#its really hard to pin down One Favorite Season

[deedala]

SHAMELESS CREATORS NETWORK AUGUST THEME: FAVORITE SEASON

season outrageous, hilarious, devastating, heartening, emotional, chaotic three

[cardierreh15]

Variants

This is just part one of two! Enjoy ⚡️🐺

***I do not give anyone consent to copy, translate or repost my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Angst , Mild Violence .

Pairings: Logan Howlett (Cavillrine) x Ororo Munroe also known as Storm ⚡️

Description: Ororo wakes up in another universe, she meets someone familiar…

Word Count: 4.8K

Song: Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen (but whatever your favorite version is)

Earth-811, Days of Future Present (my own twist) to Earth-199999

Side Note: Please keep in mind, this is not at all accurate and I am only writing something I thought up. Anything from how she got to this Earth from to her meeting Logan is not canon events.

Side, Side Note: Lyrics are in regular italics. Ororo's thoughts are in Italics Bold and OG Logan's voice is in orange italics.

Part One

Now I've heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do ya?

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing "Hallelujah”

It was a beautiful day on Earth 199999. Not a cloud to be spotted. The birds chirped and there was even a cool breeze to combat the humid air that the season had brought in on its back. But all of that was about to change.

With the bat of an eye, dark heavy clouds rolled into the view of the sun. Blocking out any rays that were toasting up some skins and feeding flowers. Violent lightning bolts filled the sky and loud thunder shook the ground beneath the feet of man. Rain beat down like rocks and the wind blew so strong, it toppled cars and pulled trees from their roots.

In the middle of that chaos, was a woman who would change the entire timeline of this world. Though, she had no idea where she was or whether she was even alive. But she was what this world needed.

Falling unconscious from the thunderous clouds, she collapsed into the pacific. Engulfed and swallowed up by the merciless deep blue. One would think that was the end of this Storm Goddess. But fate and destiny were willing to bend the rules when it came to fulfilling their name.

Upon her contact, the impact of her landing had not only caused hurricanes but water spouts that could tear up an entire island and record breaking tsunamis. Countless lives had been lost upon her ascend.

Months had passed on by and the world was slowly healing from the detrimental damage that came with Ororo’s hard landing. Reporters and storm researchers tried to get to the bottom of what could’ve caused something like this to happen so simultaneously and without warning. The UN (United Nations) had already started on their own journey trying to get to the bottom of it; if it was mutant related and purposeful. As if they give a damn about that really. On her Earth, the United States were the reason why she was here in the first place.

Ororo was found caught in a fishing net in Vancouver. She was well preserved and oddly enough, still warm to the touch. Yet, still knocked into a deep coma that not even inhaling water could wake her from.

A man, not from this plain, had noticed that she wasn’t exactly human. And if the other fisherman had suspected her of being a mutant, they’d have her shipped off to a lab somewhere in the US after they collected their reward. So, he took her back to his home in Alberta, Canada. Far away from society and where he could be himself.

The stranger would come check on the brown sleeping beauty every once in a while. Everyday in the morning before he went to chop wood to aid her fireplace and then once before sunset. She looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t exactly pin it. She was enigmatic! And the feeling of limerence grew the longer she stayed. The way her white finely twisted dreads lay splayed out beneath her head, her thick white brows and lashes. How the shade appeared to enhance her skin and feminine features. Even in her time of nadir, she took his breath away.

Almost like a forbidden kind of beauty. The one that came with a dark past.

Those days had turned into weeks and finally a month had passed since her arrival at the stranger’s residence.

Ororo’s eyes had flashed open, white as her hair as she inhaled so much air that instantly burned her lungs and choked her out.

Sitting up, she placed her hand over her chest before gripping the linens that she wore. She wheezed as salty tears streamed down her face as she fought to breathe. Her vision blurred, her head felt so heavy and it throbbed with an achy vengeance. The words of her lover repeated in her ears.

I love you, Ororo. You don’t have to come back for me. If you find a perfect world, stay there.

She coached herself to steady her breathing as her snowy eyes had faded into something more human. Brown as the Earth’s soil. Ororo hiccuped as her awareness finally hit her like a ton of bricks. She scanned the bedroom for anything to tell her where she was. Or at least, which part of the Multiverse she had landed in.

Pulling herself from the warmth of the heavy comforters, she felt as if she’d been only asleep for a day. Her limbs and balance worked as they did when she was fleeing from the Sentinels. Though, it came with only a little bit of soreness. That was from the battering of the waves.

She whimpered as she rotated her arm to aid the soreness there. ‘Aah. Where the hell am I?’ The bedroom was a piece of paragonal work. Lots of natural light that was let in by 3 large arched windows and a large skylight window that made stargazing comfortable when night came. 

The furniture was vintage; carved out of mahogany and donned with gold handles and knobs. All of the furniture was dusted clean, the mirror at the vanity didn’t see a speck or smudge. A telltale sign that someone had been in here to visit her quite frequently.

With the bedroom’s cleanliness, came no clues of where she was. Ororo began to rummage and search through the dresser drawers and the nightstand. 

Breathing heavily as she felt herself growing anxious with tears filling her eyes, she felt herself falling apart. 

Don’t come back for me. 

Logan please.

I mean it, thundercloud. If you find a perfect world, stay there. 

‘Ooh! Fuck you, Logan!’ She exclaimed through gritted teeth as tears fell from her eyes. ‘Fuck you! Fuck you!’ She exclaimed as she slammed her fists into the mahogany wood that cracked beneath her strength. 

A loud thunder crack echoed outside, with a bolt hitting right outside her bedroom window.

Tiny bolts of lightning danced around her fists as she brought them up before opening her palms. The tiny bolts flickered before vanishing completely and a tear fell in their place. 

Wiping her snotty nose with her sleeve, she took a deep breath and wiped her tears with her free wrist. How was she going to make it without him?

The sound of 80’s rock and roll brought her out of her misery. The same kind of music they’d listen to together on his motorcycle when times were much simpler. She used to peel the clouds out of the sky or simply push them over the next city so they could go riding. 

The smell of his cigar smoke mended into his brown leather jacket. The way his thick dark hair used to fluff about in the wind and how he used to risk their lives by rubbing her arm when she held him tight.

Good times.

Ororo rushed towards the large wooden door and tugged it open with its golden knob. She was met with fresh air when she rushed outside. The sound of the music was no longer muffled by the thickness of those wooden walls. Yet it did echo and bounce off of trees in the surrounding area.

Quickly making her way down the wooden steps, she founded the calls and howls of the infamous Axel Rose. It didn't take her long to find the host; just a cut around the cabin and she was standing in front of it. Catacorner from it was a makeshift garage. Old broken down cars, motorcycles, and tires lie scattered about.

This looked just like Logan’s garage. A mess and unkept.

She felt as if this was all some kind of fever dream. 

Inclined to meet the person who saved her, Ororo began to journey forward until she came across a mature and very large Fir tree that sported claw marks. She walked towards it as the fast music became a blur in her ears. She ran her finger tips over the marks. 

9 claw marks but in threes. She knew only one person who could pull this off. 

‘Oh my god— JAMES!’ Her heart fluttered like crazy as she sped walked to the garage and pushed the doors open. ‘JAMES!’

There he stood, back turned as he worked on his bike. He wore his classic white wife beater, denim jeans and brown boots. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he squeezed the clutch of his bike. She was sure that he couldn’t hear her over the shouting of Guns N Roses and the purr of his motorcycle, so she reached her hand up towards one of the hanging lamps and shot a lightning bolt at it. 

A gleaming smile curled up on her lips with a twinkle in her eye.

That caught his attention, causing him to stand up straight.

There was a long pause before the individual reached over and turned down the old school radio that sat on the toolbox. 

‘You know it’s been a long time since someone called me that.’

His voice… He didn’t sound like the Logan she knew and loved. Though from this angle, he was the spitting image. Her smile remained. ‘Wh-what do you mean we—‘

The male finally turned around to face her. But the cloud of smoke from the cigar that he puffed on, made him impossible to make out.

She used to hate the smell, now she lived for it. Craved it.

‘You still smoke those-‘

Stepping through the cloud, the individual revealed himself. 

His hair was curly thick, styled up to resemble ears as if he were a puppy. The same way her James used to style his hair. He even sported that very same beard cut with the center of his chin shaved and his jaws furry. 

His eyes were bright blue unlike the original Logan’s, comforting brown.

Her smile faltered as she placed a hand on her stomach and took a step back.

‘Hmm.’ The man grumbled as he reached behind him and scooped up a white dirty hand towel to wipe his hands. He held his lit cigar in his jaw before taking it out with his clean fingers.

Ororo stood there, her eyes wide in shock and confusion. Her mouth opened to ask a question but the words just wouldn’t come out!

‘I didn’t think you’d ever wake up. You seem to be walking well.’

He was the one that saved her.

‘H-‘ she swallowed, ‘How long was I out?’

Tossing the dirty cloth on the toolbox, he placed the cigar back between his lips and inhaled greatly. And when he exhaled, another large cloud of smoke shrouded the garage.

‘Well,’ he grumbled, ‘You’ve been here for about a month. I uh— suspect you have no idea what’s going on… do you?’

A month? There’s no way I have been here for a month! I stepped in that portal yesterday! 

Ororo placed her hand on her neck as she felt her blood pressure begin to spike. Her body began to gently rock side to side as her stomach twisted and turned.

‘Wh-where did you find me a-and where am I?’

‘You’re in Alberta…’

Her eyes grew, ‘CANADA?!’

‘Some fishermen in Vancouver found you sleeping in a net with some salmon.’ 

She brought her fingers up to her temples and began to rub that spot when her head began to throb. 

And right on cue, thunder roared outside. 

Logan looked up at the roof as rain drizzled and created a song atop the metal. Then he looked back at her. She appeared to be fighting a migraine. And the more she fought, the heavier the drizzle became.

Then it clicked.

‘You alright over there? Need some pain meds?’ He mumbled with his cigar in his mouth.

‘Mmph! It’s okay just—.’

‘Uh-huh. Y’know, there’s been some dangerous storms going on. Tsunamis, Hurricanes, typhoons, the whole nine.’

‘Mmm.’ Ororo grimaced at the pain, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she clenched her jaw together. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘I don’t know. But, the storms started about 4 months ago.’ 

I’ve been here for four months?! Oh my god.

‘I think I’m gonna be sick.’ Ororo whimpered as her vision blurred once again from tears. Her chest began to heave and her heart thudded hard in her chest.

‘Oh, whatever you do just—‘

Barf. Clear bubbly flim mixed with yellow bile splattered on the smooth concrete. 

‘Take that… outside. Aw shit.’

The woman collapsed to her hands and knees as he rushed over to her aid. She choked as her insides forced and fought to be on the outside. The taste of the raw acid burned at her esophagus and mouth. The rancid taste only made her gag more. 

‘Hey, it’s okay.’

It’s okay, Storm. If we’re meant to be… we’ll be.

Her eyes turned white with tiny bolts dancing around them, heaving harder as she stared at the disgusting vomit.

‘You have to look away! Look at me!’ 

As soon as Logan snatched up her hands, lightning zapped him to hell. 

Fortunately nothing that’ll kill him, but it stung like shit. ‘Aah!’ He hissed as he snatched his hands away, fanning them painfully. ‘Fuck!’

You’re my strong girl.

Ororo shut her eyes tightly as the heaving turned into a sob. ‘I can’t do this without you…’

The drizzle had turned into a heavy pitter patter. Thunder roared outside, causing the tin can of a garage to rattle. 

Logan’s brows tugged into one as the burning tingling began to fade into his hand. He watched as the woman crumbled into herself. 

This wasn’t tears of fear or confusion. But of mourning and grief. He could practically smell the pain exuding off of her. Logan knew what it felt like to lose someone. To be completely lost in a world that didn’t accept who he was. To be alone. 

Reaching out to her, tiny lightning bolts reached out to embrace his fingertips as if they were familiarized with his energy or aura. 

They didn’t burn him this time, just tiny manageable pinches. He placed his palm on her back and sighed softly.

If we’re meant to be…

His mouth parted to say something, afraid to say the wrong thing. 

Ororo blinked her eyes open before looking over at him. 

He was almost the exact same replica of her James. That same mean scowl that she adored greatly.

‘You’ve got blue eyes.’ She said in a hushed tone as she stared into his eyes.

‘You’re very observant.’ Logan said sarcastically with a small chuckle leaving his lips. ‘What is it that they call you?’

