a healthy 10k words and needs so much editing

[post-it-notes7]

I started writing another one shot. It’s star trio time.

[rosesloveletters]

all is fair in love.

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 10,261

Warnings: sexual content / smut.

Summary: The holidays are Wonka's busiest season and his work keeps him away from reader much more than either of them would like. After hours, the two spend a passionate night together as they both make the necessary arrangements to be attentive to each other's needs and empathetic of the complexity of maintaining a healthy romantic relationship that neither reader nor Wonka are accustomed to.

Author's Note: my smut fics are always between 6-10k haha so enjoy. I edited this the best I could, but for some reason I kept switching between first person and second person pov for reader (I don't know why since I always write in second person pov.) I think I fixed most of it, so if there's any parts I missed, I'm sorry. Also, I'd like to mention that Christmas isn't inherently important to the events in this story. It is used as an element only to convey why Wonka is so busy during this time of year, because most people like to buy chocolate and candy as gifts. I know Gene was Jewish, even though I believe he said he wasn't exactly religious. I have no intention of trying to be offensive/belittle/make light of anyone's religion or beliefs and I apologize if it comes across that way because it is without a doubt not my intention. 

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

You’ve always believed that if you truly love someone, then you keep it a secret. 

You would let that feeling freeze me down to the core – to love the way a person is meant to, but it is that same love that, inevitably and irrevocably, suffocates. 

You cannot satisfy that craving the same way one might satisfy a sweet tooth. Once given a taste, it seeps down into your skin, infecting both body and mind, pierces the heart and tears it wide open. 

The thundering beat inside your chest cannot be silenced. The fingertips of fate trace the spider-like, lightning-strike veins that split your heart right down the middle. 

A broken heart takes love like a beating.

It all comes boiling to the surface, bubbling up and out in the breath of a second.

The truth always comes out, one way or another. 

Because if you don’t let the heart have its’ way, then it will tear itself right out of your chest.

***

The days were short, but the hours were long. 

You spent much of your time by yourself, as this season kept Willy preoccupied. Time marched onward and the weeks themselves seemed to drag; it was nearing Christmastime and that meant very little to you in the grand scheme of things, except that you’d be seeing less and less of your lover. 

Traditionally, the holidays were a time of celebration and joy, gifts and laughter shared between friends and families alike. 

However, you lived a nontraditional life now, and Willy had unwittingly shown you that the life of a chocolatier was a solitary one. You knew that the busy holiday season was what pulled him away, but his lack of attentiveness made you wonder…

The only thing that kept these thoughts at bay was the way in which he looked at you when he was around. 

Willy was a difficult man to read. Whether that was intentional or not, were you still trying to determine. The only dead giveaway were his eyes – startlingly intense and piercingly blue – that bore no resemblance to subtlety. 

The vastness of the heavens, it seemed, were contained within those swirling galaxies. On dark nights when the cloud cover was too thick, you traced the constellations in his eyes to guide you into his morning light. 

You could see yourself peeling back the layers of his heart to get to the source of how he truly felt.

Deflect from it all he might – “I’m a trifle deaf in this ear. Speak a little louder next time–” you saw right through him and sometimes that only made him steer clear of you for longer. 

It wasn’t that he did not care for you; it was quite the opposite. Perhaps the extent to which he cared was a bit overwhelming for him at times. He immersed himself in his work during these times, else his mind inevitably carried him to places he would rather not visit. 

Willy Wonka’s mind was not a place any person, sometimes even himself, should ever go without a guide or a distinct way back. 

Though anyone with half a brain could tell that the amazing chocolatier was a troubled man on occasion, his true nature shone through in his creations. Something about this season’s batch of chocolate was a touch sweeter than ones previous. It would go undetected by those who did not have a refined palate, but like the saying goes, a true artist would put their blood, sweat and tears into their work and Willy Wonka was a mastermind. 

He knew exactly what he was doing and what he meant to convey, if only between himself and one other: the world’s most famous chocolatier was in love.

***

You sat on the plush sofa in the personal wing of the factory, a book in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other. You were nestled beneath a thick-knit, purple blanket as you read and waited on Willy to return to your den for the night. 

You saw less and less of him the closer it got to the holidays, but such was the nature of his business. Christmastime was one of the busiest seasons and the one in which he made most of his money (the second being Valentine’s Day.) People bought exorbitant amounts of candies and chocolate during the holidays and so Willy was forced to expedite production (though never sacrificing quality) and work long, difficult hours preparing new and exciting treats for the public. In fact, it was no well-kept secret that Willy Wonka unveiled his newest creations around this time of year and that very news was plastered in every newspaper, magazine and bulletin across the world as people anticipated the exciting, brand-new sweets there would be to try. 

You knew the excitement and rush of the season fed into Willy’s own excitement over his work. He was thrilled to be working on new ideas and expressing himself through his creativity and imagination. It meant the world to him and so you did your best to stay out of the way. You did not want to make the situation about you and, after all, he always made it up to you.

 He was aware that his absence bothered you and he tried not to think about the fact that he may or may not be doing irreparable damage to your relationship. 

Not every difficult time or situation was an attack against you. It wasn’t personal, nor was it anyone’s explicit fault. Willy had a factory to run, Oompa-Loompas to manage and ideas to manifest into reality. Sometimes, your relationship would take a backseat and if you were serious about being with him, then you would have to be alright with that and you were, although that did not mean that it didn’t hurt from time to time. 

It would have been nice to relax and enjoy the season with your lover without his work getting in the way. You would have loved to curl up with him, sitting at opposite ends of the couch and enjoying lots of hot chocolate and hours of warm conversation. If you had your pick, you’d gladly have him here with you now, trading the book in your hands for his warm body, his fingers linked perfectly into the spaces between yours. 

You reasoned that this was just how things would have to be for now. No sense in adding more pressure on him by complaining. He was aware of how you felt, but sadly there was nothing to be done about it. You never would have dreamed of asking him to pick between his work and you. That would not have been fair or right. You could handle this, for now, but deep down you missed him terribly. 

Even if you chose to spend time with him inside the factory part of the building, he would be working the whole time. There simply was no time for much of anything else. He did like when you would drop by because you were his faithful little taste-tester. Better to try it out on you before selling it to the masses – that would seem cruel, knowing that his candies have had certain negative effects on people in the past, but rest assured, Willy had never given you anything that might harm you. 

Any candy which made its way to you had been tested and re-tested to perfection before it ever passed between your lips. 

He wanted feedback on his candy before it left the factory and you were more than happy to offer it to him, to which he was enthusiastically grateful. The only problem was, true to inventor fashion, he asked for feedback on everything. He wanted your opinion and was asking for it increasingly often these days. When you didn’t show up to the inventing room on certain days, he’d bring a whole box back to your shared living space and eagerly watch you with anticipation of your positive remarks as you were asked to try every piece. 

He was always so grateful to you for that and, honestly, you didn’t mind. You liked candy and chocolate, so there was no reason you couldn’t afford him this act of kindness.

The only thing you really felt like you were missing was him and it plagued your mind most often while you were alone, which was of course very often. You kept yourself busy and occupied your thoughts with other things as much as you were able, but when you settled in for the night, your loneliness crept in and took up the space beside you that would have otherwise been occupied by your beloved chocolatier.

You didn’t mind your alone time, but too much of it was not ideal. 

Too much of a good thing came with a price and now it seemed you were paying it with interest. 

The sound of a door opening and shutting pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced down at your book to realize you’d just had it propped open against your knees this whole time and hadn’t read a bit. You marked your place and closed it with a huff, setting it down on the end table beside you, your mug of half-drank cocoa with it. 

A quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall – thank God he hadn’t cut that one in half – showed that it was ten minutes after midnight. 

It did not come as a surprise that Willy was so late. It was only your wildest guess as to what he had been working on, but that point was moot. You did not really care what he was working on. 

That thought seemed harsh and you frowned; no, you were adamantly against resenting him for his work. That path was one you would not let yourself go down, a trap of codependence, you told yourself, but why couldn’t he just be a little more present with you? Surely it wasn’t too much to ask. 

Perhaps you would ask. 

It would make the most sense to be upfront with him about how you were feeling and to be as direct as possible. 

You did not move from the couch. You waited on Willy to come and find you, unlike the many days and nights when you might have greeted him at the door. 

Several quiet moments passed between yourself and your thoughts before Willy entered the room. He had shed his purple coat at the door, as well as his hat and cane, “there you are, my dear,” his gentle tone made your stomach clench as warmth pooled in your abdomen. Even troubled with doubts, you were still delighted to see him.

You watched as he approached and dropped himself on the opposite end of the couch. He nudged your knee with his, silently asking for a bit more space which you politely gave, “I would have been back sooner, but I’ve been so busy, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes, it is that time of year,” you replied coolly. You didn’t want to jump into the meat of the discussion too soon, otherwise he might take offense where there was none. 

He seemed in a good enough mood that perhaps this would be the perfect time to strike. 

“Yes, my dear, it’s the holiday season which does wonders for my business and I couldn’t be happier.”

His pride in the work he was doing warmed your heart. You listened to him for a while as he recounted what he had been working on that day. 

He cared so much and spoke so passionately, yet your mind began to wander.

“Is everything alright, my dear?”

His tender voice captured your attention and you blinked slowly, “yes, I’m fine. But, there is something I would like to talk to you about.” 

His lips hitched into a faint smile, then flattened into a serious line. It bothered you, not being able to read his face.

“There is? Well, you know that you can always talk to me about anything on your mind.”

You didn’t want to overwhelm him, not when he was already so fully immersed within his work. He needed time and space to focus. He did not need you hindering his creative flow by hanging all over him and demanding more attention. He already gave so much; how could you even dare to think that he owed you more?

“I know you’re busy this time of year, but do you think it would be possible for us to spend a little more time together?” My voice cracked as I added, “I…really miss you, Willy.” 

You hadn’t meant to speak with words that were laced with such pain, but in fairness you did miss him terribly. By the time he made his way to you most nights, you were already in bed or heading there and in the mornings before you’d woken up, he would be gone. It bothered you to not see him and you wanted him to hear it. He needed to know the truth if you meant to be honest with him, you only hoped he’d be able to understand that you didn’t blame him. 

Conversations like this always made you second guess yourself. 

By this point, you realized that he had not responded. He was probably just thinking about what he would say, but usually it didn’t take him this long to reply. 

“Willy?” you gently urged him, reaching out to place your hand on his arm. 

Whenever he felt the gentle graze of your fingertips against the fabric of his shirt, he glanced down, admiring the tender touch with a wistful smile on his face before he looked up at you and the emotion held inside of those ice-blue eyes was almost enough to send you over the edge and into uncontrollable sobs of relief. 

You felt the tension in your shoulders beginning to dissipate. Good, he felt the same way. 

He was still staring at you like there was something more on his mind. That was the way things were with Wonka and you’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought on more than one occasion that it’s a good thing you weren’t a mind reader because there were things that went on inside his head that should stay there. It was better that you didn’t try to trace his Machiavellian ways or make sense of the enigmatic man who so frequently surprised you with small glimpses into how he really thought and viewed the world. It was fun getting to know who he was, but the true wonderment was in not knowing him at all. 

He tested your mind and all your senses, but never pushed your boundaries. He could knock you off your stride in seconds, then act as if nothing had happened. You were playing his little chess game and he was already three or more moves ahead. It had only been a matter of time before you had fallen into his hands like this. 

Things were as they were because Wonka wanted them to be. His quips and wisecracks often went over people’s heads, especially because of how well-versed he was in literature and culture. He could make the whole world fall in love with him at once, then forget him as soon as they were no longer in his presence, but you believed the world adored him much more than he liked to think it did. 

“I didn’t say anything sooner because I didn’t want it to seem like I was being insensitive, since I know you’re not intentionally ignoring me.” 

This statement made him smile for some reason, “where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; where little fears grow great, great love grows there.” (William Shakespeare, Hamlet.)

At first, you didn’t know what to say. You had a bit of trouble discerning what he meant sometimes, missing the larger picture for deciding why he chose a specific quote at a specific time. 

Seeming to read your thoughts, he let out a polite chuckle, “This is to say, even in love do the smallest doubts scare you, but when you are afraid of such little things, you are still in love, too.”

His explanation seemed to help, if only for a second. 

It was true that you had your doubts, but those doubts only stemmed from love. That fear which grew inside of you had taken root, but when enough time had passed, it was the love which had bloomed from it. 

Both the fear and love would come with a connection as strong as this one.

In the beginning, Willy had never dreamed of having a romantic partner. His solitary lifestyle simply lacked the means necessary to cultivate a long-term relationship. He had never desired romance or human connection of any kind. He had his factory and the Oompa-Loompas to look after; he was stretched thin as it was.

It was with sickening rapture that he sought the reason for why his heart seemed so content within your hands. He had to know the true meaning behind what he felt, even if he had to wade out in to the wild, dark depths up to his neck. He was barely treading water, sinking still, feet kicking desperately and hands reaching, clawing for purchase but there was nothing for him to grab onto. No way to steady himself as his soul careened toward what he had been running from for so long, a runaway train on the track towards trust and away from self-preservation. 

At first, you wanted to be the one in control. You had your fair share of demons and setting the pace for the relationship yourself was very important to you, but neither of you wanted to go too far too fast. 

You became acclimated to his world quite quickly. 

You just seemed to fit right in and, with time, Wonka found himself closer to you than he had ever been with another person. 

The two of you had been together for quite some time now and the red string of fate binding your hearts together was pulled taut. 

It seemed that you both knew you were in the right hands and the love that grew here was stronger than any fears or doubts which gripped you. 

“What scares me the most is that you’re pulling away from me,” you confessed to him, and that revelation made his eyes widen perceptibly, “sometimes I think you don’t even realize that you’re doing it.”

The conversation had shifted and Wonka realized that you were no longer just discussing his absence in light of the holidays. There was deeper emotion and meaning laced within what you were saying to him now. 

He was used to being alone, as were you. The only difference was that while you had never lost hope that the right person might come along, he had done everything he could to close himself off. His heart was a precious thing and that was what the world had been after. Yes, he had closed his factory because of theft, but he put his whole heart into his work and, if anyone were to steal his heart, then there would be nothing left for the one whom it belonged to. 

He made sure he guarded his heart all these years, even if he didn’t know the reason for it. It was easier to deny the very fact that love was something every person desires, even ones who have become so layered and complex that it would be difficult to imagine what a true love might look like for them. 

Wonka was not afraid of anything. 

However, if one thing made him apprehensive it was the idea of anyone finding him out. 

Not that there was any chance of that; no one was able to think quite like him. But if anyone came close, that meant he’d cling to them forever, holding on for dear love. 

His gaze shifted down to your hands that were folded in your lap and reached for one. Long, delicate fingers gently wrapping around your right hand as he brought it to his mouth. 

A kiss for each finger, you counted, one two three four five…

Then, his lips made contact with your inner wrist. The sudden and unexpected brush of lips against your sensitive skin made your breath hitch.

“I promise to be more attentive,” he whispered on your skin, his hot breath tickling the inner area of your wrist, “the only one pulling me anywhere is you and I am only moving forward.” 

“You’ve got to go forwards to go back.”

He had believed that, in more ways than just one, in relation to his factory and to people, but there was no going back now. Even if that were an opinion, he wouldn’t have wanted to.

Within half a second, he dropped your hand and tilted his head, leaned in close and pressed his warm lips to yours in the most sensual, tender kiss your lips had ever known.

Your heart fluttered in your chest like butterfly wings beating against your ribcage, desperate to free itself and get to his. Your soul sought the kind of connection that your mouths were getting and jealousy was an understatement. 

If this was his way of making it up to you, then let it be known that you wanted nothing else for Christmas this year than a clear mind and the taste of your lover left over on your cupid’s bow. 

It was all electric, body and soul alight, glistening brighter than fairy lights strung up for the season. 

He tasted sweeter than his own candy and you smiled into the kiss at the very thought. He ate a lot of his own sweets, if only to test the taste, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sugared kisses, your sweet tooth craving satisfied only by his honeyed lips. 

Somewhere in the haze you found the opportunity to grip handfuls of his tawny tresses, fingers digging into the soft curls that drove your heart mad with desire. You loved his hair and so infrequently did he let you touch or comb it. It was about as unruly as he was, wild, untamed and free, just like the man it belonged to. 

Your gentle tugging on his hair elicited a soft grunt from him and his lips attacked yours more feverishly, taking on a more aggressive quality now that you had accepted and encouraged him. 

There was no rhyme or reason for anything that occurred while you were with him, except what was happening now.

Wonka did everything on a whim. Sleeping, eating, working…no schedule, no routine, no nonsense. 

“A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.”

Perhaps the most nonsensical thing that had ever happened in Wonka’s factory was your fear that he might leave you. 

Strike that. Don’t reverse it. 

You didn’t want anything to change. There were more twists and turns in this man’s head than there were in his factory and you had lost yourself trying to find your way out. You never left his mind, not once. Even while he worked or spent time alone, you were in his thoughts, whether it was subconscious or not. 

Your own mind didn’t register your movement as you crawled closer and sought out more of his sugary sweetness which was more potent than any nectar of the gods. Your lips devoured his, tasting every inch of the same mouth that poured prose and poetry into your ear each night that you laid with him.

He hummed pleasantly against your lips. His gentle sounds teased you; so rare was it that he ever made a sound during these moments of intimacy. Oh, how you tried, and your futile attempts filled him with great satisfaction. He had more discipline than you ever imagined; living alone for so many years without the warmth of another had taught him to go without, but desperation clung to his bones and manifested through each fervent, heated kiss. 

Willy wouldn’t have described himself as needy, but he appreciated physical intimacy when it occurred and sometimes it was as necessary as any other proper communication. He wanted more than a quick romp; he craved human connection. It was completely unfounded for someone like him to want to share a connection with anyone, but here he was asking for it with his mouth on yours and your reciprocation of that same need meant everything to him. 

You tested the waters, grazing your teeth along his bottom lip to determine how far he might be willing to go. He didn’t stop you. His lips simply parted, allowing entry of your tongue. 

The only sound he made was a little gasp, which you swallowed as your tongue delved in to taste the inside of his mouth. Your hands were still holding the sides of his head, fingers buried deep within his unruly curls. 

He helped maneuver your body closer to his, unabashedly bringing you to sit on his lap. As you settled on top of him, one of his large hands moved down to the small of your back and held you firmly in place. 

You could feel the heat of his hand through your shirt. You had no grasp of how long the two of you continued to kiss like that. The passage of time, though a precious thing, was unimportant in the current moment. The only thing you demanded more of was him and you would greedily take all that he had to offer you. 

You were enchanted by him. He surprised you at every turn and, if it had been anyone else, you’d have questioned where you stood with them, but wasn’t that the point? The less anyone knew about Willy Wonka, the more exciting it felt to be in his presence. 

It was impossible to know whether the things he revealed about himself were true or not and there was beauty in that alone. If beauty was in the eye of the beholder, then he had the upper hand here.

You did not stop to see why his hand had suddenly been removed from your back, but any questions you might’ve wished to voice were answered when you noticed him reaching for one of the top buttons on his vest. 

The steady progression of events had led you here and you were too immersed within the moment to stop him, but you wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. You were entranced, enthralled, enraptured by the whole of him and his heart belonged to yours. 

The wet graze of your tongue against his cupid’s bow spurred him further, lips tangled tantalizingly with yours as his fingers worked open the buttons on his vest. 

The threshold had been breached. 

The moment was yours for the taking, if you wanted it and you knew that you did. 

Lost somewhere between drunk on lust and in love, you began to help him unbutton, starting at the bottom of his vest and continuing until your hands met in the middle of his chest. You followed this same pattern for both rows of buttons.

Coincidentally, this journey ended right above his heart, but another one was merely beginning. 

Your hands were shaking with anticipation as you looked up to notice him already gazing at you lovingly. A tender smile curved his lips like a crescent moon and the sunlight bleeding out through the cracks in your soul made the stars in his eyes sparkle. 

You cupped his cheek and pressed a gentle kiss onto the bridge of his nose. His arms encircled you, holding you flush against him and his shirtsleeves rode up on his forearms, exposing just a fraction of skin with a fine dusting of sand-colored hair. 

You let him hold you to him as his lips attached to your neck. You imagined when he pulled back that there would be an imprint of lips, a tattoo of his love painted across your collarbone, signifying that you belonged to him alone. 

You tilted your head to give him better access and he thanked you by delivering a loving nip to the column of your neck. 

You hadn’t forgotten your intention. 

With hands still shaking, you reached for his vest and pulled it open. His lips detached from your neck in an instant and long, elegant fingers wrapped around your wrist, effectively stopping you from undressing him. 

His eyes were crystalline pools of skylight, airy and substantially quantified by the depths within them. They had a mirror-like quality and you could see yourself reflected in them as you held his gaze for a heartbeat too long. 

“Only if…this is something that we both want…”

Willy’s words of brevity filled you with wonder. 

“If I’m being honest with you, Willy…I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more than I want you now.” 

That single sentence melded with and fused into his soul. In a breath-to-breath admission of consent, your words had tied his tongue with cursive letters. 

He breathed a sigh of relief and held within that exhale was his own consent. You had granted him permission, assuring him that you were not offering yourself out of obligation or for complacency’s sake and that thrilled him perhaps as much as the act itself would. He felt the blood rush to his groin and he moved beneath you, shifting your body weight more onto his thigh. 

Willy nuzzled your cheek, dragging his nose along your soft skin. His arms had yet to unravel themselves from around you; he wanted to take his time. However, he was increasingly aware of his own sense of desperation. It had been some time since he had last gotten into bed with a lover. 

Actually, the last time he had gotten into bed with anyone was with you. 

Willy had a low sex drive, but on occasion it would crop up and remind him that he was, in fact, human and had needs, whether it was simple biology or heightened by the desire to connect with the one he loved. 

Whenever he thought of a lover and what had previously been just some nameless face at the forefront of his mind, that vision was now you. Yours was the love he sought; your hands were the ones meant to hold his heart. 

He let go of you and shrugged off his vest. 

Your lips captured his once again and he imagined this was what dreams tasted like. 

He went to stand up and you quickly took the hint and moved off his lap. He got up and began unbuttoning his white undershirt while you watched. He could see the fire burning in your irises, your pupils dilated with desire as you watched his delicate fingers pop open each button. 

You knew better than to rush him; a treat as sweet as him was meant to be savored. 

You took this opportunity to slip your own shirt off your body. With your skin exposed, his eyes traveled across your midsection and his fingers hesitated, fumbling the button he was on. His breath hitched and you swore you heard him whisper the word “beautiful” as he gazed upon you. 

Once he had recovered, the swiftness with which he finished removing his undershirt made your head spin. In his haste, he had forgotten to remove his bow tie and unbutton his sleeve cuffs, which made you giggle. He seemed flustered, his cheeks reddening once he realized, and perhaps this was the first time you had ever witnessed him with a blush on his cheeks. 

You reached out to help him and a soft chuckle dripped from his lips like maple syrup, “It would appear I’ve gotten a bit ahead of myself, my dear.”

You chuckled as well as his bow tie and undershirt were removed, “well, I’ll take it as a compliment…that you seem so eager to have me.”

Your words were spoken as if in jest, but his response was anything but. 

“Doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt that I love,” he quoted, his smooth baritone steeping you in the tea of his desire. (William Shakespeare, Hamlet.)

It was enough to quiet your mind and when he said it, you felt your entire world get a little smaller. Your heightened senses had inflated your soul and carried you to the clouds. You were a runaway balloon stuck in a tree and his words were the hand that enclosed around your string. You had seen vast lands and known love in its many forms, but never until this moment had you felt so much in the presence of one. 

His heart knew yours better than it knew itself and the cracks left by heartbreak were filled in by your endless love for each other. 

You moved in to kiss him again and his hands cupped your warm cheeks. His breath tasted as sweet as the chocolate he made, which only made sense because of how often you saw him sampling it. He kept a bit in his coat that he’d pull out and nibble upon and often would you go sifting through his pockets for little treasures and treats that he had left over. Sometimes you found such delights that it had to have been no accident that they had been left behind. No, he knew your guilty pleasure was his chocolate and he made sure to satisfy your cravings, both for chocolate and for him, as often as possible.

Your tongue slipped inside his mouth and he finally graced your ears with a very delicate moan. 

His hands moved down the length of your arms to finally grab your hips. He pulled you in, your pelvis against his, and you could feel the hard press of his bulge against your thigh. 

While you kissed, he began to walk you backwards toward your shared bedroom. 

You could not have torn your lips apart to look where you were going even if you wanted to. 

You trusted him to get you there safely, perhaps more than you had ever trusted another person or at least you hadn’t trusted anyone this deeply in a very long time. Too many others had taken a hammer to your jawbreaker heart and smashed it to more manageably sized pieces, but once broken, it could never be put back together without its’ once-pristine surface now marred with jagged cracks. 

At least the breakage let the light of your soul pour out into his hands…

Willy was stained by your brokenness, his heart bruised the color of your trauma. 

He had been burned before, broken in a very real way, and therefore it was never a question of if you would trust him, but how much and when. He knew how long it could take a person to truly open up if they wanted to, but for you, he was willing to wait an eternity and then some. 

Time stood still and Willy had the presence of mind to remember how it felt to cradle your body to his when the only things that cemented your souls was an equal share of trust and love for one another and the mutual decision to take just one more chance. 

You sighed with relief when the backs of your knees connected with the mattress. 

Willy didn’t push you or press for more. His lips left yours in favor of your neck and several chaste yet sweet kisses were left along your collar bone as if his lips were asking for permission without the accompaniment of words. 

 In between you, you reached for his belt. 

He felt your fingers wrap around the waistband of his trousers and a gentle smirk crossed his features, “after something, are we?” 

His coy response made the tips of your ears get hot and you huffed, “well, it isn’t my fault that I’ve gone and gotten all excited…”

“I hope you’re not implying that it’s mine,” he replied as his smirk widened. 

“I wasn’t implying anything,” your time spent with him had sharpened your wit, “I’m saying it.”

His eyes shared in your mirth, twinkling with laughter at your response. He wrapped an arm around your lower back and pulled you in. With his cheek to yours, lips near your ear, he whispered, “shall we make use of your excitement, then, dear?”

You felt a shudder run down your spine as he spoke to you, the dulcet undertones of his honeyed voice pierced you like a knife through the delicate flesh of an orange. You wanted to sink your fingers into his heart and peel it apart to devour the pieces, sustaining yourself on his love. 

You nodded and he deemed it appropriate to continue. He gently pushed your hands from his belt and took on the task himself. He pulled it from the loops and laid it on the chair nearest to him. 

When he turned back to you, you were already removing your pants. He smiled to himself, stopping in his tracks to admire you as you undressed. He almost wanted to help you, but held himself back. Mutual trust came at a price and he would not want to overstep any unspoken boundaries. You had not explicitly told him not to help, but you hadn’t told him to do it either and so he decided it was best to let you indicate what you wanted from him and how comfortable you were with the situation. 

Neither you nor he were particularly trusting individuals. Your experiences with people who took advantage of others made you wary and skeptical, through no fault of your own. Maturity and wisdom came with age and while you had both grown and learned, you had built walls around yourselves both figuratively and literally, in Wonka’s case, to guard your hearts and protect them. 

Now, you were bearing your souls to each other.

It was an unlikely thing, but you were both ready. You had known Wonka for a long time now and you had no doubt that you and he were meant to be in each other’s lives. There was a reason that you were here. Even though you might have needed a bit of reassurance from time to time, it was never because you truly thought he might leave you. Giving word to that unreasonable fear set you free, because in your heart of hearts you realized that you were not afraid at all. 

You were lonely.

You had forced it down for years, but acknowledging it now was cathartic, because never again would you find yourself isolated like you had so many years before. 

Willy was no stranger to isolation either. Though he had reasons other than your own, he empathized. 

It was difficult, at times, for the two of you to find a rhythm. Both of you had been alone for so long that it took time to become acclimated to sharing your lives with each other, but in this moment you both knew that there was no person you would each rather share a life with than each other. 

Willy was never at risk of pulling away. He was simply learning how to love you. 

As soon as you pushed off your pants and stepped out of them, he was kissing you again. In a flourish of limbs and bare skin, you fell backwards onto the mattress with him. His hot lips descended over yours as his fingers linked into the spaces between your own. In all ways except for one, your two bodies were unified and, if either of you could help it, that would soon be remedied. 

The mattress dipped and shifted beneath your shared weight as Willy crawled on top of you. You held his hands for as long as you were capable of doing before you needed to feel him more solidly at your fingertips. You dropped his hand, grabbed his shoulder and dug in your nails to hear him hiss into your ear and nip at your neck. 

He couldn’t even finish undressing because you demanded every ounce of his attention. 

Your spirits were engaged in this battle of carnality and you had consumed him, corrupted his mind and possessed him body and soul, but all’s fair in love and war, both of which you had waged fervently on his senses. 

At risk of ruining the moment, he pulled away and got up to finish removing his trousers. Your chest heaved as you took a moment to catch your breath, propping yourself up on one arm. 

“And here I thought…we were just getting to the good part,” I quipped. A teasing smile bloomed on my face as he turned to look down at me. 

“And I thought you liked my kisses,” He replied without missing a beat. 

His lopsided grin made you giggle, but the sound of his zipper being pulled down tore your attention away from the witty banter. The fire of fierce need had begun to burn bright inside your belly once again after being extinguished to mere embers only seconds ago. 

You watched him kick off his trousers and make no move to pick them up.

He moved back down onto the bed and leaned into you. You met him halfway and pecked a chaste kiss onto his lips. Your bodies fit together like two immaculately chiseled sculptures whose delicate features appeared to be made of something much softer than stone. 

You knew what he wanted from you now and you felt goosebumps rising on your flesh as you anticipated his caress. 

He cupped your head, holding you to him as he lowered you back against the pillows. He liked to take charge of this part himself and you let him, despite the anxiety you felt at relinquishing control over yourself. You didn’t like feeling out of control, especially of your body and Willy knew this. He tried his best to make you feel comfortable and safe, never moving forward without verbal consent. 

“Shall I touch you, dear?” 

You reflected on his question before you nodded, swallowing thickly before you could make a sound, “yes.” 

You knew that he would check in with you frequently to make certain you still wished to continue. 

With your consent, his fingertips grazed the length of your arms. His warm touch sent pleasant shivers through you and you fought the urge to arch into him. He had a way of making you feel everything he wanted you to feel with just one touch. It was like magic, the control he had over your body and sometimes you wondered if his creative abilities branched into other realms as well. 

His hands slid down your sides, massaging your warm skin and admiring your supple curves, the angles and indentations of your hips. Before he traveled lower, Willy wanted to devote some appreciation to the rest of your body first. His hands moved to your back, working underneath you to swiftly unclip your bra. He had a way of doing things so fast that you barely had time to register what he was doing before it was done. Perhaps it didn’t seem possible, but impossibility did not exist where Willy Wonka came from; if there was a way to do the impossible, he had already figured it out and told no one. 

With your unclasped bra no longer pulled taut, he delicately pushed the straps off your shoulders and plucked the hindersome piece of fabric away from your chest. It dropped unceremoniously to the floor and his blue eyes glittered with mischief when he looked upon your exposed breasts. 

You wanted to cover them, but he held your arms at your sides. True to the creative genius he was, he had to admire beauty where and when he saw it and you were a masterpiece. His tight smile had relaxed as he gazed down at you beneath him and he practically cooed with appreciation for your form. 

“You’re very beautiful,” he whispered heatedly, like it was almost difficult for him to get the words out. He was overwhelmed with all his attention focused on the body before him. 

You wanted to thank him for the compliment, but all that came out was a soft squeak. 

He chuckled at your little sound and bent his head. He placed a firm kiss on your left breast and you sighed in pleasure at the gentle touch of his plush lips on your pillowy skin. His lips traced the curves of your breasts before encircling one of your nipples, suckling lightly as if it were a piece of candy. 

You mewled and arched into his mouth, desiring more from him and as quickly as possible, but Willy liked to take his time with you. He never left you unsatisfied, but you could expect nothing to be fast paced. 

His fingers wrapped around your hips to hold you in place as he moved to your other breast and did the same thing. His hot tongue teased your candy pieces to hardness and he hummed his appreciation, sending waves of pleasure down to your core. 

You squirmed in his grasp and whimpered pathetically, “please, Willy,” you begged him, “I want you now.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have me, dear,” he reassured you, his thumbs rubbing placatingly against your hips, “when I’m ready for you to.” 

His teasing remark made you huff in irritation until his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your cotton panties and paused you in your tracks. 

You whined as his fingers barely breached the fabric barrier before he removed them. His hands moved to your inner thighs and spread your legs apart for him to nestle in between them. 

All you could do was watch as he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to your navel, just below your belly button. His kisses traveled lower and lower down your pelvis to your pubic bone and finally to your core. You writhed in pleasure when his mouth found its way to where you wanted it, but your panties were still in the way and you groaned with frustration. 

Heat emanated from your core due to your arousal and the crotch of your panties were damp with your wetness. 

Your head dropped back against the pillow as he used the tip of his nose to brush lightly against your clit through your panties. 

You were so pliant to his will and responsive to his touch that he almost felt powerful. If it had been anyone other than him, he would have, but all he felt in this moment was an overwhelming feeling of love. The fact that he could give you a comfortable experience of vulnerability and pleasure perhaps did enflame his ego a bit, but he loved you even more for it. To see you enjoying yourself because of him was almost too much for him to handle and he could feel his cock swell to attention. 

He placed a couple of open-mouthed kisses to the crotch of your panties before he dragged them down your legs. He would have liked to tease you more, but he was already beginning to lose patience and he didn’t want to rush through too quickly. 

With your panties removed, he could admire your glistening folds and the sweet juices that had dribbled out of you. His mouth watered as he delved in for a taste, his tongue tentatively flickering against your opening. 

You let out a cry and bucked your hips, desperate for him to fill you. You needed friction and fullness to achieve release and Willy knew you couldn’t get either of those things without his compliance. He smirked at that and lowered his head between your thighs. 

Your hot core pulsed as more of your honey leaked onto his tongue. He moaned in satisfaction, savoring the taste of your sweetness and the delicious sounds you were making for him. He had never tasted anything this sweet except for his chocolate and if he could have only one of those two things right now he would have picked you without a second thought. 

It was almost too much for him to pull his mouth away, but he knew that he must if he were to indulge in the ultimate act of pleasure with you. You both wanted that more than you wanted air to breathe. A greater craving than candy, your existing love and soul connection a stronger aphrodisiac than chocolate. 

With a final flick of his tongue against your clit, he dragged his mouth off you. You whimpered at the loss, but in the back of your lust-flavored cotton candy mind you knew that your shared night of pleasure was just beginning. 

He got off the bed again and opened the nightstand drawer. He withdrew a small tinfoil packet and a small clear bottle of lubricant. 

You were still sprawled out on the mattress, your hair a halo around your head. The darkened room made it difficult to see what he was doing, but your eyes had adjusted enough for you to see movement.  

You felt eyes on you and before you glanced up from the object he was holding, his voice broke the silence, “are you comfortable continuing?”

Driven by lust and lover’s greed, you nodded your consent. Willy did not respond at first, waiting on your actual acknowledgement and proper agreement. Your voice was shaky as you replied to him, but you knew what you wanted and were certain in your response, “yes. I want this. I want you, Willy.”

The sincerity in your voice convinced him and he tore open the condom wrapper. 

Excitement thrilled you and coursed through your veins, carried into your heart by blood. Your body was singing with sensation as you wanted nothing more than his solid body atop you, his hard length buried in your tight heat. 

You watched him with barely-concealed enthusiasm – well, perhaps the only concealment was from the darkness in the bedroom – as he took off his underwear and rolled the condom on. He then squirted a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and coated his cock. 

You could hear him jerking himself off and the obscenely slick sounds from the generous amount of lube. He had yet to give himself any physical stimulation up until this point and you were eager to repay the favor. 

In the dark, your reached for him and he came to you, ready to meld together and fill you full of himself. 

He positioned himself on top and guided your legs around his hips. He propped himself up with one forearm flat against the mattress so that he wouldn’t rest his entire body weight on you and the other guided his condom-covered tip to your entrance. 

He gave your forehead a tender kiss as he pressed in. Your lips parted at your sharp intake of breath and your muscles tightened and seized around him. Willy kissed your face, calming you and keeping you still and relaxed until he bottomed out. 

He nuzzled against your cheek and moved his free arm behind you to cradle your head. 

You tilted your head back and captured his lips. The two of you kissed lazily for several moments as your bodies adjusted to one another. Your walls twitched around his cock, sending jolts of electricity down to his toes, into the pit of his stomach and behind his eyes. Everything felt fuzzy and seemed out of focus except for you. 

The one thing that was clear to him was his love for you and the appreciation he had for you being a part of his life. If he could not trust a single soul with his legacy, he knew that he could trust you with himself and that was more than enough. 

For once, nothing made you question Willy Wonka; his intentions were clear.

Your fears were just that: fear. It was irrational and based on nothing of consequence. However, the very fact that you were afraid let you and he both know how much you cared. 

You would never take Willy, and he would never take you, for granted. 

He would reassure you that though he was not used to sharing his world with another, that you were his world now and you would share in every aspect with him and reap the rewards of a unique and whimsical life with perhaps the greatest chocolatier who ever lived. 

Take out all the fantasy and spectacle and you were left with only love and imagination. 

All these people thought the most fantastical thing about Willy Wonka were his creations, but what took your breath away, and had since the beginning, was the man behind those creations.

 You had fallen in love with him as much as you had with his brain and his intellect, his body, his soul. You wanted to dip your fingers into him like if he were made of melted chocolate. You would lick the essence of his existence off your fingertips to taste his candy-coated soul and sugared thoughts. There were not many candies or chocolates of the Wonka brand that you hadn’t tried, but none were sweeter than the man himself. 

If he existed only in your mind, then your mind was alive with the thought of him. 

All too soon, your thoughts abandoned you as you felt him begin to move. 

He slowly pulled out, angled his hips and pushed back in. 

The sudden movement jarred your body and you clung to him tighter. 

As he began to set a pace, you rolled your hips down onto him each time that he pushed in. This seemed to please him, witnessing you thrusting with him, your bodies moving in unison toward a shared release and reciprocation of pleasure. 

He grunted softly in your ear with the effort of thrusting into you. His soft curls tickled your cheek and you bit back a giggle. A particularly rough thrust ripped the sound from your throat and you laughed aloud. 

His brows furrowed in amusement at your laughter, but he grinned with you nonetheless. 

His thrusts became harsher, deepening as you adjusted and conformed to the rhythm and pace he set that was creating a delicious friction between your legs. You moaned shamelessly into his ear and he thrusted harder, encouraged by the sinful sounds you were making. 

Willy kissed you, his lips feverishly moved against yours as he held you in his embrace and your skin blazed with red hot fervor. A thin sheen of sweat clung to your bodies and you could feel the heat rolled off him in waves. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but it didn’t bother you as you kissed him harder, demanding more intensity out of your shared intimacy. Your core pulsed, muscles gripping and clenching tightly around his cock. 

Your moans began to take on a higher pitch the closer you got to your release. Willy could tell that you were close now and he was eager to send you over the edge. Sex was, at least for him, about mutual enjoyment and gratification, not domination, exploitation or manipulation. It was about individuals who loved each other enough to put aside their individuality and become one, just for a moment of bliss. 

His forehead pressed against yours as he thrusted into you harder than before, his pace becoming erratic the closer he came to his own release. 

As he panted, you felt his breath fan across your face and he smelled of chocolate.

You balanced on the edge of oblivion as your feverish coupling would soon send you into orgasm. 

After a few more hard thrusts, Willy slipped a hand between your legs and gently rubbed your clit. Your release seized you, your body shaking violently with hurricane force winds of equal parts pleasure and zest. It was as if the air had been knocked out of you and you were falling down into his waiting arms. Ecstasy radiated from your core, carried in waves throughout your body. 

You were alone with your pleasure, waiting on your lover to join you in the afterglow. 

You cried out his name as he thrusted into you through your orgasm. He lasted several moments after you came before he released, filling the condom with several hot bursts of his seed. 

He had just enough strength left in his body to pull out and collapse beside you. His harsh panting soon turned to gentle sighs as his heartrate decreased and his body cooled. His strawberry blonde curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat and were sticking out at wild angles except for the top which was always a bit flattened from the way he wore his hat. 

You reached out and petted his frizzy hair, your fingers delicately massaging his scalp. He let out a quiet little moan and you smiled at him. 

With a deep inhale, he sat up and peeled the sticky condom off his softening prick. He tied it up and tossed it in the wastebin, then snatched his underwear off the ground. He picked yours up as well and handed them to you for you to slip on. 

You got off the bed and put your panties back on, then crossed the room to the bathroom. A few moments later, when you returned after you had cleaned yourself up, you found him lying in bed waiting for you. 

He smiled at you as you approached and extended an arm out to let you curl into his side as you got back on the bed with him. He already had a blanket laid out to pull across your nude bodies so that you could cuddle in modesty and without getting a chill. 

He looked down to watch you settle in and you met his gaze for a moment, appreciating his features. His gorgeous blue eyes were like pools of galaxy speckled with stars. His aquiline nose, which most people thought was too big for his face, looked proportionate in your opinion and beautiful just the same. He had the softest features of any man you had ever seen, slightly chubby cheeks, a round face and curved jawline. He was exquisite in every sense of the word and just looking at him made you fall more deeply in love. 

As attractive as he was to you, his personality spoke to yours in a language only the two of you spoke fluently. 

His appreciation for literature and culture was unique and inspiring and, because it tied in with your own, you learned a lot from each other. His quick wit and casual snide remarks that often passed over other people’s heads made you laugh as though you were enjoying your own little joke with each other.  

During your private appreciation for this man, you concluded that you had no reason to ever think he might be pulling away from you. 

In surreal Willy Wonka fashion, he seemed to read your thoughts as he finally spoke, “I’d like to see you in the Inventing Room with me tomorrow. I want you to be as involved with the holiday busy season as I am.” 

He addressed your insecurities by offering a solution to the problem and your heart felt a bit lighter. He wanted you to be involved in his work so that you didn’t feel so isolated or lonely. He had promised to be more attentive and he intended to do just that, but you could offer him aid and visit him while he worked. True love was buoyed by compromise; you’d see to it that you did your part to keep your relationship strong. 

“Forgive me for not being as attentive as I should be,” he continued, “I’ve been so busy, not to excuse myself.”

“I understand,” you replied. 

He seemed surprised for a moment, as if he half-expected you to still be upset, “and it isn’t entirely your fault. I should come around more if I’m missing you. We’ll find a solution. We have time.” Willy put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close so he could kiss your head, “time is a precious thing, my dear. Never waste it.”

Between his words, you heard what he was not saying. 

And while he had a point, what you did have was now. 

You could agree just to exist for a moment, sharing in the silence of the universe and listening to nothing but your dreams and the sounds of your hearts. 

You would fall into each other the same way that you fell in love: accidentally and achingly slow. 

One day you would both look up and see how far you had come, but for now, you still had a way to go. 

You knew his heart belonged to yours and that was enough to keep trying. Once the busy season calmed down and you had more time to focus on the two of you, you would ease into it like lovers were meant to, but right now you had an obligation to yourselves not to let the fear of failure drive you apart. 

It might seem fatalistic to ruin a relationship before it had run its course, but you’d seen it happen and the last thing you wanted was for that to be yours. 

You knew deep down that it wouldn’t happen. 

Your love was as strong as your imaginations were wild and no mind would ever dare dream the two of you apart. 

[fr-wiwiw]

I have no art to post— actually I do. It's my studies and sketches, sfw & nsfw, things like that. But I haven't been deliberately drawing something. Mainly I've just been focusing on sharpening my art skills to gain commissions as I'm a freelance human artist, in the midst of AI chaos, I'm trying my very best to keep up while not draining myself.

So I just want to give you some updates of my life, idk if this is important or not. I'm still a bit constipatedly (is this even a fucking word lol) awkward with communicating with my followers or advertising myself. Ironic, really, bcs I majored in design & advertisement.

Hi there, my lovelies—I hope you don't mind me calling you all that. I've been trying to do healthy habits and diligently fulfill my needs in 3 aspects. Mentally, spiritually and physically. For the past 7± years, I was not really in a great place mentally. I will not expose it in this post, don't worry it doesn't have anything to do with drugs or whatnot. Just that I've been constantly working and working, controlled by fear and my anxieties and I got depressed I think.

I didn't really understand how to actually 'heal' back then. But now I do now. Starting from January I've been trying to bounce back to have a healthy mindset again— trust me when I say I'm an overthinker & problem solver, it's such a nightmare to live in this body sometimes. Fellow overthinker, problem-solver & feeler type will relate to this perhaps hahah.. I'm a turbulence type too, fucking yay. Luckily, my prayers are answered. I can't write it down one by one here, you would be reading a 10k+ fanfiction and I'm sure you'd rather have me draw or write a real fanfic, smut would be preferable won't it? lol

I have many things change, become my better self (bcs I was, still am obsessed becoming better than my past self and I'm tired of living in such dark headspace). I do feel the changes, it helps that I have better friends, filtered out some that affects me negatively. This journey going into my 30s really is such a roller coaster, I never liked my 20s bcs of all the trauma and pain. But I wouldn't be able to reach this point if it wasn't for it.

So.. I'm grateful. Trying to always be grateful too, no matter how hard my circumstances are. I have faith that I will get what I've always envisioned and dream of

I'm also grateful that in 2022, a friend encouraged me to post my Gahan fanart. Now this may seem like biased and dedicated post for my Gahan moots & followers, in some way yes, I cannot deny that. But mostly this is too all of you, who come here and follow me bcs you like my arts & fanfics, supports me however you can despite having our own hardships that we may or may not share here. Your responses to my creations really feeds me and help me boost my confidence to keep drawing & keep creating, keep hoping. I always read your hashtags here, a lot of you are really such a hilarious individuals. I'm grateful my art can find you or you find my art and take delight in it. Because I do take delight in your reactions. In some ways, I never realized it, but you guys feel like penpals. It still feel one-way communication most of the time, idk if it's because of my awkwardness to respond to such responses. Feeling like, ah this too will pass or just bask in the reactions and sit then do nothing productive. I'm kinda scared I will be satisfied with one post and then not post anymore. You get it.. Yea you can probably tell by now I'm up in my head thinking too much. Posting that first Gahan fanart on twitter really was the best decision. It feels like I gained a special community, that's surprisingly still active and alive till this very day, I'm always waiting for new fics to drop gosh. I get to see tweets & tumblr posts that are deranged, detailed analysis, fan edits, those gifs, aus, fellow artists & authors! I get to know little bits of your daily lives too and what kind of person you are online haha, just so fun.

And then my freelancing journey.. My decision to become a freelancer has always been one of my dreams but boy oh boy isn't it fucking hard to start from 0 and exist in confusion haha. Money doesn't come easy too bcs I help feed my family along with my siblings. I've been swallowing all my jealousy seeing ppl my age can go out and watch concerts (even tho I don't like crowded & noisy places like that). Going on vacation, be in a romantic relationship, marry, so on and so forth. Idk if this is tmi posting my feelings like this out in the world, but it is what it is.

So.. TLDR:

Hi, I'm alive. I haven't post or updated much bcs I've been focusing on my well being. Honing my art skills, trying to get art commissions to put food on my table and simultaneously enjoying life as much as I could wisely. Thankyou to all of you who are still following me and keep supporting me, I will have to say, If you follow me for only Gahan posts, I have to disappoint you bcs I won't always post Gahan bcs I draw other things too. For my enjoyment, yours, others and mostly for me to gain market for commission too. This is norm, I'm sure most of you realized that too. But I still want to address things to you, I like interacting with all of you. I won't be surprised if one day you leave/unfollow, but let me be grateful to you while you're still here supporting me ^^

That's all for my update. I try my best to make this post as short but effective as possible so I don't bore you with my long ass writing, per usual lol. I cannot seem to write in shorts, I have accepted my faith lmao.

I wish you all well, wherever you are. I hope we can all be happy and well in this dark and uncertain place. Don't hesitate to give comments or drop questions here, I'm cooking my skills and art taste so I can give more to you and be satisfied with what I will achieve along with the progress.

See you in the next post!🌟

[providing-leverage]

How long do you usually like your fics to be? And how far in advance do you write, if at all?

Great questions! The answer to both is: depends.

On length, I feel like there's this need to make them long. But short fics have just as much value as long fics and torturing yourself with "this needs to be at least x words or it's no good" isn't healthy. In addition to reminding me that I can write stuff where romance isn't the main focus, being in the Ted Lasso fandom has really helped me with this. I love my short TL fics as much as my long ones. I have been trying to keep things like chapters and parts of a series consistent when it comes to word counts though.

(Also, and this is very weird and very me, I like things to be even or in multiples of fives. So I try and shoot for word counts like 2k, 5 or 6k, 10k, ect and that's the same for chapter counts with the exception of 3 because I like trilogies)

As for writing in advance, masks&hearts is the fourth chaptered fic I've ever really written. Of the three before this, one (my very first chaptered fic) I posted as I wrote and felt like I owed my readers a strict update schedule. The other two I wrote all in advance and posted once a week, then whenever I felt like it. For masks&hearts I wrote a couple chapters just to be sure it would keep my interest before uploading the first. I normally edit and update an older chapter of it when I've finished writing a new chapter. Like right now I'm working on and nearly done with ch8, so ch5 should be up sometime this week.

[manonamora-if]

APRIL Check In!

I was too busy last weekend with the SpringThing that I ended up forgetting.... But am back?

I've kind of taken a bit of a break, after essentially working on three new games in the past three months, and updating (a bit) some other projects. Stuff will probably update a bit more slowly for a while. I'm trying to take a more... healthy pace. If we look back on the timeline... I haven't really taken a break since June? in terms of upload... So break is needed. Otherwise Manon will become burnout again (or hurt her wrists again) and we don't want that....

My SpringThing entry The Roads Not Taken is now available to play!

It was completed in about a month, as a parser on Twine. In the 10k-ish words, you play a being about to go through the Ritual, a ceremony that will shape the rest of your life. How will your choices pan out? Will you regret the roads not taken?

The entry is available both on itch, and the SpringThing website.

Note: the voting for the SpringThing starts on April 13. There are about 25 other games, both parsers and choice-based. Consider checking them out!

The SeedComp! Results have been announced! Check them out here :D

Congratulations to all winners, and thank you to everyone who participated or played or even shared the event with other people. This was such a fun experience. I hope you had as much fun as I did.

Will the SeedComp! come back next year? I think so... We need to iron out some creases first and change a few things here and there to make it smoother for everyone... If you have some feedback or comments about the competition, drop us a message over on @seedcomp-if.

I made 165-ish graphics for all awards and stickers for the participants in like.... 2 days.........

Earlier this month, I was interviewed by the French IF Community about my winning entry DOL-OS. You can find the interview (in French) and its English translation here!

It's kind of my post-mortem for the game :)

With all this out of the way, I can go back and focus on the ongoing projects. Starting again with TTATEH.

We are deep in the editing of Chapter 4 currently. I hope to send my comments back today or tomorrow. We might be looking at an update by the end of the month? Or the middle of May... we will see on that.

~~~

From now until the summer, I should be back to regular programming (i.e. updating ongoing projects). While I say that now, there are some more... secret stuff I'm hoping to see pan out. Maybe something new will end up appearing out of nowhere again....

Oh and there's a poll if you want to play: Pick the game of mine you enjoyed the most! (I totes expect CRWL to win, but I kinda hope it doesn't?) (I messed up setting the French one, La Petite Mort won by 5 votes, lol)

Toodles~~~

[venusiangguk]

gold rush pt. 3 | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader

>>genre: pwp, v little plot, smut, kinda fluffy, college au (kinda), established relationship

>>word count: 9.9k um?

>>warnings: pegging!!!, butt stuff!!!, sexy anal!!!, sub jk, soft dom oc, crying why do i always make everyone cry, fingering (m), strap on, dildos, vibrators, sex toys, sex shop adventures, explicit sex, like so explicit this bitch is basically 10k, mutual masturbation, coming untouched, kisses, aftercare in the form of snacks, titty squeezing, dirty talk, excessive use of pet names, yoongi exists

>>notes: i wasn’t gonna write this bc ur girl does not know the first thing about pegging, but jk sucking the strap came to me in a dream and i had to do it. it was highly requested so i hope u like it! i wrote and poorly edited this whole thing today so im sorry for any mistakes !! 

>>summary: jk wants the strap, and jk gets what he wants !!

pt.1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

The sun is shining, and there’s just the perfect amount of breeze to cool Jeongguk as sweat runs down his temple. The soccer pitch just got cut, making the ball much easier to control, and therefore much easier to aim at Jimin’s ass. It’s cool-down time, so the team is in groups of three, idly kicking the ball between each other, for the last few minutes of practice. All in all, a great day to talk about getting pegged with his best friends.

Jeongguk glances around the field, making sure the other groups are far enough away from him and his friends before clearing his throat. “So… do you guys like… get pegged?”

When Taehyung passes the ball to Jimin, Jimin completely misses it due to the fact that he is looking at Jeongguk like he is the most pitiful human on the planet. Jeongguk adjusts his shin guard to avoid the scrutiny.

“Gguk… honey… are you dumb?”

Taehyung’s jogging back after retrieving the ball that ran astray. “No, Mini. He’s straight.” He kicks the ball to Jeongguk. “If by ‘pegged’ you mean fucked in the ass by a real dick, then yeah. We do.”

Jeongguk receives the ball with a ‘rainbow’ and juggles it from his thigh to his laces, balancing the ball for a second before kicking it to Jimin. He nods, contemplative. “Nice.”

“Okay ace.” He passes to Taehyung, before throwing Jeongguk a teasing look. “You thinking about taking it up the ass, Gukkie?”

“Perhaps I’m contemplating.” He sniffs nose in the air.

Taehyung laughs. “Got your button milked once and now you wanna take a phallic shaped object? Proud of you.” He places his hand over his heart, like the mere thought of Jeongguk getting railed makes his heart warm.

A whistle blows, and Jeongguk kicks the ball up to his arm, tucking it into the curve of his trim waist. “Why does everyone call it a button? And it hasn’t only been once.” He sounds exasperated and so so tired.

His friends jog to bump shoulders with him as they make their way to the locker rooms. “Hey, jokes aside, I think it’s cool you’re like comfortable enough, or whatever, with __ to explore the things you like.” Taehyung says.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Okay Dad.”

“No seriously!” Jimin insists, holding the locker room door open for them. Fuck the rest of the team. “She seems good for you. Babys you like you need.” Jimin laughs.

Jeongguk’s shirt gets caught on his head as he squawks. “I don’t just like being babied, fuck you.”

“Okay so she also entertains your sadistic side. She’s the full package.”

Jeongguk looks down with a blush. He shrugs his shoulders lightly before bending over to get out of his gear. “She’s pretty cool I guess.”

Taehyung knees him while he’s still bent over making him stumble a bit. “Awe, Jeonggukkie is in love.”

“Shut up.” Jeongguk smacks him in the face with his smelly sock.

“When you gonna do it?” Jimin asks, buttoning his new pants. 

Apparently they aren’t showering today. Jeongguk will just have to stop at his dorm before heading to yours to help you study. That reminds him that you have a test on Friday, but are free this weekend. He just so happens to be free as well. The team they were supposed to play had to forfeit because their coach got caught sleeping with one of the cheerleaders. Sucks, but good for Jeongguk and his little asshole.

“Maybe this weekend.” With their backpacks on, they start the trek back to the dorms. It’s nearing night now, the sun just starting to set in the sky. Jeongguk pulls out his phone to tell you he’s stopping by his place before heading to you. You reply quickly.

baby🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

okie

wanna have sex instead of helping me study 

me:

yeah but im not gonna 

just think about how good the sex will be when u get an a 

baby🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

🙄

When Jeongguk pockets his phone, Taehyung speaks up.

“You think she’ll be down?”

Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, probably.”

Ever since the first time you made him cum untouched, butt stuff has been a moderately regular occurrence for you both as a long-term, healthy, pro-ass eating couple. Honestly it was mostly him getting his butt played with, but he supposed it made sense. Like Jimin explained to his once naïve self, it was just biological- or something. Whatever. He wonders if three fingers will be enough to fit a fake dick in his ass. He asks his friends.

“Eh…” Jimin starts, looking up like he’s thinking. “Maybe, but you might wanna try to get to four, maybe five if you're using hers, since she’s tiny.”

Jeongguk’s mouth falls open and he pales. Taehyung notices and laughs.

“Don’t get scared. It’s just better to over-prep than under-prep. And like obviously you work up to it, she’s not just gonna shove her fist or her cock up your ass.”

Her cock. A little tingle settles in Jeongguk’s lower belly at the statement. He’s been thinking about this for a while, looking at porn in his free time. Seeing the way the guys moan on their girls’ strap always gets him hard. Seeing how hard their cocks get when the toy hits them just right. He throbs when he sees the guys cum just from the strap, no hands. Maybe he should fuck you when he gets to your dorm instead of helping you study. His cock is feeling a little plump.

“Alright well… Bye, thanks for being gay and answering my anal questions!”

As he’s pressing the button to his elevator, they lived on opposite sides of the athlete dorm and there were different elevators for each of the wings, Jimin chirps, “Don’t forget to empty your asshole really well, and don’t eat the day of! Also buy extra lube and put a spare blanket down!”

Jeongguk winces. Valuable information indeed, information he mentally pockets, but did he need to yell it in the dorm common room?

“Noted!” He yells back at the elevator dings and opens up. Jeongguk pretends like he doesn’t meet the curious, kind of confused gaze of one of his teammates. He must have walked in while Jimin was yelling and only caught the end of the conversation while waiting for the same elevator. Jeongguk gets in and immediately closes the doors. He can catch the next lift.

~~~

Jeongguk’s got his head in your lap and you’re running your fingers through his long, silky hair. He showered today, so waves of his aromatherapy lavender shampoo are wafting up to you. Sweet boy. He seems sidetracked, occasionally sighing and subtly twisting, but is still more or less purring on your thigh, feet tucked up onto the cushion of the couch. Netflix is on the small tv that was left by the last person who lived there, you’re mac book connected via HDMI. You’re not really paying attention. Mind kind of tired from all the studying you had done this week. Jeongguk fidgets a tiny bit again, wiggling like he’s trying to get comfortable. He huffs a sigh.

“Hey,” You say softly, getting his attention.

His body curves at the waist, causing his t-shirt to bunch up and show off the dip of his hip bone. He looks up at you with wide eyes. He seems surprisingly awake. Must have some busy little bees buzzing around his mind. He makes a little questioning noise.

“You okay? You’re kinda fussy.” You murmur.

He groans. “I-  am just thinking.”

“About?” You drag the word out in a singsong-y manner.

The way Jeongguk’s face flushes is so pretty, you have to stop yourself from cooing. 

He moves himself from your lap and sits facing you. He looks like he's thinking about what to say, or how to say what he’s thinking so hard about. 

Eloquently he states, “I’m horny.”

You glance at his cock. Not quite hard, but a little happy and excited. You chuckle, leaning towards him, giving him a playfully sexy look. “Okay, let’s fuck baby.”

Jeongguk blushes even more, cheeks tinted red, while he leans away from you.

You pout. “What?”

Again he pauses, a small pout on his lips. He seems to be in a soft, needy, difficult mood. You’re probably going to have to pry what he wants to say out of his mouth.

With another uncalled for exasperated huff, Jeongguk rolls his eyes and moves closer to you before catching you by surprise and swinging a leg over your lap. He’s facing you while he straddles your thighs. His arms are looped around your neck, he’s playing with a little bit of your hair, twirling the long length around his fingers. You smile up at him, gently. Your palms squeeze at his narrow hips encouragingly.

“I want to try something new…” He says. He sounds nervous and looks at you the same.

“Mhmm.” You say, fighting a smile. 

“Really bad. Like I want it really bad.” His hips roll, probably unconsciously from the way he closes his eyes to ground himself. 

You peek at his lap, and his cock is bulging, the fabric of his sweatpants doing nothing to help hide it. You bring your hand to it, and massage him through his pants.

He whines and pushes against your palm before a hand comes down and grabs your wrist, stopping the movement. “Quit it, I’m trying to talk.” He’s so petulant and whiny.

You move your hand away and place it back on his hip, giggling a little. “Well spit it out, then.”

He scowls. You reach up and smooth the wrinkle in his brow before trailing it down and cupping his cheek. He softens immediately, melts like butter in your hands. His eyes close and he lets out a soft sigh, body relaxing a little.

He’s whispering, kinda giggling out of embarrassment, when he says, “I want you to fuck me.” He pauses, peeking at you through his lashes. “Like for real.”

Almost instantly a little spark ignites in your belly, and you feel your pussy get that telltale heartbeat. You didn’t want to push Jeongguk into anything, but you’ve been thinking about taking the ‘next step’ with your… ass-plorations for some time. But you figured he would get to the same point on his own, and would come to you when he was ready. Turns out you know him as well as you thought you did.

“Yeah?” You rub your free hand up his side. 

He nods quickly, eagerly. You pinch his cheek lightly, and he retaliates by trying to bite at it. To avoid the attack it finds his way back to his waist.

“When did you want to? Tonight?”

He wiggles impossibly closer to you. Kisses you quick before nodding again. “Yeah. I um. I already like prepped… mostly. I prepped what I could by myself.” He pauses with a cute thinking face. “You will probably have to help me a little. But yeah. I got ready for you just in case.” He nods.

You hum, glancing at the old clock on the wall, another gift from the prior tenant. 11:52 pm. 

“If we hurry, we can make it to a sex shop? They don’t usually close until 2 or 3 in the morning.” You suggest.

Jeongguk bites his lip, smiling excitedly. “Really? Can we?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah, duh.” You lean up and give him a speedy, but thorough kiss, smiling into it. “Been wanting to peg you for so long.” 

His face scrunches endearingly. “Don’t call it that.”

He hops off your lap, and goes to grab the keys, wasting no time. He stands by the door expectantly. His cock is, extremely obviously, sticking out. Someone didn’t wear his briefs today.

“Can you like… kill that?” You’re laughing as you tug on some sweats of your own, having only been lounging in your panties and one of his shirts. Your usual at home attire.