My Stormsy. Hey there, my lil’ thundercloud. Hang on lightning bolt! Stormy. 

‘Oro—‘ she sniffed, ‘Forgive me but, I don’t think you’d be able to say my name, white boy.’ She scoffed.

Logan raised his brow, ‘Oh yeah? Try me.’

She tried to muffle her giggle but it fell through, ‘Ororo.’

His brows rose and he blinked hard once.

‘Oro—OK, do you have a nickname?!’

Ororo’s small smile from her giggle had turned into a charming grin as laughter escaped her, ‘Yeah,’ she sighed softly. He was just like him. From his facial expressions to how effortlessly hilarious he was. She was comfortable near him.

‘Storm. Just call me Storm.’

‘Now that sounds… do-able.’ His smirk curled up into a small smile before he felt a raindrop fall upon his shoulder. They both looked up at the ceiling. Another fell on his forehead.

‘Well, that would explain the weather.’ Then wiped his head free of the water and looked back over at her, then it clicked. He was a terrible host.

Her white eyes began to fade into her brown ones.

Glancing down at the barf, he then glanced back at her, ‘You must be starving.’

‘No, no. It’s OK, I’ve been too much trouble already just—‘

‘No, I insist. You haven’t ate—‘

Wrrrrr. Ororo slapped her hand against her stomach as it sang its hunger song, as if she could shut it up like a finger to a set of lips. She snatched her eyes away from his gaze and shut them in defeat.

‘Mmm. I thought so. Alright, up, up, up.’ He took his large hands and helped her to her feet. ’

Rolling her eyes at his condescending tone, she pushed herself up to her feet with his help.

‘Ya alright?’ He asked as he slowly pulled his hands away.

‘Yeah,’ The electricity vanished once again within her, ‘Thank you.’

‘Mmm,’ his head fell to the side, ‘Don’t mention it. Look, I’m gonna get this cleaned up—‘ 

‘James, please—‘ she paused. 

He looked down at her for a long moment. ‘You’re the only one who can get away with calling me that.’ Turning away from her he walked towards the far corner of the garage. 

Ororo let out a sigh and placed her hands on her hips. Were they all the same in every universe? Hardheaded and guileless. Arguments were always challenging with him. 

‘You don’t have to clean up after me, I'm not some kind of damsel in distress.’

‘Well,’ he scoffed as he picked up a bucket and a mop, ‘You were just kind of sleeping beauty for ‘bouta month. I’d say you’re pretty damn close enough. Oh, and— Aurora… mind easing up on the rain until we get the food here?’ 

Her mouth fell before she stammered over her words. ‘We—I—‘

Wait a minute did he just call me beautiful? Damn, they are just alike. 

And he left her inside of the garage to retrieve water for the bucket.

***

Ororo did not in fact keep the rain in check. Instead, when she went back into the cabin she found herself missing James more and more. But, how could she miss him when he was right outside? 

Oh, she was so confused. Stuck in a whirlwind of emotions. But she had to count her blessings. Who knows what would’ve happened if he didn’t find her. She could’ve been poked and pried at beneath wandering eyes. Chopped up in itsy bitsy pieces and thrown in a particle accelerator to be sold to the highest bidder.

At least that was more humane than the chaos that ensued on her world. 

A knock echoed in her bedroom and the sound of the knob twisting followed.

Ororo was bent over the vanity, checking for any oddities that the portal could’ve left her with. So far, so good. The door creaked open and she turned torso to the side.

‘Hey—whoa—‘

With her voluptuous rump in view, she rested her chin on her fist, ‘Your mama ever taught you to knock? What if I was naked?!’

‘Well for one, I did knock. And my mama, didn’t exactly raise a gentleman if you want me to be honest. Come, I’ve got Chinese.’ 

***

The pair sat in silence as they indulged on their take out. Ororo did her best not to inhale all of it so she ate slowly.

Logan chuckled, ‘That’s cute!’ 

Shit, he was on to her.

‘Mmm? What?’ She grumbled as she placed her hand over her lips so that she wasn’t spitting out food.

‘Oh nothing. It’s just you’re trying so hard not to kill all of your food. Eat! Trust me, you definitely need it more than I do.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She said as she stifled her giggle and took another bite out of her food. 

‘Right.’ He snickered and took a sip of his beer. 

The dining room grew quiet once again, soft thunder filled the silent void between them. Not necessarily on purpose but she was studying him. They were eating sweet n sour pork. 

James hated pork. He hated the smell, the salty-ness, the texture and the tummy ache and headache that it gave him after it all. She remembers having to cave in to buying turkey bacon. 

The things you do for love. The sacrifices you make.

James was also right handed. Everything he did started with his right side and eventually the left would aid it. Not that the left was as strong as the right, but when it came to swinging his claws, it always got the job done.

This Logan was an ambidextrous individual. Using both of his hands to work into his food without looking funny. It was so natural.

‘I can feel you burning a hole in my face.’ He murmured as his bright blue hues remained glued to his plate.

It was then when she finally blinked, ‘sorry you just— you just remind me of someone I—‘ she paused as her head fell into her lap.

Logan’s eyes flickered up at her for a second, reading her like a book. ‘Boyfriend?’

She remained quiet.

‘Yeah, I know that look. Sported it a few times myself. Would you like to talk about it?’

Oh she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Should she start with Mystique mercilessly murdering Senator Robert Kelly? Or how her blood contributed to the industrial process of the Sentinels that killed mutants or threw them into concentration camps? How this Logan sitting in front of her could be one of hundreds and maybe thousands of variants of her dead lover?

That was a lot to take in. He wouldn’t even believe her.

‘I—Honestly, I wouldn't even know where to start.’

‘I’ve got nothing but time.’

You take up all my time, Lightning Bolt. A punishment when I have to leave but a reward when I come back home to you. 

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she let out a gentle breath. ‘I’m —‘ Ororo tried to process it herself. If she hadn’t lived it, it wouldn’t have even made sense to her either. 

‘This is going to sound crazy.’ 

‘Trust me, I’ve seen and heard crazy. There’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already heard.’ 

He mustn’t be so sure.

Even that little comment was something James would’ve said. Verbatim. 

‘Alright.’ She sat up straight and let out another breath of air, ‘I’m not from… here.’

Logan sat quietly. She had his full and undivided attention.

‘I’m not from… here.’ She repeated.

‘Oookaaaay, I think I got that the first time.’ He sighed and folded his arms together. ‘What do you mean?’

Damn it was a lot harder to say than she thought. Perhaps she try a different approach. She would talk about… him.

‘My boyfriend… he uh— he was one of a kind. Smart, goofy, sweet… he was everything I dreamed of. He uh— and his brother had it rough. His family was well off… and in most cases the mother and father weren’t around much thus, was raised by their nanny. One night, some man comes into their home and kills their father. It was then when he discovered his powers. He grew—‘ 

Ororo glanced down at Logan’s fist as his fingers tapped against the table cloth. 

‘Claws.’ Her gaze rose to his once again. ‘He stabbed the man in hopes of getting to avenge his father… but it was then revealed to him that the stranger was in fact he and his brother’s biological father.’

Logan stared at her in complete horror. But he remained calm.

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew ya

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.

‘What then?’ He asked before picking up his beer once again. 

‘He and his big brother ran away. Fought in World War II. Years later he met me at Xavier’s School of Gifted—‘

‘Youngsters.’

‘Youngsters.’ She repeated slowly. 

He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, ‘How do you— How do you know all of that?!’

Swallowing her spit, Ororo pressed her lips together, ‘I know — so much more, Logan.’

‘So what, do you read minds like Charles?!’ His voice was a little bit more stern than before.

‘Ja-Logan, it’s not like that! I—I come from a different timeline!’

His eyes grew in disbelief and he raised his hands, ‘Alright. That’s enough sweet n sour pork for you. Now you’re just talking out of your ass.’ He reached over to grab her container but she grabbed his wrist tightly. It was heavy. Just as she thought.

‘Has it ever occurred to you why or how a complete stranger would know your name?!’ 

‘Maybe you’ve been looking at my mail?!’

‘Your name is James Howlett! You had a brother named Liev, also named as Sabertooth—‘

‘What?!’ He chuckled.

‘You were born 1882! Here in Alberta, Canada.’

‘These are all things you can look up on google sweetheart.’ He said as he gently pulled his fist away.

‘That would make sense if I could use google in my sleep!’ She bit back. She watched as he pulled her styrofoam container away. ‘And I don’t think you added your Adamantium skeleton to the census.’

I did my best, it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya

And even though it all went wrong

I'll stand before the lord of song

With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah

He stared at her for a moment before swallowing hard.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about? That metal doesn’t even exist.’ He added as he carried off their take out to the kitchen.

Now, she was annoyed. She folded her arms across her chest and slouched back against the wooden chair with her full lips in a slight pout. That was until she realized what he said.

‘Wait—‘ she quickly stood to her feet and walked into the kitchen, ‘I never said anything about Adamantium being metal!’ 

Logan opened the refrigerator to place the containers inside, ‘You didn’t? Well, it sounds like it would be metal. The “Tium” at the end of it adds the razzle dazzle.’ 

Ororo was growing irritated with his banter. So she snatched the refrigerator door handle and slammed it, not caring much if the food was in there properly. Her backside was pressed firmly against the cool stainless steel.

‘Hey!’ He glared at her.

‘You asked me if I wanted to talk about it and I AM—‘

‘I didn’t ask you for a damn biography on my life!’

Her head fell to the side before looking down at his fists. 

‘Show me.’

Logan stepped back, his thick brows tugging into one. ‘Show you what? There’s nothing to show you!’ 

‘I want to see them! Show me!’ 

‘Lady, you’re really losing it right now.’

‘I WANT TO SEE THEM— NOW!’ She exclaimed as her eyes glowed white with lightning and she raised her hand to cast a lightning bolt at his chest. 

The white electricity sent him flying back against the wall, leaving a large cave in, in its place. He fell to his hands and knees as he groaned and howled in pain. White lightning bolts danced and trickled around his torso, arms and neck. ‘GUH—AAUURGH!’ 

She hadn’t realized what she’d done until it was too late. ‘Oh my god! James!’ Ororo rushed over to him but stopped in her tracks when she heard the unsheathing of his blades. 

She blinked away her glowing eyes as he painfully pulled himself up to his feet. Bubbles of saliva dripped from between his teeth. At his sides were those infamous Adamantium claws. They were beautiful. 

She glanced up at him in caution as she began to slowly approach him. 

Logan growled, taking a step back as he breathed heavily through the pain. 

‘James please, I’m sorry! I know all of this sounds crazy ok? You have to believe me.’

‘B-believe y-you?! Hell, I d-don’t even know you!’ He sputtered through the pain.

The words pained her, ‘I-I deserve that. But I know you.’ She finally walked to him and reached out to wrap her small hand around his fist. Logan turned his head away from her.

Maybe there's a God above,

but all I've ever learned from love,

was how to shoot at someone who out drew you.

And its not the cry you hear tonight,

its not somebody who's seen the light.

‘In a different time— you loved me. And looking at you now…’ she placed her hand against his jaw and turned his gaze back towards her, ‘Means that I have a second chance. Think about it, you went all the way to Vancouver … you had no idea I was there but you came there for me.’

Logan stared down at her, his heaving panting began to slowly return to normal.

‘I know that you hate New Age music, I know that your hobbies include choking down cigars and chopping wood. I know that you love riding your bike on sunny days in the mountains! I know that you dreamed of living in a small cabin like this one.’ Her voice cracked as she did her best to fight back her heartbreak. He never got to see the life he deserved.

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

‘I know that you’ve moved far away to keep from hurting others. I was there, Logan.’

Ororo’s words were almost inaudible; being choked up with tears, she stared up into his eyes as she fought hard not to cry again. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

Sheathing his blades back into the safety of his knuckles, he reached up to grab her fist gently into his large hand. 

‘How much did you love me—him?’

‘Oh James…’ her eyes fluttered as a thick warm tear fell down her cheek. ‘With all of my being…’

Those words ached him a little as if he knew that she did, as if he witnessed her love for him. He’d fallen in love many times. But they never amounted to anything in the end. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

Maybe—

If we’re meant to be— we’ll be.

Ororo burst into a gut wrenching sob before Logan brought her into his strong, heavy arms. He rested his cheek atop her head as she soaked his filthy wife beater. 

Hallelujah. 

[romsabombs]

it's that time of the month again guys!

Malevolent part 47 The Hand live notes!!!

AMAZON AD👹 ANOTHER AD ANOTHER AD ANOTHER AD CAN WE JUST START THE EPISODE

FINALLY!!! um whats happening

are their asses still wandering aimlessly

six hours bruh 💀

a cage :/???

a what

a crime! no doubt!🤓

HAHA HE HAS THE PLAGUE i said yesterday That man probably has every disease by now

hes gonna die so bad guys hes a sick victorian child

ohhh john please carry me to the garden so i may see- um Hear the flowers one last time🤒

his sickness😟 i cant believe our actions have consequences

theyre ganging up on yorick😭

HAHA hes fine Physically me asf

"indescribable horrors" that doesnt stop john from describing every horror in immense detail

"we both have" im sorry john did you get stabbed like eight times🙄 this aint about you

💀he folded💀

HAHA so he wasnt lying damn😭 I KNEW IT blud was so ready to kill more children

john defending his comfort character

😟Sold Your Soul😟

"i offered myself to it" gayass

this speech goes so hard actually

NEW MUSIC NEW MUSIC

omg it sounds more hopeful now :((

aw he thanked arthur :)

god damn it yorick🙄

WHAT does the corpse have the hand

i mean they did pinky promise

HIS EYE 😦😦

loose enough to pry with ur fingers😨

yorick is building frankensteins monster i fear

MALEVOLENCE MENTIONED NO WAY NO WAYYYYYY NORWAY IS THIS WHY THE SHOW IS NAMED THIS

can yorick lie is that a thing😟😟😟

come on arthur you were a boyscout u can climb this easily

"the pole is wood" just like mine haha🙏🙏🙏🙏

theyre gonna start a forest fire😶

just throw something at it guys idk

omg a pin‼️ throw something at it!!

"excellent hypothesis my king🤓" "JOHN👹" "right!!🤓"

THEYRE GONNA THROW A ROCK YEAAAAA💥💥💥💥

hows he gonna throw when hes blind

why is he so good at throwing wtf

i guess we cant stay here throwing rocks for the entire episode

ALEXANDER :333

EUHGHH😟😟😟😟😟

DONT THROW ROCKS AT BIRDS THATS HOW THE HORRORS HAPPEN

maybe alexander isnt evil n hes just trying to protect us idk🤕

"i was never much for athletics" we can tell

theres gotta be a theme this season and its gotta be Children or Childhood or something

"if they could see me now" mmmm

WHAT IS THAAATT HUHHH

😨😨😨😨

WHAT IS THATTTTTTT WHAGAAT

maybe its just a freaky bird

hes so good at falling down holes

WHAT HAHA WE CANT RN😭😭

😦ERM? YORICK???????

KELLIN MENTIONED big day for gay people 🙏🙏

so was yorick always evil orrrr coz he said My King instead of john and yorick has called him john before

guys i think alexander might be the Not Evil one here

hand of malevolence would go so hard as like a window decoration

ur telling me john knew what a Hand of Malevolence was and didnt link it to the dark world

NOOO DUMBASS

ummm 😟 whats all this then

YORICK :3333 HIIII :3

what 😀

"john" :3

HAHA what is going on bruh

OMG WHAGT 😃😃😃 thats banger

"thank you i think"

:(( aw alexander IS evil :((((((

she? 🤕

OHHH IS IT LILITH IS IT LILITH PLS LILITH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

lilith and kayne are having a custody battle over them funny as hell

OHHH she was in the portal

TEEHEE WE'RE HER FAVORITE :33

dont confront her i feel

but theyre BOTH terrible at lying🤕

they're cooked i fear

hes DYING😟😟😟😟😟😟

An Owl Being Strange

flies are insects darling

they finally appreciate yorick :)

john we dont have time for this omg

HAHA silly asf

they have a safeword now

harlan's really making us work for it like im gonna forget this if they dont point it out

the candle has been running out for hours fr

nooo :( r we approaching the ending

how do we still have like 15 minutes left

HAHA this is so funny theyre roleplaying

theyre yes-and'ing like theatre kids

i mean i bet she noticed yall were gone for a solid 15 minutes

so is the king in yellow just not a threat anymore like did we defeat him i forgot

are we in an alternate universe then

i know far too much!🤓☝️

arthur caught the decima virus i fear

STOP COUGHING im so worried

arthur needs his vaccines fr

is he gonna faint

"and if i am sick-" "you are😐"

OH the ring

hes really gonna go over there and spread his plague around 🙄

i feel like arthur wont even make it to the castle🤒

he coughs like a dad

"lean on me" maybe if you had a physical form😐

oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck

we just have to wing it i guess

its WHAT😨

what is going on man 😟

UM😦🤕

WHAAT THATS IT? wtf

[boykombat]

Syzoth - Reptile, "Needy Lover"

Description: Syzoth wasn't really used to the touch of another person. You, on the other hand, relished in physical attention. You were needy, you loved having his hands on you. But, it was his mating season, which made it much harder. The Zaterran was going crazy for your touch. He absolutely couldn't handle himself, or hold back any longer. Just your scent made him hard, who was he to not indulge himself?

tags: cream pies, grinding, double penetration, claiming, marking, cock warming.

words: 2.3K

reader is fem!

notes: in this, syzoth's human form has two dicks, as well as claws and his tail..

yeah I got real evil, I wrote this high as fuck.

🐊 Enjoy! 🐊

Touch wasn't something that the Zaterran was used to. Never used to such a needy lover, — well at least as needy as you are.

So when you sit on his lap in public, purposely grinding your ass back onto him because you just "can't wait", it's easy for him to get excited.

Always so needy for him, no matter what. Every circumstance where you could grind against his body for your own pleasure, you took.

And Syzoth loved when you did. He loved when you'd sit on his knee, your thighs spread just that tiny bit so he could feel your wetness through your panties. It made him even harder when you'd slowly "adjust yourself", grinding your needy cunt against his leg.

But his favorite thing is when you grind your wetness against his tail. Your dripping sex pressed against his already sensitive scales is enough to make him go wild for you.

Syzoth lets out a low groan, his tail laid out against his thigh. Your wet heat slowly sliding against his scales, your thighs being held open by his massive hands. Claws gently biting at your skin, threatening to scratch at your plush legs at any moment.

The Zaterran can feel your fingers sifting through his brown locks, and he can't help but shiver with delight with how your fingernails massage his scalp.

There's practically hearts in his eyes when you look back to meet his gaze. Syzoth's pretty, pink lips pulled open as quiet groans push out from his frame.

One of his hands drags from your thigh up to your hip. Syzoth begins to rock your body forward with his strength. His tail twitches, pushing up against your cunt more.

The texture of his scales is bumpy against your clit. Your arousal against the rough texture lubrates it to be a smoother ride, leaking just from grinding against him.

Syzoth can feel his cocks twitch in his pants at the site of your ass rocking back against his tail. Already rock hard, getting so much harder when he hears your desperate moans.

He's had you on his lap for an hour. Sometimes he'll hold your legs open with his powerful hands, letting the end of his tail tease your pussy. Flicking it at your clit, and he loves the wet noises it makes. How your slick arousal shines against his tail.

And that's exactly what he decides is his best course of action is in the moment.

Syzoth lifts you up, sliding his tail out from under you. In just a couple quick movements, you find yourself pinned against his body. Back firmly pressed into his chest, thighs pulled open.

Syzoth lets out a low, almost feral growl into your ear as he grinds his bulges into your ass.

Your eyes flick down, to see his tail prodding at your pussy. He can't even wait for you to take off your panties, he just slides them to the side. The very tip of his tail starts to alide between your lips. It flicks against your cunt briefly, just as his tongue starts to lap at your throat.

Its almost addicting how his forked tongue plays with your tender skin, slowly rolling it between his muscular tongue.

The way you sound drives him crazy. Needy, pretty moans fall from your lips as he slowly pushes the end of his tail into your sex. The squelching noise paired with the sensation of you clenching around him makes him let out a low groan into the back of your neck.

His cocks twitch in his pants again. Syzoth can feel the precum leaking from his tips, wanting the warmth and wetness of your pussy so badly.

"Please, I need to be inside.." He hisses against your ear. His hands grip at your thighs, pulling them open further.

As soon as you whimper out a needy "fuck yes", he moves with a haste. The tip for Syzoth's tail pushes into your slick sex, and he lets a whimper out as he slowly starts to thrust it in and out.

He lives for how your body trembles with every push and pull. Every gasp, every single whine that comes from you makes his blood feel boiling hot, some how.

Syzoth's sharp teeth press against the supple skin of your neck. A sharp breath is pulled into your body as his tongue massages your skin, his lips sealing around in a circle as the lizard starts to suckle at you.

He'd always had a thing for marking what's his, of course. There wasn't a way you were gonna make it out of his clutches without hickies and bites.

It's just how he was. Syzoth has literally fucked you using both cocks over and over just from seeing his marks against your hips and throat.

Your lover adores you even more when he can see his cum leaking from you. God, he wishes he could cum inside you all day.

He just doesn't want to hurt you, taking both of his cocks in your holes did get overstimulating pretty quickly.

Syzoth grinds himself up against your ass, his tail fucking your dripping cunt faster and faster. He can't stop the groans that leave his lips, you just feel too good against him.

You continue to push your hips back, thrusting your ass against his crotch while he's fucking you. Harder you push, the harder he marks your neck.

Syzoth's claws start to scratch at your hips as he thrusts his cocks against your ass. He can feel the precum staining his boxers, and he's not sure how much longer he can handle your warm ass on his lap.

So, he comes up with a solution. With a swift motion, he hooks his arms under your thighs. He slowly slides his tail from you, and he lifts his hips a bit.

The tip of his tail slides into his pants, and he tugs them down quickky. As he's undressing, he's sliding his tongue against your neck. He loves the way your breath hitches.

He lifts you a bit higher up, and he shimmy's out of his boxers. Syzoth has a lazy grin on his face, pressing his cheek against your shoulder as he slowly lowered you down onto his now bare lap.

The end of his tail scoops up the precum from his tips. Almost immediately, syzoth gets to work. He takes his lubricated tail, and he slowly starts to stretch your hole.

Syzoth spreads his legs a bit, pulling yours open with his. He puts a free hand on your hip as the tip of his tail slowly thrusts in and out of your hole.

Always so clingy, so he reaches around you, letting his massive forearm rest on your v-line. With skilled fingers, the Zaterran starts to fuck your pussy.

There's nothing more he loves than how wet he can get you. As he learned from stories about your ex lovers, they never got you as wet as he did.

You'd never been with an outworlder before, either. Syzoth opened you up (literally) to a whole other sexual dimension.

Did you really think you were gonna be bent over, taking two of his cocks at every chance he gets during his mating season? Or that your boyfriend would be cumming in your ass and pussy to "claim" you?

Did you even think that your future boyfriend would have two cocks? Or that he tended to be more animalistic in nature, that he'd come with a natural possessiveness? That he'd fuck you until the bed was sticky with his cum, spilling out from both of your holes after another person flirted with you in public?

Because Syzoth did, and you couldn't get enough of it.

He's so talented with his fingers. Makes sure to take his time and fuck your pussy good, hits that spot that makes your belly warm with every single push.

He could edge you for hours like this. Fingering your wet sex, slowly sliding the tip of his tail in and out of your tight ass. Pretty groans and whines fall from his lips as he grinds his cocks against you.

Syzoth stretches your holes for nearly 30 minutes, until he determines that you're ready for both of his cocks.

He lifts you up, feeling your body tremble and shake from all of the stimulation so far. You hadn't been able to cum yet, it felt like your nerves were just on fire. Your tummy felt warm, your limbs akin to jelly.

Slowly, he lowers you onto him. A cock pushing into your pussy, the other pushing into your ass. His hips push up until he's to the hilt with both of them.

If Syzoth was anything, it was huge. Two, giant cocks. He didn't look like he'd be packing, but lord he is.

The look of shock and arousal on your face when you undressed him for the first time is engraved in his mind. Or the first time you sucked his cock off, while jacking off the other. How he came all over your chest and in your mouth. Nearly suffocated with how he shoved his cock down your throat while snapping his hips against your mouth over and over.

He apologized profusely afterwards, the heat just gets the best of him at times.

Speaking of the heat, Syzoth cannot get enough of your body warmth. As someone cold blooded, he's always looking for higher temperature. It's always like heaven when you cock warm him. The way you squeeze around him, your pussy dripping with hot, sticky arousal fluid. How he uses his precum as lube to fuck your ass as he fills your pussy. He loves seeing his cum sliding down your thighs after he's ruined you.