He looks down, and has a smug grin on his face when he looks at you again. “It’ll go down in the car. Hurry up!”

~~~

A dildo looks so much bigger when one is looking at it knowing that it will be inside of them within the next few hours. And there are so many options and colors. Some vibrate, some have fake pubic hair on them. Some have balls that are squishy and feel eerily… accurate.

Jeongguk isn’t having second thoughts, no. But he is having thoughts. Very overwhelming thoughts. 

You’re next to your boyfriend, glancing between him and the varying selection of fake cocks displayed in front of you both, trying to gauge his reaction. He looks a little pale, but tentatively excited. Curious at the very least.

“Which one do you want?” You ask.

“No idea.” He responds, eyes wide.

Like most store clerks, one shows up, almost like they have a built in ‘customer needs help and has no idea which dildo to get to peg her super hot boyfriend’ radar. 

“You guys need help?” He is a small man, with a monotone voice. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else at 12:30am on a Saturday night. 

“NO!” Jeongguk says quickly and loudly. Very loudly.

Both you and the store clerk flinch, looking at him shocked.

Jeongguk shifts on his feet. “No.” He says in a more socially acceptable tone. “No- I’m sorry. But we’re uh-” He grabs your arm and pulls you closer. “We’re good, thanks.”

The clerk looks between you and Jeongguk and the dildos. “Um… Alright.” He starts to walk away before he turns back around. “Well if you change your mind, I’m Yoongi and I’ll be at the counter. If your toy is electric I’ll test it in the back before you leave… We uh- provide batteries with your purchase if needed…” With one last glance, a very judgmental one in Jeongguk’s opinion, Yoongi takes his place at said counter. His eyes flicker to you guys every once in a while.

“Baby,” You grab Jeongguk’s face between your palms and make him look at you. You squeeze and his lips poke out making him look like a guppy. He blinks. “I know you’re nervous, but it’s going to be okay.”

He rolls his eyes, guppy face and all. “Well obviously. I just- We don’t need help.” He wiggles out of your grip, much like a… guppy.

You grin, trying not to laugh, and just be the supportive girlfriend you are. “Okay, did you decide which one you want?”

A side glance. “Not yet…”

You walk up and go to grab a pink sparkly one.

“Uh, not that one.”

You quirk an eyebrow and move your hand to a larger one.

“No.”

You play a little game of dildo hot or cold until you have a better idea of what Jeongguk wants. His preference seems to be skin tone, close to his own, with a more realistic feel. Normal balls though, not squishy. Also no faux hair. You thank him for that. If you actually had a penis it would surely be waxed. Bless Jeongguk for doing the same. As for size, he leaned more towards a very normal, moderate size. Maybe 5 or 6 inches at most, not too thick. Smaller than himself. One last option.

“Do you want it to vibrate?” You ask, holding one in your hand testing the numerous different settings.

He shakes his head, answering quick. “No.”

He pauses.

“Wait.” He thinks. “Maybe. Should we? You could use it too?” 

Sweet, kind, considerate angel. Always thinking about you and your pleasure. Couples who share the strap last the longest.

You shrug, pointing out, “I could use one that doesn’t vibrate too.”

He looks offended and sounds snotty. “Uh, you don’t need to.”

“Whatever. Why don’t we get both?”

You had a point. He pretends to ponder it, before nodding, already persuaded. “Okay.” 

“We need the harness now.”

You begin the harness hunt, walking through the store, coming across many a things, but for some reason you both keep missing them. They’re nowhere to be found. 

“Maybe they’re sold out?” He tries.

“Doubt it. Let’s go ask.” You grab him by his pinky and try to drag him to the counter. He resists. 

“Let’s not.”

“Koo.” You say giving him a look.

He whines, throwing his head back. Borderline throwing a fit. You hold your ground, smiling.

He’s easy to give in. Being a brat just on principle. “Fine but you’re talking.”

You stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “Of course, baby.” With his pinky in hand, you make your way to the counter.

The store clerk, Yoongi, if you remember correctly, is sitting behind the counter hunched over smiling at his phone. He doesn’t seem to notice you’re there.

You clear your throat gently, “Excuse me?”

Yoongi jumps, almost throwing his phone. “Fuck!” He exclaims. His fists come up ready to fight before he sees it’s you and Jeongguk. He then places his hand over his heart. “Shit, you scared me.” He chuckles, recovering quickly. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him for a moment longer before speaking up. “Um yeah, I was just wondering where your harnesses are?”

He leans on the counter, head in his hand looking kinda bored. “Hanresses? What kind? Hanging harness? Body harness?”

You glance at Jeongguk and he looks like he’s going to die.

“The um- strap on harnesses?” Your voice goes to a whisper when you say it, despite it just being you guys in the store.

Yoongi sits up, and looks at you, and then looks at Jeongguk. A look of understanding comes over his face along with an amused smile. He nods to himself, while getting up to help you. “Nice. Follow me.”

Jeongguk gapes at the ‘nice’ and looks at you in disbelief. You pat his butt telling him to get going. 

With some help from Yoongi you pick out a harness that looks supportive and comfortable, the ring that holds the dildo, compatible with both the ones that you plan on getting. It’s a simple adjustable black one. Yoongi recommended wearing something under it if the straps dig into you and irritate. He seems bored, but he’s actually very good at his job, and very knowledgeable.  

Finally you’re at the counter. You place all the items in Yoongi’s reach and he’s just about to tell you the total when Jeongguk perks up.

“Wait!” He says before scurrying off.

It’s quiet for a split second. Before the clerk speaks up.

“He’s cute.”

You smile, “Thanks, he’s mine.”

Yoongi laughs, small little fish teeth and gums on display. Must be a Pisces. You know Pisces teeth. “Does he have any cute friends?”

You nod. “Yeah, but they are dating.”

He shrugs. “Don’t care.”

“Uh… I can give you their Instagrams?”

He pulls out his phone, and follows them right there after a quick glance at their pages. Confidence is nice.

There’s a short lull in the conversation. And Jeongguk seems to be taking his sweet time getting something you guys must have forgotten. Or the poor things lost. It’s a big store. You speak up this time.

“Do you have like a manager I could leave a review for? You were really helpful, and seemed like you really knew what you were talking about.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I own the place. You think I would be here on a Saturday night if it wasn’t obligatory? Thanks, though.”

“Oh.” You say. That was pretty impressive. The store was quite successful based on the reviews. You would make sure to let Jimin and Taehyung know Yoongi was a business man.

“Okay, I’m back.” Jeongguk announces. “Sorry I forgot where it was.”

He places 2 (two) large bottles of lube on the counter. You cough out a laugh.

“Baby, we have lube at home.”

“But do we have enough?”

“I think maybe one more would be more than enough.”

He ignores you, looking Yoongi in the eyes for the first time tonight. “Add both please.”

Yoongi nods, looking a little scared of Jeongguk’s seriousness, and does as he’s ordered.

After Jeongguk pays, and you both are making your way to the exit, Yoongi calls out, “Good luck, tell your friends to follow me back!”

“Uh- Okay?” Jeongguk yells back. When you’re in the parking lot, he asks, “What the heck was that about?”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself. “Don’t worry about it.”

~~~

As soon as you get back to your dorm, the atmosphere is thick, full of tension and nervous anticipation. Jeongguk’s fidgety, eager to get started. You’re not far off, but contain yourself a little more. Need to keep control of the situation in case Jeongguk gets deep into his mood.

You guys are in the bathroom now, each one washing a toy before you use it. You make sure to unwrap the harness and the lube as well, both at Jeongguk’s insistent request, ensuring you don’t have to stop and deal with it later. 

“Let’s just get undressed in here, it’s where my hamper is.” You say already tugging your shirt over your head, tits bouncing freely. Jeongguk went without briefs today, and you went without a bra.

Jeongguk quietly follows suit, and you don’t miss the way his hands are trembling a little in anticipation. When you’re both naked he kisses you quickly, and jiggles your boobs a little just because they are there and because he can, before saying, “Okay, lets go.” He’s out the bathroom before you can even respond. You laugh to yourself and gather the stuff he forgot in his excitement.

When you walk out with your hands full, you see Jeongguk spreading out a blanket over your comforter.

“Whatcha doin?” You ask curiously, placing the items on the nightstand.

“Gets messy. Wanna save your bedding.” He states.

You squawk, grabbing the blanket he set up on your bed. “Not my baby blanket you monster.”

He laughs, abs tensing. You notice he’s already hanging a little heavy between his thighs. “Sorry. Was the first one I saw.” He walks over to the couch and replaces the blanket that’s hanging over the back with your baby blanket and resets up. “Better?” he asks, extended his arm towards your bed to show off his work.

You nod, and take the few steps needed to close the space between you both. Your hand runs down his belly, and you feel his muscles jump, and you see little goosebumps sprout all over. His hands come up to cup your tits. You kiss softly where his heart is. You look up at him.

“I love you.” You smile.

He blushes. “Love you.” He whispers, before he leans down and slots your lips together.

It’s eager from the start. Your bodies press together, as your hands roam. When he takes a breath and surges back in, your teeth click together is his haste, before his tongue slips into your mouth. He groans into you, his hand going down to cup your ass, squeezing and pulling you impossibly closer. 

You feel his cock against your belly, almost fully hard already. You reach down to wrap a hand around him, wanting to help him get there before you get started. He hisses, thrusting forward instinctively before pulling away. He looks like he hates that he does.

“No- I,” He’s already short of breath, chest rising and falling a little bit faster than normal. “I wanna watch you cum. With the toy.” He reaches around you, grabbing the vibrating dildo. “Please?” He asks. His eyes are fervent.

You take the toy in your hand, and kiss him again softly. “Yeah, baby. Whatever you. It’s all about you tonight.”

He shakes his head. “Always about you too.” 

Your heart beats, happy in your chest. You thought about it earlier in the night, but Jeongguk really was the best lover. He always, always made sure you were taken care of, before, during, and after sex. He was so vocal and communicative, genuinely wanting you to know it was always about both of you, even if one was receiving more attention. He was caring like that in and out of the bedroom. You were so lucky to be his.

“You’re too good to me,” You laugh, climbing onto the bed. You settle back against your pillows, propping some behind you so you can see him, and watch him while you get off. He takes his place in front of you, looking at you expectantly.

He’s impatient, placing his hands on your knees, spreading you open so he can see your cunt. You let him get you into position before saying, “Keep your hands to yourself now, okay?”

He nods, eyes never leaving your pussy. He licks his lips. “Okay.” It’s said in a distracted kind of far away tone.

You hum as you bring the toy to your mouth, getting it wet. You wouldn’t need any lube, you would be dripping in no time. You don’t waste any time putting your free hand down between your legs and spreading your pussy lips, so your clit and the pretty pink center of your cunt are displayed for Jeongguk. You glance at him through your lashes, when you hear a small gasp fall from his lips. He’s already got a hand around himself. Just the tips of his fingers stroking his length, at a leisurely pace. 

“She’s so pretty… You’re so pretty.” His eye flick to your face before zeroing in on your center again.

“Tell me how to do it baby. Tell me what you want to see.” You say, voice salacious and soft. You circle your finger slowly around your nub, dipping inside just a bit to spread your slick around.

When he swallows, it’s audible, his Adam's apple jumping. “I want you to turn it on low, and put it on your clit. I want you to feel good.”

You smile, and drag the tip of it down your body to just above your clit, turning it on the lowest setting before making contact with your sensitive nub. Your legs jolt, almost closing when you feel the vibrations. Even the lowest setting was strong. Your head falls back, and your legs spread more for him once you get used to the strength of the toy. “Fuck…” You breathe.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, greedy for your pleasure.

You nod, eyes still closed, focusing. You move the vibrator in small circles over your clit. You can hear Jeongguk’s breaths speed up.

“Turn it up.” His voice gives away that he’s speeded up his hand on his cock too.

You do as he says, looking at him as you do. He’s sin personified. He’s on his knees, sitting back on his feet, so his thighs are flexed and bulging. His abs tense when his palm twists under the crown of his cock. His eyes almost look black, pupils blown so wide, lust taking over his face. He’s got his plump bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He looks up from your pussy and catches you staring. He smiles shyly.

You keep your eyes on him as you bring the toy back down to your core. A short high pitched moan falls from your lips, as your brows knit together, before your eyes roll back. He groans, your expression enough to make his cock start to leak.

“Feels so good, Jeongguk.” You moan. The vibrator is right where it feels best, pulsing against your clit, causing pleasure to bleed into your veins. 

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, he’s breathless, sounds like he’s in love. With you, your cunt. “Tell me.”

“‘S just right Koo, could make me cum just like this…” 

He curses, and you open your eyes just in time to see him grip the base of his cock, keeping himself in check. “Not yet, baby. Little longer, please.” Still so polite and good for you, even when he’s the one telling you what to do.

He has you keep the vibe there, for a while longer, right in the spot that’s gonna make you lose it. He watches as a tiny clear drop leaks from you pink little pussy. It looks like it’s heavy and about to drip down to the blanket under you. He doesn’t notice your legs shaking until you’re gasping, “Koo, I’m almost- I’m gonna-”

“No!” He says quickly, his hand reaches out to pull the vibrator from your cunt just before you get your high. Your pussy aches and throbs, wanting to cum so bad. 

Your chest is heaving when you ask, “Are… are you edging me?”

He shakes his head, even though your eyes are closed, trying to catch your breath. “No, no! I just. I got distracted.” He looks at that small drop of slick again. Fuck, he wants to lick it up and drink you down. “You’re leaking.” He states.

You laugh, breathing getting back to normal. “Yeah?” You reach your hand down to collect the distracting little droplet and bring it in front of you. You press the sticky finger to your thumb and then pull them apart to see the clear strings stay connected even as you pull. You hum, before offering your hand to Jeongguk. He sucks in a breath.

“Want some?” 

He’s quick as he crawls between you legs, cock fully hard now. He watches you as he sucks your fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling around getting every last bit, before he sucks off with a pop!

He crawls farther up your body to kiss you deep, wanting you to get a taste of yourself too. He pulls back just a bit, and whispers against your lips, “I want you to fuck yourself with it, okay? Just for a little bit, then you can cum?” He’s phrasing it as a question, knowing he really doesn't have the final say, not tonight. But his voice is shaking from how turned on he is, how could you ever say no?

“Sit back.” Is all you respond. He does as he’s told.

You buzz the toy over your clit again, just because you can. Wanting to see how long Jeongguk can be good before begging. Turns out it’s not long at all. 

“Put it in…” He moans. You look at him and his mouth is parted, and his eyes heavy as he watches you. His hand is moving fast over his cock, sticking straight up to his tummy. “Please.”

You drag the toy down to your slit, and tease it there before just barely pushing it in just a fraction of the length. Jeongguk whines, high and desperate. Apparently you’re moving to slow for him.

“More,” He begs. 

You sigh, “You’re so needy tonight, baby.” He nods, agreeable.

When the toy sinks inside of you all the way to the hilt, you and Jeongguk both moan a quiet, “Fuck.” simultaneously. You’re coherent enough to laugh a little at the jinx, but he seems to barely notice, too focused on watching the toy sink into you, and then come back out to vibrate your clit again. You keep up this teasing pattern, again waiting to be told what to do by him, waiting to see how long he makes it this time.

“Harder, do it harder,” He’s panting. Moaning every word that leaves his lips.

You do as he says, and finally push the toy in at a pace that gets you climbing to being close again. You won’t be able to come like this though, and he knows that. Knows that you can only cum from penetration with him. He leans over and grabs the other toy from the end table, spitting on it and spreading it around until it's covered well.

“Use them both, want you to cum for me.”

With two toys in your hands, one in your cunt, filling you up, and one on your clit, making your legs shake, you do your best to make yourself cum. But it’s not enough. A soft whine falls from your lips, you’re so close, but you need more. More than you can give yourself.

“Faster baby, faster. You’re so close.” He whispers. He got both hands working now too, one stroking and one down tugging on his balls. 

You whimper, “I can’t my arm hurts. It’s tired.”

Immediately he stops pleasing himself and gets right to pleasing you. Your pleasure taking priority. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll help you baby.”

Jeongguk sits between your legs, and takes over the toy fucking into you, and turns up the one on your clit. With him pushing the toy in at a pace that you couldn’t do yourself, and the other toy vibing your clit incessantly, it takes barely any time at all for you to cum. You were so close already, just needed him to push you over. 

Your legs are shaking and your toes are curling, when you cry out, “Baby, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby. Wanna watch.” He’s quiet, paying close attention to your body and the reactions he’s helping pull from it. He’s part of the reason why your face looks so pornographic as you finish. He’s part of the reason why your back is arching off of the bed. He’s part of the reason why your toes are curling, and why your legs are shaking, and why your pussy is contracting over the toy he’s still thrusting inside of you, working you through every last second of your orgasm. He reads your body cues, and slows down and pulls it out when you start to come down. You look blissed out, and you bring a hand to your hair and fluff it a little before laughing.

“That was good.” You sigh smiling, and when you look at him an image forms in your head, and you have every intention of making him carry it out.

Right before your eyes, Jeongguk wraps his lips around the toy that is going to be inside of him in just a short while, sucking off your slick. He laps his tongue around it trying to get it all. He’s obscene. 

“Gimme,” You say sitting up with an extended hand. 

He pouts at being interrupted, but does as he’s told. He takes your spot on the bed, and you head to the bathroom, stopping by your dresser on the way.

When you get to the bathroom, you close the door and get to cleaning the toys once again. After, you get to the stuff you grabbed from the wardrobe. A lacy pair of black panties, and sheer black thigh highs with matching lace adorning the tops. You slip into them, and then move on to the strap on. You hold it in front of you and try to make sense of which part goes where, and which holes your legs go into. It takes a second, but you get into it, adjusting it so it's nice and snug. Your outfit probably won’t help much with protecting your thighs, but at least the little part above your pussy will be safe. You look at yourself in the mirror. Not too weird or scary yet. You glance at the dildo on the counter.

It’s not too big so hopefully it’s not too… jarring when you see yourself with it. You get to work, slipping the suction base of the non-vibrating toy into the ring that’s meant to hold it in place. You look at it sticking out from your crotch and take a deep breath before turning to the mirror.

You gasp, before cackling quietly. You knew it was going to be weird. Like you knew. But actually seeing yourself with the whole get up is funny. Right now at least. You know it’s going to be sexy, once you get used to it and into the moment and inside of Jeongguk. You wonder how he’s going to react. Only one way to find out.

While you're walking to your bedroom from the bathroom, the dildo bobs, and you're giggling distractedly until you lift your eyes to let your boyfriend know you're ready. Again you’re met with a scene so indecent it belongs in a porno.

Jeongguk’s eyes are closed and soft moans are falling from his lips as he strokes his cock. He’s got three fingers in his ass, opening himself up for you, for your cock. Such a good good boy. He was so patient and productive while you got ready for him.

“You’re so good baby,” You murmur softly.

Jeongguk blinks his eyes open slowly, and rolls his head to the side to look at you. He doesn’t even falter in his movements at all, hand still moving, fingers still thrusting. He smiles a little when he sees you, but his eyes are hazy and he sounds lust drunk when he simply says, “You look sexy.”

You blush and a fond smile graces your lips, any embarrassment or self consciousness you were feeling prior to seeing him spread out for you on your bed, quickly vanishing.

You settle on the bed between his legs and watch for a moment as his hole takes his long fingers in. “Want me to help?” You ask quietly.

“Mhmm,” He nods, eyes closed still, tongue peeking out from between his lips. He doesn’t take his fingers out, though.

You grab the lube next to him, and flip it open. “You gonna get out so I can get in?” 

He shakes his head. “Nuh uh. Put one in with mine.”

Something about that makes your body tingle. Inside of him with him. Opening him up. You can’t explain it, because you don’t really even get it yourself, but it makes you buzz and feel almost high.

You slick up your middle finger, and drizzle some more on his for good measure. He jumps slightly, and then giggles softly.

“Cold.” He says.

“Sorry,” You say distractedly. Your finger is lined up with his now.

“I’ve never done 4 before so you… have to go slow…” He pauses as he speaks, letting himself moan freely when his fingers graze over that secret spot that he’s grown to love so much.

“Tell me to stop if you need to.”

He doesn’t reply, just stops his fingers so you can wiggle yours in next to his. At the first push against his hole, there’s resistance. Very much expected. He’s quiet, teeth gritted, but he never says stop, knowing his body wants it, and knowing it will accommodate what he wants. After the second knuckle, your finger sinks in, almost gets sucked in, by his hole.

He lets out a shaky breath.

“You okay, baby?” You check in.

“Yeah just… full.” He moans when you wiggle your finger experimentally. “”S good. Move it some more.”

You do, and his start to move with yours. You can feel his fingers curl inside of himself to reach his prostate, and it’s pleasant in an out of body way, knowing when his face is going to contort in pleasure, and when he’s going to cry out, when you never really knew before. You’ve milked him before, of course, but feeling him do it to himself from the inside? It’s kind of thrilling.

“Pull, stretch me out.” He moans, voice impatient and needy.

He gets kinda slutty when something’s up his ass.

He swears when you do, his finger rubbing insistent circles on his prostate to distract himself from the minor sting of the stretch. His moans, start to raise in pitch and his hand that’s on his cock, still jerking it, starts to speed up. You can tell he’s close. He clenches against your finger that’s still stretching him open.

“Fuck,” He says, on a breathless giggle, “Take them out. Or I’m gonna cum.” He’s still stroking his cock, like he doesn’t wanna stop.

“You c-” 

“No. Out.” He demands, hand finally pulling away from his cock, and his fingers inside stop. You gently ease out of him.

When Jeongguk’s fingers slip out, you gasp. His little pink hole is clenching on nothing, still open just the tiniest bit, thoroughly stretched.

“You know how you always say my pussy is pretty?” You ask, fingers tracing around the puffy stretched rim.

He makes an affirmative noise, watching you with hooded, lazy eyes as you touch him. He even spreads farther so you can touch and see better. You marvel at the difference between the embarrassed boy you made cum untouched a couple months ago, and the one in front of you now, so comfortable and relaxed. It makes you happy.

“Well, your butthole is pretty.”

He snorts, and kicks you lightly. He smiles at you, soft and sluggish. “Just fuck me.” 

He sounds so wistful and just ready.

But you’re not.

You grip the base of your cock, and stand up. You walk to the head of the bed, next to his confused face. You stay there waiting for him to get it. He doesn’t.

“You want me inside of you right baby?” You ask, voice gentle.

He nods, eyes no longer hazy, but wide and confused. He looks between you and your cock.

“I think that means you have to get me ready. Get me nice and wet, right?”

You can physically see when Jeongguk gets it. When it clicks for him. His eyes darken, and he licks his lips. “Yeah… You’re right. I should… help you.” He whispers, sitting up. You back up enough for him to have a place on the floor.

Jeongguk on his knees for you isn’t a new sight. He’s eaten your pussy like this before, you either grinding onto his face, or him holding you still and making quick work of your clit. But Jeongguk on his knees for you to suck your cock? New, and lewd. 

He looks nervous, kind of hesitant. A hand is raised midway, like he isn't sure if he should grab it. 

“Lick it, baby.” You encourage.

He glances at you, doe eyes seeking approval as he leans forward and gives a kitten lick to the tip. You nod, letting him know he’s doing well. His hand comes up and replaces yours at the base and he opens his mouth enough to wrap his lips around the head, and he swirls his tongue.

He pops off, and strokes up to where his mouth was and spreads the little bit of spit. The silicone is still dry though, so he spits on it more, straight from his mouth. You suck in a breath.

“Fuck, you’re so hot baby.” You whisper a breathy moan as his hands move up and down your cock. He adds his mouth again.

He hums a little, before backing up and looking at you again. “Does that feel good?” He asks.

You laugh lightly, in pure awe of him. He’s so sexy, and so sweet, and so incredibly lust inducing. Your pussy aches behind your cock. “Feels so good, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He hums, still stroking you off. “I really want it inside me…” He says, hinting that he’s ready.

You have mercy on him, having fulfilled your newfound personal fantasy enough for the night. Maybe you could revisit it another time. But now it was time to fulfill a mutual fantasy.

“On the bed, hands and knees.” You tell him.

Excitedly he hops back onto the bed, and gets into position, his hole on display for you. His back is arched and you can see the plush swell where his lower back meets the top of his cheeks. You settle behind him, and his shoulder to waist to hip ratio, is sinful. He’s always had the daintiest waist, strong, but still so small. But at this angle, it’s cinched and the way his legs are spread makes his hips look wider, accentuating the dip at his middle. You rub your hands over the narrow curve, all the way to his cheeks, grabbing handfuls of the muscle. There’s a slight give when you squeeze your hands.

Jeongguk’s head drops, and he lets out a shuddering sigh, he’s got the chills again, and he’s got a constant thrum coursing through his body. “Please…” He moans, so quietly, so desperately.

You kiss the small of his back before grabbing the lube left abandoned on the bed. You lather 2 of your fingers, and push them into Jeongguk’s hole making sure he’s nice and slick. There’s no resistance at all, hole loose and ready enough for them to slip right in. Then you lather your cock, probably with too much lube, honestly, but you wanted to be so sure that he didn’t feel any more pain than absolutely necessary. You knew the first initial push in would be the worst, but you were hopeful you both had stretched him out enough to at least minimize or diminish it altogether. 

You grab the base of your cock and line it up with his hole. It flutters, when you barely press against his rim.

“Ready?” You ask, giving a heads up.

“Yeah.” He says softly.

He’s tight. His hole sinks in with the tip of your cock before the rim gives and swallows around it. Jeongguk tenses and his hands grip the blanket under you. 

“Shit…” He groans. He sounds like he’s clenching his teeth.

You rub soothingly at his lower back, fingers dipping when you run them over the dimples at the bottom of his spine. “You’re doing so good baby.” You tell him.

“Doesn’t really hurt, I’m just stretching.” He says through his teeth. “I can take it though, keep going.”

You grab the lube and drizzle more directly onto his hole. He doesn’t mention the cold this time, too focused on taking your cock. You push against him, and feel yourself sink deeper into him. It’s like after the tip was in, his body knew what to do to take the rest. The slide wasn’t a swift, fast stroke, but it was a smooth and slow glide. When you bottom out Jeongguk’s arms give out from under him, his face going to the bed. 

“Holy fuck.” He keens, resting his head on his arms. Your hands are constantly on him, soothing him in any way that you can.

“Tell me when.” You whisper patiently. He nods. With his head turned to the side and pillowed on his arms, you can see his eyes are squeezed shut. The inhales and exhales you can see in the expanding of his ribcage, tell you that he’s taking deep breaths working through the stretch, getting himself used to it.

“Okay… Ready.” He murmurs.

You pull out just a bit before pushing back in. Jeongguk moans softly. Spreads his legs even wider, arches his back even deeper. He’s pushing his ass out for you, his body begging you to make it feel good.

You keep a slow pace, kind of nervous to speed up. 

“You can go faster, feels nice.” He says. He’s been puffing out little gasps of air every time you bottom out with your slow pace.

With his consent, you grab at his hips and pull out to just the tip, before swiftly pushing back in, fast and hard. His cheeks bounce on the impact. You grab one and jiggle it a little, thrusting into him again, drinking down the whines that slip out.

“You’ve got such a bubble butt, I never noticed before. But it like… bounces.” You say, wonder in your tone. 

“Thanks, can you like tell me about it later?�� He asks, voice strained.

Point taken. 

Your thrust game is kind of shitty, in reality. It’s hard to find a rhythm, your hips not used to moving this way. But Jeongguk is moaning freely underneath you, just happy to have something inside of him after thinking about it all week. So you keep going, and eventually, the pattern comes to you, still kind of messy, but now you’ve got him cursing beneath you. You’ve got one hand on his ass, the other braced on his arched spine.

A particularly good thrust has Jeongguk burying his face into the bed, teeth biting at the bedding. “Yeah fuck-” He groans with his mouth full of blanket. With his hands now free, he brings them behind him and settles them on his cheeks and spreads.

You watch clearly as your cock sinks into Jeongguk’s ass. You’re out of breath, but you make sure to tell him how good he looks, how pretty his hole looks swallowing your cock, like it was made to take it.

“Wanna ride you.” He says. His voice is pitifully wrecked and he sounds so thoroughly fucked, you feel a little proud. Still, you’re grateful for a break. You don’t know how he fucks you like he does. ‘Topping’ is tiring. You pull out of him, and realize that when you were in awe of his hole at taking your fingers, it was premature. Jeongguk’s hole after he takes your cock is vulgar. It’s properly gaped now. Not huge, but around a fingers width.

He rolls over, and settles on his back like he just needs a moment. His chest is heaving, similar to yours. You hop off the bed, and a needy keen comes from him. You glance back at him, and he looks like he’s going to get up and follow you, but you hush him gently.

“I’m just getting some water, baby. I’ll be right back.” 

He huffs flopping back onto his back. “Hurry please.” He whines.

You get back as soon as possible with a glass of water for you both to share. He sits up onto one elbow and makes a grabby hand for the cup after you’ve had your share. You swat his hand away and hold the cup to his lips. He hums, gulping the water down. He’s happy to be coddled and taken care of. When he finishes with a cute little gasp, you place the cup to the side, and brush your hand through his sweaty hair. 

He butts his head against your palm and laughs. His eyes shut, and crinkled at the corners. His water break seems to have perked him up. His cock hasn’t deflated one bit. Rock hard and red, throbbing against his tummy. It’s messy and wet too.

You’re about to ask if he touched himself while you were inside of him, but before you can, you’re getting manhandled until he’s on top of you. He’s got your hands pinned above your head, and he smiles at you playfully, before leaning down to kiss you, deep and slow. He sucks on your lip, and slowly grinds his cock onto your belly, soft whines spilling from his tongue. He brushes his nose against yours as he sighs into your mouth, finally allowing himself the pleasure of paying attention to his cock. 

He doesn’t allow himself relief for long, however. He’s sitting up and looking from side to side for the lube before finally spotting it. His movements are quick and hectic, like he’s too excited and overly eager.

You rub your hands over his strong thighs. “Hey, slow down. You don’t have to rush. We have all night.”

He sighs at your touch, and nods softly. He whispers. “Yeah… okay. I love you.”

The little affection makes you swoon, absolutely smitten. “I love you.” You squeeze at his legs, tenderly.

He hums. “Gonna ride you now.” He opens the lube and continues with eager actions, almost like you didn’t even slow him down just a moment ago. You smile fondly to yourself. Jeongguk’s too busy slicking up your cock again to notice the mushy look.

He’s got a hand reaching behind him and he’s gripping your cock to line it up with his hole. He wiggles to get into the right position before slowly starting to sink down. His eyebrows are pinched, and his mouth falls open. But his eyes roll back when he bottoms out. His hands are braced on your stomach.

“Oh, I love it like this.” He whimpers. His legs tense at your sides, almost like he’s trying to close his legs at the pleasure he feels from your cock being tucked inside of him, hitting all the right places. He starts to grind on your cock, soft pleasured little mewls just tumbling off his tongue.

He looks so good, whining, grinding on you with his weeping cock displayed. But you wanna see him lose it on your cock. See him fall apart at how good it feels, not watch him bask in it.

“Bounce on it.” You say, voice sounding almost as fucked out as his. You know your panties are soaked through at this point, pussy pulsing and neglected, tucked away behind the strap.

Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, wanna.” 

He’s lifting himself off your cock to the tip before sliding down on it again, hard and fast. It punches a sharp gasp from his lungs. He finds a pace he likes and keeps it up, his thighs tensing, and his abs flexing as he tests his stamina, chasing that euphoric feeling he wants so so badly. He’s so strong and fit, bouncing up and down on your cock as loud unabashed moans fill the room. 

The force of him riding you makes your tits jiggle, bouncing around until they catch his attention. He groans before his hands find them, squeezing hard, using them as leverage as he pulls and drags his hips over yours. Your cock must be rubbing over his prostate because he’s losing his mind. All kinds of noises leave his mouth, and the expressions he makes are filthy.

“Fuck baby. You make me feel so good. The best- I-” He eyes squeeze shut and his mouth opens in a silent moan, overwhelmed, before a guttural groan sounds from deep within his chest. “God. Wanna cum on your cock, baby. Fuck me-”

You laugh, wonderstruck, and kind of deliriously high on the satisfaction and fulfillment you get from seeing Jeongguk feel so just…. Good. “Yeah baby? You’re gonna cum for me? All over my cock?”

He whimpers and nods as he gets back to bouncing, a desperation to his movements that wasn’t there before. His cock is slapping against both of your stomachs with nasty wet noises due to his precum getting everywhere. You feel some fly and hit your neck, his cock just dripping, weeping and begging to cum. 

It won’t be long though, before he cums. You feel the way his thighs tense, and he gets that confused look on his face, and he’s got that puzzled pitch to his moans. It’s the way he always gets when he cums untouched, always in awe that he can do it himself, without a hand around his cock. His whole body is flushed and hot to the touch, sweat making him glow in the soft light of your bedroom lamp.