Zysoth lets out a louder groan as he guides your hips up and down. Slowly pulling himself in and out of your holes, loving how the warmth travels with your movements.

He loves feeling your holes clench around him. It makes it so much tighter, and hotter. He loves stuff you with his cocks, rutting into you with reckless abandon.

When it comes to your heat, he isn't as patient as he is when he's doing something like eating you out. He loves the feeling and taste of your sex on his tongue, though.

Syzoth notices how you seem to only get wetter as you cock warm him, and he brings that to be an advantage.

He relaxes his back against the couch, his hands resting on your thighs. Pretty green eyes gazing up at your face as he's panting unevenly.

"Please.. I can't hold back anymore. I need to fuck you properly, please." He begs of you, his hands shaking against your body.

You nod your head yes, this was a new development. Normally Syzoth was slow and deliberate about having sex. Always teasing you and edging you for hours.

Now he's acting like an eager puppy.

Or an eager lizard.

Nonetheless, he hasn't been able to keep his hands off you. His thoughts have been racing with dirty scenarios. Syzoth has been catching himself day dreaming about drilling you in front of anyone who was romantically interested in you, showing them who you belong to. Or fucking your ass for hours, grinding your clit with the tip of his tail.

His jealousy has spiked recently, it didn't really make sense. He's literally growled at Cage, the natural flirt that the two of you both knew.

But it clicked as he starts to fuck into you faster, and harder. You've caught him touching himself in the shower, or with one of your shirts clutched in his hands while he uses his tail to jack himself off, and so much more.

That means it's his mating season, he's almost constantly horny.

He's always been careful about distancing himself during mating season so he doesn't hurt you. It seemed different this time.

Syzoth speeds up, moaning right into your ear. The sound of wet skin against wet skin occupies the space between you.

Then you feel it. The burn deep in your gut, white hot jolts running through your body. Your back arches against Syzoth's chest, your fingers gripping his biceps as you start to squirt.

He doesn't dare to stop fucking you during your orgasm. Syzoth pounds your holes relentlessly, his tail thrashing around as he gets closer and closer. He tilts you forward a bit, and stops lifting you up and down. Instead, he brutally thrusts up into you. Hitting that good spot in both places with the same rhythm.

You can feel a bit of his cum inside of you already. Strong arms shake as he keeps you upright.

"Please, let me cum inside of you. I need you to be mine." He whimpers into your ear.

As you're nearly about to finish again just from his rough pleasure, you nod your head yes.

That's all the confirmation he needs, and Syzoth pumps you full of his thick, almost syrupy white cum. His tongue flicks out as his eyes roll backwards in his skull.

Roughly, he fucks you through until he eventually pushes your hips down onto him, really just to milk his cock as you squeeze yourself around him for the second time.

The way you push yourself back onto him only makes it better. How your fingernails scratch at his skin while he cums deep inside of you.

He wraps his arms around your middle, pressing his cheek against the middle of your shoulder blades.

The lizard breathes in your scent. The smell of sex against your skin, the sweat and your perfume mixing is an intoxicating concoction to him.

You feel him harden inside of you just from your scent. Syzoth's cum is dripping from you, you've both made a mess.

You're sweaty, happy, and filled to the brim. You couldn't think of a world where this wasn't perfect for you.

Slowly, he starts to thrust his cocks inside of you again. The mess from the last round only making the wet sound louder. It makes you more slick as you grow to be looser. And he loves it.

It's his mating season, do you really think he's gonna be done after you've cum only twice?

[kmomof4]

12 (Actually 13) Days of Captain Swan Fic Recs!!!

On this Day 3 of my 12 (Actually 13) Days of CS Fic Recs, I'm reccing @jrob64!!!

Joni is one of my dearest friends and we've been friends ever since I apparently appeared in her DM yelling at her for something she did in the fic she was posting at the time, Devastation and Healing. I do not remember this initial introduction, but she swears it's true and since she doesn't lie, I guess I have to affirm its veracity... But again, I don't remember it, so she might be exaggerating... just a bit... Anyhoo, on to my favorites of her fics...

First and foremost, has to be the Girls Trip Fics that we've co-written the last two years with our traveling buddies @whimsicallyenchantedrose and @snowbellewells. All of the fics in that collection have been SO MUCH FUN to write together including ALL our favorite couples from the show, as well as some that are just our personal head canons! The two main fics in the collection were inspired by our own Girls' Trips we've taken the last two years.

And now on to my other favorites of Joni's fics!!

Where Her Heart Belongs - Rated T - This fic was written for CSSNS22 and turned into something completely different than what Joni planned. And then, for my bday that year, she wrote a sequel - Her Heart's Home - which is the same story, but this time told from Killian's POV and rated M. Canon divergent for the missing year.

Rescuing the Princess - Rated T - Twenty-eight years after Princess Emma of Misthaven is kidnapped by the Evil Queen, Pirate Captain Killian Jones attempts to rescue her in order to earn the substantial reward offered by her royal parents. A CS Fairytale Mash-up AU featuring Beauty and the Beast, Sleeping Beauty & Tangled, with a sprinkling of The Princess Bride thrown in for good measure

Sowing Seeds of Trust - Rated M - Emma Swan is a young woman without a family, friends, a home, and now a boyfriend after he tries to pin his crime on her. When she goes looking for help from a local charity at a church, she ends up meeting a group of people, including a handsome blue-eyed man, who offer her friendship...and a whole lot more.

I Loved You First - Rated G - Written for my birthday last year, this fic features my second favorite relationship on the show, Charming Swan.

Emma and her father share some special sentiments with each other before he walks her down the aisle to marry her True Love. A canon compliant missing moment for 6X20, just prior to Emma and Killian's wedding.

Silly Songs with Killian - Rated T - After a frustrating and exhausting day, Emma Cassidy is relieved when her little boy, Henry, is entertained by a gorgeous musician at a restaurant, giving her a chance to sit back, relax, and enjoy the music (and the view!) It gets even better when the singer, Killian, sings some of Henry’s favorite Silly Songs from his favorite videos, Veggie Tales.

Currently posting for this years' birthday, Exacting His Revenge - Rated M - When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.

This was soooo hard, y'all! I really could have added several more of her fics to this list, but I had to keep the post to a readable length... I hope you enjoy these!!! See you tomorrow for Day 4!!!

[shigayokagayama]

Uh Oh I Thought About The Music In The Finale Too Hard And It Started Bothering Me Again

ok so aside from one of my favorite scenes in the entirety of mob psycho getting cut from the last episode, a decision which will haunt and torment me until my dying days, my biggest issue with the last episode was always the music and i think ive been able to finally pin down a coherent explanation as to why

disclaimer: i am not a music expert. i was in choir in middle school and i like listening to people who actually know about music talk about music, but this is not a professional opinion so take it with a grain of salt

so first, 99 playing during reigen running towards mob. my problem with this is less the song choice and more that the anime decided to completely change the tone of the entire scene. like, 99 works perfectly for the hype exciting scene they were trying to create! i just dont think this scene should have been hype and exciting. this isn’t a “music is tonally inconsistent” problem so much as a “tone is inconsistent with events unfolding” problem so im not going to put much focus on it.

what IS tonally inconsistent though is the next track that plays after it (timestamped)

this scene is supposed to be not just the reveal that reigen is okay but the reveal that dimple, a character who we’ve spent the last six episode thinking was dead, is alive! and the music they chose is so... sinister??? wouldn’t something more triumphant or energetic fit here??? i get that it has to segway into a really emotional song next so it can’t be too upbeat but wouldnt something like this maybe fit better??? it’s another song associated with dimple possessing someone who isn’t especially powerful to let them achieve something they normally wouldn’t, it’s pretty dramatic, it’s exciting, it has kind of an emotional through line in the back of it with the violins???

the next song is perfect. no notes. the second i heard it in the mob character trailer before season 3 dropped i was like “oh theyre going to use that for reigen’s confession” and i was 100% right. in fact, this song being so perfect for this scene is what makes the next song choice so confusing.

huh? what? why???? on the elementary school level of “well this is labelled mob’s theme and this is mob’s moment of self acceptance so it has to go here” i can maybe understand but it is the most jarring tonal whiplash i have ever felt watching a television show. this is music that we normally here when mob is fighting an enemy, this is supposed to gear us up for conflict. it does not fit the bittersweet catharsis of mob accepting his whole self at all.

ive seen two different edits with different soundtracks i prefer, one with “Passing my heart, I'm getting bigger” (at least im pretty sure thats what its called?  すれ違う心・大きくなったなぁ?) and one with “Mob’s Kindness”. personally, i feel like mob’s kindness would be the best option. for one, one of them already played at an emotionally climactic moment during the final episode last season so it might be a bit weird to do it a second time. second, for when we last heard “mob’s kindness” it actually fits really well with this scene on a couple different levels.

just the title of the song on its own fits with the scene. it’s the first time mob really extends kindness towards himself rather than trying to repress it or smother it in guilt and self loathing. we also have to consider the last place it was used and how that echos this scene. the first time we hear mob’s kindness is in season 2 episode 1, following the line “i made the decision to consider my feelings more”, a line which fits really well with what the “100% shigeo kageyama” moment is trying to get across. “shigeo kageyama” is mob’s repressed power and, more relevantly, his repressed emotions that he’s been bottling up for years now. “mob” flaking apart and forming “shigeo” also kind of visually echos emi’s novel getting ripped apart and brought together again by mob’s power, so that’s another little mirror between these two scenes. mob putting emi’s novel back together is the first time we see him using his powers for another person, not to save them from any sort of threat, but just as an act of simple kindness. it’s the beginning of a realization he has during the mogami arc, these powers arent just a burden, he can use them to help people. and he doesn’t even need to limit it to that, he can just use them to express himself and have fun because they aren’t just tools that can be used, they’re a part of him.

[meta-squash]

@callivich came up with this idea of doing DVD commentary for fic on @shamelessdvdcommentary, which I think is brilliant because I love reading the thoughts and creative process of other fic writers, so I want to try!

The Needle And The Burning Body Summary: They're supposed to be running away together. Ian hates whatever fucking nurture-over-nature compass Fiona somehow instilled in him that means the one thing he's running back to is never the thing he wants to want. That Mickey's love makes him want to run away as fast as he can because this thing, this solid thing is so much. And he's already so much on his own. Mickey had two burning torches for hands but he knew what to do with them. Ian's head was on fire and all he knew was how to run and keep running. How to find a cliff and jump off. How to make Mickey chase after him, again and again. And in a cold cell in prison, Mickey catches him.

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc) I wrote it in winter of 2018. I switched laptops around that time so I don't have the metadata for exactly when I made the doc/how long it took, but I remember bashing it out fairly quickly. I tend to get a flash of inspiration and then bang out fics in a couple of sittings. This one is a one-shot, 10,623 words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story? I wanted to explore Ian's POV, why he went all the way down to Mexico with Mickey and what made him turn around and go back. I had this idea that the way Ian grew up, so dependent on his family, put a compass inside him that always pointed back to them, even when he'd rather it point somewhere else. And that metaphor just took on a life of its own.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character? Ian is so WEIRD and hard to pin down and I wanted to try. Part of it is the Shameless writers' bad writing, but I think Ian also goes through such drastic and traumatic experiences that he has no control over, and it really messes with the way he acts. A lot of what happens to him has less to do with his choices or actions and more to do with either his mental illness or just circumstances. Plus he's actually the quietest of all the Gallaghers, which is kind of crazy. I wanted to try and explore why Ian is so often contradictory or weird. I also really wanted to explore his confusion and insecurities that he doesn't voice.

What was your favourite scene to write? The moment where Ian is sitting in the prison cell waiting for Mickey to get back and thinking about their past. I came up with imagery of Ian jumping off of a series of cliffs with Mickey chasing him to try and catch him at the bottom completely in the moment of writing, and it's one of my favorite things.

How did you come up with the title? I'm terrible with titles, I usually end up using song lyrics or a bizarre jumble of words, but this one is so straightforward. Ian gets the needle metaphor in this fic, and Mickey's metaphor is being a constant burning. So it fit.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice? I have a line in there, "Ian was better at finding whole things that weren't his and clinging to them. Mickey could make wholes from the smallest of pieces." I think it's a way of looking at their relationship that really explains well why it was the way it was pre-season 9.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this? The smut. I don't tend to write smut because I either find it unsexy when it's not done well or when things logically would be uncomfortable/physically impossible/unhealthy in a not-even-sexy-in-the-moment way. If I write smut I like it to be poetic and for it to mean something in terms of moving plot along. I tried to make it both sexy and poetic, and tried my best to infuse every action with emotion and also intent. A bit like the advice my drama teacher gave us in high school: a character should not move from point a to point b for no reason. If you want to go to a different spot, you have to have some sort of reason or motive or intent. In this case, it's more about sex than walking, but it fits. I think I did pretty good in this one, but I think the smut I wrote in my other fic Proof Of What You Want was better.