He throws his head back, neck extended, and veins bulging, before looking down at his bouncing cock. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He’s so whiny and noisy when he moans.

“Yeah?” You ask again, “Do it baby, show me how. You can do it, cum for me.” 

He’s nodding frantically, “Yeah- I’m gonna... Fuck, yes- Yeah, I’m-” He bounces a few more times, silent aside from the obscene squelching noises of your skin meeting, before his body tenses one last time before that string in him snaps. “Cumming-” He chokes it out. His moans don’t stop the whole time his cock shoots out his load, landing on your tummy. The moans even turn into cries, actual tears filling his eyes and falling down his cheeks. His body jerks and twitches with his orgasm. But still, he’s grinding on you, your cock still rubbing that spot inside of him, it’s like he never wants the feeling to end, even if it’s devastating, bordering on too much to handle.

You smooth your hands all over his sweaty body, before firmly placing them on his hips, stopping him. “Hey. You’re good, you did so good baby, you don’t have to keep going.”

Jeongguk’s cries are quiet, and he takes a few deep stuttering breaths to try and calm himself down, nodding with your soothing words. He rubs the back of his hand at his eyes, trying to dry them. It doesn’t help much, he’s calmed himself some but a few silent tears still make their way out, along with some soft hiccupping breaths.

“Lay down, and wait for me, hmm?” You whisper gently. He nods and lifts himself slowly, wincing at the sore ache in his hole. It’s more prevalent now that the pleasure has subsided. He all but collapses onto your pillow. 

“I’m gonna get some more water, and a towel okay?”

He grunts in response.

Before you go, you strip out of the gear, just tossing it on the ground, eager to get back to Jeongguk after getting the things you need.

When you get back, he is in the same exact position, and you laugh lightly. 

“Baby?” You ask, making sure he didn’t fall asleep.

Another grunt.

Good, he would hate you in the morning if you left him to sleep being so messy.

“Sit up, I have water and snacks and cleaning supplies.”

His head pops up. “Snacks?” His hair is sticking up on one side.

You laugh, endeared. He’s not crying anymore either, a good sign that he will be okay in just a little while after some kisses and love.

“Yeah, I got some of those seaweed chips you like, and some water.”

He sits up, leaning back on the pillows knowing the drill for after butt stuff. You hand him the water and the chips. He eats first.

“You hungry?” You ask, fitting yourself between his legs with the warm washcloth. He opens easily, munching away. You both are far past after sex shyness.

He talks with his mouth full. “Yeah. Jimin said not to eat the day off.”

You hum curiously, but don’t question it. Jimin partakes in butt stuff much more than you both. 

You’ve got all the lube cleaned off his thighs and cheeks, now all that’s left is his hole. You do it as gently as you can, knowing he’s sore just from how red and swollen and puffy it is.  But he still winces.

“How bad is it?” He mumbles.

You hesitate. “Um… You’re gonna be a little sore.” You tell him simply.

He groans, before downing his water. When he’s done, he says, “Practice is going to suck.”

You nod in agreement. It was. You wrap the used cloth in the blanket you used to protect your sheets, once again just tossing the bundle to the floor.

“Worth it though,” He smiles, pleased.

You chuckle as you find your place by him. He’s set his refreshments aside and lets you curl against him. His body sags with exhaustion when he feels your warmth press into him. You plant kisses on every inch of skin you can reach. He purrs.

“Why’d you keep going?” You ask, between smooches.

“I don’t know… it just felt so good. I guess I didn’t want it to stop.” He’s quiet, and his words are said on a sigh.

You nod, your kisses making your way to his lips. You just kiss him, slow and easy, for a few minutes until he yawns into it. He giggles.

“I’m so tired man.”

“I bet man.” You tease.

He kisses you one more time before asking, “Will you tickle my back until I fall asleep?” It’s hopeful and so sugary sweet.

“Yeah roll over.”

It’s barely a few minutes before you're met with his soft snores. You kiss his shoulder blade, before following right behind him.

~~~~

you ask for pegging and you shall receive :] i hope you liked it and that it met ur pegging standards askdkhjd as always, comments and feedback and asks and notes are loved and appreciated. thank you for reading friends ily :* 

[hyuckssunchip]

Hasty Encounters, Hasty Decisions

Pairings: Yuta x Reader, ft. nct 127

Words: 10K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), drinking, slight smut, insinuation of sex

Summary: 

Y/N and Yuta meet for the first time and learn quickly of not only their attractions, but also their many more differences. Painful words and revelations leave a deep ridge between the two of them, that is until someone makes a shocking confession. Will they continue to make hasty decisions, or will they learn to forgive and forget?

Yuna was the exact opposite of you. She was gorgeous, outgoing and such a party person. You’d rather chill at home and binge your favorite drama for the billionth time, and that’s exactly how you planned to spend this weekend, however, Yuna had different plans.

“Come on, this is the last one of the semester! The NCT frat house always has legendary end of the semester parties. Besides you haven’t been to one yet, you need to broaden your horizons.” She kept jabbing your side, as if that was a good tactic to make you agree to her idea.

“No, I already set up my computer for six straight episodes of Penthouse, it’s too late now.” You gave her a triumphant grin, as if that were enough to get Yuna off your case.

“Are you serious right now?” She rolled her eyes at you, “This is ridiculous, I get that the actors are hot and all, but these are the hot guys in real life! Stop pining over some made up character and get it on with a real guy!”

“Who’s getting it on with a real guy?” 

“Mark, Yuna keeps trying to take away my drama time, she’s trying to force me to go to a frat party.” You whined to him. Surely he would take your side, he’s a homebody just like yourself.

“The NCT frat party? I heard those are awesome. Why don’t you want to go?”

Sike.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you Mark, you’re supposed to take my side unconditionally.”

“Right… Yuna why do you want her to go so badly?”

“Mark, don’t you want to go to the party? They’re even better than what people say.”

“Really?”

“Mark!” You tugged at his shirt.

“What? I’ve always wanted to go. You know you should really get out there more. I think Yuna’s right on this one.”

“See?” Yuna gave you a smug look.

“Mark, you’re not helping.”

He swung his arm over your shoulder and pulled you closer, “Maybe you should go to this one, I think it’ll be fun.”

“You’re only saying that cause you want to go.”

“Is it working?” He grinned at you before you shrugged his arm off your shoulder.

“No. I already told you, I’ve got a busy weekend up ahead.”

“Yeah of bingeing dramas.” Yuna put her hands on her hips in protest.

Mark tilts his head at you, “How about this? If you go this weekend, I promise that I will help you set up that editing software on your computer that you’ve been wanting.”

“Deal.” There was no hesitation. You’ve been dying for him to help you for months but he never got around to it.

“Damn, that was easy.” Yuna grinned, “I’ve got tons of stuff you can borrow for tomorrow night!”

“What’s wrong with my stuff?” You frowned.

“Umm… have you seen your closet?” There was a snicker from beside you, but it was quickly cut off when you elbowed him in the side.

“I agree with Yuna on this one too.” Mark said, rubbing his side where you had just jabbed him. “Your clothes just aren’t suitable for a frat party.”

“And how would you know?” You mocked him, knowing he’d never been to one before.

“I’ve seen many movies, thank you very much.”

“Not the same Mark, but regardless you both are coming with me.” Yuna spoke up, “My class is gonna start in fifteen and it’s across campus so I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you later. Don’t think you can ditch this one!”

She ran off in the other direction before there was room for response.

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” Mark chuckled, throwing his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, ever since she and Johnny broke up, it’s like she’s going there to make sure he sees that she’s doing fine. To be honest, I’m a little worried about her.”

“Everyone goes through different ways of mourning y’know? That’s just Yuna.” He shrugged, kicking the stone in front of him. 

You dropped it, feeling the mellow mood.

“Well, I should head to class then, I’ll see you at lunch yeah?” You nodded in response and with that he left.

“Sure.” Your eyes followed his back as he continued kicking stones out of his way.

Beep Beep!

“Are you sure this isn’t too short? I’m pretty sure you can see all of my ass.”

“Y/N, that’s the point.” You shot her a look. “Besides you’ll be so drunk you’ll feel fantastic either way. You look hot.” She flashed you a smile and grabbed your arm.

“Now come on! Mark’s waiting.”

You groaned, dragging your feet in resistance. The couch looked so comfy right now.

Beep Beep!

“Yeah we get it Mark!” Yuna yelled, “Come on.”

You were pushed into the passenger seat and she slammed the door on you, sliding into the back right after. 

Yuna leaned forward resting her arms on the both of the seats in front of her. “Ready?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning your head against the window. You glanced at Mark, who was staring at the rear view mirror. You smiled at his face.

“Wow.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head and glancing at you. “You look great. You guys look great.”

You sent him a small smile, but went back to looking out the window. 

“Of course we do, we spent hours on this.” Yuna scoffed. 

“Right.” With one last glance in the mirror at Yuna, he started the car and headed to the address.

“How long are we staying?” You asked, starting to get nervous.

“How ever long we want to. You know you could even stay the night.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you, but in vain.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Right. Just make sure you text me to let me know if you’re going home with someone.” She laughed, “That goes for all of us, I don’t want to be stranded without a ride home Mark.” 

Mark blushed and shook his head, not really replying.

There was a comfortable silence throughout the ride and you hadn’t noticed that you had already arrived until the echoing sound of music hit your ears.

“Alright! Are we ready!?” Suddenly you had a headache, and Yuna was not helping.

You were unceremoniously dragged out of the car while Mark, slowly clambored out of his side.

“Let’s go already.” 

“You know I can walk on my own right?”

“I know, but you’re a flight risk.” She gripped my arm tighter and pulled you to the front of the frat, skipping the large line that seemed to wrap around the street.

“Yuna! Pleasure to see you again!” And with that you were let in.

It felt as though you were entering a whole new world when you walked through that door. You saw many familiar faces, and many unfamiliar. 

“How about we start off with drinks?” She hooked her arms into both yours and Mark’s and dragged you to the makeshift bar. You held eye contact with Mark before letting out a sheepish grin. 

If there’s gonna be lots of alcohol involved, how bad could it be?

“Yuna! I’ve got special mixes for you, unless you’re here for the hard stuff. But you know how good my cocktails are. So what are we starting off with?” The man with silver brown hair at the table shouted over the music.

“Taeil!” Yuna smiled, giving him a small hug, leaving you and Mark feeling empty and vulnerable. “I’ll take you up on your mix, I know how many shots you can get into a cocktail. These are my friends, Y/N and Mark. Can you show them a bit of your magic?”

There was a friendly laugh as the man, Taeil, shot you both a smile. “Of course! Is this your first time here?” He asked whilst pouring his concoction.

You nodded silently, looking at Yuna for help, but she wasn’t paying any attention.

“Thought so, I would definitely remember someone like you.” He gave you a wink, handing the first one to you.

You immediately sipped it, not knowing how to answer his comment, evident in your blushing face. 

“Oh my god. This is amazing.” You looked up at him, actually confused at how you couldn’t taste the alcohol, seeing as you saw just how much he poured into that drink.

“That’s Taeil for you, he knows how to get everyone the most fucked up.” She grinned at him, taking both drinks from him and handing one to Mark, keeping the other for herself. 

He grinned, “Of course, come back when you’re done, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

“You’ll be seeing plenty of me.” She sang back while dragging the two of you off again. She pulled you to a crowd of yelling people, and as curious as you were, you’d much rather sit on the couch and sip your drink.

“Okay but actually what’s in this?” Mark asked, he sounded as amazed as you felt and you laughed at his expression. 

“I don’t know, but it’s amazing right?” You took another sip, turning your attention to the loud cheers from the people around you.

Some unfortunate frat boy was doing a keg stand, held up by Johnny. “Jungwoo! Man, you good? That was a shit ton this time.”

The boy with fluffy brown haired grinned toothily, “I don’t know man, I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

“Alright, you go have fun then.” Johnny laughed, shoving the keg under a table. “Beer pong anyone?”

You rolled your eyes. Johnny and Yuna had dated for a short time earlier this year, but you never really liked Johnny. I mean in general he was a fun guy, everyone liked him, it was hard for you not to. But as a boyfriend? With Yuna? Nope. You saw what she went through and that wasn’t healthy. It’s not like you hated him, in fact you and Johnny had plenty of fun conversations, but he was too out there for you.

You sighed, turning away from the commotion of guys trying to earn the chance to play against Johnny.

“Hey where are you going?” Yuna asked, still staring at the table. You pointed to your now empty drink, “I’m gonna get more!” You yelled back.

She loosened her grip nodding, but you were sure she stopped listening.

“You want me to go with you?” Mark asked, but you could tell he wanted to stay with Yuna and watch. 

“No I’m fine. I’ll be back soon, I’ll probably get a drink and then some fresh air. I promise.” He nodded, frowning at you. At least he cared enough to look worried. 

You headed back to the familiar table, “Back so soon?”

“Yeah, I don’t even remember drinking all of it.” You laughed, “That probably means it’s working right?”

He chuckled, “It works wonders. So what do you want this time? Something strong or sweet or just something that’ll knock you out?”

You giggled at the offer, “You know, as tempting as that last one is, I think I’ll just go with sweet. Make it so I can’t taste it.”

“Right, coming right up.” 

There was another obnoxious cheer. “Yuta! Yuta! Yuta!”

“What are they up to? Beer pong?” He asked, back facing the crowd.

“Yeah.”

“Go figures, that’s the only game Yuta slaughters Johnny in.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Hey can I get something?” The keg boy from earlier stumbled up to you, obviously having trouble standing still.

“Jungwoo, man what’s up?” Taeil chuckled, handing you your drink as he faced the boy. 

“I feel great.” The grin was so endearing that you felt the need to smile with him. 

“I’m sure you do buddy. You wanted a drink right?” Taeil reached down for a bottle of Vodka from under the table. You frowned, looking at the half full bottle still on the counter.

“Yeah,” The boy giggled, turning to face you. “Hi. I’m Jungwoo. You’re kinda hot.”

You blushed, sipping your drink. You shouldn’t have been affected, this boy was drunk out of his mind, he probably thought that anything with two legs was hot.

“Here you go buddy. I made this one good, you probably can’t even taste it.” Taeil walked around the table to hand it to Jungwoo, standing next to you.

Jungwoo sipped it, nodding his head contently. 

Taeil bent down and whispered in your ear, “ Don’t worry, it’s just pineapple juice mixed with water. He won’t even tell the difference.” He pulled back giving you a grin.

“Hey Jungwoo, why don’t you take this pretty lady outside for some fresh air, I think she could use it.” He winked at you and pointed his head in direction of the empty backyard. 

“Of course I will.” He grinned, sticking his elbow out for you to grab, to which you complied and sent Taeil a little smile on your way out. 

You sat on the stairs of the deck, Jungwoo landing next to you. He was having a little more difficulty trying to sit down without falling over. 

“So what’s your name?”

“Y/N.” You answered softly, taking another sip. It looked like this one was going to be finished just as fast as the last. You shook your head worried about future you.

“Huh. Cute.” He took a long sip of his.

Again you blushed. You really needed to stop doing that every time some guy talks to you.

“You know you’re kinda cute to be hanging out here.” He commented mindlessly, chewing on a block of ice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like you’re hot, but you seem like you’re too sweet y’know, to be hanging out at a frat house.”

You giggled, “It’s not like I wanted to come here. But you know I’m not having a bad time.” 

Another sip.

“Yeah? That’s good. You a student here?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I’m a Sophomore, what are you?” He was a bit blunt, but you didn’t mind, the alcohol was kicking in and you were beginning to think everything was funny. Honestly, sober you would’ve probably thought this whole situation was funny too.

“I’m a Junior.”

“Oh.”

He paused, thinking.

“You know I’m into older women.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. And he grinned at you, leaning back on his elbows, his drink long gone. 

“Well that’s a shame, cause I’m into older men.” He pouted at you. 

“People actually think I’m a lot older than I am.”

“I’m sure they do Jungwoo.”

He grinned at you.

“Hey, I kinda like the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth.”

Again, you couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter from erupting. 

“Jungwoo, you’re a total flirt.” You had your hand covering your mouth as you tried to stop the giggles, swaying towards him. 

He let out a little giggle. You lost your balance and fell towards him, leaning against his shoulder. Jungwoo could hardly manage to keep himself up let alone both your weights. The two of you tumbled flat on the deck, in giggling fits. 

You sighed, finally calming yourself as you rolled over staring at the black sky, not a single star in sight.

You turned your head sharply and faced Jungwoo, his nose only and inch away from yours. You could tell he wasn’t paying much attention to you as he eyes were trained on your lips. 

“You wanna dance?”

“Huh?”

“I wanna dance. Are you coming?” You attempted to push yourself up, struggling for a good minute.

Jungwoo followed, “Yeah, only if you help me get up, I think I might be a little drunk.” He laughed to himself.

“A little?” You had no right to tease him.

Pulling each other up, you guys somehow managed to make it back inside. As you stumbled inside together Mark happened to find you, holding on to your waist to stabilize you. 

“Dude where were you? I’ve been looking all over for you.” You giggled, hanging on to both Mark and Jungwoo. He sniffed, smelling the alcohol on you.

“How much did you drink? You smell like a sketchy gas station.” His nose crinkled.

Jungwoo stumbled, pulling you and consequently Mark with him. 

“Woah man, maybe you should sit down.” Mark reached his arm out to grab Jungwoo.

“But I’m gonna dance with Y/N.” He whined, but nevertheless letting Mark lead him to the couch.

“Next time yeah?” 

Jungwoo nodded, gladly sinking into the cushion.

“Y/N how about you? You good?” Mark asked, leaning down to your eye level. You leaned your head against his chest and closed your eyes for a bit. 

“Mmmmm.”

“Mmmmm? What’s that mean? You need something?” You shook your head, opting to wrap your arms around his waist. 

The two of you swayed there for a bit, until you started to feel dizzy. “Water?”

“Huh?” His head was resting on top of yours. “You want water?” He pulled away, once again looking you in the eyes.

He nodded slowly at you, “Okay, I’ll get you water, you just stay right here okay?”

You leaned against the couch and smiled at him nodding in response. 

He was only gone for a moment when you felt a presence invading your space. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You opened your eyes. 

Woah.

He smiled at you, liking your reaction, “Woah?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Your hand reached for the lock of blonde hair nearest to you. He chuckled, grabbing your hand, “I’m gonna go with no then.”

You looked up at him, wide eyed earning you a grin. “Wanna dance?”

There was nothing left to do but nod.

He grabbed your head, softly pulling you towards the space everyone was dancing on. From the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn you saw Yuna making out with that guy from your Calculus class but you shook it off, there were more important things in front of you.

You were tugged against his chest, and the heat coming off his chest making you feel dizzy. After a few moments he turned you around, placing his hand under your chin, leaning your head back in the crevice of his neck. You closed your eyes. His hands once softly gripping your waist dug into your hips, dragging you closer if that was possible. As your bodies grinded against each other, you felt his lips make contact with your exposed neck. You gasped, stretching your neck more in order to give him as much access as you could. Already you could feel the spots where hickies would be impossible to hide the next day, but you didn’t care. 

Soon the kisses and licks turned into love bites and the grip on your waist grew firmer. It was becoming much easier to feel the growing eagerness of your partner. You rotated your hips, pushing back into him and he threw his head back groaning. 

“Fuck, how about we take this upstairs?” He moaned into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You felt your stomach clench.

Somehow you made it upstairs, stumbling through frenzied kisses and already swollen lips. He pushed your backwards through a wooden door frame and immediately turned you around as he slammed the door shut. He trapped you against the cool wood panel before attacking your neck once more, you let out a gasp, running his hands over his chest. His lips didn’t stop attacking until he found your sweet spot, you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair pulling slightly. He moaned into your neck before swearing and pushing you towards the bed. 

Before you had even made it there he managed to rid you of your dress.

“Fuck, you know that shit really wasn’t leaving much for the imagination.” He quickly pulled his top off and pushed you down, crawling you top of you to leave a trail of kisses down your body.

“God, you’re fucking hot.” He groaned as his lips traced the black lace of your bra that Yuna forced you into.

You sunk further into the bed, his body crashing into yours, unbelievably close, as his fingers left blazing hot trails on your body.

You were wrapped around each other in the morning as you woke up. Your eyes opened slowly meeting the already awake eyes of the man next to you. For a moment you stared at each other in silence, relishing the peaceful moments before your hangover would kick in.

There was a loud clang from downstairs, causing you to flinch. The moment was over.

He pulled away from you harshly turning to throw on sweats and a shirt before moving past you to the bathroom. You wrapped yourself in the sheets sitting up and watched his back.

He hesitated for a moment before turning back to face you, “Don’t you know to leave before I wake up?” He gave you a one over while shaking his head at you. “It was just a fuck.”

You sat in silence, only jumping at the sound of the bathroom door slamming. Suddenly you felt sick. You scrambled out of bed to find the pieces of last night’s outfit scattered around the floor.

As soon as you were dressed and you cleaned yourself up as much as you could in the mirror, you ran towards the stairs. The smell of bacon wafted past you, making you wish you didn’t feel the nausea that was slowly rising. 

“Y/N?” Taeil turned to see you rush past the kitchen. You stopped, backtracking to the doorway and gave him a tentative smile.

He looked at his watch and frowned, “You’re still here?”

“She was with Yuta.” A boy with black curly hair and a grey hoodie said, munching on his apple. He spun in his chair before stopping in your direction.

Yuta? Well shit, you didn’t even know his name until now.

“I’m surprised you’re still here. Yuta usually makes sure his girls leave before he wakes up. Honestly, most of them don’t even get to spend the night, he just kicks them out after his little escapade. I’m Doyoung by the way.” He flashed a little smile and tilted his head at you.

“Oh.” You blushed looking down at your feet. “I was just on my way out.” 

He nodded, getting what you meant. 

“Oh? Y/N?” You turned to find a familiar face. 

“Jungwoo?” He smiled sheepishly at you, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sorry about last night. I don’t really remember much except us falling over each other. I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable did I?”

You blushed in response. “No, trust me I think it was mutual last night.” You laughed nervously, rubbing your arms, suddenly immensely aware of your less than modest outfit. 

“Here!” Jungwoo stripped off his blue hoodie, leaving him in a plain white tee. He stuck his hand out, offering you the jacket, which you took gratefully. Even though you weren’t planning on staying long, it was freezing outside and you’d have to wait for a ride to come get you.

Mark! You totally forgot to tell him, you mentally slapped your forehead, knowing that he wasn’t going to let this go too easily. 

The sweatshirt hung just above the length of your dress, not doing much for modesty down there, but it still felt more comfortable than before. 

There was a slam and a girl came running down the stairs and towards the door, she gave you a knowing glance before exiting the building.

You sighed, you should probably get going now, Mark was going to throw a fit but you knew he'd show up anyways.

A hand came down on your shoulder, the man behind it chuckling as he watched the scene. 

“You staying for breakfast Y/N?” He moved around you, grabbing a plate from Taeil and sitting down.

“Jaehyun.” You froze. You and Jaehyun were kind of friends. You had met through Yuna and Johnny. Actually you got along really well with him, you just lost contact after Johnny and Yuna broke up.

He flashed you a dimpled smile.

“No, I should get going.”

He nodded, already digging in, “You have a ride back?”

You paused. He noticed, looking up at you. 

“Give me five minutes, let me just finish this and I’ll drop you off. Okay?” 

You nodded and gave him a smile. Five minutes wouldn’t hurt right? Besides then you wouldn’t have to bug Mark so early. 

It was 11 am, but he was probably still knocked out. A ride with Jaehyun wouldn’t kill you. He patted the seat next to you and you took up his offer.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Jungwoo set his plate down opposite of you.

You shook your head, “I don’t think I could keep it down.” 

“Right.” He paused, looking at his own food with hesitation before shrugging and taking a bite. 

Doyoung laughed, sinking into the seat next to the boy, “He’ll probably throw it up, but then he’ll say he made more room and eat again.”

Jungwoo shoved him whilst mid-bite before focusing on the task before him.

You looked at him, “How about you?” Referencing the lone apple in his hand. 

“Oh I don’t drink enough to get sick in the mornings, I’m just less of a bacon dude, more of an apple guy.” He grinned, taking a bite. 

“Johnny?” Taeil asked.

Jaehyun leaned back in his chair, grabbing the coffee Taeil just sat down. 

“Sleeping, you know how he is the day after.”

Taeil nodded, “Yeah, I figured, but I thought he’d smell the bacon and be the first one down.” He laughed to himself grabbing another cup of coffee and raised it in your direction.

You shook your head smiling. Jaehyun threw his arm around the back of your chair and you looked at him. He was sipping the coffee and frowning ahead of him.

“What are you still doing here? Did I not make it clear that you should leave?” Your eyes widened at the sound of the voice you heard this morning. 

“Yuta!” Taeil scolded, still setting down a plate for him. He shrugged in response taking the seat at the head of the table, farthest from you.

Jungwoo looked up intensely chewing and just as intensely glancing between the two of you.

You shrunk down in your seat, avoiding eye contact with him. Jaehyun glanced at you and set down his mug. 

“You ready?” He asked, standing up with a stretch. You immediately followed his lead. 

“Yeah.”

“Let me grab my keys real quick. You haven��t moved right?” 

You nodded, watching Jaehyun jog up the stairs for a moment.

Taeil came and stood next to you, cup in hand, “You guys close?”

You shrugged, turning back to face him. “We used to be.”

He nodded silently, watching Jaehyun reappear.

“Got everything?” He asked, opening the door as you started towards the exit. You nodded and turned back to the kitchen one last time, sending a wave and a smile. 

You didn’t miss Yuta’s scowl.

“Don’t mind Yuta, he’s just usually cranky the night after.” Jaehyun reassured you, but it didn’t do much good. 

You looked out the window and nodded silently.

“Did you atleast enjoy last night?” He asked, attempting at rekindling the conversation.

“Yeah, I think I did. Honestly a lot of it was a blur.” You let out a strained laugh.

He joined you, “That’s what makes it so fun.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

There was a comfortable silence. The car jolted to a stop.

“This is you right?”

You had zoned out and missed half the ride back.

“Oh! Yeah, thanks for the ride. Mark would’ve killed me if I asked him to pick me up.”

He nodded, “No problem. I didn’t mind at all. We should hang out again, I’ve missed you.”

You grinned, “Same, we’ll definitely hang out, just let me know when and where.” 

“Will do.”

You shivered as you stepped out of the car and slammed the door. You stepped back, wrapping your arms around yourself and gave a short wave as he left before making your way to your door.

You let yourself in quietly, taking off your heels and turning around only to let out a startled scream.

“Yuna?! What the hell are you doing?! You scared the shit out of me!” 

Yuna was sitting on the couch staring at the front door, looking as if she had been waiting all night.

“Well? How was last night? I’m assuming things went well because here you are waltzing in at 11:30 in the morning.” She was taunting you.

You groaned, “At least let me shower first.”

She squealed, clapping her hands whilst bouncing on the couch.

You paused, “Last night… Mark…”

Her face scrunched up, “Yeah, he’s kind of pissed. We both forgot to tell him… but we’ll make it up to him. I was thinking we’d bring him lunch.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Wait?! Both forgot? Did you hook up with someone again?!”

She continued shaking her head with a bright smile and shoved you towards the bathroom. “Clean up first!”

She laughed at your protest but you eventually gave in.

“Maaarrrk. Come on, we said we’re sorry. I mean honestly we were both drunk out of our minds, how could we have even texted you?” Yuna pouted at him, something she always did to get her way with him.

He looked away, staring at the cupcakes you had brought as a peace offering.

“If it makes you feel any better I made a complete fool out of myself this morning.” You said, still twiddling your thumbs. 

He cocked his head slightly, an indication that you had his attention.

“The guy I slept with totally threw me out.”

He frowned, looking at you, “Why on earth would that make me feel any better?”

You shrugged avoiding eye contact.

“Who was it?”

“What? Are you gonna beat him up?” Yuna asked, laughing as she stole a cupcake.

“Maybe.” He turned his attention to you, “So who?”

“Yuta.”

“Yuta? As NCT frat boy Yuta? Why would you sleep with him?” He asked, his voice increasing a decibel. 

“Umm.. Have you seen him? He’s hot as hell.” Yuna said, licking the frosting off her fingers before giving him a look. “I’m glad she did. It’s about time she got some action.”

“How can you be glad she slept with him? He’s a total asshole! Plus he kicked her out this morning!” He asked, reaching for the coveted cupcake. She slapped his hand away, taking a bite.

“Okay, but everyone knows when you sleep with someone at a party, you don’t stay the night, or you at least don’t stay long enough for breakfast in the morning. No offense.” The last part directed at you, but you just continued to stare at the floor.

“Well, wouldn’t you know?” Mark spat out, for once losing his temper. 

Yuna paused and gave him a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s just that, just because you go sleeping around and know the ‘etiquette’ or whatever, doesn’t mean that someone like Y/N would know.” He turned around blocking himself off from her gaze.

“Whatever. I don’t need this.” She stood up grabbing her bag. “We came to apologize, I didn’t come to be attacked. You know I’m sorry I ditched you last night but I don’t need to be called a whore cause you’re still pissy about the whole thing.” 

She slammed the door on the way out, glaring at nothing in particular.

Well. There goes your ride.

Mark sighed, slouching into the cushion of his couch.

“I didn’t call her a whore. At least I didn’t mean to. It’s just she was totally attacking you, and you did nothing wrong. Except maybe sleep with a dickwad.” He groaned, rubbing his hands on his face. “I would never kick you out like that.”

“I know.” You replied, leaning into his side. “I don’t think she’s actually that mad, she’s just struggling right now. You know how she’s been since they broke up.”

“I just think she’s so desensitized, that she doesn’t even know how to be treated right.”

“I know.” You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while.

They weren’t his frat brothers but you were sure he told them all about you and your mistake, judging by the way they were laughing at you.

“Screw them.” Yuna said, glaring at the group. “It’s not even that big of a deal, he should be honored he slept with you.”

You kept your head down, mentally cursing yourself for ever letting him get to you.

The semester had already ended and you had almost forgotten about the frat house and the embarrassment that followed, that is until Yuta and his friends sat themselves behind you in lecture today.

Yuna made a face at you, an attempt to brighten you up. A whole semester with them behind you? This was an actual nightmare.

“Where is Mark?” Yuna muttered checking her phone. “Look I’ve got to go or I’ll be late to my class but you’ll have Mark so don’t let them get to you alright?” 

You nodded, playing with the strings of your sweatshirt. With one last glare Yuna exited the back of the lecture hall.

You felt a presence next you and you stiffened.

“This’ll be fun, don’t you think?” You groaned, of course he would have the nerve to sit next to you only as soon as Yuna leaves. 

You chose to ignore him.

You didn’t have to look at him to tell that he was smirking, “Luck really was on my side-”

“That’s my seat.”

Both you and Yuta looked up and you sighed in relief seeing that it was Mark, “I don’t see a name on it.” Yuta cocked his head, the smirk still plastered over his face. 

Mark just stared at him, not moving. 

Eventually Yuta sighed, standing up and staring down at Mark, the height difference only enhancing the mood he was going for. “It’s a shame you’re no fun.” He moved to the seat behind yours and rested his feet on the back of your chair.

You grimaced as you felt the pressure, and rolled your eyes in annoyance. Mark sat down, turning to you.

“You good?” He asked, leaning in close to you.

Again, you nodded silently.

This was going to be a long semester.

“Are you still coming over to my place tonight?” Mark asked, packing his notebook in his bag.

Nodding, you replied, “Yeah, I still have clothes there right? I’ve got to run to the library and get some stuff first, then I’ll just come over.”

“Yeah, if not, you can just borrow something of mine.” 

You nodded in agreement, watching as the last of his things were secured in his bag. 

“Alright, I’m gonna head out, text me if you need anything.” He waved back at you and made his way out of the hall.

You felt Yuta lean his head forward inches away from yours. You flinched away, bending down to get your things.

“You have plans tonight?” You frowned at his question, or rather statement. He had obviously heard the conversation between you and Mark.

You chose to ignore him, one of your greater ideas.

“Umm.. There’s a party this weekend, if you wanna come.”

You struggled to hold back a snort. Was this his new way of tormenting you? Why on earth would you go to another one of his frat parties?

“It’s for Jaehyun’s birthday.”

You froze, hand half way in your backpack. After a moment you stood up, clearing your throat, attempting to move towards the exit only to find him blocking your way.

You peered behind him, his regular clique of friends long gone, you frowned. 

“What?” You breathed out, tired of whatever mind game that he wanted to play.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the ever present scowl replaced by a timid look.

“I think it’d be nice of you to go. Cause you’re friends and all.” He shrugged half heartedly, like he was struggling to ask you to go.

He glanced at your scrunched face, confusion written all over it. 

“It’s gonna be a small party, not like a huge thing. Just the boys and a few friends.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s gonna be really chill.”

“Right.”

You hesitated to ask for the date and time, but it was for Jaehyun’s birthday so you felt obligated. 

You and Jaehyun had gotten closer over the last few months, a small joy in a hectic semester. 

“It’s Friday, at seven. Don’t feel obligated to bring anything but yourself.” He sent you a small smile, one that sent an unsettling feeling through your stomach. 

You nodded, skeptical of the situation. Your mind was racing, an internal struggle overwhelming you.

By the time you had focused back in, there was a stream of students passing by you, already entering for the next lecture, Yuta no where to be found. 

You sighed, hiking your backpack up on your back and heading towards the library. 

It was hard to concentrate on the task ahead of you, especially when all you had was thoughts of what was to come this weekend. 

“Excuse me.” You flinched, nodding apolegitcally at the girl who reached for a book that you were blocking. 

You shook your head, trying to remember what you had come here for. After a half and hour of racking your brain you gave up, opting to just go to Mark’s.

“So I didn’t find any of your clothes, but you’ve got your toothbrush here.” You weren’t focused on what Mark was saying, walking into his apartment in a daze. 

“Y/N?” You turned to face him, eyes slightly more alert.

“What are you thinking about so hard?”

You sighed, flopping on to the couch and closed your eyes.

He sat next to you, and you felt his intense gaze over you.

You sat up suddenly, facing him. “What would you do if you had a friend who wasn’t really on good terms with a friend of a friend and you were invited to this friend’s kickback but it would be awkward to bring your other friend, but then it would be wrong if you didn’t tell this friend about the party, but it would also be bad to not go to the other friend’s party cause it’s his birthday?”

“What?” 

You sighed, collecting your thoughts. “Jaehyun’s frat is having a party to celebrate his birthday and I was invited.”

“Okay... so?” He furrowed his eyebrows. 

“It’s supposed to be a small thing, like just the frat and a few friends.”

“Right? What’s the problem?”

“Mark, what do I tell Yuna? I can’t tell her that I’m going to a party cause she’ll want to come, but that would be weird because it’s a small thing, and you know,,, Johnny. I’m sure she’ll end up making a scene.”

Mark sighed, looking away from you. “Just don’t tell her, or do, and just say she can’t go. I don’t really care.” 

He stood up making his way to the kitchen. You groaned. Mark and Yuna haven’t quite been the same since the incident after the party. You haven’t found them willingly enter the same room, and even if they were forced to, they refused to interact. You were often caught in the middle of they’re snide remarks regarding each other.

“I don’t really want to go alone though. I’m not close enough with any of the frat guys to hang out there.” You griped, hands fiddling with your sleeves again.

“I thought you were cool with them.”

“Yeah, we’re friendly enough, but it’s still awkward.”

There was a poignant pause. 

“Mark?” You whined, hoping that he would catch the hint.

“No, I’m done with parties.” He held up a hand, waving it in refusal.

“But it’s going to be a small one, it’s not even a real party. Please?”

“Are you even allowed to bring anyone?”

You shrugged, “He didn’t say, but it doesn’t matter, they won’t make you leave. And if they do then I’ll just say hi to Jaehyun and then leave.”

He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Who even invited you?”

“Yuta.” You whispered out.

“Yuta? Why would he invite you?” He frowned, deep in his own thoughts.

“He said it would be nice for Jaehyun. Plus I doubt he’s going to do anything, especially because it’s Jae’s birthday. You know as much as a dick he is to girls, he probably cares about his frat brothers.” You found yourself defending Yuta.

He shot you a look, before shaking his head. 

“You owe me.”

You grinned, pumping your fists in victory.

“Yes! I owe you a thousand times.” You stood up, “Where my sweats?”

“You mean my sweats.” He just shook his head and pointed towards his room, “They’re on my chair.”

You slid past his door, grabbing hold of the sweats that had been designated as yours. 

After changing a picture on his desk caught your eye. It was a photo of the three of you at the beach, a memory made last year during spring break. You smiled to yourself, eyes tracing over the bright smiles. Your eyes shook as they reached Mark’s profile, too busy staring at Yuna to focus on the lense of the camera. 

You winced, recognizing the way that he looked at Yuna, your heart broke for him. It wasn’t the first time you noticed the way he watched her, but seeing it so definite made you hurt for him.

“Y/N? You coming? I’m gonna start the movie if you don’t hurry your ass up!” Mark shouted from the living room, and you tore yourself away, skidding back to the couch.

“Stop doing that, you’re gonna crash into something.” He laughed at you.

“What’s the point of having hardwood floors then?” You climbed over the back of the couch after dumping your clothes next to your bag. 

“Who said you got to choose?” You grumbled to yourself.

“Me, cause you owe me a thousand favors now.” You smiled cheesily at him, hoping to ease his irritation with the situation you dragged him into.

“Right. Do you want anything to drink, eat, possibly a foot massage that would appease you?”

He shoved you upon hearing your teasing tone. “Don’t make me regret this.”

You laughed, turning to focus on the screen ahead of you.

You opted for something a bit more casual than what you wore the last time you entered the frat house, definitely a bit more modest. 

The mood was totally different the moment that you passed the door. 

“Y/N! You came!” You smiled at the familiar face.

“Of course I came, it’s Jae’s birthday.”

Jungwoo peered at Mark who stood next to you, taking in the house as if it was his first time seeing it. 

“Who’s this?” He frowned, racking his brain and trying to connect face to name.

“Oh you probably don’t remember.” You laughed at the memory, “This is Mark, he kind of took care of you at the party we met at.”

His eyes flashed at sudden recognition.

“Oh! Right, you were the one that stole Y/N away from me! I never did get that dance.” He grinned cheekily at Mark’s flustered expression.

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on drinking that much this time.” He winked at you.

“That’s what you said last time.” A skinny boy with wide eyes interrupted him, throwing his arm around his shoulder.

The newcomer smiled at you, eyes turning into half moons. “I’m Taeyong, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“That’s cause you haven’t.” The familiar laid back tone answered before you a chance to. 

“You were out of town the last time she was here.” Doyoung faced you, giving you a brief smile before turning back to Taeyong. “You know if you stuck around and chilled like everyone else then you would’ve known.”

You felt the tension between the two of them, glancing at Mark who had the same expression on his face. 

“I’m here now, so what’s the problem?” The tone was less teasing than you expected, obviously things weren’t smooth between the two of them.

“It doesn’t matter, if you didn’t up and leav-”

“Her name’s Y/N.” Jungwoo interrupted, not caring that it wasn’t quite the right timing to introduce you.

The irritation washed off Taeyong’s face as he sent you a soft smile. “It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He winked at your nervous expression. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I think I need a drink.” After sending Doyoung a glare he found Taeil close by.

“Sorry about that.” Doyoung muttered embarrassed, but he didn’t seem too genuine about his apology.

You smiled back at him, another awkward glance at Mark.

“Well drinks anyone?” Jungwoo asked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” You giggled at him. 

He glared at you teasingly, “What are you trying to say?”

“Okay okay, here.” Taeil swept by shoving a handful of drinks in your direction.

“Well that was easy.” Jungwoo commented before moving to greet the next newcomer. 

With everything happening so quickly you hadn’t noticed that Doyoung had also escaped.

“See. I told you it would be awkward, if you weren’t here I’d be standing alone in a corner.” You shoved Mark’s side, handing him your drink.

“What’s this?” 

“I’m not drinking tonight. I don’t want to do anything stupid again, drink up.” He grinned at you.

“Well I guess this is payment enough.”

It was some time later that you found yourself laughing alongside Jaehyun when you realized that you hadn’t seen Mark it a while.

“I’m gonna go grab a water.” You excused yourself and set out to find him.

“You came.” You jumped at the sound of Yuta’s voice, uncomfortably close to you.

You spun around, facing him. 

“You brought your little boyfriend though.” He was obviously drunk, more so than the last time. Or perhaps you were just more aware and now you could notice his tendencies. 

“Right. Have you seen him?” You asked curtly, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

“So he is your boyfriend?” The alcohol had definitely left him no control over his emotions as you frowned at the crestfallen look on his face. 

“No, Yuta focus. Have you seen Mark?” 

“I don’t like him.”

You rolled your eyes, starting to enjoy teasing him. “Why not?”

“He’s too touchy with you.”

You cocked your head to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only your boyfriend should touch you like that. You guys are like hugging and stuff.” He pouted at you, a new version of Yuta you had never imagined.

“You touched me.” You mumbled out, watching his reaction.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” 

You stepped back, nervous for the first time. This version of Yuta made you uncomfortable. You were so used to the asshole that made snide comments and teased you. You knew it was just the alcohol talking but you felt restless upon seeing this new side of him. 

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted your savior.

“Mark!” The boy spun around face bursting into a smile as he made his way over to you, slinging his arm over your shoulder. 

“Y/N where’ve you been? I lost you.” His smile faded as he noticed your company. “What are you doing here?”

His tone had turned cold and he pulled you tighter against him, an action not going unnoticed by Yuta.

“I’m having a conversation. And you’re not her boyfriend.” Mark glared at him, not appreciating the tone.

“Okay?”

You cut in between their little stare down, moving to face Mark, “Hey, I already wished Jae a happy birthday and stuff, it’s getting kinda late. We should get going now if you’re ready to go.” 

You motioned towards the door in case he could understand you.

He nodded, not really paying attention, something that you were expecting. 

“Alright, let’s go say bye to Jae and then I’ll drive us home, okay?” You talked slowly, hoping that he would understand more easily.

You grabbed Mark’s hand, pulling him towards the patio, the last place you had seen Jaehyun.

“Oh.” You stopped and turned to face the boy staring at two of your hands. “Bye Yuta.”

His eyes whipped up to find yours, a small smile taking over his features. He lifted his hands and waved slightly, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

“What is wrong with him?” Mark muttered under his breath, face grimaced at the sight. 

You sighed, resuming your journey to Jaehyun. “He’s drunk.”

You slammed the passenger door shut and slid into the driver’s seat, once more checking that all of Mark’s limbs were attached and in the car. 

“That was fun.” He laughed, staring at nothing in particular. 

You snorted at his reaction. “So I don’t owe you anything anymore?”

“I never said that.”

“Do you want me to stay over tonight?” You asked, taking a quick glance at him before regathering your attention on the road. 

“Yeah.”

You drove in silence for a while, and peeked over at him. He was so silent you were sure that he had fallen asleep. But his eyes were open, hooded, but definitely open. He was staring out the window, watching the buildings flash past him.

“Do you think Yuna wants to come?” 

You were startled by his sudden question.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Mark.”

“I know. But I kind of miss her.” He sounded so upset, and you began to get angry at Yuna. 

“I know Mark. Things will get better though. She’s just being stubborn.”

He sighed, fogging up the window for a few seconds before it dissipated under the cold.

“Okay.”

You hesitated to continue. 

“Hey Mark?”

He didn’t respond,

Your eyes found his sleeping figure slumped in the corner of the seat. 

You let out a deep breath, one you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

“How do you do it? Deal with her knowing that she’ll probably never love you back?” You asked no one in particular, listening to the silence that followed your harsh question.