Favourite line in the story? Well, it's more of a paragraph: It had all felt so far away when he'd asked, foggy and dull, ready to push. You gonna want to be with me even if I don't? Everything far away. Watching everyone for betrayal the way Monica taught him. So Mickey's sigh had no written all over it, and that no meant reading all the other signs wrong. But when you think you've lost everything except an identity you never wanted to have in the first place, you're bound to misread things. Really, the sigh was the same Mickey always seemed to breathe into his mouth. The same way he'd mutter jesus fucking christ like he was so annoyed even though he wasn't, and then he'd hold on and jump after him.

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story? A lot of times I start a story in the middle and work outward, or start with whatever scenes popped into my brain first and work to connect them. I think this was one fic I actually wrote linearly from start to finish. I always intended the first half to be the ride to Mexico and the second half to be Ian and Mickey in prison together. But the metaphors and imagery I used really solidified as I was writing it. I had Ian's compass needle from the start, but Mickey as a pair of burning hands didn't come until later, and a lot of the other imagery just developed as I was writing. I didn't know I was going to have the two of them sit down and have an actual Talk about their relationship, and I'm glad I had Mickey basically saying like, 'I love you and I still want to be with you, but things are still fucked up and we gotta work on them.'

If you are writing a particular trope or genre, was it your first time writing this? This was my first time writing solely Ian's POV (as opposed to an omniscient POV or Mickey's), but it's not a specific trope or genre.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) The metaphors! I'm sooooo happy they worked the way I wanted them to and came together so well and I'm soooooo proud of the last paragraph of the fic, which literally gave me chills as I wrote it.

Are there any deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the final story? No, but I tend to do the opposite. I post the fic and then reread it once it's already posted and add to it. So I'm fairly certain there are at least a few sentences if not a whole paragraph in the fic on AO3 that doesn't exist in my original doc.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line? The one I quoted above as my favorite line came about because I always felt like Mickey's reaction to Ian's questions in the breakup scene aren't a rejection at all or even disappointment or whatever. It felt to me like that sigh and Mickey's body language were more in line with his actions in 5x09 with the b vitamins and stuff. Like he realizes that he'd rather have Ian in whatever way and he'll be there for him, whether he's on his meds or not. It's not a sigh of "no I don't want to be with you", it's a sigh of "I'd rather it was some other way, but I'm not going anywhere." And I wanted to have Ian realizing that, and realizing that he'd interpreted Mickey's actions in the context of his siblings' actions, but Mickey's motivations and feelings are totally different from the Gallagher siblings. He doesn't have the context of growing up with Monica and he's willing to stick beside Ian, manic or not.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add? I don't think so. I actually frequently read back stories in the months after posting them and add bits and bobs. There's a oneshot fic I have in a different fandom that I wrote in 2015 and have been adding to ever since as inspiration strikes. So I tend to just add things if I decide something should be added. This fic in particular came out pretty much complete, though.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story? I don't think so. Especially considering where canon went with the storyline of them in prison and their relationship in general.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc? Not in this one. Mostly because it's the only fic I've written solely in Ian's POV. And all the easter eggs I use for Shameless fics are for Mickey's POV, so I couldn't easily slot them in here.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity? This was my most popular story for a long time, and I'm not at all surprised. It's the one I'm probably the most proud of in terms of all the imagery and also the denouement.

Were you nervous or excited to post this story? Oh, excited, definitely. All the other Shameless fics I'd written before this one were shorter and more straightforward, less poetic. This was the one that felt the most artistic and that I felt really inspired the whole time I was writing it.

(This was really fun, I might do this with my other Shameless fics! Thank you so much for the idea @callivich!)

[modelbus]

ATTEMPT 3 AT A SHORT REQ, TAKE TWO.

Ranboo, Acting AU, Word; ‘Authentic’ (I’m really setting you up for the title ‘Authentic Acting’, huh? XD)

Filming for (disney-channel-but-better) original, “When Our Stars Collide” (The Superhero/Supervillain-Coming of age series, with two protagonists who go from: friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends, all in seven seasons!) is a lot of fun! That is, until your Co-star is having an off-day, and can’t for the life of themself throw a good fake-punch. 17 (5 minute) takes, 3 (unhelpful) breaks, an entire set of exhausted (and pissed off) film crew, and an overly dramatic, tired Y/N, had Ranboo willing to do almost anything to just finish the stupid scene, so they could all go home. (And he could buy his best friend Boba to apologise..)

So, is it really all that surprising, that Ranboo reluctantly agreed to ACTUALLY punch Y/N, per her request? Or that he accidentally punched WAY to hard? Or that she refused to break character, despite the throbbing black eye that she could feel forming?

No. No, it wasn’t.

This long ass mother fucking shit is probably the shortest request I’ve ever sent you..

But its still absurdly long. And It still took an hour. And I still finished it at 1AM.

-✨🌌🌙 NOT Anon

omg I can’t believe my eyes it’s a short request from you?! Not being able to call this “Authentic Acting” is killing me by the way…

Pairing: Cc!Ranboo x Gn!Reader

Acting AU - Authentic

“Maybe you should’ve taken those fighting classes.”

Ranboo’s head whips around to pin you with a betrayed look, his hands still curled into fists from the last take. There’s fake blood smeared over his costume, and you grin back at him, knowing your costume looks the same.

You do really love working on the set of “When Stars Collide.” Not only was working in a superhero movie your dream role, but having Ranboo as your costar was great. He was a hell of an actor, and an even better person.

Typically, filming the fight scenes was a shared favorite. You got to look badass, and pretend to actually be badass! What else could you possibly want?

But today… today just wasn’t Ranboo’s day. He’s thrown fake punches at you hundreds of times by now, but today he just seems to be struggling. Either his elbow placement is wrong, or it isn’t positioned correctly, or there isn’t enough force.

“Maybe we should take five?” One of the assistants suggests, checking their watch. It’s been over an hour (and over 17 takes) of doing this; no doubt everyone else is just as tired.

Except this would be the fourth break you guys have taken. And things are already on a tight schedule as is, any more breaks would have the crew falling behind.

“No, no I’ve got it this time, I swear.” Ranboo says, shaking his hands out. You can read the anxiety in the move easily.

“Just punch me.” You suggest, shifting you feet back into position.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do—“

“For real, I mean.” You interrupt. “Just punch me.”

Hesitancy flickers across his face, but he doesn’t immediately shoot the idea down. He’s probably just as tired as you are.

“I can take a punch.” You add, just to help convince him.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. C’mon, we’ve got this!”

You nod at the camera people, not giving him time to back out. Choice made, no going back.

Both of you get back into character and place, your eyes narrowing into a glare as needed in the script. He scowls back.

“Action!”

“You think you’re hot shit?” Ranboo snarls. “I can take you down with one measly punch!”

“Try it, then!” You throw your arms wide. “You’re a coward at heart, and we both know—“

His fist slams into your face.

Holy shit.

When did he get that strong? When did he learn how to actually punch? You stumble back a few steps, nearly hitting a prop. All you can feel is pain, radiating out from your eye. It’s like you can feel the bruise forming.

Concern flickers in Ranboo’s face, but you don’t give him a chance to break character. It was a perfect punch, ignoring the fact it was authentic.

You attempt a sneer, but know it looks more like a pained grimace. “Fuck you.”

“You said to punch you. Maybe you need to stop underestimating me.” He turns, cape sweeping wide behind him. “Leave me alone.”

“You’ll come back to me!” You shout, staring at him. God, your face fucking hurts.

“Not this time.”

Ranboo exits, leaving you alone on camera. You shake your head, turning away too.

“He’ll come back.” You murmur to yourself, looking down at the ground.

“Cut!”

You press a hand to your face, hissing in pain. Within seconds, Ranboo is there.

“Are you okay? Was that too hard? I think you’re bruising, I’m so sorry—“ He starts saying, hovering worriedly around you.

“‘M fine.” You say. “When did you get such a good punch?”

“I don’t know! Can I help? Should I get ice?”

You move your hand, giving him your best attempt at a grin. “If you get me ice, I’ll marry you right fucking now.”

“Right, ice. And I’ll order you food. And say sorry. A lot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t—“ Ranboo turns on his heel, leaving to go grab ice, not letting you finish. “—apologize.” You finish, sighing.

Yeah, you’ll definitely have a black eye from this. But hey! At least you got the shot.

[jaaankiey]

leafpin headcanons, go.

ME WHEN... WHEN ANYBODY TELLS ME TO TALK ABOUT LEAFPIN !!!111!!!!!111111

jus a reminder that how i hc leafy and pin strays faaar from canon (i feel like a lot of ppl that come to this blog are already aware of that but i do be stressing this b/c i don't want to blindside people 💔)

sorry they are like my angry little meow meows, your honor

but CIRCLING back to the actual question here we go, the sheer LIST of headcanons that exist in my mind forever:

i mentioned it like numerous times but the height difference,,, leafy is tall while pin is short

related 2 above headcanon, but this means leafy is much faster than pin (because longer legs means longer strides). leafy often lets pin piggyback on her so they can get to places faster. a lot of other objects tend to also be taller than pin so leafy will like give her a bit of a boost there too.

leafy has a long mental list of silly pet names to call pin. not all of them make a lick of sense, but as stupid as these names get, pin just really enjoys them.

pin doesn't really use pet names for leafy other than leafster.

leafy goes through phases of interests on really random things. i had a silly oneshot planned where she gets super into horses and how silly they are as animals. typically, pin does her best to provide her girlfriend a lot of enrichment in these times even if that means sitting and listening to leafy's hourlong lecture about horse coat colors.

pin definitely has a hard time expressing or communicating her emotions because she is constantly set on "resting bitch face" mode. leafy always helps her put a name to what she's feeling.

they're big cuddlers. they always wake up in each other's arms (real)

speaking of sleeping, leafy takes all the blankets for herself because she gets cold easier. pin gets hot too easy so shes ok with it

leafy is literally the only one pin listens to wholeheartedly. to others, pin often just dismisses them or zones out entirely.

pin lets leafy win at tic-tac-toe as well as other games

in terms of their temperaments, leafy is much slower to anger compared to pin. this allows leafy to pacify pin whenever its needed

leafy is the only one able to read pin's absolutely HORRID handwriting

leafy is good at artsy stuff. pin isn't except for cartography stuff.

winter is a tough time for them. it's pin's favorite season because she can handle the cold easily, but its dampened by the fact that leafy goes through hibernation. it always turns out ok and she does it because there's not enough sun for her to be awake, but it REALLY stresses pin out. she's extra overprotective over her plant gf during this time.

pin comforts leafy when she's upset. she does it with lots of snuggles, compliments, and little treats to snack on. when leafy feels better, pin proceeds to beat up whoever made her sad in the first place.

pin has a bad habit of forgetting her own well-being. she WILL give up life and limb if it means leafy will be safe in the end. this affects all aspects of her life and leafy often has to sit her down so she can rest. this is especially very important whenever pin is injured or sick b/c she will absolutely not give herself enough time to heal.

leafy doesn't feel safe sleeping alone, she has to be next to pin or else she'll have some major sleeping troubles.

they just LOVE to gossip with each other. think the plastics in Mean Girls with their burn book. yeah, that, but only between them.

i could go on but i think the list is too embarrassingly long now 💔i hope u enjoyed these anon

[criffyzou]

My dragon age next gen kids moodboard were only humans and dwarves, so I started a new elfy one, and decided to document my process.

Here is the resulting rambling.

First thing I usually do is find stand-ins for the parents, to have *something* to start from. They usually don't appear on the moodboard itself, but I love to do that step.

I'm pinning these two deviantartists as Cammen & Gheyna, teens from the DAO dalish camp that the warden help get together (them but older & as parents). This is to keep to my theme of "kids that exist or survive thanks to the heroes of Thedas".

It's then time to pick a name. It can be a lore thing, i.e. Ailis Theirin is named after a chantry sister from Maric and Loghain's fereldan rebellion days, who raised Cailan and, I choose to believe, Anora too, once Loghain started bringing her to work. It can also be completely unrelated: I wanted an old french name for Pernille de Chalons, but as a french person myself, all of it sounded cringey; in the end her name is from the karpe song Au Pair. It sounds orlesian enough but is not actually french.