You spent the last few miles of the ride with your mind involuntarily wandering back to Yuta. Now that you thought about it he had been acting weird since the day he invited you to the party. 

It wasn’t that you missed the nagging or teasing that he constantly made you endure. But it made you uneasy, reminding you why he starting doing so in the first place.

You shook your head, bringing yourself back to the road as you pulled into Mark’s designated spot. The car rocked to a standstill.

“It’s because I love her that I can do it.”

You turned to face the seemingly asleep boy, mentally cursing yourself for letting him hear your thoughts.

“Yuna, don’t you think you’re being a little too harsh on him?”

She had just spent the last twenty minutes purposely avoiding Mark, stating that it would absolutely ruin her day to see him.

“He called me a slut, are you really taking his side?” Her tone had turned fierce as you expected.

“He didn’t call you a slut. Besides if it’s something you’re ashamed of, then don’t do it.” You muttered the last bit, trying to soften the tone.

She whipped her head at you. “What? So now you think I’m a slut too?”

“No, it’s just if you’re so upset with the way that people think of you, then why do you keep giving them reason to think that way?”

It was harsh, but you had finally given up on stubborn Yuna. It was time to finally hammer it into her head.

She was at a loss for words when you looked back at her. “I shouldn’t have to care about what other people think of me.”

You bit your lip, frustrated with the way she was thinking.

“Then why are you so mad at Mark? If you don’t care what other people think of you, why are you so mad?”

“Because it’s Mark. Of course I care what he thinks.” 

You stared at her, mouth slightly open, confused with her statement. But it seemed like you weren’t the only one, her eyes widened, throwing her hand over her mouth.

“I mean, he shouldn’t have said that because he’s supposed to be someone I can count on to not think of me that way. I’m supposed to be able to trust that he knows me, and has my back no matter what, not that he’d stab me in the back like that.”

“He didn’t stab you in the back. And he does have your back, no matter what. You know he’s never said one bad thing about you during this time? He just keeps asking if you’re doing okay.”You paused, thinking about your next words, hesitating for a moment. 

”You know I think it’s kind of embarrassing how much you’re bad mouthing him and avoiding him when all he does as make sure that you’re doing fine.” You glanced at her as she turned away from you, trying to hide the fact that she was furrowing her eyebrows. 

“Don’t you think it’s been long enough? For both of you? Would it be that hard to forgive him?” You raised your eyebrows in hopes that you would no longer be the split messenger between the two.

There was a deep sigh from her side. 

“I’ll talk to him later, just the two of us. I guess I owe him that much.” You smiled at her flushed face.

She grinned back, wrapping her arm in yours, “Now tell me about the party last weekend.”

You jolted your head to the side, wide eyed. “H-how did you...?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad. It’s not like I was invited. Besides it would’ve been weird right, for me to show up.” You smiled at her, thankful that she wasn’t upset.

“To be honest, it was fun. I missed hanging out with them.” She elbowed you in the side.

“Any one in particular you like hanging out with?” Wiggling her eyebrows, she sent a suggestive look your way.

You blushed, understanding her intentions. “No. They’re all fun.”

“Right. Did Yuta bother you much? I hope Mark didn’t leave you alone to be bugged by him.” She scrunched her nose, evidence that she was still annoyed by him.

“No. He didn’t bother me, he was pretty drunk.” You frowned, “He actually said something though that bugged me.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, he just kept talking about me having a boyfriend.” You paused, eyes shaking at what you were about to say. “He asked if he could be my boyfriend.” 

Yuna made her scandalized face, teasing you as you cut in, attempting to save face for both yourself and Yuta.

“But he was really drunk, who knows if he even knew what he was saying.” You hurried out,  nibbling at your bottom lip.

“Didn’t you say he had been acting weird around you lately? Like not teasing you weird, but like he was actually kind of nice to you?” You nodded thoughtfully.

“Yeah, he was actually the person who invited me to Jae’s party.” 

“Really?” She asked, squinting in confusion. “That’s strange, I thought he would’ve been the last person to invite you.”

“Right?” You thought to yourself for a moment, “He wouldn’t do something would he?”

“No, I think he’s just gotten bored. Maybe he’s finally tired of teasing you.” You laughed at the thought.

“Sure, I’d die of happiness if that were true.” But there was a small part of you that you chose to ignore, that felt a little sad at the thought.

“Do you want one?” You raised your eyebrow at the scene in front of you.

“I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Yuta gave you a small smile. “Taeil baked them, they’re to die for.”

You frowned at the muffin he was showing you, but eventually took it.

He nodded his head once, indicating for you to try it.

As you bit into the soft texture of the muffin your eyes widened. 

“I know. I’m not usually one for muffins, but I’ll never pass on one from Master Moon.”

You giggled at the title.

“No really, that’s what he calls him self, but I’m not one to argue.” A genuine smile bloomed over his face, the first time you had seen it.

Unknowingly you returned the smile, something about it making you feel better already.

He rubbed the back of his neck, an embarrassed smile, replacing the previous, “I’m sorry we got off on a bad foot.” He let out a big sigh, “I kind of let things get out of hand.”

You felt yourself closing off again, but realized that his words were genuine.

“I’m not gonna lie, the stuff you said and things you did hurt me. This class was hell because of you, I even avoided seeing Jaehyun because of you.”

You let out a sigh, and a heavy silence followed. You glanced at the worried expression on Yuta’s face, and you recognized the guilt.

There had been some point where your anger towards Yuta had faded. Perhaps it was the fact that he stopped bothering you, perhaps it was his confession, or perhaps it was the way that he started to look at you. You believed that there was something more to Yuta, and you wanted to get to know that side.

“But if you continue to bring me amazing snacks I’ll have no choice but to forgive you.” You laughed nervously, tearing anxiously at the empty wrapper.

“Then I’ll just have to keep bugging Master Moon.” He grinned, a reflection of yourself.

You felt your face heat up, blushing at his blatant flirting.

“Um.... I know I was like really drunk the other night. I’m not going to pretend I don’t remember pieces, because I do. And I want you to know that even though I was drunk I really meant what I said.” He glanced at you from the side, not brave enough to confront you.

“What do you mean?” You tried not to think of the way that he basically confessed to you, and you chose to ignore it.

“Uh... Do you... not remember?” He scratched his head, ruffling his hair into a more messy look.

“I’m not sure, you were saying a lot of things.” Biting your lip, you focused on the wrapper in your hand.

“Oh... I- uh...I like you.” You whipped your head to face Yuta, who was now avoiding eye contact.

“What?” It came out as a whisper, barely audible to him. You heart began beating faster, and you were worried that he would be able to hear it because it was so loud.

“I like you Y/N. Look, I know I have a pretty shitty way of showing it, but I promise that I’ll make up for it.”

You hated to leave him hanging, but you had no words. You wanted to give him some sort of reassurance, but the words were stuck in your throat.

“Will you go out with me? Or at least one date to show you I’m not a total asshole.” He wasn’t great at hiding the fact that he was nervous, and you giggled at the sight.

“Yeah. I guess one date couldn’t hurt right?” You smiled at him, boldly reaching for his hand.

He wrapped his hand around yours, pulling you close to his chest. you could hear the beating of his heart through his shirt, making you smile at the thought that you were the cause of this.

“I swear I’ll make it up to you. I’m done making stupid decisions.”

© Copyright 2021. hyuckssunchip. All rights reserved.

[justjstuff]

I just wanted to let you know that I am a ginormous fan of DOF and looked forward to Fire Friday every week! Your writing skills are astounding and I’m so thankful for your incredible depiction of Sakura’s bad-ass personality and story in this fic. Not only that, I am amazed at all the consistently LARGE contribution you used to upload weekly because the quality is literally off the charts. I’m so thankful that you’re taking a break because I know that accomplishing all of this as well as you do cannot be easy! Nonetheless, I would like for you to know that you have a huge fan in me and I will continue to look forward to new chapters (whenever they may come-excellence takes time 😉). Really though, I can’t stop gushing about this fic and I guess just thank you for all of the hard work you put in it so people like me can get some free serotonin each time we read it lol. You’re amazing!!

Anon-san, your sweet words give me life, thank you so so much. I've had a lot of people tell me how much the weekly updates were grounding and a breath of fresh air in this pandemilovato but your comment has to be one of the best I've got so far because.... oh man, I desperately need not only others but also myself to realise just how taxing it was.

So yeah, thank you for loving my story but also thank you for reminding myself that it was a HUGE accomplishment and that it's okay if I maybe can't meet it anymore. I've recently begun digging deep into myself and started going to more intensive (and intrusive) therapy and had some diagnosis that are pretty mindblowing in a way and now I'm trying to be mindful not to push myself to my limits. It's hard af, let me tell you, I know the potential I have and it feels normal to always want to achieve it but I gotta remind myself that maybe my "full potential" isn't as healthy as I thought it was.

I'm extremely glad that I got the opportunity to give y'all that experience of nice 8-12k long chapters a week, with lots of character and plot work, at roughly the same time, every Fire Friday. *aggressively throws serotonin everywhere I can •̀.̫•́✧*

(pagebreak bc y'all didn't sign up for hugeass posts in your dash lol)

For a bit of an update on how my process is coming along: I got sick. Covid got me y'all and I still only had the first dose and suffer from asthma so daaamn this motherfucker's got hands. No need to worry about me tho!! My tests are coming back okay and at least my fever is gone BUT that means my brain is a bit like mush rn and while I'm still working, I'm doing so veeery much slower. Anyways, covid was just the cherry on top this month but I don't want to get too deep into it.

I genuinely think Fire Fridays were good not only for you guys (esp during that time back in 2020 where literally everyone was at home and routines were thrown out the window faster than you can say defenestration) but also for me, it gave me a nice sense of "normal" when everything was shit. Uuhh as you've seen in my last AN, I dropped out of college and am currently pursuing other dreams/way of living so I think having that set date will help me A LOT while juggling real life and fandom life. That being said, some things had to change.

First of all is the way of seeing Fire Fridays as if it's a deadline set by my boss. Nah, I don't get paid for writing fanfiction and I'm done treating it as a job. I know not a lot of people have the same care that you did while commenting and there is a lot of nagging and grumbling about Fire Fridays (even if sometimes those comments are even sweet while they do it) but I'm incredibly proud to say that comments from people in the internet I don't know hardly have an affect on me. Lol y'all haters can hate but I'm my worse critic and I fkn know it, nothing you say will change the way I see myself and my work. That being said, a lot of that nagging was being unconsciously done by me *gasp* I know. I'm an overachiever. Shocking.

NO MORE OF THAT.

Next order of business is how I was going about Fire Fridays. My first break came because I literally didn't have any "spare chapters" meaning, I wrote, edited, sent for my Beta to edit, and then edited myself again a whole ass 9k monster every week and that shit was like a kick to the ass right into the general direction of Burnout City. Not fun. So I took a "break" which wasn't really a break because I still wrote 71k words in that month and when I started back up with Fire Fridays, I had a lot of chapters to post, right? WRONG. If each chapter had 10k words (which is roughly what was happening on an average), that meant I only had 7 new chapters to post with severe burnout making it practically impossible for me to write anything else to the point that I couldn't even bring myself to edit the first drafts of those chapters. Again. Not fun.

So now, my idea has been: try to aim for Fire Fridays in a healthy way but also let my readers know they might not get another batch of those lovely what? six months of new chapters every friday. What does that mean? Well, it means I'm trying to write some chapters ahead! So while y'all aren't really getting anything since the last chapter, that has been a conscious decision on my part not to leave y'all with horrible cliffhangers when I can't be sure I'll make quick enough updates (and that definition has changed to maybe twice a month? We'll see). I'm writing. It's going fairly slowly by my standards but since I've come really close to giving up on DoF in favour of RL original content, I'm proud of it.

YOU're amazing, Anon-san. Thank you so much for reaching out, I hope you have a lovely end of the week and that you and your loved ones are safe and happy as can be in late stage capitalism <3

[gumnut-logic]

Who do you save, John? (Bit 10c + The End)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5a | Bit 5b | Bit 6 | Bit 7 | Bit 8 | Bit 9 | Bit 10a | Bit 10b  | Bit 10c

Always end up rushed. Didn’t have a chance to edit the end so I’m likely to be swearing at it later. Sorry for the delay, muse crashed and burned on Friday. here’s hoping I’ve resuscitated it. 17,000 words. So much for the under 10K I estimated. Typical.

For @5hadow-alpha​​​  cos they wanted Shopping and a Tracy brother. They got more than one, and I got more than I expected.

-o-o-o-

The next time Alan woke, the room was full of golden family.

The sun was setting through the window, lighting up the room in shades of gold. His brothers were lit up as they clustered around Virgil’s bed.

They didn’t notice Alan, and it gave him the opportunity to both wake up fully and observe his family undetected.

He was feeling much better. His head was a lot clearer and he was calmer.

The reason why no one noticed his wakefulness was because Virgil was already awake.

His brother was smiling and poking fun at a sunlit Gordon near the end of his bed. Gordon appeared to be enjoying it. When the attention drifted away from him and whether or not he was allowed to film Virgil on drugs, the expression on his fish brother’s face was one of fondness and hope. His eyes barely left the prone man.

That fact could have been annoying from a little brother’s perspective, but Alan found himself doing the same thing.

Virgil, who had literally died in his arms, was supported by his bed, sitting up at an angle and talking quite animatedly. There was a healthy flush to his cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

John was standing calmly on the other side of the bed, the setting sun catching his hair from behind as it darted through the hospital window.

John had a habit of striking such a pose. It was unclear if he did it on purpose or was completely unaware of his surroundings in those moments.

Virgil had photographed him on multiple occasions for that exact reason, much to the astronaut’s annoyance.

Grandma stood beside him; her arms wrapped around his. That was an unusual sight. But then they had almost lost a brother and the threat had been to John.

That thought led into unpleasant directions so he brought it to a halt.

He could only see Scott’s back, but his brother was gesticulating, making a point about digging up Gordon’s baby videos and broadcasting them to the world if he didn’t behave.

As if Scott would ever do something like that.

Though, come to think of it, the threat at least wasn’t a bad idea. Alan had much less a solid reputation than Scott and could probably carry the threat enough to get some good ones out of his brother.

“How did you know it was a fake detonator?” John’s voice cut across the conversation, his expression puzzled. The question came out of the blue, ever a sign that John’s mind worked on more than one track at a time.

Virgil blinked up at him. “I…I didn’t at first. It was a good replica of a T-325. But I noticed he was holding his hand strangely. The T-325 has a trigger rest here.” His brother held up a hand as if to sketch out the design in the air, only wince and withdraw the gesture.

Grandma frowned at him from the other side of the bed.

“Long story short…if you waved a T-325 around as much as he did, with that grip, chances are we would have blown up long before he had started his second rant. That one is a touchy model.” Virgil shifted awkwardly and Scott laid a hand on his arm.

“Well, I’m glad we had our expert on hand.”

Scott’s smile was reflected in Virgil’s eyes.

“Oh, ho, ho, look who’s awake!”

Trust Gordon to dob him in.

Suddenly all the eyes in the room were on Alan. His father and eldest brother spun, both faces lighting up when they realised Alan was awake.

Alan couldn’t help but grin back. “Hey.” His voice caught and he coughed.

Talk about ruining a moment. Scott was on him immediately, his dad not far behind.

“How are you feeling, Alan?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m good.” He reached out his uninjured arm and nudged his worried brother aside gently. “Virgil?”

Soft brown eyes caught his and his big brother smiled. “Hey, Allie.”

A hand landed on Alan’s leg and he looked up to find a pair of grey eyes peering down at him. Alan frowned. “Dad, you should sit down.”

“I’m fine, Allie. Are you comfortable?”

An arched eyebrow. “I’m good, honest.” And he was. There was definitely still something in his system. It was keeping him quite happy. Too much movement probably wasn’t on the cards yet, but to be honest, the sight of Virgil smiling at him was enough endorphins to keep him going for weeks.

He turned back to Virgil and soaked it in.

The smile turned to a grin and Alan flushed in embarrassment.

But those brown eyes were reassurance itself.

“Hmm, did you two want to be alone?”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was sharp, but no less reassuring that Virgil could spin the familiar phrase off so easily.

Alan laughed. “Good to see you, Virg.”

Again with the smile. “Likewise.” Those eyes turned inwards for a second before fixating on him. “And thank you.”

The line ‘just doing my job’ climbed onto his lips, but he vetoed it. “Always, bro.”

The room was embarrassingly silent after that and the moment broke.

“Dad, I would rather you sat down.” Virgil was definitely feeling better.

“I can look after myself, son.” It was firm and a touch threatening if Virgil chose to push the point.

But his father took a seat.

Alan shifted position and his arm twinged. He must have shown it on his face, because Scott reached out and touched his shoulder. He looked up to find worried blue eyes staring down at him.

Apparently, he needed to repeat himself. “I’m okay, Scott.”

His brother grunted before letting go, grabbing his plastic chair and dumping himself in it.

The room fell silent.

Turquoise hit him from across the room as the sun dipped behind a cloud and the room chilled.

“So, who was that guy?” Anything to get the conversation moving.

For a second, he regretted the topic as Scott’s lips thinned, but he had to know and clearing the air wouldn’t hurt, would it?

It was John who answered, though. “Timothy was a rescue we were unable to attend. Eos pulled the records and what he said was true. He lost his family. Any other day and we would have been there, but the Tsunami Disaster had all our attention.” A pause. “I am sorry.”

Scott started at that. “Hey, it was not your fault.”

A copper eyebrow arched. “Really? Do you want me to list exactly where our forces were deployed at that moment? It was Day Three. Scott was en route to Tracy Island for refueling, Virgil, you were asleep. Gordon had dragged you to the bunk on Two. He had threatened to tie you down. You were all down for the count. His call was one of twenty-three we couldn’t respond to on that particular day.”

“Johnny-“ Gordon held out a hand.

It was almost snapped off. “Don’t call me Johnny.”

“John.” Their father’s voice managed to be both warning and worried at the same time.”

His astronaut brother didn’t back down. “This isn’t out of the ordinary. It happens every day. It is happening now. People are dying because we are not there.”

“We can’t save everyone.” His father’s voice was firm.

“I know that, Dad.” John’s expression was exasperation itself. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

Silence fell again and all Alan could think of was how this whole thing had been aimed at John and how it had obviously reached its target despite Timothy not succeeding in his plan.

Something was burning in his brother. He could see it from here. John was tense and agitated.

It was likely the drugs, but Alan just wanted to climb out of bed and hug him.

“Well now, I think, you could all do with something to eat.” Grandma squeezed John’s arm and he looked down at her as if snapped from a dream. “Don’t look at me like that, young man. I know you haven’t been eating.”

“What?” Scott sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing in on his brother. “John?”

The astronaut rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” And Grandma was nudging him towards the door.

His father stood up and followed.

Scott eyed Alan a moment, but stayed seated.

As their grandmother and father herded John out the door, Gordon took the opportunity to steal the chair beside Scott.

“Is John okay?” The words fell from Alan’s mouth before he could think twice.

Scott sighed. “He will be.” There was a silent ‘I hope’ after that.

“Eh, he’s just pissed Eos got found out.”

Alan blinked. “What?”

“Gordon!”

“Just trying to lighten the atmosphere. Cool it, bro.”

Alan frowned. “What?”

“Eos electrocuted a guard with his own comms circuit.” Gordon was smirking.

“What? How?”

“Upped the signal power enough to arc through his baldric.”

Alan stared at his brother. “She hurt him?” He turned to Scott. “She can do that?” To us?

“Don’t worry, it is not happening again.��

“He deserved it.” Gordon snarled the words. “Betraying us for money. He’s lucky it was Eos and not Kayo.”

Scott tilted his head. “Kayo hasn’t finished with him yet.”

Alan’s eyes were bugging out. “Who? And why?”

Scott sighed just a little. “The guard outside the dressing room was an accomplice.”

“One of our own?”

“Yes.” That single word said so much. Kayo wasn’t the only person angry at such a betrayal. No doubt whoever it was would have to face the Commander at some point.

Alan had faced an angry Scott before. Not an experience for the faint hearted.

“And Eos was able to electrocute him with his comms?”

“Brains is working on it as we speak. It won’t happen again.”

Scott would never be entirely comfortable with Eos. Alan had to admit he had a few issues of his own having had to scoop up his astronaut brother as he lay dying in space, because of her.

A hand landed on his. “It won’t happen again.”

Alan swallowed. “Good.”

“Well, we’re lucky it happened this once. John found traces of an alien computer program in the z band network. Brains is having conniptions. This one security breach could have destroyed everything.”

“But it didn’t.” Virgil’s voice was quiet, but strong enough to stop the conversation. “We’re all safe. It’s over.” Brown eyes flickered in his direction.

The same brown eyes that had closed on Alan as his brother died in his arms.

Anger flared up. “So, this security breach let Timothy do what he wanted and Virgil died because of it.” Three pairs of eyes widened at Alan’s sharp tone. “How did this happen? How did he get past all our security checks? Kayo is pedantic to the point that I sometime wonder if I’ll be allowed access to anything. How did we not know?”

“Allie, it’s okay.” Again, Virgil’s voice was soft. “We’ll fix it.”

“You died, Virgil!”

“No, I didn’t.” Those eyes blinked slowly.

“You did!”

“Alan!”

And he found himself breathing fast and hard. Scott was holding him down. Gordon had a hand on his leg.

“Calm down, Allie.” Intense blue eyes caught his. “Virgil is safe. You are safe. We will fix this.”

Alan stared up at his big brother, soaking in the reassurance Scott was broadcasting. A deeper breath and he willed his heart rate to slow. He swallowed and managed the briefest of nods.

“The guy had money and resources. Kayo will, no doubt, rake our entire security force over hot coals. We will learn from this experience and it will not happen again.”

“It should not have happened in the first place.” Alan found his voice cold and as Scott flinched, he knew it had hit home.

“Allie…” Virgil looked half asleep and Alan realised that he probably was. “We’ll fix this.”

Alan pressed his lips together and glanced between all three of his brothers before once again fixating on Scott.

“We better.”

-o-o-o-

Jeff dragged John out of the hospital room with the full intention of cornering him. The fact his mother came with them was only an inconvenience.

“Mom, could you run ahead and dig up some menus from the cafeteria and perhaps let the nurses station know that the boys are awake?”

His mother eyed him and arched a silver eyebrow. “Certainly.” A flick of that gaze at his son before she turned and walked off.

No doubt he would be paying for that one later.

But first he wanted to speak to John.

“Walk with me?”

The astronaut frowned at him, but nodded once.

Jeff cursed being so slow, but he led his son down to the hospital garden. Security made itself known as Iz appeared from nowhere and he caught a glimpse of Leone not far off. Kayo was laying it on thick, but he couldn’t blame her.

The garden was a small one and this late in the day, quite dark and empty. Most patients had been hustled off to bed and their visitors went with them.

If Iz was seen to lock the door behind them and secure the green patch for them alone, Jeff wasn’t going to argue, just this once.

He found a bench under a large shrub that gave them some privacy and ushered John to sit down beside him as he lowered himself on to the seat.

“Dad, I’m okay.”

“That seems to be a theme in this family even when it is a blatant lie.”

That shut his boy up for a moment.

Jeff sighed. “John, when I sent you up there, I knew it was going to be hard. I am sorry.”

“No, Dad. I knew what I was getting into. This is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? Aren’t I hailed the creator of International Rescue?” He tried hard to catch those turquoise eyes, but John refused to look at him.“Pfft. The media. What do they know?”

That got a reaction. Copper eyebrows arched and his son looked up. Jeff took every advantage.

“I may have taken the first steps, but it is you boys who have kept it all going. Lived it. You’ve lived it for ten years. That is four times as long as I have and, trust me, I have guilt for those numbers.”

“Dad-“

He held up a hand. “No. This is where you listen, John.”

Something flashed in those eyes and Jeff’s lips twisted in response. “I set you boys on this path and you have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. You have made both your mother and I ever so proud.”

John just stared at him, eyes a little wide.

“But there has been a cost. You carry scars that have me questioning every decision I ever made.” He swallowed, all of it suddenly threatening to overwhelm. He shifted in his seat. “John, I know you sit up there day in and day out with lives in your hands. I can see that every life lost has as much effect on you as it does your brothers and often even more so because you see more of them.”

Jeff paused and tilted his head. “What’s the average number?”

John blinked. “Excuse me?”

“How many lives are lost per day because we can’t respond?”

There was a flicker of the professional emergency responder and his son’s face fell calm. “Ten to fifteen. It varies. The number includes rescues that fail due to local authorities incapability, situations that become more severe than predicted on initial assessment and situations we can not attend simply because we do not have the resources.”

“And what do you tell these callers?”

“What I can.” John’s voice grew quiet. “We do our best, Dad.”

Little more than breath. “Exactly.” He held his son’s eyes and couldn’t help but see the young man he had once been during that cyclone all those years ago. That same youth and concern. That care for those he couldn’t help.

“What’s the average daily rescue count?”

John blinked. “Uh, it varies between ten and several hundred.”

It was Jeff’s turn to blink. “That many?”

John shrugged. “Well, the statistics were blown during the asteroid crisis with Fischler and the aurora generator was full of hypotheticals.” His son was frowning, his hands expressive.

Jeff grabbed them.

“If you had a choice, all over again, as to whether you would take this path or another, what would you choose?”

The frown he received was castigating. “Dad, that’s asking the ridiculous.”

“No, who do you save, John? Them or yourself.”

“That’s a stupid question. Of course, I, we, choose to save everyone we can. We do it every day, Dad.” His son looked offended.

“Even despite the cost?”

“Of course.” The offense turned to an expression questioning Jeff’s sanity.

“Why?”

“Because it is worth it, Dad. When someone calls for help, they have to know there is someone out there who will answer. That’s what I do, Dad. I’m The Voice Who Answers.”

Jeff couldn’t help but smile. His boys made him so proud. Worried, yes, but so, so proud. His own words from so many years ago, echoed back at him by the very son who enacted them on a daily basis. The son who sacrificed so much to be up there, apart from his family, apart from the world, just so he could do exactly that.

The Voice Who Answers didn’t even consider the question, a question.

Who do you save?

Everyone you can.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[erisbaek]

Stucky Fic Rec [Part One]

So I decided to split the fic recs up into parts because they will be too long otherwise. In each part I will link the Google Doc that I am typing them up in, which is where I will constantly update as I read.  Within these fic recs, they’re mostly my preferences, so very few (if any) Shrinkyclinks, and ABO fics will be within them, as well as shorter fics, since I actively seek fics out that are longer than 10k (and completed)!!

The Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit?usp=sharing

The first part is formatted under the cut, if you’d prefer to stay out of the doc!

Lightning in a Bottle 

    Word Count: 63k     Rating: Explicit     Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Road Trip!AU, Angst with Happy Ending     Warnings: Smut, Smoking     Synopsis: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking. The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction… Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride.

It gets more complicated from there.

Perspective and Truth

        Word Count: 16.7k          Rating: Teen and Up         Notable Tags: Bodyswap!AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort        Warnings: None        Synopsis: Bucky and Steve end up swapping bodies and learning a lot more about each other in the process

Carbs and Conversations

         Word Count: 48k          Rating: Teen and Up          Notable Tags: Hockey!AU, No Powers          Warnings: None          Synopsis: Bucky was just looking for a chance. A chance to get on the ice and play. A chance to escape from Hydra. A chance to redeem himself. He didn't include 'A chance to be friends with Steve Rogers' on the list. That would be ridiculous. Lucky for him, Steve seemed determined to be ridiculous.

So Loud and So Clear

           Word Count: 26.6k            Rating: Mature            Notable Tags: Get Together, Slow Build            Warnings: None           Synopsis: Bucky had been careful, after all, leaving no trace of his comings and goings. It was horrendously disappointing to know that Rogers had found him. Bucky was a lot better than getting caught by a guy who wore the American flag as a onesie. He just really was. “Don’t you – Bucky – Bucky,” Rogers started, and to Bucky’s growing horror, it looked like Rogers was on the verge of some type of emotional eclipse. Anger, sadness, something, and Bucky wanted nothing to do with it. “Hate to break it to you, bud, but I don’t remember ever living here and I don’t remember you.”

A Loyal Viewer 

           Word Count: 36.1k            Rating: Explicit             Notable Tags: Camboy!Steve, Punk!Bucky, No Powers, Long Distance            Relationship            Warnings: Smut            Synopsis: At almost exactly eight thirty in the evening, Steve settles on the bed before his camera and the computer. He signs into his account on Chaturbate and clicks the button that starts his stream.

In My Conditions, Love’s the Best Physician

             Word Count: 9.1k              Rating: Not Rated              Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pharmacist!Bucky, Russian!Bucky              Warnings: None              Synopsis: ”This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts. The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him. Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?” - Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered) 

               Word Count: 66.7k                Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Mechanic!Bucky, Slow Burn                Warnings: Smut, Canonical Character Death                Synopsis: It's 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

Looking For A Place To Hide

                Word Count: 33.3k                 Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Endgame Fix-It, 2012!Steve                 Warnings: Smut                 Synopsis:  It's 2012 and all Steve knows is that another version of himself said Bucky is alive. Steve will do anything to get his friend back, even if it means time traveling to 2023. He expects Bucky to be happy to see him, but instead he's wary, hurt. Turns out his Steve had left him for Peggy. How? Why? Steve can't believe it. Now he'll have to find a way to make sense of it all, and convince Bucky that it's the two of them to the end of the line.

The Wolf and the Sheep

               Word Count: 50.5k                Rating: Teen and Up                Notable Tags: Shield Agent!Steve, Winter Soldier!Bucky                 Warnings: None                Synopsis: Steve Rogers is a SHIELD agent who is recruited for a secret project: Becoming a handler for the Asset. Steve’s world is thrown for a loop when he discovers the Asset is an actual person and he needs to figure out who he is and what he’s going to do.

All Those Little Pieces

                 Word Count: 40.5k                  Rating: Mature                  Notable Tags: Alternating POV, Post CATW                  Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks                  Synopsis: Steve has never forgotten Bucky Barnes. Not their childhood together, not the horror of the moment Bucky fell too far for him to reach, and not the way he's loved him all the while. Bucky has forgotten everything about Steve, at least at first. But there's still a feeling there, warm in his chest—and maybe now that he's found his way back to Steve Rogers and his sunny apartment, there's a chance it might turn into something more.

My Dear

                   Word Count: 29.9k                    Rating: Explicit                     Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery                    Warnings: Smut                    Synopsis: The Soldier stares down at the floor, breathing hard through his nose. “And you still wanna fix me,” he says. Steve shakes his head. “There’s nothing to fix, Buck. I just want to bring you home.”

Living On My Own

                    Word Count: 26.1k                     Rating: Mature                     Notable Tags: Vigilante!Bucky                      Warnings: Blood and Gore                     Synopsis: James Barnes is back in the world and finds that not only has there been 1) an alien invasion, but 2) Howard Stark had a kid. One that dispenses unsolicited life advice, no less. Oh, and 3) Captain America is alive again, after getting himself killed by his own recklessness in a move so stupid only Steve could have come up with it. In which James learns to do laundry, turns into an accidental neighborhood vigilante and makes Tony Stark a happy grease monkey, all while he figures out where to stake his claim.

Chase the Lighting From the Sky

                      Word Count: 39.4k                       Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: No Powers, Age Gap, Farm!AU                        Warnings: Smut, Past Character Death, Animal Death                       Synopsis: If Bucky has to be stuck doing this ridiculous summer work program before his senior year of college, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, then at least he’s got a hot as hell cowboy for a boss and host. Steve Rogers, owner of the Truth & Justice Ranch, is what Bucky’s completely theoretical but very imaginative bisexual fantasies are made of. Steve’s a widower though, and a nice guy in need of help, and no doubt 100% straight… so Bucky’s gonna work his ass off and keep his head down. But neither Bucky nor Steve are prepared for the friendship that forms between them as they work side by side. And they certainly aren’t expecting the budding feelings, confessions, and passions that summer heat and the loneliness of the great open plains stirs in each of them. What rages to life between them will shake each man to his core and will linger long after the storms and the summer have passed.

Cinder and Smoke

                       Word Count: 51.7k                        Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: Sheriff!Steve, Blacksmith!Bucky, Old Western                        Warnings: Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, OC Death                        Synopsis: “They say there’s no law in Parasapa. Is that true?”

Art Thief, Heart Thief

                       Word Count: 58.8k                        Rating: Mature                        Notable Tags: FBI!Steve, Thief!Bucky Barnes                        Warnings: Smut                        Synopsis: Agent Steve Rogers is facing a series of art thefts that has him stumped, and looking for a break in the case. Convicted art thief and general high end criminal Bucky Barnes wants to make parole and happens to know all of the right people who could make Steve's job easier. So they strike a deal, mutually beneficial and entirely business. But a few days undercover, an undeniable growing chemistry, and some ill-timed Feelings entering the mix, and all bets are off.

Laws of Thermodynamics 

                       Word Count: 14.6k                        Rating: Explicit                         Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery                         Warnings: Smut                        Synopsis: He never had to relearn how to love Steve Rogers. It might be the one thing he never forgot.

Abstract Art

                       Word Count: 26.6k                        Rating: Teen and Up                        Notable Tags: Friends to Lovers, Artist!Steve, Ex Sniper!Bucky                        Warnings: None                        Synopsis: They survive almost a year of torture together, cells side by side, banter and teasing and stories. They keep each other alive. Then everything changes. They tell Bucky that Rogers's been killed. He tries to piece his life together, to move on. Steve owns an art store. He's given up looking. It's over. Except it's really not.

We Discovered Gold

                       Word Count: 18.7k                        Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: Post CACW, Fix-It, Wakanda                         Warnings: Smut                        Synopsis: “So you got these safe houses scattered all over Russia?” Steve jokes into the soft hair over Bucky's temple, not pulling away, “Or did we just get lucky?” Bucky shakes his head and then replies, “Got myself a few. It’s been a long two years.” “Yeah pal,” Steve nods, burrowing further, “I hear that.”

Never Mind to Hold 

                      Word Count: 21.6k                       Rating: Mature                       Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Not CACW Compliant, Soulmarks                       Warnings: Brief Suicidal Ideation                       Synopsis: Steve didn't know the name of Bucky's soulmate. He wasn't even sure when it had appeared across Bucky's heart. But Steve knew it wasn't his name hidden under that patch.

Where There’s Smoke 

                      Word Count: 95.1k                       Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: Firefighter!AU                       Warnings: Smut                       Synopsis: Steve is a Brooklyn firefighter who is about to be saddled with a new, rookie crewmate. James Barnes is that rookie, just looking for a fresh start at a new station. Steve's friends think they know what's best for him...start dating his new crewmate. Steve thinks they're crazy...or possibly right. But events from James's recent past may pose a threat to any designs they have on each other.

Let Them Eat Cake

                    Word Count: 31k                     Rating: Explicit                      Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pastry Chef!Steve, Sommelier!Bucky                     Warnings: Smut, Drug Use                     Synopsis: Steve picked up the piping bag and returned to the ramekins. Bucky left, though not without shooting one last look at Steve's wide back. Bucky could already tell Steve Rogers was trouble, not even counting the near-religious experiences he inspired among the staff. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t appreciate him as well; he did. He just tended to appreciate people he found attractive from afar, because explaining the metal arm was hard, and because he didn’t really know how to handle letting someone in close. But that wasn’t why Steve was trouble, not really. Bucky wanted to know why their new pastry chef had gun calluses on his right hand.

Adrenalize Me 

                  Word Count: 58.5k                   Rating: Explicit                    Notable Tags: Vampire!Steve                   Warnings: Smut, Blood                   Synopsis: Leaning against the side of a wall, taking an indolent drag of a cigarette, there he stood. Watching Bucky with an inscrutable gaze. Staring at Bucky for long seconds, the blond seemed to consider him before breaking the silence. “You know, nice guy like you walking alone at this hour – people might think you were looking for trouble.” Trying not to shudder at the sound of that voice, which wrapped around him like smoke, Bucky managed a smirk, lifted a brow. “Well, if I was, it looks like I found it.” Two strangers meet in a dark club. One just happens to be a vampire.

The Change in Us 

                 Word Count: 23.4k                  Rating: Explicit                  Notable Tags: N/A                  Warnings: Smut                  Synopsis: “I’ve found your BFF,” Stark says without preamble. “My… what?” “James Barnes. Winter Soldier. Bucky. I don’t know, I don’t care, but right now he’s perched on the roof of the next building with a gun on me, and it’s not so much my idea of a relaxing afternoon, so could you get down here?” Steve hangs up and starts running.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

                  Word Count: 38.2k                   Rating: Explicit                   Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Ex Army!Bucky                   Warnings: Minor Smut                    Synopsis: Many an odd critter and item have ended up on the front porch of the property Bucky house-sits in the Middle Of Nowhere, but a bleeding blond man is a first. A short inspection reveals the man to be none other than Steve Rogers; ex-Captain America, vigilante, and a wanted fugitive. Steve’s stay of a few days of recovery is prolonged, under instructions for him to lie low until the Avengers can sort out the mess that has become the Sokovia Accords. Bucky is pretty sure that he’s committing an act of treason by providing Steve a place to stay. He is also pretty sure that lengthy interaction with Steve makes one prone to impending headaches and possibly ulcers. And he is certain that he is, very assuredly, in danger of falling in love with Steve.

The Soldier’s Revenge

                 Word Count: 76.4k                  Rating: Explicit                   Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Enemies To Lovers, Slow Burn                  Warnings: Smut                  Synopsis: Bucky Barnes turns himself in to SHIELD two years after dragging Captain America out of the Potomac River. He was deprogrammed in Wakanda and has been hunting down Hydra ever since, but he needs help if he wants to take proper revenge on his captors. He turns to his old enemies: SHIELD and the Avengers, but it'll take more than a few words to win their trust after the Winter Soldier brought SHIELD to its knees not long before. Now at SHIELD's mercy, the only thing that stands between Bucky and his revenge is the approval of Captain Rogers: a self-righteous asshole that Bucky barely knows.

The Best Way to Wake

                  Word Count: 42.2k                   Rating: Explicit                   Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Slow Burn                   Warnings: Smut                   Synopsis: James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!” In which Bucky Barnes lay frozen in the Alps for seventy years only to be woken up a year after Steve Rogers was uncovered from the Arctic.

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark

                    Word Count: 89.5k                     Rating: Explicit                      Notable Tags: Age Difference, CIA!Steve, Barista!Bucky, Sugar                            Daddy!Steve                     Warnings: Smut                     Synopsis: Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school and is working on his international relations masters. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? Bucky is going to have to figure out his shit and fast. That's what's up.

Laughter Lines