I'm not good at elven names in Dragon Age, my Lavellan inquisitor is named Sheana because I was being a Dune nerd when I learned there was a Siona among the emerald knights (iykyk). The reward for the quest Cammen's Lament is The Tale of Iloren and its corresponding codex, a book cherished by Cammen's family for generations. I like Iloren; it's technically a male keeper in the tale, but the name feels gender neutral, and I want that kid to be a girl.

Cammen & Gheyna get married in 9:30, but they're so young their first child doesn't have to be born for a number of years. By my referent point 9:52, I want her to still be a teen, around the same age as her parents when we meet them in Origins ? I don't actually know how old Cammen and Gheyna are. I also want Lena (born in 9:37) to still be the baby of the band; let's go with 9:35.

Now, class ! I really want a dalish warrior, but there aren't many interesting warrior specializations. Champion hasn't been used yet, but feels too similar to Ariane from Witch Hunt. Spirit Warrior is my favorite of what's left.

Identity down, now to the moodboard specifics !

I like to follow the old lavellanpls template because it forces me to think about the character in details I would not have thought of.

Complexion is a square I use for faceclaims. Both Iloren's parents are white, like a lot of Dragon Age NPCs; I've not had a lot of wriggle room for non-white next gen kids outside of Zerlinda's son, whose dad is not shown, and Kieran, both Morrigan and Alistair being biracial even if Bioware doesn't show it. I don't really brainstorm for that one, I simply look at a lot of pictures until something clicks.

Wardrobe has a few armor options from my initial generic dalish pin rampage, that I may choose from when I have a better idea of the dominant color. My main issue is the lack of consistency in dalish heavy armor, and how hard it is to find a real life equivalent.

Hair can be Gheyna's red, Cammen's ash blond, or a mix of the two, but I have too many redheads already.

Now is the time I start to lie invent rather than extrapolate. I want this elven kid to be strongly attached to her dalish way of life, à la Velana, because we have enough self-loathing elves in canon. That could Home accounted for then, something representing the dalish camp, or the nearby Brecilian ruins.

Obviously I cannot resist the Animal square for a dalish from that clan, born after the werewolf conflict, to be a wolf despite how on the nose it is. I like when things are predictable.

Iloren has to be an extravert, if not because she was raised in a commune, then because we have more introverts in the current next gen lineup and I like balance. E, S and J feel right, let's try ESTJ. Yes this is relevant, as I use either the Season or Element squares as clues for the character's personality. Season I will probably put Brecilian forest in its winter dreariness, so let's focus on element: First one I can think of is ironbark, "surprisingly strong and very light". It is also somewhat blue in color; that is our first official color of the moodboard !

Accessory square I often put down as a weapon, as that seems the most logical option for a prized possession. It could also be something sentimental from games lore, like Tini Kondrat's toy horse, like the one the warden gave Oghren as a joke, that he may have repurposed as an actual toy for his child. My best example of a Spirit Warrior is actually Fenris, who uses two handed weapons; let's continue this trend. Ideally something resembling the Sulevin Blade from Inquisition, because it is the perfect weapon for Iloren, but not one she would have access to.

Last square unaccounted for is Texture, which is usually my "make the moodboard actually cohesive" free card, while keeping it relevant to the character, adding personality or background hints I could not fit into the rest. Something Spirit Warrior-y, as it's been missing so far, like maybe their weird brand of fade cloak.

Aaaand we're done ! A brand new complete character, spun whole cloth from a vague desire to have an elf in the lineup.

[thedisneychef]

Canadian Pumpkin Pie Recipe: A Delicious Twist on Classic Dessert

Hey everyone! I'm so excited to share this delicious Canadian pumpkin pie recipe with you all. This traditional dessert is a staple in many Canadian households during the fall and winter months, and it's one of my absolute favorite treats. It has an incredibly rich flavor that is sure to please any palette. You may think making a homemade pumpkin pie can be intimidating or time-consuming, but don't worry - I'll show you how easy it is to whip up this classic dish. Plus, I've included some tips on what ingredients work best for achieving maximum taste and texture. So let's get started! Maybe You Also Like: - Can A Cake Recipe Be Used For Cupcakes - Can A Food Recipe Be Patented In India - Can A Muffin Recipe Be Baked In A Loaf Pan What You'll Need I'm going to let you in on a little secret: making the perfect Canadian pumpkin pie isn't as hard as it looks. All you need is a good recipe and some quality ingredients, like flaky crust and two pre-made pie shells. Trust me, once you get the basics down, this classic dessert will soon become your go-to dish for holiday parties or family gatherings! The first step of creating an amazing Canadian pumpkin pie is to make sure that your crust is nice and flaky. To do this, you'll want to use cold butter when mixing together the flour, sugar and salt before adding any liquid ingredients. Then add just enough ice water so that everything comes together into one large ball. After rolling out the dough between two sheets of parchment paper, place it gently inside one of your prepared pie shells. After assembling all your ingredients – including canned pumpkin puree, eggs and cream – pour them carefully into the unbaked shell with its flaky bottom layer. Bake at 375 degrees Fahrenheit until golden brown on top; then enjoy! Prepping The Pie Crust I'm getting ready to make a canadian pumpkin pie and the first step is prepping the pie crust. Gather your ingredients, like flour, butter, and salt, so you're ready to go. Next, roll out your dough with a rolling pin and make sure it's thin enough to fit in your pie dish. Finally, you can transfer the dough to the pie dish and get ready to fill it with the pumpkin mixture. Gathering Ingredients Gathering all the ingredients for my Canadian pumpkin pie recipe is one of my favorite parts about prepping this delicious dessert! I always start by making a shopping list. This includes items like flour, salt, butter and vegetable shortening. It’s important to accurately measure out each ingredient so that your crust comes out just right. I use measuring cups for dry ingredients and spoons for liquids or smaller measurements – it really helps ensure accuracy when baking. Once I have everything on hand, I can get started with creating the perfect crust for my Canadian pumpkin pie. Now, let's get cooking! Rolling The Dough Now that I've gathered all the ingredients, it's time to start rolling out my dough. My favorite technique is using a wooden roller with plenty of flour on top – this helps make sure the dough doesn't stick and also adds texture that will help the crust stay crisp when baking. It's important to roll it evenly so that each piece has an even thickness; if one area is thicker than another, it can cause uneven cooking in the oven. Also, you want to make sure your dough isn’t too wet or dry – aim for a consistency between both extremes for best results. Once I'm happy with how it looks and feels, I put it aside and work on prepping the filling. Time to get creative! Making The Filling Ok, now that the pie crust is prepped and ready to go, let's move on to making the filling. The classic Canadian pumpkin pie recipe calls for a mixture of canned pumpkin puree, sweetened condensed milk, eggs, brown sugar, cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg. You can mix up your own seasonings or experiment with different options if you're feeling adventurous. I like adding an extra pinch of allspice or clove for a unique flavour. If you want to switch things up from the original recipe even further, there are plenty of variations you can try! For example, instead of using regular condensed milk you could use coconut cream for a creamy vegan version. Or add some spices such as cardamom or star anise to give it a more exotic taste. No matter what type of pie you decide to make - traditional or experimental - just remember that adding quality ingredients will always result in a delicious treat! Enjoy baking this tasty Canadian classic! Baking The Pie I'm so excited to start baking my Canadian pumpkin pie! First, I have to gather all the ingredients. It's always important that I make sure I have everything before getting started. This time, I need canned pumpkin, white sugar, evaporated milk, eggs and a pre-made pie crust. Next up is preparing the crust. For this recipe, it's best to use a store bought crust because it saves me some precious time in the kitchen. After taking it out of its container and unfolding it onto a 9-inch dish or pan, I press it down with a fork around the edges until it fits perfectly into place. Now comes my favorite part—the filling! Once combined together in a bowl, I pour the mixture into the prepared crust and smooth out any bumps on top for an even layer. Now that everything is ready to go, all that’s left is popping this deliciousness into the oven and waiting for it to bake! Tips For Perfect Results Making the perfect pumpkin pie doesn't have to be intimidating—with a few simple tips, you can make one that's sure to impress. First of all, it's essential to use fresh pumpkins for the best flavor and texture. To make sure your crust turns out perfectly flaky every time, don’t overwork it when mixing the dough together. And remember: adding just a little bit of sugar helps bring out its buttery richness! When serving up your Canadian pumpkin pie, there are several delicious ways to enjoy it. For example, try pairing it with some freshly whipped cream or ice cream on top. To give it an extra zing, sprinkle in a touch of cinnamon or nutmeg into the mix before baking; this will add more depth and complexity to the flavor profile. You could even drizzle some caramel sauce onto each slice! No matter how you decide to serve your masterpiece, I'm sure everyone will love it –– so dig in and enjoy! Frequently Asked Questions What Other Flavors Of Pie Can I Use This Recipe For? Wondering what other flavors of pie you can use this Canadian Pumpkin Pie Recipe for? Spice variations and fruit fillings are great options! You could switch out the pumpkin puree in the recipe with a different fruit like apple or raspberry. Or, add spices to give your pie some extra flavor - think cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, allspice, cloves...the possibilities are endless! Have fun experimenting and creating delicious pies that everyone will love. Can I Use Canned Pumpkin Puree For This Recipe? Yes, you can absolutely use canned pumpkin puree for this recipe! When substituting ingredients in recipes like pies, it can be a great way to save time. To make your Canadian Pumpkin Pie with canned pumpkin puree, simply replace the fresh cooked and mashed pumpkin with an equal amount of canned pumpkin puree. Be sure to check out our other recipes for different types of pie crusts as well – there are so many delicious options that pair perfectly with the classic flavor of pumpkin. How Long Can I Store The Leftover Pie? Storing leftovers can be tricky, but with the right tips you can ensure your leftover pie is safe to eat for days after. When it comes to storing your extra pumpkin pie, make sure it's in an air-tight container and placed in the refrigerator. To keep food safety at its best, discard any pies stored longer than 3-4 days. Refrigerator temperatures should always remain below 40 degrees Fahrenheit so that bacteria doesn't have a chance to grow on your delicious treat! Can I Freeze The Pie Before Baking? Yes, you can freeze the pie before baking! It's a great way to save time if you know that you'll be busy later and won't have time to make it. Just be sure that your pre-baked pie has tightly sealed crust with no gaps, as well as securely sealed filling so that none of the ingredients leak out during freezing. To ensure this happens, brush egg whites around the edges of your crust before wrapping it in aluminum foil or plastic wrap and placing it in the freezer. Is There A Vegan/Dairy-Free Version Of This Recipe? If you're eating vegan and looking for a Canadian Pumpkin Pie recipe, you can still enjoy this classic dessert! You just need to substitute dairy-free ingredients like coconut oil or margarine instead of butter. Plant-based milks such as soy, almond, or rice milk are great substitutes for regular milk too. With these simple changes, your pumpkin pie will be vegan and delicious! Conclusion The Canadian pumpkin pie recipe is a classic fall dessert. It's easy to make and can be used with many other flavors of pie, making it a great all-around option for any time of year. Whether you use canned pumpkin puree or fresh pumpkins, the result will always be delicious! Leftovers can also be stored in the fridge and even frozen before baking if desired. For those looking for a vegan alternative, there are several recipes available online that incorporate dairy-free ingredients. Whatever your preference may be, this Canadian pumpkin pie recipe is sure to satisfy everyone at the table! If you're looking for more delicious recipes to try, be sure to check out The Disney Chef's recipe categories! Whether you're in the mood for something sweet like a cake recipe, something savory like a chicken or pork recipe, or something fresh like a vegetable or seafood recipe, there's something for everyone. And if you're a meat-lover, don't forget to check out the beef recipes category for hearty and satisfying meals. With so many options to choose from, you're sure to find a new favorite recipe to add to your collection. Read the full article

[eunivrse]

love is war. [armin arlert]

summary: it’s only a matter of time until one of you gets pushed over the edge.

content warning: college au, tennis player armin & reader, mean armin cuz he’s my fav yas, spitting, unprotected sex, semi public sex, creampie.

note: this started as a tennis player hc but um yeah. also title is dedicated to kaguya sama: love is war bc the season finale had me SCREECHING.

tennis player armin, who always seemed so composed and graceful whenever he’s swinging his signature blue racket, innocent smile always plastered on his face whenever he’s shaking his opponent’s hand after winning a match.

he’s talented and diligent, never missing practice and always a delight to be around no matter the situation. you’ve been eyeing him since the beginning of the season, the men and women’s tennis practices just happened to be at the same time, so naturally, you cross paths from time to time. whenever you’re in break, you often find yourself staring at the guys— specifically at armin.

there’s something off, the way his slate is too clean, no one ever saying anything foul about him, and the fact that he’s on everyone’s good side.

but you eventually shake your suspicions off due to your teammate, pieck, always teasing you for staring too hard at him. “he’s perfect isn’t he? handsome, wise, good at everything he does…” she would ponder and you’d just shrug, not necessarily disagreeing with her, but you’re fascination with him goes deeper than his appearance.

everything you initially assumed went into play when he got you posted up against the netted wall of the court after everyone had left since you agreed to your coach’s request to practice with him in preparation for his tournament next month.

it’s no doubt that you’ve been provoking him to get a reaction for the past hour, pulling your skirt up a little too high without shorts underneath, then bending over to pick up the green ball that has fallen to the ground. not to mention scuffing his pride by grumbling insults such as, ‘pretentious’ and ‘shallow’ under your breath, obviously enough for his ears to catch.

you asked yourself how much it’s going to take for him to at least snap.

to your surprise, it didn’t take longer than an hour.