                   Word Count: 100.2k                    Rating: Mature                    Notable Tags: Bodyguard!AU, Slow Burn                    Warnings: None                    Synopsis: Bucky Barnes is a rising Hollywood star with a tragic past and a reputation for driving his bodyguards away. Steve Rogers is a veteran with the same tragic past and the need to get back out in the world. The two of them have been estranged since they were teenagers, so when Steve joins SHIELD as a bodyguard, he is less than thrilled when he finds out that Bucky is his first assignment. But how bad can it be? They're both professional adults, right?Wrong.

From Hydra with Love

                   Word Count: 21.2k                    Rating: Mature                    Notable Tags: Spies!Steve and Bucky                    Warnings: Smut                    Synopsis: Captain Steve Rogers is one of the best spies in the world - a marksman, a martial artist, an expert in strategy and tactics. There's not a lot he can't handle. Heck, he's even saved the world once or twice. So why does every run in with the mysterious Winter Soldier leave him feeling like the Bond Girl?

Goddamn Electric

                Word Count: 67.8k                 Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Bodyguard!Steve, Musician!Bucky                 Warnings: Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Smut                 Synopsis: Steve Rogers works for a discreet private security company and gets assigned to James Barnes, a musician who takes the idea of 'sex, drugs & rock 'n roll' just a little too seriously.

There Was Something About Steve Rogers

                Word Count: 46.7k                 Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Post CATWS                 Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks                 Synopsis: The Winter Soldier knows Steve Rogers has deep feelings for Bucky Barnes, and decides that he can use that to his advantage to gain protection from the Hydra agents still trying to find him. What he didn't bargain for was actually starting to care about the man they call Captain America, or the strength of Bucky Barnes' memories as they begin to resurface.

Through the Mist

                Word Count: 14.5k                 Rating: Teen and Up                 Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Post CATWS                 Warnings: None                 Synopsis: He usually kept it covered. Whether it be with long sleeves, a cuff of some sort, or make up Natasha skillfully showed him how to apply. He didn’t cover it up because he was ashamed or because he was one of those people who didn’t like others knowing who his soulmate was- no. He covered it up out of respect. Respect for his fallen partner, and respect for himself because he knew looking at those swoopy lines of James B. Barnes on his wrist always made him crumble like his legs were kicked down. When he crashed into the ice all those years ago he thought he was going to see Bucky again- he thought he was finally going to be with Bucky without people giving them ugly looks and throwing slurs their way. He thought he was going to be happy again.

Take Me Home 

              Word Count: 78.1k               Rating: Mature               Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Veteran!Bucky               Warnings: Smut, Torture, Referenced Suicide               Synopsis: “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna help you I promise, just don’t move, fuck, I ran over Captain America–” the man apologized, over and over, and all Steve managed to say was, “You’re really attractive,” before passing out on the guy’s lap in the middle of the road.

Where the Circle Ends

               Word Count: 29.8k                Rating: Mature                Notable Tags: Zombie Apocalypse!AU                 Warnings: Smut, Gore                Synopsis: In which the world has gone to hell in a zombie apocalypse handbasket and, in the middle of it all, Steve finds the one person he never thought he'd see again. Angst and feelings (amongst other things) ensue.

Our Souls (They Were Made to Last) 

               Word Count: 53.8k                Rating: Mature                Notable Tags: No Powers, Veteran!Steve, Doctor!Bucky, Ghost!Bucky                Warnings: None                Synopsis: Dr. James Barnes is too busy saving lives to actually have one of his own. When he finally agrees to go on a blind date, he gets into an accident that will change his life forever. Retired Army Captain Steve Rogers is depressed, and when he moves into his new apartment he finds it already occupied....with the ghost of its last tenant. To make matters worse, the ghost is adamant that he's not dead. As they navigate their way through their new living arrangements, can they save each other, before it’s too late? Or have they missed their one shot at a happy ending?

By Any Other Name

                 Word Count: 36.9k                  Rating: Explicit                  Notable Tags: Assassins and Hitmen!AU, Spies and Agents!AU                  Warning: Smut                 Synopsis: Steve was a good spy. It turned out one good spy didn't stand a chance against a rival security firm, a contract killer, and his own heart.

[lesbianrabbithole]

Book Updated #5 - Writing in a foreign language

Book Updated #5 - Writing in a foreign language

First I want to share that in just a week I’m at over 10k words for my book. It’s like the more I write the more motivated I am. I've also gotten into a steady routine of writing at least 500 words a day which is helping me advance faster. 

But what I really want to talk about this week, is my choice to write a book in English when it’s only my second language. 

I learned to speak English when I was 13 years old. I had taken mandatory classes at school all my life, but it was then that it really started clicking. It was all thanks to a unhealthy obsession I developed at that age with a tennis player (It was only normal healthy admiration!!). All information I could find about her and the main fan websites, forums, etc, where in English. 

So I did what every rational, obsessed with a girl, teenager would do. I translated articles about her word by word using a dictionary. I also posted message on forums, chatted with random fans over the world that had so much patience with my basic English, that it eventually started making sense, and one day I didn’t need the dictionary that much. Since then I’ve consumed media primarily in English. Mostly Fanfiction, books, eventually also TV and Movies. As for my fiction writing, I’ve usually done my original fiction in spanish, but all my fan fic has been in English. 

When I decided to start writing my wlw romance book, there was never a question of doing it in Spanish. I was inspired to write it because of my years in fandom, seeing how much we can connect to stories about women, I was inspired by other lesbian romance authors, it was only natural to write in English. That doesn’t mean is not an additional challenge. Is not one I’m conscious of when I’m writing, I just do it to the best of my ability, but I know when I finish and the time comes to make a final product I will need to invest additional resources to edit, proofread, make sure all grammar is correct. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[yeoldontknow]

kat! love your all your fics you're an amazing writer! can you share some writing tips for amateur writers out here?

hi anon writing advice tag if youre looking for like...more specific answers? when it comes to writing, its a very subjective experience when it comes to finding inspiration, outline style, word choice, etc but theres a few things i think across the board are important to remember. 

going under a cut to not clog dashes

- consume as much media as you can. ex: books, music, film etc. i know for me personally im most inspired when im consuming art. i literally cannot write without music, like its genuinely so difficult because i pace my writing against the soundtrack of each scene. and the filtering, editing, and direction style of films/tv series i like will influence, in some manner, how the fic looks in my mind. yes, your plot and characters are found/uncovered in your brain and heart, but these other mediums assist in your interpretation of how youd like to express it and will help inspire the way you describe certain things. so dont be afraid to step back from a doc to consume other forms of art. for me, at least, its really important.

- keep writing and dont let yourself stop. once you decide you want to write a fic or drabble or whatever comes to mind, write it. and once that is done, write more. this is how you develop a style. you will notice the more you practice, the easier it gets. OR you will notice the more you write, the more evolved your writing becomes. this is how you form a style. here is an example: 

an excerpt from a series i was writing in 2011 in a different fandom:

No one tells you what it’s like to go insane. No one talks about it because, we, as a society, understand the chemistry and the biology of it, but we don’t understand the feeling of it. Time had started to compress, slipping around me in a computerized metronome of blood flow and heart beats that had started to tell me nothing except that I was still living. They hadn’t strapped me to the bed, but I still couldn’t leave and everything about the room started to feel like a cage. Sleep had eluded me since I was pulled out, and through the exhaustion and the haze of sameness I never knew exactly when I was beyond a date of 2266.

I was craving daylight - not the vitamin D, as I was being given a healthy dose of daily vitamins through an IV drip - the natural light and the natural warmth of it, all over my face and skin. The ceiling lights of the room provided an element of ultraviolet light, but after so many hours the falsehood of an invention began to wear a person down. It’s something you never really think about, the sun, not until you don’t have it, not until you haven’t seen it for one hundred years.

But when one hundred years feels like three days or two weeks, time really stops mattering and then the sun itself doesn’t feel so important.

from Empty Vessels, posted july 2019:

For a while, they do not speak. Minseok looks longingly out over the water, hollowed, as the herbalist regards the dirt on her shoes with an empty stare. In the silence, Junmyeon minutely nods, the bare threads of his patience allowing them space to find their words. Images spring to his mind, all imagined and none wholly formed, each as bleak and battered as the crow in Chanyeol’s arms. He wonders what Minseok has seen, unable to avoid with a clarity bordering on entrapment; he wonders what she has heard, whispers on the wind of a life he thought he’d left behind.

‘The trees are screaming,’ she announces, eyes still downcast though her voice is sharp; blunt as the edge of a sword and equally as unforgiving. ‘They’re in pain.’

It settles over him, slow and uncompromising, the notion that trees could make sound - that they would choose to. The oldest wisdom lingers in their branches, and for one brief moment, he sees her as someone as old as their roots.

i, at least, can see an enormous difference in quality and style and thats because ive been writing and writing and writing for a very long time lmao. in 2011 i was 3 years into writing fanfic consistently; at that time, too, i was still working towards my degrees and writing daily for film analysis projects. the more you write, the more you evolve so please please please dont stop just because you feel you arent experienced enough. confidence and style will come over time, just keep yourself in practice. 

- NOTES MEAN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. notes on tumblr are a hot take - and while, yes, there is a need for more reblogs and more sharing of content, focusing on statistics will drive you to the brink. joseph gordon levitt released a ted talk last week on how seeking attention is detrimental to your creativity and LORD this is such a good talk because its true. one of the things he discusses is how powerful the feeling of receiving attention - in this case, notes on a fic - drives someone toward output, but is that genuine? now, of course theres always going to be different scenarios or opinions but if you are just starting out with writing please dont post a fic under the assumption or expectation of achieving a note goal. there are so many variables as to what gets notes and what does not - from algorithm to how many people are online to see it to timing to content like you cannot predict what will or will not correspond to x number of notes and x number of followers. 

instead of setting note or follower goals, set word count goals. when i first started writing for kpop i was actually a pretty concise writer. if you look at the early chapters of hero and wyrm tamer, they all would peak around 4 or 5k words. achieving 10-15K on something seemed absolutely ridiculous and impossible to me - hell, 15K was 10K words under my masters thesis count! why would i want to write that much? but now? im shook if i finish a chapter or fic and the word count is just 4K. those word count goals are exciting for me. 

nervous about word count goals? thats fine! set a goal to write a genre. always wanted to try high fantasy? dope! do it! want to write some sexy vampires? fuck yeah, everyone loves those! want to write a fic that helps you release some tension or trauma youve experienced? please do that, writing is therapy and has been scientifically proven to help. 

set goals for making characters, world building, soundtracks, to learn photoshop to make a moodboard. set goals for all kinds of things but pls dont set goals for statistics because these are so variable and very often outside of your control they will very often suck any joy out of your creativity before its had the chance to start.

i hope these help!

[writing-parker]

Walk Me Home, Ch. 1

Summary/Pairing: Joanna Taylor finds out Tony Stark is actually her dad. All the Avengers will be featured in this, but ultimately this is a Peter Parker X OC pairing. 

Word Count: 10k

this will eventually be rated M

A/N Hi all! So for the past couple of weeks i’ve had this idea for a fic in my head. I’m really not sure how any of this works, but it was really fun to write. Please comment and let me know what you think! There should be another chapter soon.

This has only been edited by me, so excuse any errors. 

_________________________________________________________

               She remembers the first time she saw Peter Parker. It’s really a surprise she did, considering she met him the day her life fell apart. Maybe it was his eyes- soft and brown and warm and looking at her with an intensity she wasn’t used to. She met him at a time in her life she didn’t even know she needed him, but eventually she would understand.

She was 16 and all she ever wanted was to make music. It was all she could remember dreaming about since she was 7, when her mom gave her an old guitar for her birthday. She learned four chords and wrote her first song that day. After that everything fell into place, and by the time she was 16 she was on her first world tour, opening for some of the biggest stars in the world. She was living the life she always dreamed of- until the day it came crashing down around her.

               “Stage IV pancreatic cancer,” She heard the words but she couldn’t wrap her mind around them, like a foreign language in her ears. Her mother, so strong always, was crying softly, but Jo stared straight ahead and arranged her face to in a mask of indifference. Now she needed to be strong for her dying mother.

               “So what’s the next step, what are treatment options?” Jo’s mind started moving a thousand miles a minute.

               The doctor gave her mother a pointed look, “I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss,” she said, “I’ll leave you alone now.” She got up to leave the room.

               “Wait, where are you going, we have to figure out a plan,” Jo yelled after the doctor.

               “Joanna.” Her mother grabbed her hand. “Calm down.”

               “Calm down? You’re kidding.”

               “Honey, I’ve known for a while. You and I need to talk,” Joanna’s mother patted the space next to her on the hospital bed, but Jo walked over to the window and looked idly. They were at Mount Sinai in Union Square in New York City- the world moved so quickly on the streets below her but Joanna felt like she was moving in slow motion.

               “Mom this is the best hospital in New York City, which is the best hospital in the United States, which pretty much makes it the best hospital in the whole world.” She sounded desperate even to her own ears, “We’re going to figure this out, it’s going to be fine,” She started pacing, growing frantic.

               “Joanna.” Her mom said again softly

               “What? It’s not like money is an issue. The record and the tour are selling so well-” tears started to well up in her eyes

               “Jo,” her mom said again, more firmly this time.

               “I can’t lose you.” The young girl’s voice finally broke. She found herself in her mother’s arms, “You can’t leave me,” She sobbed. It was always Jo and her mom. The only thing she knew about her father was that he was alive, and that he didn’t want her. She never met her dad and never cared to ask about him. She didn’t have any other siblings. Joanna and her mom, always, no one else allowed. Things were going to change.

               “Baby, I’ll never leave you,” Her mom squeezed her hard. “I’ll always be with you, even when you can’t see me.”

               And just like that, over the course of 30 minutes in a hospital room in New York City, her entire life changed. Jo allowed herself two days to be sad. To wallow and cry and scream at god for doing this to her, oh god why did it have to be her. And then it was time to plan and prepare for the worst.

               Her mother insisted she finish her tour. There’s only three weeks left, baby, her mom had said, you have to finish this tour. So she did, but it wasn’t the same. The doctor said that it wasn’t safe for her mom to travel, so she went on her own, and she got used to being alone. She was already used to media attention- she was young and beautiful and on a stadium tour- America’s sweetheart, Hollywood’s new golden girl. These were things that the media called her, but she just felt like a girl with a dying mom. So she kept singing, and found solace in the thousands of people singing the words she wrote alongside her. It was a distraction she desperately needed.

               But then it was over, and the stages were packed up and all the confetti had fallen and it was time to go back to New York. Jo stepped out of a cab on 14th street and was immediately swarmed by paparazzi, but she kept her head down and made it up to her mom’s room.

               The sight of her mother almost knocked her over. It had only been three weeks but it was easy to tell how sick she really was. Her already thin mother must have lost 25lbs. Her face was gaunt, and she wore a ballcap to cover her thinning hair from the treatment.

               “Hi, mom,” Joanna kissed her on the cheek. Jo found herself telling her mom about the last several weeks of tour, all of it spilling out. How the crowd in Dallas was the biggest she ever played for, and at every show more and more people knew the words to her songs. She went on until it seemed trivial, and she noticed her mom stopped responding to her stories.

               “You’re quiet,” Jo observed.

               “We need to talk,” Her mom said.

               “About wha-” Jo started, but was interrupted by a knock on the door from a nurse.  “Eleanor, Mr. Stark is here to see you whenever you’re ready,”

               “Give us 10 minutes,” her mom answered.

               “Mr. Stark? Tony Stark? Why would he be here to see you? Mom what’s going on,” Jo waited for her mom to correct her. Why would Tony Stark be there to see her mom? She was confused and nervous and stressed and a thousand other things. She had grown used to feeling this way, she supposed, but this time she really wanted to know what the hell was going on.

               “Joanna, honey, we both know I’m not going to be here much longer,” Jo opened her mouth to say don’t say that, but her mom sushed her, “I’ve been thinking about who is going to take care of you when I’m gone. And I’ve put a lot of thought into this decision, and I think it will be what’s best for you, best for everyone in this situation.”

               “What does that have to do with Tony Stark, mom?” She asked a little more harshly than she meant to, but nothing was adding up.

               “I didn’t think it was going to be this hard,” She barely heard Eleanor say under her breath, “But here we go: Tony Stark is your father, baby. And when I… when I’m not here anymore he’s going to be your guardian.” The words fell out of her mother’s mouth, and everything became blurry to Joanna.

               “My guardian? What about Aunt Lisa or-”

               Her mom cuts her off and explains that they’re so far away and they have young children and they can’t be here for you like Mr. Stark can. But she’s confused because her mom told her that he father never wanted her. But Jo’s mom doesn’t mention that for some reason.

               Tony Stark. Her father? Her mother kept on explaining but Jo didn’t hear the words. The man she saw on the news growing up, the arms-dealer billionaire who destroyed all of his weapons to do good. Iron man.

               She was still lost in her thoughts when there was a light knock, and Tony Stark himself appeared in the doorway. He gave Joanna a look she didn’t fully understand- curiosity, sadness… longing, maybe- before looking past her to her mother.

               “Eleanor,” He says quietly and strides over to her bedside and kisses her cheek, “It’s good to see you again, despite the circumstances,” Tony takes a step back and looks at Jo again.

               “Hey, kid,” He says timidly, “I’m a big fan.”

               Joanna is confused for a moment before she remembered she was a popstar. She still thought it was weird when people recognized her. Despite paparazzi following her and more than 5 million followers on Instagram, she was still used to being invisible to men like Tony Stark.

               Jo says the first thing that comes to her mind, “I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck is going on?”

               Tony’s eyes widen, “I guess it’s too soon to ask you to call me dad, huh,” He says to Jo before turning back to Eleanor, “So I take it she doesn’t know…anything?” He assumes correctly.

               “She is still in the room,” Jo snaps angrily at Tony.

               “So feisty. Just like you El.” Tony reasons. “Look, Jo, can I call you Jo?” He doesn’t wait for Joanna to answer, “Look, this is hard for us to explain.”

               Eleanor interrupts, “Tony has nothing to explain sweetheart. This is all my doing. I found out I was sick 8 months ago, Joanna,” Jo starts to do the math in her head, but her mom continues for her, “Yes, the week before you left for tour. And at first the doctors were optimistic,” Eleanor goes on, explaining, “That’s why I missed the first month of tour, I wasn’t working, I was getting treatment.”

               “It didn’t take long for them to realize nothing was taking, nothing could treat this cancer. So they gave me options. Either stay here and keep poisoning my body with radiation, or spend my last healthy months with you, on your first tour. I had to go with you, baby,”

               Joanna doesn’t realize that there’s tears running down her cheeks until her voice cracks, “What if they could have helped you, mom?” It feels all wrong to be doing this in front of Tony Stark, but she keeps going, “You should have told me, I would have-”    

                “You would have what, canceled your tour?” Eleanor shakes her head, “Over my dead body,” Jo freezes, Tony snorts, and Eleanor smiles softly, “That was a really bad figure of speech,” Joanna cracks a sad smile.

               “That doesn’t explain Mr. Stark-,” Joanna says to her mom.

               “Call me Tony,” He interjects, but Jo ignores him, not looking away from her mom.

               “- Have you always known, I mean I guess he’s always been my father but why didn’t you ever tell me? Why did you tell me he didn’t want me? Why did you call him now?” Joanna keeps spouting off questions too quickly for anyone to answer. She feels Tony Stark’s eyes on her.

               “You told her I didn’t want her?” He says to Eleanor, not taking his eyes off Joanna, “So she spends her whole life thinking her dad doesn’t love her and I spend her whole life not knowing she exists?! How is that fair Eleanor?”

               It was all too much for Joanna to wrap her head around, “I need to not be in this room,” She announced before walking out the door, knowing how unfair it was that her mother couldn’t run after her.

It was late, past visiting hours and she found herself roaming the hospital until she found a quiet place to collect her thoughts. She pressed her back against the wall and slid down until her butt hit the floor. Her mom was dying. Tony Stark was her father. Oh, god, the press is going to have a field day with that, she groaned internally. Her mom had lied to her about her dad not wanting her. Could she be angry at her dying mother, should she be angry at her mother? Things were never easy growing up, and this whole time a billionaire was her father? It felt like the world had stopped spinning.

She heard footsteps before she heard his voice, “Hey, kiddo,” Tony Stark said, sitting cross-legged in front of her. Jo picked at the skin on her thumb, “This really sucks,”

She wiped the tears from her face and looked up at Tony Stark. Jo gave him a smile, “This sucks so much,” She said in a small voice.

“We’re going to figure this out,” He assured her, putting a hand on her knee. Joanna nodded and let Tony help her up. The older man put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her.

Jo cringed under the scrutiny “What are you looking at?”

“My daughter,” Tony breathed, reverent. He paused before he said, “You have my eyes,”

“Mom always said so,”

Tony’s phone rings and the moment is ruined “Do you have to get that?” Jo asks him. Tony pulls his phone out quickly and checks the caller ID. He must decide whoever it is is unimportant, because he silences the device and puts it back in his pocket.

“No, I can let this one go,” He says to Jo, “We have a lot of talking to do. Let’s go back down to your mom’s room.”

And they talked. Eleanor explained everything. She and Tony had a brief fling in the 90s, during his playboy phase, which resulted in Joanna. She decided that she didn’t want to tell Tony and end up forcing him to marry her just because she was expecting a baby. So she didn’t tell Tony and she lied to Joanna. At the time it made sense, she told them.

But now it just seemed like a cruel joke. They talked in the hospital room for a long time, until Eleanor fell asleep clutching Jo’s hand. A nurse finally came in and addressed Joanna and Tony.

“Alright, you guys, it’s time to head out. Ms. Taylor needs her rest,” The woman shooed them out of the room. Jo and Tony stood outside Eleanor’s room, staring that their shoes.

“Um, so where are you staying, do you need a car? It’s pretty late,” Tony asked her.

“I have a Loft in Bushwick I record in, there’s a bedroom. I was planning on staying there.” Jo answered him. Truthfully, all she wanted to do was go to sleep. “I can take the train, it’s like a block away.”

“Please let me get you a car, is it even safe out there?” Tony looked concerned.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but you’ve been my dad for all of 4 hours. I’ve done just fine without you for 16 years. I can get on the fucking train and go home myself,” Jo snapped at him.   The two stand eye to eye for a few moments, both testing the others boundaries.

Tony took a step back and raised his arms in defeat, “Please be safe,” He sighs. The girl turns on her heels and walks down the hall, towards the elevator. Tony Stark stands there for a while watching Jo, watching his daughter walk away from him.

He never imagined he would feel this way when Eleanor called him all those months ago. She was sick, she had told him, and she needed help. She had had a baby more than 16 years ago and it was his. Joanna Taylor. He recognized her name, but didn’t know much about the girl. She was a singer- that much he knew. There was that one song of hers that was always stuck in his head, and we’ll never be royals, it don’t run in our blood… he hummed quietly to himself.

He had picked up a magazine with her face on it a few months ago (He actually bought two). Joanna Taylor, Exclusive Interview: Pop’s New It Girl Tells All. After a few moments of reading, Tony Stark felt his hands start to shake. Here was this girl that was half him and she had been out there for 16 years and he had no clue. He couldn’t breathe for it, and here he was reading interviews about her sudden fame, and how red carpets make her uncomfortable because she’s still getting used to how she looked and she didn’t like it when people looked at her. She gets that from her mom, he thought with a wry laugh.

But now Jo’s mom was dying. And for some reason Eleanor wanted him to know Jo. To care for her. He was sure he would screw it up somehow, but over the course of the last four hours in the hospital he had fallen in love with the girl, his daughter, and he would spend the rest of his life making up for lost time.

                  “This is Myrtle Avenue-Wyckoff Avenue, the next stop-” Jo was pulled from her thoughts as the automated voice from the subway announced they had made it to her stop. She spotted two girls, starting her way, and noticed the way their eyes lit up the moment they recognized her. One opened her mouth to say something to Jo, but she coyly lifted her finger to her lips, as if to say “shh”. The girls giggled and nodded, like it was their secret, something they only shared with Joanna Taylor.

               Jo had found more and more people recognizing her on the streets, but with her first album almost a year behind her and the tour over now too, she was hoping things would settle down. She needed them too. The doctors gave her mom a few more months, but that wasn’t something she could think about too much. Right now all she could think was, holy shit, Iron Man is my father.

               She stepped off the train and made her way down the stairs to the avenue below. Though it was late, almost midnight, but the streets were still lively around her. Joanna loved Bushwick- it was the first place she lived that took her totally out of her comfort zone. A true melting pot of all cultures, colors, and languages, each passing day in Brooklyn felt like more of an inspiration. Jo walked the two short blocks from the train to her apartment, shoving her key in the lock and making her way up to the loft apartment she rented to record and stay in when she was in New York.

               Once at the top floor of the walk up apartment, she pushed her way in and was immediately greeted by a 65lb ball of fluff rocketing across the loft towards her. “Atlas!” She called the red Australian shepherd, “come ‘ere boy I missed you!” With all of the hype of getting off of her flight straight to the hospital, and then the whole Tony Stark thing, she had almost forgotten how much she missed her dog.    

               Not far behind atlas, her roommate, Camille, came running out of one of the bedrooms. Jo met Camille nearly two years ago, when she was just 15. Camille worked at the recording studio in the City where Joanna first started writing her album- right after her single Royals became the so-called ‘song of the summer’. Camille was older than Jo by nearly three years, but the girls hit it off immediately, and when the album was released Jo asked Cam to be her assistant.

               “Welcome home!” Camille yelled across the apartment, running over to Jo to give her a hug. Jo took a look at Camille. With skin the color of a Chai Latte, haunting green eyes, and a mop of brown curls, Camille had to have been one of the most beautiful girls that Jo had ever seen. Immediately intimidated, it took Jo a long time to open up to the older girl, but once it finally happened they became fast friends. Jo isn’t sure what she would do without Camille.

               “Happy to be here,” Jo breathed, finally able to relax a little.

               “How’s your mom,” Camille asked timidly, knowing it was a hard topic for Jo to talk about. Camille was the first person Jo had told when she heard the news. They both broke down and cried on the floor of their apartment that night.

               “The doctors say she has a few months left,” The dog at her feet nudged her hand. She didn’t realize she stopped idly petting him. She scratched behind his ears.

Camille let out a deep sigh, “I’m so sorry, Jo. I don’t know what else to say,”

“There’s really not much else to say,” Jo looks away, “… but I do have some other news.”

“Do tell,” Camille made her way over to the couch and plopped down.

Good thing you’re sitting, Jo thinks to herself before blurting out, “Tony Stark is my dad.”

Camille snorts, “Yeah, and Captain America is my new boyfriend.”

Jo rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath, “Cami, I’m being totally serious. One minute I’m getting off a plane to see my dying mother and the next a nurse is at her door saying ‘Eleanor, Mr. Stark is here to see you’. And my mom’s saying she knew this whole time Tony fucking Stark was my dad and they had a fling in the 90s-”

“Didn’t your mom sleep with like half of the East Village in the 90s? How is sure….” Camille stares at Jo, “Holy shit you look so much like him.”

“Yes she did, but that’s not the point. We have the same eyes. This whole time I’m thinking that whoever my dad is could give less of a fuck about me. He didn’t even know I existed, Cam. He wanted to know me.” Jo’s voice breaks. “I’m so mad at her.”  

Camille busies herself petting Atlas. Her heart aches for Jo.

“But how am I supposed to be mad at her when she’s dying,” Joanna continues, voice dropping to a whisper. “What am I supposed to do next?”

“I don’t know kid, but I don’t think you have to figure it all out at once,” Camille reminds Jo. “…. But you do have to figure some parts out soon. I’m going to need to arrange a press release, interviews. The world already knows your mother is sick, but this is definitely not something that will stay secret for long.”

In the whirlwind of news, Jo barely even had time to think about the press. Fuck, Iron Man was her father. Like Saved-New-York-City-By-Flying-An-Actual-Nuke-Into-Outer-Space Iron Man. The whole world knew his name and his face, and a lot of people knew hers too. “This is a mess,” is all Jo can say.

Camille grabs Jo by the hands, “Here’s our game plan: you have an interview with Rolling Stone in 9 days. Two days before the interview, I’ll leak to the press that your dad is a fucking Avenger, you’ll answer some questions, and then no press or interviews or red carpets until you’re ready.”

Camille’s rationale sounded good to Jo, and she let herself relax a little. “Wine?” She asked Camille.

“I’ll grab the glasses.”

The two girls caught up over several bottles of wine, neither girl bringing up Jo’s mom’s cancer or Tony Stark for a while, until Jo, a little drunk, laughed softly, “Iron Man is my dad,” she snorted, and then started laughing so hard tears welled up in her eyes.

“What is so funny,” Camille laughed along

“Cam, my whole life, and I mean all of it, I sat around and thought about who my dad might have been. When I was in high school I used to imagine that he was a poet, or a singer or some amazing artist that had to fly all over the world. But when I was a little girl I imagined he was superhero, because why else would he not be around? He had to save people’s lives.

“Turns out,” Jo continues, “My dad is a literal fucking superhero.” And then she and Camille are hysterically laughing.

“Ok, ok, I can’t breathe,” Camille gasps. The two girls settle down.

“Do you think he’s going to try to like… parent me?” Jo asks. “Cause that ship has definitely sailed.”

“I’m not sure. Most people don’t look at 16 year-old pop icons with a top 40 album and think, ‘hm, she probably needs some fatherly advice’.” Camille mused. “Do you think Stark will be a strict dad?”

“I don’t know… I mean, it’s like I really need him for anything. I’m not a normal 16 year old. I have money, a place to live…” Jo rattled off.

“Yeah, kid, I know. But that’s not all someone needs,” Camille says sincerely. “Your mom clearly wants you to have a relationship with him, it’s practically her dying wish.” Camille had great relationships with both of her parents- something that Jo had come to envy. Camille knew how important those relationships were to her, and she imagined that Jo wanted something like it too, with her father.

“What if he doesn’t even care? Like what if he just came because she’s dying and then she’ll be gone and I’ll never hear from him again? I mean he’s Tony Stark he has a lot of shit going on and maybe he’s too busy-”

“Woah, woah, woah, calm down.” Camille hushed Jo, “Sounds like you’re already pretty invested in this, Jo. Are you worried you’re going to be disappointed?”

Joanna sighed. Yeah, there was a while a few years ago that she was obsessed with the idea of knowing her father and who he was. It was half of her, and she wanted, needed, to know more about him. So she kept bothering her mom about it until one day, when she was 12 or 13, her mom snapped and told her that her dad never wanted her, or wanted to know her. Joanna tried very hard to not care after that. But now she knew Mr. Stark never even knew about her. And the way he looked at her like she had been missing from his life this whole time gave her some kind of hope, she supposed.

“What if he doesn’t like me,” Jo whispers.

“That’s not possible.” Camille looked at the time glowing from the oven clock. “Shit, it’s like two in the morning, let’s go to bed. We have lots to figure out tomorrow.” The girls said their goodnights and Jo padded to her bedroom with the large windows, Atlas not far behind her.

She knows she has a lot to think about and even more to do, but she feels so tired when she gets into bed that she’s asleep before her head hits the pillow.

__________________________________________________________________

Across town, in a very different building on 45th street, Tony Stark stood in his office, looking down to the streets below him. New York was always lively, even at nearly 2AM. He let out a sign and ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time. He met his daughter today.

She was so small. He hadn’t expected that. When he read interviews or saw pictures watched her perform she seemed larger than life. He was sure that every parent thought their kid was special, but, unbiasedly, his actually was. She won song of the year at the Grammys and was nominated for countless awards.

It’s all he had done for weeks. Research, he supposed. But soon he would have to talk to her. And then what? He didn’t know how to do this, to be a father to a teenager. One who was going through a really hard time with unlimited money and resources. How was he supposed to make this work? But then he saw her.

She looked like him. Dark hair, but she artfully dyed blonde that gave it a rooty look. Her hair was wild and wavy and long, something she got from her mother.  She was small in build- maybe 5’3. But her eyes were haunting. They were his. The exact color and shape and intensity.

He heard the footsteps behind him before he heard the voice, “Having trouble sleeping?” Tony turned around to face the tall blond man standing in his doorway.

“Cap,” Tony greeted him, “Why are you in my living room at 2 in the morning?”

Steve Rogers pointed at the floor below him, “My living quarters are directly below yours. And you’ve been pacing.”

“So out of the kindness of your heart you came up here to see what ails me? I’m touched.” Sarcasm dripped from Tony’s voice.

Steve chuckled, “I was actually gonna tell you to go to bed so I could sleep. But if you want to talk about it…” he trailed off, expecting the man to blow him off.

But to Steve’s surprise, Tony blurts out, “I found out I have a daughter a few weeks ago and I met her today.” He says, then turns away to continue looking out the window.

“Oh and her mom is dying. And she’s 16 years old. And she’s Joanna Taylor.” Tony sits in an armchair and puts his head in his hands.

“Hey I actually know her!” Steve exclaims. Tony groans. Steve has been carrying around a notebook he filled with pop culture references he was trying to catch up on.

“Jesus Christ, Rogers, I’m trying to have a moment here.”

“Right,” Steve says, “So… what are you going to do?” Tony continues to look out the window. “Look, Tony. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. I’m sure she’s just as freaked out as you are. Take things slow, get to know her. It will all come.”

“What if she wants nothing to do with me? What am I supposed to do then?” The words that had been stuck in the back of his throat since he found out about her tumbled out of his mouth.

“You’re kidding, right? You saved the world, Stark. Remember? I think it’ll be fine.” The two men sit in companionable silence before Steve laughs, “16 years-old? Yikes.” He raised his eyebrows at Tony.

“Don’t remind me. I’m still recovering from Parker,” But he smiles fondly at the memory of Peter Parker when they first met. 15 and naïve and ready to save the world. How was that almost 4 years ago already?

The bigger man laughs, “Peter turned out great, Tony. You found him at a time he needed a father figure and now he’s developing tech with the best in the world.”

“And he’s not dead,” Tony laments

“Definitely not dead, and I’d say that in our line of work the odds of that are higher than an average teenager. So, see? You managed to keep one teenager alive and happy, you can definitely manage another one.” Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Get some sleep, Stark.”

Oddly enough, Steve’s words comforted Tony. The two didn’t see eye-to-eye always, but they were fighting on the same team. Tony knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight, so he started to work on new updates to his suit. Once and acceptable hour (at least acceptable to him) rolled around he sent a text to Jo.

Let’s grab coffee before we go see your mom today. TS.

               It’s a start, he supposed.

Jo woke up to the light streaming in her windows softly. She never closed her blinds at night, loving the way the huge windows in her loft let in the morning sun. She stretched and rolled over, reaching for her phone. Ignoring several texts, her eyes focus on one from a number she doesn’t recognize. TS. Tony Stark. He wanted to get coffee before going to see mom.

               Joanna looked at the time on her phone 8:17am. She still needed to shower and tend to the slight hangover she had from all the wine last night. She poured herself a glass of water and texted Tony back

               JT: Coffee Project @ 10??

               TS: See you there

               Jo takes the train again as she makes her way to the small coffee shop in the East Village. She’s a bit early, so she expects to get some writing done before Tony shows. Much to her surprise, Tony is already seated at a table in the back. He stands when she approaches the table.

               “No need for the formalities, pops. You can sit,” Before the words are out of Jo’s mouth, she regrets them. She had no filer. Tony sits with an amused smile. “Sorry,” she sighs, “I’ve got a bit of a foot-in-mouth complex.”

               Tony laughs, “It’s no problem. I ordered you a coffee.”

               “Perfect, I need my fix.”

               “Fix? Aren’t you a bit young to be addicted to caffeine?” Tony wondered. He saw the dark circles under Joanna’s eyes, “Did you sleep well last night?”

               “Definitely not too young, I’m in a different time zone basically every other day when I’m touring, coffee keeps me alive.” She shrugs, “I slept great last night, actually. First time back in my bed in like three weeks,” She takes a sip of the coffee in front of her. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink. Somethin’ on your mind?” She jokes

               Tony chortles, this girl is funny. “Nothing new,” He kids back with a sly grin. Then he sighs, “So,”

               “So,” Jo repeats

               “What now?”

               “You’re the adult, you’re supposed to know!” Jo laughs at him. At least talking to him was easy, the conversation flowed nicely. “I’m too nervous to say something stupid.” She admits.

               “You’re nervous? Imagine how I feel, having to make conversation with Joanna Taylor!” He rests his chin on his hand, “It’s a nightmare. I’m going to say something weird.”

               “You’re Iron Man!” She says a little loudly, laughing. Some of the other coffee shop patrons turn to look at them. She’s used to people staring at her, even taking pictures, but this time she was sitting across the table from Tony Stark, and people were confused.

               “I guess we both have big expectations to fulfill,” He takes a drink of coffee.

               “Guess so.”

               “So what have you been up to the last 16 years?” Tony asks Jo.

               She laughs out loud and just starts talking. About writing her record and the tour and how hard it’s been. She explains how hard it’s been to find people to work with, because who wants to take orders from a 16 year old. She got a little over-excited, telling him about her vision and her stages and the lights and words. How close she paid attention every tiny detail, because of how important the stories she was telling were to her.

               Tony Stark hung on her every word. He couldn’t believe he helped make her. She was the most incredible teenager he had ever met. As they talked though, he was filled with slow, anxious dread. She was so small and vulnerable and naive about the dangers of the world- of the universe. And he had seen it with his own two eyes. How could he protect her, she definitely couldn’t protect herself. He was lost in thought when he heard her small voice.

               “Are you in the City full time, Tony?” He blinks and answers her, and then it’s her turn to ask questions and he effectively pushes the dark thoughts to the back of his mind. Eventually the time would come for him to worry about that, but it wasn’t now.

               They go on like this until Sunday visiting hours at the hospital begin at 1, Jo checks her phone and exclaims, “Crap, how is it already one? I have to go see my mom. Do you still want to-” Tony doesn’t let her finish.

               “Right behind you, kid,” Tony interrupts her. Always, he wants to add but refrains. Who knew how big of a part of her life she wanted him to be, he definitely didn’t want to freak her out. So he stands and helps her out of her chair and follows closely behind her and tries to find the right words to say.

               Time passes just so- Joanna meets with Tony once or twice a week and she goes to the hospital see her mom. As days pass her mom gets sicker and sicker and sicker, disappearing right in front of her eyes. One day, when Jo knows her mom’s time is coming to an end, Eleanor sits at the edge of her hospital and grabs her hand, “Joanna.”

               Jo’s stomach drops, she knows her mom is about to tell her something bad, “Mom?”

               “It’s time to say goodbye sweetie,” Jo’s eyes immediately fill up with tears and she looks down. She and her mom had talked about this already. When it was time, Jo’s mom would let her know. Eleanor didn’t want her daughter to see her get any worse. “Don’t cry. You knew this was coming,” Eleanor rubs Jo’s hand with her thumb.

               “I didn’t think it would be so soon,” Joanna whispers, tears freely falling. “How am I supposed to leave you alone?”

               “Honey. I’m not alone. My sisters are here. I’ve made my peace,” Jo’s aunts had gotten in a few days ago. She knew then how bad things were getting.

               Jo lets out a sob. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” She admits.

               “You’re going to change the world,” her mother smiles and hugs her.

               They sit like that for a while. Eleanor holding Jo. Holding each other and whispering over and over, “I love you.” Neither ready to say goodbye, but knowing it had to happen soon. Eventually, Eleanor’s sisters, Jo’s aunts, come into the room. They spend their last hours together as a full family peacefully. There are a lot of tears and even laughter, but more than anything there is love.

               Soon it is time for them to say their final goodbyes. Jo hugs her mom one last time and says her final goodbye to her mother. She didn’t know something could hurt so much, she couldn’t breathe for it. All that she knew was that nothing would be the same ever again. She bid goodbye to her aunts, making plans to talk later.

               Tears blur her vision as she makes her way to the lobby of the hospital, walking quickly. She pulls out her phone to call an Uber, knowing she’s in no position to take the train, when she runs into a hard body, and her phone falls out of her hands, shattering the screen.

               “For fucks sake!” Jo exclaims, wiping tears from her face, “Could you watch where you’re going?” She bends down to pick up her phone, but the other person beats her to it.

               “I’ll replace that,” A familiar voice says, handing her back the broken device.

               “Tony?”

               “Let me give you a ride,” He says, reaching out to put his arm around Jo’s shoulder, but thinks better of it, and places his hand on her back and takes her out a side door of the hospital. He feels her breathing start to grow heavy and notices the devastating look in her eyes. He opens the back door of the large SUV, ushers her in, and gets in behind her.

               “Where to, boss?” Happy, his driver (among other things) asks.

               “Just a sec, Hap.” He says to the driver, “Did something happen, kid?” He tries to make eye contact with Jo, but she keeps staring at her lap.

               “Tony, I.. she.. we,” The girl stutters, crying in earnest now, “We said goodbye today, she said she didn’t want me to see her like this anymore, and…” Tony can’t understand her, she’s so distraught. He can’t take seeing this girl, his daughter, in so much pain. He wants to take it from her, to keep it from her so she’ll never feel like that again.

               But that’s not how it works, so he tentatively reaches to hug the girl. Joanna throws one arm around Tony and uses the other to clutch his dress shirt, crying into his chest, “I’m so scared,” She repeats over and over.

               Happy looks in the rear view mirror. Tony Stark looks like a fish out of water with his 16 year-old daughter clinging to him. He wasn’t exactly known as the most touchy-feely person, but seeing him so tender with the girl makes Happy smile to himself. He puts up the divider between the front and back seats to give them some privacy.

               Tony strokes Jo’s hair as she sobs. Usually, he knows exactly what to say. He always has a quick remark or joke on the tip of his tongue, but at this moment he had absolutely no idea how to comfort the crying girl. But he knew her pain, and that she was too young to be having this weight on her shoulders. After all, his parents had died when he was just 21. But for a girl to lose her mother at 16 just felt different.

               “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m here, everything is ok,” Joanna continued to sniffle and cry until she wore herself out and eventually fell asleep in the back of the car. Tony isn’t sure how long he sits there, listening to her breathing, before he taps the window and asks Happy to take them to Avengers Tower. When they arrive, he gingerly picks the sleeping girl up carries her to an empty bedroom in the living quarters, piquing the interest of several avengers.

               “Is that international pop star Joanna Taylor?” Sam Wilson deadpanned, sweaty from his workout, “In your arms?”

               “A bit young for you, don’t you think Stark?” Wanda joked from her spot on the couch.

               “You didn’t tell them?” Tony sighed at Steve, who trailed in not far after Sam.

               “You didn’t tell me to!” Steve says definitively.

               “I didn’t tell you not to.”

               “So I just should have known?” Steve rolls his eyes.

               “Just when I thought we were finally thinking as one, Rogers.” Tony rolls his eyes back and carries Jo to a guest room, laying her in the bed. Mumbles and rolls over, pulling the blankets around her body.

               Tony then strides back out into the common room where a handful of his team are loitering, curious. “All right,” he bemuses, “team meeting, Avengers assemble, whatever. How many of you are there here…” he looks around, “Enough of you, I guess.

               “Quick announcement: Joanna Taylor is my daughter. Steve and Happy have the details, bother them if you have any questions.” Tony turns on his heel and walks out of the room, figuring in the next few days the word would spread fast enough that he wouldn’t have to answer too many questions.

               Hours later, Jo wakes up in an unfamiliar setting. She’s in a large, plush bed, shrouded in darkness. She remembers saying goodbye to her mother, literally running into Tony, and having a meltdown in the back of his SUV. She must have fallen asleep, worn out from crying.

               She threw the covers off of herself and got up, turning on the light on the nightstand. Her phone sat there, with a brand new screen. She smiled to herself and checked her texts, seeing one from her mom that just said I love you and another one from Tony.

               TS: Fixed your screen, shouldn’t be breaking again. PS- we’re having dinner on the 8th floor of the residency, come eat when you’re ready.

               Her stomach growls at the first mention of dinner. Jo makes her way out of the bedroom and walks down a corridor where she notices another empty bedroom. Entering the main room, she is met with a brand new updated kitchen and large open concept living area, it’s at least double the size of her apartment in Brooklyn.

               “What the fuck is the 8th floor of the residency, where am I” She mutters to herself, looking for some kind of signage pointing her in the right direction.

               “Hi Joanna,” An automated, robotic voice scares her so bad it sends her to the floor, “You are currently on the first floor of the residency in Avengers Tower, on 45th Street in Manhattan, New York.” Jo’s heart is beating so fast from the voice that came out of nowhere, she can barely hear what its saying. “You will find that, in the Avengers Tower, the first 59 floors are to Stark Industries offices. Floors 60-70 are for the Avengers Initiative, and Floors 70-80 are the residencies.”

               “Uh, thanks…?” She looks around, trying to find the source of the voice, “What are you exactly?”

               “I’m FRIDAY,” the voice sounds again, “You can think of me as one of Mr. Stark’s assistants. I’m sorry I frightened you,”

               “It’s okay. How do I get to the 8th Floor of the residency?” Jo asked, feeling stupid.

               “I will call an elevator for you, it will be here in approximately 30 seconds,” FRIDAY answered her.

               “Thanks FRIDAY.”

               “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

               “Don’t call me that,” Jo calls to the voice before stepping in the elevator that opened in front of her. The elevator moves almost silently up to the floor where some others are gathered, waiting on dinner. This apartment is nearly the exact same as the one she was just in, but decorated differently. She sees Tony hunched over the kitchen counter with two other men, laughing quietly over something on a tablet. There’s two women on the couch, quietly watching the news.

               She steps off the elevator and suddenly feels very nervous. “Jo!” Tony looks over at her, and then all eyes in the room are on her, “You’re awake,”

               “Uh, yeah,” She nods in his direction, “Thanks for fixing my phone,” She holds up the device and strides over to where Tony is standing with the others, feigning confidence. It was something she often had to do in her line of work, and she was getting good at it. “What’s so funny?” She gestures to the tablet on the table where a video is paused.

               Tony chuckles, “Don’t be mad but I had FRIDAY alert me when you were up. Yanno, in case you might need something,” Tony laughs a little, “I had her send a live feed of you, and well, this is what she sent,” Tony slides the device to her and presses play.

               It’s a video of Jo right after she woke up, when FRIDAY scared her. The video shows Jo walking from the bedroom, her mumbling indistinctly, and then the voice coming from nowhere. She sees herself jump about a foot in the air before falling to ground, hand over her heart, eyes wide.

               Joanna laughs out loud, “Happy to be your entertainment for the evening,” She says, arms out wide. The three men join in laughing, relieved that she can make light of the embarrassing situation. She then looks at her father and the two men around him. She recognizes Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson immediately. Truthfully, the Avengers had reached a world-wide celebrity status that was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Not everyone liked them, but everyone knew who they were.

               And Jo was suddenly very aware of the men that were standing in front of her, and how she must look after the shit day she had. Her eyes were red and dry, and her long, wavy hair was a bird’s nest. Sam, the tall, dark-skinned man to her dad’s left put out his hand to shake hers, “Sam Wilson,” he introduced himself, smiling at her. She shook his hand, “Joanna Taylor,”

               “Oh, I know,” He says to her, chuckling, “I took my 14 year old niece to one of your shows, she says that you’re the only one who gets her.”

               “I’m glad ya’ll had a good time,” Jo smiles at him, before turning to the other man with her father. Steve Rogers was bigger in person, towering over her and the other two men next to him. And oh, god, was he good looking. Tony looked over to see Jo subconsciously fixing her hair and standing up a little straighter when she introduced herself to Steve Rogers. Tony rolled his eyes, but knew the older man would never make a move on a 16 year old. And he was used to seeing women’s reactions around the soldier. He figured the young girl was probably very flustered and smiled to himself.

               Wanda and Natasha got up from their position on the couch to meet Jo. Once introductions were done, Sam moved over to the oven and pulled out the roast he made for the team. They all settled in for dinner, Jo fielding questions from the others about her and Tony’s new relationship.

               Eventually, it grows late, and Jo excuses herself, telling the group how nice it was to meet them, and that she’d be around much more. Tony follows her to the elevator, “I can have FRIDAY call you a car?” He asks her.

               “That would actually be nice, I got a google alert that TMZ published how bad my mom is doing… really not in the mood for paparazzi,” She smiles softly, looking at the floor.

               Tony asks his AI to get Happy for Jo, and they make their way down to the private garage. “Thanks for everything today,” Jo says in a small voice, rocking forward on the balls of her toes, “It means a lot,”

               Tony pulls her into a hug, it feels stiff at first, but then she melts into her father, something that she had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. “Anything for you, kid.” And he meant it. Her pretty face and quick wit had him wrapped absolutely around her finger. He never knew it was possible. He always thought that he would be a parent like his dad was, cold and unforgiving, which is why he thought he didn’t want children. But he was so soft around her.

               “See you soon, Tony.” Jo says, stepping up into the large SUV. Tony doesn’t go back up to his apartment until the SUV is completely out of sight.

               Four days after Jo says goodbye, she gets the call that her mom passed. She hardly remembers the days following. It was a lot of I-love-yous and Im-so-sorrys and paparazzi camped outside her Bushwick apartment. She cried until she couldn’t. The funeral passed in a flurry of black. She was surrounded by people for a week straight- asking her if she was ok, making her eat, telling her what to do and exactly when to do it.

               She was ready to scream all the time, and she just wanted to be alone. Finally, after 8 days of constant nagging, she was by herself. But then she couldn’t stand to be. So she starts drinking. And when her party friends, the socialites and models that she pretends to like, call. She goes out. She keeps drinking. She sorts lines of whatever drugs they put in front of her. She sleeps with boys and she doesn’t remember their names.

               She feels Camille worry for her. She ignores calls and texts from Tony. She sees headlines next to her face with the words “Fall From Grace” in bold font. She can’t bring herself to care. Because her mom is dead and what does it matter anyway?

               One night, she’s already drunk, stumbling out the door in high heels with whatever boy showed up at her apartment that night. He had pretty blue eyes and lots of tattoos and a world tour that just ended and let his hands wander over her body.

               “I’m going to come out tonight,” Camille calls after her.

               “The more the merrier,” Jo says. The three get in a car and head to the city. Jo tries to have a conversation with Camille, but the boy next to her is kissing her neck. She tries to pull away, but he just pulls her closer, his hand sliding up her breast.

               “Knock it off,” She snaps at him.

               “Stop being such a prude,” He retorts, but pulls away none the less. He then pulls a joint and lighter from his wallet and lights up in the back of the car. He passes the joint to Jo, who takes a big pull and passes it to Camille. Camille declines, shooting a nervous look at Jo, who doesn’t even notice.

               The nights go on as they all do. Bouncers pretend they don’t know she’s not 21. They get a table with bottle service, and Jo gets so wasted she can barely remember her name. But on this night in-particular, she’s out of control, dancing on tables, telling fans to fuck off. She can barely stand up straight, and Camille notices the boy she’s with getting handsier- giving her more drinks she doesn’t need. Another man, dark hair, is sitting close to them, his hand running up Jo’s thigh. Things looked bad

               Camille pulls the phone from Jo’s small purse, and sends a text to the only person she can think of.

               JT: Hi, this is Jo’s roommate Camille. We’re at Up & Down downtown. Jo’s not doing too good right now, I need you to come get her.

               The reply is almost immediate.

               TS: We’ll be there

               Immediately relieved, she slides Jo’s phone back into her bag. Camille knows Joanna might not forgive her for now, but things were getting out of hand, and she was worried about her best friend. Then, the boys Jo is with pulls her up and start to direct her to a private room and Camille immediately panics.  

               It’s the same moment Tony Stark strides in the dark club with another young man. Peter Parker- Camille recognizes him- Spiderman. She wonders if they were together. Running up to the two men, Camille points in the direction of the men dragging Jo away from the crowded table.

               “Thanks Camille, we got it from here,” and with that the stressed out girl gets herself a cab home.

               Jo doesn’t see Tony and Peter approach her, but rather feels herself being ripped from the grasp of the boys.

               “Where are you going?!” A familiar voice asks. It takes her eyes a while to focus on her father. Her eyes are red and unfocused, high as a kite.

               “What are you on?” He demands. She looks at him with blurred eyes, not able to form words. “What did you give her?” He turns his attention to the pissed off boys.

               “Hey, man nothing she didn’t want. We were gonna give her more of what she wants, before you interrupted,” And with that, he boys hand is on Jo’s arm, yanking her roughly towards them. She stumbles and hits the ground, crying out.

               “You really shouldn’t have done that,” Tony says. But before he can react, Peter Parker has both boys on ground, and is helping Jo to her feet. Tony gives him a look.

               “What? No one should touch a girl like that,” Peter defends his actions, tips of his ears turning red. Jo leans on his chest, unable to stand upright. She smells like weed and alcohol and something unmistakably her. It’s intoxicating.

               “I’m going to pretend you’re not blushing over my daughter right now,” Tony rolls his eyes and they begin to make their way to the exit. “Why would any human ever voluntarily come here?” he shudders.

               Joanna, who has no idea what’s going on, struggles against Peter, “Where are you taking me,” She slurs.                

               “Jesus christ was that even English? We’re taking you home,” Tony answers.

               Jo must fall asleep on the way home, because the next thing she remembers is Peter Parker lifting her up like she weighed no more than a feather and carrying her up the four flights of stairs to her loft. She mumbles that she can walk herself, but he either can’t understand her or he’s ignoring her. Once inside, Peter puts her down and she sways a little, but manages to stay upright. Tony steps in front of her

               “What were you thinking, Jo?” Tony says harshly.

               “I had it under control,” She whispers back

               “The hell you did! If we wouldn’t have come when we did…” he trails off remembering those two punks pulling her small, intoxicated form to a private room, “You need to make better decisions than the ones you’ve been making!”

               Jo snorts and rolls her eyes, “Sorry to break it to you, Mr. Stark,” She practically spits his name at him, “But I don’t need you to parent me.”

               “Well who the fuck else is going to do it then?” He sees tears well up in Jo’s eyes and immediately regrets his comment.

               “Fuck you,” She says vehemently

               “Wow, the first ‘fuck you’. What a memorable parenting moment.” Tony says under his breath before continuing, “You are out of control. This lifestyle is going to kill you if you keep it up, don’t you understand that? Nothing good comes from all of this!” He gestures to her kitchen table, where the drugs and alcohol from before the club are sitting.

               “You don’t just get to come in and be ‘dad’ all of the sudden, Stark. That’s not how this works!”

               “Forgive me if I haven’t been in a situation like this before, but I’m trying my fucking best.” They’re screaming at each other across the apartment. Peter sheepishly stands behind Tony, trying to make himself invisible.

               “I don’t need your money, I don’t need your advice, I don’t need anything from you!” Jo gets in his face, “I don’t need you.” She repeats. As she says the words, she knows they couldn’t be further from the truth.

               Her words hurt Tony in a way he didn’t know was possible, but he reminds himself that she’s drunk and high out of her mind on cocaine. Of course she needed someone to take care of her. “I just found you, I can’t lose you again.” He whispers.

               She blinks and looks up at him sadly, “You never had me.”

               Tony shakes his head and takes a step back, “I need some air. You shouldn’t sleep right away with all that shit in your system. Give it an hour or two.” And he strides out of the apartment, shutting the door gently behind him. Jo grabs an empty beer bottle and hurls it at the door, flinching at the sound it makes when it shatters.

               She sits at the table, puts her head in her hands and groans. What the fuck was she going to do now? Jo jumps at the sound of Peter clearing his throat. “You know, I, uh, my parents are dead.” He says, kind of forgetting what he was saying when her eyes met his.

               “Cool.” She sorts.

               “No.. I mean… what I was saying…” He paused, flustered. “I lost my parents when I wasn’t much younger than you. I know how it feels. Tony was great, actually. He helped me a lot.” Peter runs a hand through his hair.

               Jo looked at him with still bleary eyes, “I don’t care,” then she stomps to her room and slams the door.

[auncyen]

cateringisalie replied to your post: I have well over 10k (probably 12k) words between...

Serious question though: do you normally just do three drafts? Because I wind up revising continuously for a week before posting to Ao3…

[plaidshirtjimkirk]

hi, i love your page and your fics!

Hey!! Thank you so much for the kind words!!

Don’t consider writing...do it. The universe needs your words. We all do. I can totally relate to feeling that everything is difficult and not knowing where to start, because that’s literally me whenever I sit down to write anything! lol

I suggest starting like this: set a timer for 15 minutes and freewrite for that period. Write ANYTHING. Don’t edit. It doesn’t even have to make sense and there can be typos and misspellings everywhere. Just get some ideas flowing. There’s a pretty good chance--especially since you haven’t written ff before--that you’ll emotionally connect with an idea during that time and then won’t be able to put it down.

Also! A long time ago, I made a masterpost of links, so I’m just copy/pasting here for convenience. If there’s anything you want to discuss specifically, hit me up again on anon or feel free to message me directly. I’ll try to help however I can.

“Help! How do I start writing Trek stories?!”

Why you can and should write TOS if you want to (and an answer to common concerns that prevent people from doing the thing)

Why you won’t mess up the characters

So, You Want to Start Writing Fanfiction?

TOS Writing References

In Need of Validation?

Whether you write 100, 10k, or 100k+ words, you and your works matter

A list of things that no one tells ff writers

Thank you, ff writers! (look at the number of notes)

Comparing yourself to other writers is unnecessary

Don’t believe me? Here are more reasons

Happy Writer Bun loves you

Check out my fandom encouragement tag

Motivational Quotes

About being a beginner at anything

About improvement

About the uniqueness of storytelling

The one thing you have that no one else does

There’s no such thing as an “aspiring writer”

No time spent writing is ever wasted

Staying Motivated

Write about your writing process. Frustrated? Have questions? Need opinions? Describe your experiences on your blog

Make a fandom friend or two or ten. Talk to them about your work, get their opinions on plots, run ideas by them, etc

Once you publish something, go back and reread your feedback in the comments or tags

Copy/paste your favorite pieces of feedback into a doc. When the going gets rough, you can pull it up and read through things that make you feel good, without having to search all over for them

Handling Unsolicited Criticism (unlikely in the Trek fandom)

Handling Unsolicited Concrit as a Fanfiction Writer (things I’ve learned from experience)

How to deal with critical people

Why you shouldn’t internalize criticism

Need Ideas?

100 Ways to Say I Love You

Domesticity Prompts

30 Day Writing Challenge

100 Theme Writing Challenge

Prompt Generator

Beating Writer’s Block

Get rid of it!!

Trees don’t bear fruit all year long

“Why didn’t I get the feedback I expected?”

First off, don’t immediately tell yourself it’s because you suck. That’s not the case. Here’s some advice for posting work and having healthy expectations

Check the time you posted your work

Did you tag your work extensively with all the keywords that apply?

Did you promote your work on your blog, and tag it with all the common keywords for it to be found?

If you did, reblog or repost the link to your story. There’s no shame in it.

Best of luck and welcome to the world of being an author!!

[fandomoniumflurry]

Keep Calm and Carry On

Part 1

Dean Winchester X Jo Harvelle

Originally meant as a one shot, this got to be wayyyyy to long. So I’ve decided to split it into parts. This was a request from the lovely @lukecastellamz who wanted an alternate version of 11x23 where instead of Mary it was Jo that Amara brought back. But Jo isn’t herself, there is something different about her.

This part is 4k words hopefully there will be just 4 parts since I’ve written well over 10k words already. Anyways really only warning is language. there’s some angst and fluff thrown in here too of course. If you wanna be tagged in the future parts, let me know! **edit by me**

This was the last thing he had expected. Over a year of trying to take down Amara and in the end it led him here. God and his sister were reunited and with thanks, Amara said she would give him something in return. He hadn’t known what that even meant. Once Chuck and the Darkness were gone, nothing happened and Dean was left standing alone. He had come here expecting not to survive this. The souls inside of him were meant to explode and take out him and his evil mistress. Instead, he stood dumbfounded and alive waiting for something to happen. It was never this easy. It always ended messy and yet there was a calm and peaceful air around him.

She wasn’t what he expected. The moment emerald eyes met chocolate orbs, his heart stopped beating. She hadn’t changed a bit, hadn’t aged a day. She was just as beautiful as the last time he had laid eyes on her. His chest was tight as she took a few hesitant steps forward in silence. Was this what Amara meant? Did she bring her back to thank him? Was he worthy of this gift? Maybe not, but he couldn’t contain the bright smile breaking through the shock on his face. She didn’t return the smile. As a matter of fact, her lips seemed to be pulled down in a frown.

“Dean?” Her voice was like music to his ears. There went his heart, racing again at the sound. Confusion was etched upon her features but she didn’t move toward him.

As to not frighten her away, he took only a half step forward. He calmed his features and tried to steady his breathing. His tongue trailed over his lips before finally speaking. “It’s ok, Jo. It’s me.” His voice was probably far more gruff and gravelly since she last heard him.

“What’s going on?” Her brow wrinkled, confusion turning into fear. She lifted her arms to hug around herself as her eyes scanned around her frantically.

“It’s a long story. But hey, you’re ok.” His hands lifted slowly as he moved toward her again. His intent was not to scare her further but bring himself to her to ease her fear. When he came to stand before her, her eyes shot up to lock with his. Green orbs widened as he kept her gaze, hands raising to rest against her shoulders. She shuddered at the feel and his breath caught in his chest. She was real, she was here. He couldn’t help but bring her warmth into his arms, embracing her as if she would disappear again at any moment.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed her until he had her in his arms again. His eyes closed as he held her, taking in her scent, letting the heat of her body seep into his cold heart. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t returning the hug or that she didn’t speak a word. He just needed this moment. He just needed her. After a beat, he released her but kept his hands on her arms as he took a step back.

She stared at him for a moment, so many emotions flashing through her dark hues. He watched her with concern, ignorant to the thoughts and feelings that she could be processing in that second. She seemed to be handling things better than he could imagine. Honestly, he was taking this all in better than he thought he would have. It wasn’t until he saw a tear running down her cheek that he realized just how overwhelming this might be for her.

“Mamma?” Dean’s face fell at the sound of her shaky voice. He swallowed hard before shaking his head in response. He hadn’t expected what happened next. Glad his hands were on her, he was able to catch her as her body gave out. She fainted into his arms, her limp body causing him to call out her name in a panic. He lifted her into his arms bridal style, watching her face closely. “It’s gonna be ok, Jo.” He rested his head against hers until he began to walk away.

~

“She was just overwhelmed, Dean. It was a lot to take in all at once.” Castiel explained, his hand resting on his friend’s shoulder.

Dean was slouched forward in his chair, his fingers entwined in front of his mouth as he stared at the bed ahead. Jo’s blonde hair fanned out over his pillow, her eyes closed tight as she slept. She still wore the same clothes she had on when she died but they were no longer ripped and torn by the claws of hellhounds. She wasn’t pale and bloody but instead she had pink color in her cheeks and that faint tan.

He still had a hard time believe she was even here, alive and breathing, sleeping in his bed. The last time he had seen her, she had almost killed him. That was years ago and she was a ghost. He had thought about her plenty of times through the years since she died. She wasn't someone he could easily forget, simply get over. There were moments he could still feel her soft lips against his during that first and last kiss and for a brief second, it was like she was still there. He had lost so much, he had wasted so much time. He didn’t know what he had right in front of him for the longest time until she was gone. And he regretted every moment he did nothing.

Now that she was back, all he wanted to do was hold her tight and never let her go. Now that she was here, so close, he wanted to kiss her and tell her everything he never had the balls to say. She had been asleep for hours and Dean hadn’t slept yet. He had waited in that chair watching her sleep, resolving not to leave her side until she woke up. Cas had tried to assure him that she would be fine, it was Sam that the angel was concerned about. He had tried to convince Dean to rest or at least eat. He was weak and weary and good to no one in his current condition. But Dean would just shake his head, green eyes locked on her.

For those few hours, nothing else mattered to the hunter. He had abandoned everything and everyone to stay at her side. Cas had no need to heal her, she was perfectly healthy. For now he just had wait. Cas began to worry, not just for Dean or for Jo, but also for Sam who had yet to turn up. How the girl was even back, he had yet to understand. Dean hadn’t told him the whole story yet. As a matter of fact, the hunter hadn’t spoken since he returned.

Then came the moment that she began to stir. It was pitch black in the room, the clock reading after two in the morning. Dean’s large form was curled up on the leather chair allowing himself to get a couple hours of sleep after days just on coffee and whiskey. A groan passed her lips, piercing through the heavy silence. The sound of rustling blankets was soon to follow before her bare feet touched the carpet. She stretched her limbs, her eyes adjusting to the darkness around her. Her heart raced with concern and confusion. She didn’t know where she was or why she was here and she couldn’t find her knife for protection.

She stood slowly and tried to make her way through the dark. With no sense of direction in the blackness, instead of finding an exit, she kicked something hard making her fall forward. Instead of hitting the floor or the chair she kicked, she fell onto something firm but soft and warm. Her hands roamed, finding arms and muscles. She squealed as she tried to climb off the body but it only caused her to fall backwards onto the floor flat on her ass. After some shuffling, an overhead light clicked on and her eyes squinted before landing on a tall rugged man standing across the room with his finger on the light switch.

They seemed to be staring at each other with the same wide eyes and panting breaths. Neither of them moved for a moment, both too shocked and afraid to do so. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as he finally moved toward her. He came down to crouch when he drew close, one hand resting on the floor while the other raised in front of him. “Are you alright?” He asked softly, his voice laced with worry. She simply shook her head as she still watched him carefully.

“Where am I?” She questioned with a hoarse voice due to unuse and sleep.

Dean reach over her head and she flinched so he froze. “It’s ok. Just getting you some water.” He moved slower this time, keeping his eyes on her and being sure to keep as much distance between them as he grabbed the bottle from the nightstand. Unscrewing the cap, he handed it to her and gestured his head for her to take it.

She cautiously grabbed it from his hand and took a slow swig which quickly turned into her guzzling down the whole bottle in seconds. Dean smiled before taking the empty container and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She thanked him, still watching him closely.

“You hungry?” His tone was still so soft, a contrast to his gruff voice. She nodded her head and he slowly rose to his feet before offering her a hand. She was hesitant to accept but did nonetheless and he pulled her to her feet. Her hair fell in front of her face as she looked down. Her eyes scanned him for a moment before looking up again. “I’ll answer all your questions once you eat, ok?” He offered her a comforting smile, tucking her hair gingerly behind her ear.

Usually, such a gesture from him would cause her heart to flutter. But now the gesture made her recoil. Dean quickly pulled his hand away and took a step back. Her reaction wasn’t surprising and the Winchester felt guilty for pushing her too far too quick. He cleared his throat and turned to lead them toward the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, Cas out trying to locate his brother which was another weight on Dean’s mind here lately. Dean flipped on the kitchen light and looked over his shoulder as he padded over to the fridge. “We got some Mexican leftovers, that good?” She was looking around curiously, oblivious to his question. “Ok then.” He muttered to himself before opening the fridge and grabbing a couple of to-go boxes. “Have a seat.” She did as directed and another bottle of water was set in front of her before he moved toward the microwave.

There was a heavy silence, tension clearly in the air as neither knew what to say. Once the microwave dinged, he set the box in front of her along with a fork before taking a seat across from her. Her eyes were hung, focused on the box before her as she picked up her fork and Dean watched her intently. She pushed some refried beans around in the box before deciding she was in fact hungry and dug in. It was almost creepy the way Dean watched her, the way he stared at her. She tried to ignore it but when her eyes shot up to catch his gaze, he froze at the look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, it’s just--” He began but he stopped when she set her fork down and pushed the food away. He looked down at the half eaten meal then back up at her with concern. “I didn’t mean--” When he noticed the moisture glistening in her eyes, he sucked in a shaky breath. “Jo…” A hand reached out across the table for her but she quickly pushed herself from the table only wrinkling his face more with his worry. “Jo?” He stood up and brought himself around the table to stand in front of her. “Hey.” His hands lifted to rest above her elbows, his head dipping to try and catch her eyes. “It’s ok.”

With a jolt, her arms quickly broke his grip and she took a step away. She lifted her eyes but they were cold, eyes of a lost and broken little girl. “Why am I here, Dean?” Her tone pierced through his chest and stabbed his heart. Her arms slapped down to her sides as her head rolled trying to keep her tears at bay. “I died! I remember it all!” Dean allowed her to speak, remaining silent and keeping his distance. Tears had escaped when her chocolate orbs came to his once again. “I died for you.” Her voice was just barely a hoarse whisper and a wave of guilt and grief washed over the Winchester.

“Honestly?” Dean’s shoulders lifted in a light shrug. “I don’t really know. I mean, this chick, she’s God’s sister, ya see? And I reunited her with Chuck, who’s God and she said, well, that I gave her what she needed most and said she would…” His eyes grew slightly as the words came out slowly with his realization. “Do the same for me.” His broad chest rose and fell with his breaths and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a few stiff swallows.

Jo’s brow wrinkled in confusion, clearly not coming to the conclusion he had. “God has a sister?” She questioned with a slight shake of her head. “And who’s Chuck?” Dean stood slack jawed and dumbfounded for a moment and her forehead wrinkled with a tilt of her head. “Dean.”

The sound of his name broke him from his brief trance and he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “It’s um, a long story but uh, Amara and I were linked by this mark and we unleashed her and shit happened but then her and her brother were just gone and then there was...you.” A hand gestured up to the blonde, his shoulders lifting again with an innocent look upon his face.

It was clear by the look on the blonde’s face that she was struggling. There truly was a lot to take in. Her head was pounding and she began to grow unsteady on her feet. Dean was quick to catch her and steady her stance again. Her tiny hands were gripped around his forearm as she held herself up with his help. Such a simple touch of her warm skin burnt through his long sleeved shirt. “Where are we?” She questioned after a moment.

“It’s a, uh, underground bunker. Used by the Men of Letters. Abandoned back in the 50s.” Her eyes lifted to his again and her face scrunched. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight with a shake of his head. “Another long story. But you’re safe here. It’s our home.” This could be her home too, the word ‘our’ meaning more to him than just him and his brother. Now that she was back, maybe she would stay with him. It was a rather presumptuous request but she had nowhere else to go and he’d be damned if he let her go again.

“Where’s Sam?” Her next question made his face fall a little. She caught the look in his eyes and there was a flash of sympathy in her chocolate hues. “Is he ok?”

“Honestly, we’re not sure right now. Cas is out following a lead on him.” Dean answered simply.

“Why aren’t you with him?” Her head tilted as she held his gaze. The look on his face was really all the answer she needed and her features dropped. “Dean.”

His head shook to stop her before she continued. “It’s ok. Cas has got it. He’s just as much Sam’s brother as I am. I know if anyone can find him other than me, it’s him.” Her mouth opened to retort again but his hands rubbed her arms gently. “I needed to be here with you.” The softness of his voice confused her. It was a gentleness that she didn’t quite remember seeing in him before. Without further argument, her head nodded before her eyes dropped to the floor. “Do you need anything? More to eat? Sleep?”

She shook her head and slowly pulled away from him. Taking a step back, she tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes still glued to the floor. “I, uh...I think I just need some time to myself.”

Though disappointment flashed through Dean’s eyes, he nodded in compliance and gestured a hand toward the door. “I’ll show you to a room and get you settled in.” His hand outstretched with intent to rest on her lower back to guide her out but thought better of it and retracted and instead he led the way. She remained silent as she walked behind him, her eyes scanning the walls, the floor, the doors, taking it all in for the first time. Dean glanced over his shoulder a couple times just to make sure she was still there before turning to open the door to the room right next to his.

He ushered her in and stepped over the threshold after her. He flipped on the light switch and lit up the bland room, the ceiling fan beginning to turn above them. “It’s not much but the bed has clean sheets and the bathroom is across the hall. And uh, my room is right next door.” There was silence for a moment before she turned to look at him. Her arms were hugged around herself, eyes down before she nodded in acknowledgement. “Jo, I--” He wasn’t sure what he was going to say but he didn’t have to because her eyes lifted, stopping him.

“Just go, please.” Her words stung and her eyes dropped before she could see the pain in his eyes. He cleared his throat and as much as it ached, he nodded his head and did as she asked. The door closed behind him and once in the hall he leaned his head back against the door with a sigh. His eyes closed and the tightness in his chest was suffocating. Just on the other side of the door, Jo looked around before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Dean didn’t get any sleep that night. Instead, he sat at the kitchen table milking a bottle of whiskey. Until Cas showed back up. As much as Dean hated the idea of leaving, especially when he hadn’t seen Jo for hours, he had to go get his brother. So he left Castiel to watch out for her, knowing she was in good hands. And he was someone she knew and trusted as well. Between the worry for his brother and the concern for Jo, Dean’s mind was racing as the Impala sped down the road. He didn’t know what he was going into or what he was rescuing his brother from but he needed to get his head on straight so he could be at his best.

What he hadn’t expected was to see Jo there with a gun to that British MOL bitch’s head. His hands were cuffed to the ceiling as he stood next to his tortured brother. His eyes were wide as he saw the look in the blonde’s eyes, a look he had never seen in her eyes before. It was cold and calculated, no sign of the sweet soft huntress he had known. If it wasn’t for Cas, she would have put a bullet through that woman’s brain without blinking an eye. That ache was back in Dean’s chest when her gun lowered and her eyes locked with his. She seemed to soften slightly but averted her eyes from his intense gaze.

Dean carried his brother out of the cabin back to the Impala while Cas and Jo walked quietly behind them. Once again, Dean kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was still back there. The familiar sight of Cas and Jo in the rear view mirror almost brought a smile to Dean’s face once he climbed behind the wheel. Even though they faced a new threat, even though Lucifer was on the loose, even though they were all a bit broken and bruised. It didn’t matter. In that car, Dean found a calm that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. A sense of peace washed over him as he stared into brown orbs that stared back at him.

Things didn’t get better for Jo as the days passed. She struggled to get back into the swing of things and she had barely spoken since she got back. What little they did get out of her was always short and usually snippy. Each time, the knife dug deeper in Dean’s heart. She wasn’t the same Jo he had kissed in that hardware store all those years ago. She didn’t look at him like that heart eyed girl back at the Roadhouse. She didn’t smile or laugh, instead her face was fallen and creased with the weight of her existence.

Dean almost wished that Amara had never brought her back. Her presence was enough to give him something to fight for, give him that spark of hope again. But in the end, Jo wasn’t happy and that made the hunter feel the guilt of her return. His care and concern for her made it hard for him to concentrate on anything else. He began to slack at the job he needed to do. There was evil out there that needed to be dealt with. Not only did they have the Devil himself on the loose but they also had the British Men of Letters on their tales. And those pricks knew exactly where they were meaning they had to take extra precautions to keep the place safe and guarded. The hunter slept less and less as days turned into weeks. Alcohol was bought more frequently as weeks turned into months.

And then it happened. It was an especially late night for the eldest Winchester. He hadn’t even tried to get any sleep. So instead he sat at the table in the war room perched behind his laptop, milking a bottle of whiskey. There was nothing all that interesting on his screen, just something to pass the time while he emptied his bottle. He hadn’t expected the front door to open. Usually there was a loud sound when they swung the metal door open, but this time it was almost completely silent. He wouldn’t have even noticed it if he hadn’t caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

In the darkness, it was hard to recognize the figure that was sneaking in. Even with a light fog on his emerald eyes, Dean pulled out his pistol and moved out of sight with intent to catch their intruder. There was hardly a sound of steps going down the flight of stair and the figure didn’t even raise their head from their feet. As soon as Dean stepped out in front of them with his gun raised, it was easy to see who it was.

“Jo? What the--” He lowered his gun, his eyes wide and jaws slack with his surprise. She had looked up at him, a few scratches adorned her cheek and she had a busted lip. Dean raised a hand to trail his thumb lightly over her jaw and thankfully she didn't flinch at his touch this time. “What have you been up to?” His voice was a distressed whisper as his features fell. He allowed his eyes to fall, catching sight of the rips in her jacket and the splatters of blood and mud across her shirt and jeans.