“are you really gonna go this far just to piss me off?” he hisses against your ear, the wall rattling behind you, his toned arms trapping you. armin already knew you were plotting something like this judging by the intense way you’d stare at him whenever he’d catch a glimpse; he thought it was cute that you were willing to go that route.

truth be told, he’s also had his eye on you like you’re a fucking prize. you were always just there, running around all pretty with your little skirt and tight sports bra.

“you know, i really love slutty girls like you. fuckin’ love it.” he huffs as he hooks your leg around his arm and pins it to the wall behind you, your panties hanging on your ankle. the fresh evening air fanned against your pussy, and the fact that you’re out in the open like this makes it all the more exciting.

without the patience to completely pull down his shorts, he snugs his long, slightly curved cock into your tight cunt, though you only kept a sly smirk. “and i really love easy men like you.” you spat on him, a blob of saliva splattered on the corner of his lips. instead of being visibly insulted, his hips slapped against your pelvis, endowing himself in your muffled pleas, drool already soiling the yoke of armin’s shirt.

his thumb sneaked up under your white skirt and against your clit, rubbing ragged circles on it. you bit your lip hoping that you wouldn’t scream to the whole campus about just how good the dick you’re getting is right now. the court is empty, the sun on its course of setting, the blue hues of twilight splayed across the sky. the only sound you could hear is your whimpering, armin’s needy grunts and the wet slap of his cock fucking into you.

god, his favorite part was looking at your face, eyes threatening to close, stains of tears trailing down your cheek. he kisses your lips, slipping his tongue in between and swallowing your moans.

pulling out shortly after, you gasped, “‘m so close, ‘wanna cum so bad,” his dick pulsated as response to your sudden pleading. your fingers were fisted on his blonde locks, his face just barely a millimeter from yours. he paused for a moment to appreciate your disheveled demeanor; lipgloss stain across your cheek and sweat all over your body, he wanted this moment to be more than just a one time thing.

“fuck, sweet girl. you look beautiful when you’re begging. let me take care of you, m’kay?” he whispers and you could only nod while his cockhead inched its way to your g-spot, your tits contained by your sports bra struggling to bounce from his jagged thrusts.

“armin, i’m gonna cum, ah fuck, ‘m gonna cum so hard, please, hah— armin, please cum in my pussy, fuck…!”

you felt as if you were seeing yourself in third person, life flashing before your eyes as you came around him with a silent scream of his name. your vision was white for a split second until armin himself reached his limit.

he locked his hips inside you to pump you full of cum, his hand grabbing your jaw to look you in the eye, your expression hazed. he’d never seen anything like it and he’s completely obsessed.

armin pulled out, a strand of cum connecting his tip and your clit while the rest dripped down your thigh.

“so this is what you’re really like,” you chuckle, your chest still recuperating, his arm protruded with veins all across from having to carry your leg for such an extensive amount of time.

he helped you regain composure by scooping your waist and walking you to the nearest bench where your stuff are.

“so same time tomorrow?” he quips, that familiar stupid grin that fools everyone around him lighting up his pale complexion once again.

you scoff, “i guess.”

[pankowperfection]

Caught in Between

Summary: You get to live out the ultimate fantasy, fucking Rudy and Drew together

Warnings: honestly just pure filth, smut, threesome, oral (male & fem receiving), spanking, rough sex, anal sex, praise kink, choking, 18+

A/N: This one goes out to @hoebx, hope you love it

You'd be lying to yourself if you tried to say you weren't attracted to both Rudy and Drew. Rudy had definitely caught your eye first; messy blonde hair and dimples drawing you in. He was so easy to be around; always cracking jokes and a megawatt smile on his face. Confident and cocky in just the right way to make between your thighs ache, he knew just what he wanted and how to get it. Then there was Drew: equally sexy with a jaw line sculpted seemingly from stone, large hands you couldn't help but imagine wrapped around your throat. His love for literature you found so attractive, getting lost in hour long conversations about your favorite novels. Where Rudy was very flirty and open about his attraction to you Drew was reserved, opting instead to gaze at you with lustful eyes without making a sound, knowing smirk etched onto his face. The way his cerulean eyes would darken as they raked over your exposed skin made your heart pound, clit throbbing with need.

Something felt different as you entered the bar with the entire cast, celebrating the wrap of filming season 3. Trying to ignore the nagging feeling deep in your gut you followed Chase to the bar, ordering a double shot of tequila to take the edge off. Both Drew and Rudy seemed unable to keep their eyes off of you, sitting at a table off the corner of the dance floor, occasionally leaning over to speak to each other about something. You did look damn good; leather mini skirt hugging tight to your hips, deep cut of your top displaying your breasts in an alluring way. Feet starting to hurt from dancing in your heels you head over to the booth, choosing to scoot in beside Rudy and missing how Drew's eyes hardened. "What's up with you two? Gonna sit over here all night, stare and whisper but not join in on the fun?" They both chuckle, sharing a look that says they have you right where they want you. "Just making sure you don't get into any trouble sweetheart," Rudy smirks, hand coming to rest on your bare thigh and making your skin tingle. Drew's staring so hard its a wonder a hole didn't burn through Rudy's skin, a fact Rudy enjoyed quite a lot.

"Oh? Well what if I want to get into some trouble?" You look between them, doing your best to look sexy and hint at what you really wanted: the two of them to take you, do whatever they wanted with you. "Careful sweetheart, or you might get more than you can handle," Drew grins, reaching under the table and teasing his hand up your leg. The way they are looking at you, like two lions ready to pounce on their next meal, you can't help the heat swirling through your veins, panties dampening at the thought of what they could do to you. "Why don't you let me worry about that? You two want to get out of here or what?" You push yourself to your feet, looking down at Drew and Rudy as they share a quick glance. "Alright," Rudy calls, standing up beside you and offering you his hand. You look back at Drew, still not moving from his seat and appraising you beside Rudy. "Coming Drew?" He smirks, scooting out to stand on your other side. "Not yet sweetheart, but you will be later," he says with a wink, trailing behind as Rudy leads you to his hotel room.

Once behind closed doors their attitudes changed quickly, Drew immediately backing you into the nearest wall and crashing his lips to yours. He grabs your hands, pinning them over your head and keeping you in place with his body pressed to yours. As his lips trail down your neck you open your eyes, catching the jealousy burning in Rudy's as he watches from a few feet away. When you let out a moan at Drew's sucking on your neck he can't take anymore, storming over and pulling Drew backwards. "What the fuck Rudy?" His eyes blaze with anger, annoyed that his tasting of you was interrupted. "Who said you get to go first?" Rudy questions, their arguing over you only increasing the throbbing between your legs. "Boys, don't fight. There is plenty enough of me to go around." Spell broken they both turn to you again, Rudy advancing first and picking you up, carrying you to the bed with Drew on his heels.

Two pairs of hands descend over your body, losing track of who is touching you where. Your shirt is pulled over your head, breasts being fondled as your skirt hits the ground next. You fall backwards onto the bed, Rudy connecting his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, tongue swooping into your mouth as you wind a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. Drew crawls onto the bed between your thighs, large hands raising goosebumps on your skin as the glide up your bare legs. "She's so wet for us Rudy, even dripped down her thighs." His fingers brush lightly over your core, earning him a moan that makes both their lengths even harder. "Oh yeah? Let me see." Drew crawls up the bed, taking a nipple into his mouth while he teases the other with his fingers. "Fuck Drew, feels so good." You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, holding him in place as his tongue dances around your sensitive bud. "Mmm baby, you want this so bad don't you?" Rudy calls from between your thighs, sinful mouth leaving a blazing path up the inside of your thigh. He blows cool air out over your pussy, making your walls clench around nothing and a whine leave your mouth. "Please Rudy, make me feel good."

"You want my mouth on your pretty pussy? Turn over, hands and knees sweetheart. You're gonna suck Drew off while I make you feel good." While you get into position they both strip, clothes flying in every direction before you are met face to face with Drew's leaking length. You wrap your hand around the base, giving him a few slow strokes and admiring how his face contorts in pleasure. "Stop teasing," he urges, scooting closer and tapping the tip against your awaiting lips. You open your mouth, sticking out your tongue and letting him bury his length. You can't help but moan at the taste, wrapping your tongue around the shaft and giving it a twirl. "Fuck," he groans, pulling your hair back out of your face so he can watch you work. After letting you go at your own pace for a while he takes control, fucking into your mouth and taking your breath away. "Such a good girl, taking me so well," Drew praises, loving the look of your mascara running down your cheeks from your tears. As his cock hits the back of your throat over and over you feel Rudy's breath fanning over your folds, pussy clenching in anticipation. His hands rest on your ass, pulling your cheeks apart before diving in. When his tongue finally touches your entrance you moan, vibrations bringing Drew closer to the edge. Rudy wastes no time, thrusting his tongue in and out of your body as his fingers massage your clit.

Getting lost in the flavor of you, Rudy lays down underneath your body, pulling you down to sit over his face. "Tastes so good baby, I can't get enough." The new angle puts him in the perfect position to lavish your clit with his tongue, two thick fingers teasing around your entrance before plunging inside. You cry out at the new sensation, Drew's cock twitching in your mouth. "Oh shit, y/n," Drew moans out, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth as he fills your mouth with his release. He finally backs away, letting you catch your breath as Rudy continues to eat you out. He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and making your thighs tremble. "That's it sweetheart, cum for me." Your body obeys, convulsing as he laps up every last drop. "You look so pretty when you cum, especially when you moan my name." Rudy presses one more kiss to your mound, scooting out from under you and laying you down on the bed.

They move you into position, head dangling off the edge of the mattress as Rudy stands before you, stroking his length in your face. "Think you can suck me off while Drew fucks you? Can you handle both our cocks at once?" he teases, tracing the tip over your awaiting lips. "Yes baby, please. Want both of your cocks." As Rudy pushes into your mouth, Drew brushes through your folds, gathering wetness before sinking inside. "God damn, so tight. She feels like heaven Rudy." He pulls your legs over his shoulders, rutting so deep inside he brushes your cervix. You moan around Rudy's cock, watching as his eyes roll back from the vibrations. "Shit, her mouth feels amazing too. Should've done this sooner rather than fighting over you y/n." You moan again, bringing a hand up to massage his balls as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. You trace your tongue up the vein over the back of his shaft, twirling your tongue around the tip before repeating the motion again. Drew's thrusts grow rougher, grip tightening on your hips as he slams into you again and again. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles as you moan around Rudy's cock. "Give it to me y/n, cum all over my cock." Sensory overload takes over, warm cum filling your mouth and pussy as both boys finish together. Their grunts and curses send you over the edge, falling apart with a scream as Drew fucks you through it.

You all take a few minutes to recover, laying on the bed in a pile of limbs while hands and mouths explore every inch of exposed skin. You take each of their cocks in your hands, stroking them both back to life as they shower you in kisses. "Baby girl, are you still not satisfied? Need us both to fuck you?" Drew asks, tilting your chin up so you meet his steely gaze. "Yes Drew, please." He turns to Rudy, silently asking if he's willing to continue. A devilish grin spreads over his face, hands kneading your ass while his fingers start to probe your other hole. "I call her ass first," Drew murmurs, watching how your face transforms with the foreign feeling of Rudy's finger penetrating you. "Fine with me. Been waiting a long time to feel this sweet pussy." Rudy turns onto his back, guiding you to hover over him before slowly sliding you down onto his cock. "Oh baby," he groans, rocking you forwards and backwards to help stretch you out for him. His hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you down to him and dominating your mouth with his kiss. You feel the bed dip and know that Drew is getting into position, smearing lube over your puckered hole while Rudy moans at how you are clenching around him. "Ready doll?" his tip is putting slight pressure, enough to make you tense. "Gotta relax for me. Let Rudy make you feel good, focus on him sweetheart."

His words help you forget about what is about to happen, paying close to attention to how it feels each time Rudy pulls out then thrusts back into you. He sucks a deep bruise into your neck, sweet spot making more wetness pour from your center. Drew takes the opportunity to slide just the tip inside, Rudy stopping his motions to let you adjust to the new feeling. "Fuck, so tight. You doing okay sweetheart?" "Yes Drew, keep going." He works in a little further, sensation burning a little but also extremely pleasurable. You can't help but moan, loving the feeling of being filled with two cocks. Drew finally slides all the way home, letting out a breath he'd been holding. "Ready for us to move?" Rudy asks, fingers toying with your nipples while waiting for your confirmation. "Please," you beg, desperate for your fantasy to become reality. Rudy withdraws first, thrusting back in while Drew pulls out. They set a fast pace, pushing and pulling in sync so that one cock is always fully buried inside of you. "Shit, you both feel so good." Drew winds his hand into your hair, pulling you up so your back is arched for him. "God, what a view." He spanks your ass lightly, making you groan and clench around Rudy. "Oh do you like that? Our dirty little slut likes being spanked?"

He repeats the action, spanking a little harder this time and making you moan again. An eternity seems to go by, lost in the pleasure of two men fucking you senseless. "Ready to switch?" Rudy asks, giving one final, hard thrust before pulling out. They quickly trade places, Drew easing you down onto his cock and trying hard not to spill his load already. Rudy adds more lube, not wanting to hurt you as he works his length inside. He's a little longer, stretching your ass further than Drew had but not in a painful way. "Feel so full. Fuck me, please." "Your wish is our command." Setting the same pace as before, thrusting in and out in tandem and making your toes curl. Drew's hand wraps around your throat, applying slight pressure that almost makes you cum on the spot. They both shower you in praises, telling you how you're such a good girl and how you are taking them both so well. "I'm gonna cum," you warn, body tensing before you fall apart again. Moans and groans echo around the room, each man reaching their release and filling you with their hot, sticky cum. You all fall asleep tangled between the sheets, mess forgotten to be dealt with in the morning.

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[spacedlexi]

Question, what made you ship Violentine? I personally liked how Violet was rightfully suspicious of Clem and AJ but still accepted them, and grew to like them. Along with the fact, no matter what, during the Marlon confrontation, she will stand up for Clem and Aj. Also her making a pin for clem, dancing with her, and star gazing (just off the top of my memory) was really cute, she is also just really badass.

yes to all of that 🥺💕 i liked violet in the first episode and the little development we get between her and clem is nice, how they can both relate to each other about their losses and how they are seeming to find comfort in each other during their talks in the dorm and while fishing (especially if you mend her relationship with brody she really relaxes). but i think what really solidified the actual relationship for me was in the beginning of episode 2 when violet realizes everyone is about to Jump this Child and immediately without hesitation stands in the middle against her friends and community to protect this little boy who just killed their leader, because he is a Little Child and everyone needs to Calm Down, and marlons hands werent so clean either. for the rest of the episode she stands against all of her friends to defend clem and aj and she does all of this regardless of your choices up until this point so it wasnt like it was determinate based on how nice to her you were

then she falls into the open leadership position, that she doesnt even want, because no one else steps up to do so and Someones gotta do it because otherwise the group will fall apart and it is already splitting at the seams. she quickly becomes someone clem can rely on (she'll even shoot lilly if you fail to pick an option), and clem becomes someone violet can rely on as well as she helps violet with keeping the group together and trying to smooth things over after marlons death. violet goes from being a loner who has dreams of leaving the school because she just never felt like she belonged there, to becoming its leader and does her best to keep everyone safe (and beats herself up hard about it if she fails), and then ending with leading the school side by side with clem. co leader badass girlfriends

i left s3 Very Opinionated that i Did Not Want ANY romance options for clem because i didnt think theyd ever be able to pull it off. so i had the bar set Pretty High. but violet ended up being exactly what i wanted in a love interest for clem. theyre very evenly matched. similar attitudes and goals and maturity level, their ability to relate to each other and what theyve been through (vi is very s3 clem at the beginning of s4, feeling like shes lost the only people she cares about and has walled herself off to other connections), violet stands up for both clem and aj without hesitation because its the right thing to do, and shes tough as nails. she grows a lot between the beginning and end of the season she really comes into herself as a leader especially if you friend/romance her. she is also So in love with clem and cares about her so deeply. hearing her plead if you tell lilly youll join her if she lets everyone else go you can hear in her voice how much the idea of that hurts her because she Cant Lose Clem like shes lost others (props to gideon adlon for doing such a great job voicing her)

ALSO one of my favorite scenes where minnie and clem are fighting and vi shoots minnie to save clems life i love it. the Gay Drama of it all shooting your ex to save your new gf but still not having the heart to leave her (again) makes me go like this every time

also their romance lock in scene is Incredible....Perfect...Spectacular.. their entire romance from that scene on is just so cute they are such a good match for each other. they both make the other feel like they have someone they can rely on without hesitation. AND shes so good with aj. treats him with respect, is kind patient and understanding with him, tries to make him feel less scared and more confident. like when theyre putting the walker guts on and she kneels down to be eye level with him and tell him hes doing a good job and she looks up at clem reassuringly and clem smiles back AUGH!!! thats what im TALKING ABOUT!!! clem needs someone that not only She can rely on but also someone she can trust that aj can rely on as well and vi is that person!!! AAHH

[therealvalkyrie]

exactly the spring

Pairing/setting: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader, college!AU

Summary: Reserved biology student Ushijima finds himself falling in love when you, an adorably disorganized art student, wander into the greenhouse.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, kissing

AN: Hi!! So, the inspiration for this one sprang from the beautiful, sexi brain of Emme ( @doinmybesthere ) way back in MARCH ahem anyway, it's done! I hope it's just as soft and intimate as you envisioned<33 Also, big shoutout to my beautiful friends Arobi ( @daqueenobooty ) and Cee ( @spacelabrathor ) for being wonderful betas and giving me such kind comments:) I hope you enjoy, and as always don't be shy about leaving comments or coming to chat! Be kind to yourselves and others.  ~valkyrie

p.s. check out this amazing art that @/54prowl made of plant boy ushi!! :D

Plants don’t talk back, Ushijima learned as a toddler. He’d babble to them in nonsensical phrases as his mother worked in the garden, and they’d only sway in the wind and listen, waxy under his chubby fingers.

A volleyball doesn’t talk back, either, not even through its bounces and echoes on hands and hard surfaces. It doesn’t listen as easily as plants, but can be herded and shaped like putty into a winning thing if you touch it right. This, Ushijima learned at his father’s hand and carried with him through childhood and adolescence.

The joy and puzzlement of you is that you do both. You listen so intently and openly with your steady eyes and soft body as the words pour out of him. And then, you reply. With your clear voice and new perspective, you offer something new. You offer companionship.

It was the second week of spring semester that you wandered into the greenhouse, eyes lit by the sun and sketchbook under one arm. Ushijima was repotting a large fern, dirt up to his elbows as he kneeled on the floor. He barely gave you a second glance, preoccupied with nestling the plant’s root system comfortably.

You settled a short distance away, crossing your legs to sit on the tile floor in front of an orange tree to sketch its still-closed flower buds with charcoal pencils. He kept working as you did, the sun sliding across glass, shadows shifting into the early evening of winter. When the sun was threatening to set over the city skyline — even with the greenhouse where it sits on the roof of the biology building — he turned to tell you he was closing up, only to find you gone. In your place, sitting on the wooden table that held newly planted basil and sage, was a drawing.

It was a single branch, detailed in shades of charcoal down to the last dewdrop. At the bottom, looping handwriting scrawled, “thank you for the peace.”

That night, he tacked it up above his desk in his dorm next to the postcard from Tendō and hoped you’d come back.

And you do, a couple of days later, on a Saturday. He looks up from where he’s filling in the logbook, this time, catching your gaze and holding it for a moment before you break away to survey the room. Today, he thinks you looked breathtaking. You’re wearing a long, flowing skirt and a sweater that makes him want to feel how soft it is, and how soft you are in it, and by the time his brain catches up with his thoughts, he’s been staring too long and your eyes have wandered back to him. It’s raining, today — it never really snows in this city, he’s learned — and shadowy droplets play across your face as they drip down the greenhouse’s arched glass ceiling, highlighting the curve of your cheekbone and making your eyes glow softly.

He clears his throat and looks back to the thick spiral-bound book on the table before him. Sometimes, when he meets people for the first time, he knows he can come across as intimidating. That worked out for him in high school and on the volleyball court, but in his adulthood, it’s been more of a hindrance than a help. It makes it… difficult to make friends here, where he doesn’t already know anyone.

And the last thing he wants is to scare you away. The last thing he wants is to break the peace you’ve apparently found here.

Which is why he barely dares to breathe when he looks up to find you approaching him where he’s perched on a sturdy wooden stool.

“Hi,” you smile and lilt, and god if it isn’t the most beautiful word Ushijima’s ever heard, if it isn’t the prettiest smile he’s seen.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to scare you away.

“Uhm,” you start again, when the silence makes it clear he’s waiting for you to speak, “I have an art assignment,” you start digging around in your shoulder bag as you speak, “to draw a, um, what’s it called?”

“I don’t know.”

You pause in your rifling and pin him with such a sunny smile it makes his knee start bouncing. And you laugh, too, which officially replaces your “hi” as the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Ha, you’re funny,” you resume digging, “it was um, pretty leafy and... tropical, I think? Oh! Here.” Triumphantly, you produce a wrinkled paper from your bag. It’s the first imperfect thing Ushijima’s found out about you, that you’re shit at keeping your belongings organized, and he files it away for later reference. You hold the paper in front of your face and squint slightly to read in the shifting light. “Canna indica.”

Canna indica, native to tropical climates, notable as a minor food crop for South American Native populations for thousands of years.

“And I was told that you have it, here, in the greenhouse.”

Ushijima nods and finds himself relieved that this is what you’re asking him. Plants, he can do.

“We do. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes, please,” you also sound relieved, like he’s provided the solution to every problem you’ve ever had.

He unfolds himself from the stool, setting down his pen as he goes. You take a step back and look up at him mildly, as though you hadn’t realized quite how huge he is.

“This way,” he indicates, leading you deeper into the maze that is the biology department’s greenhouse. The winding path back to the tropical room gives him a moment to sink back into the earthy peace of being here, even if now there’s someone sharing that peace.

The temperature change from the warm main greenhouse to the balmy tropical room prompts Ushijima to shed his flannel outer layer, hanging it on the nail hammered by the door while you step in behind him.

“Whew,” you exhale, shrugging off your soft cardigan as well, “it’s hot in here.”

Ushijima hums in agreement and tries not to look too hard at the patch of skin revealed by your cropped tank top. Canna indica isn’t too far into the room, so he just gently moves past draping leaves and ceramic pots.

“Here,” he stops, holding back leaves for you. He stops breathing again when you duck under his arm and end up so close in the narrow aisle that he can smell your shampoo. The moment passes, and he can breathe again when you breeze past him and squat down to peer at the bright, waxy red leaves of your subject.

“Beautiful,” you murmur, and he silently agrees.

You’re leaning so close to the plant he’s afraid you might topple over when you make a noise of realization and sit back on your butt to rifle through your bag once again. Ushijima knows he should probably leave you to it, but he’s glad he waited just an extra minute when you pull out a pair of glasses and pop them on your face. Adorably.

“That’s better.” You’re looking back at canna indica, now, at a normal distance.

He’s figured you’ve forgotten he’s there when you start to pull out pastels from your seemingly bottomless bag, so he turns to leave you.

A soft, “hey,” calls him back to you, however, and he’s met by your face glowing eerily in the shifting rain-light. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

When he locks up that afternoon, he finds another charcoal drawing waiting for him on the table near the door, this time of his favorite agapanthus africanus. No note, this time, but he attaches all the sounds he heard from you today in its place. He also finds your cardigan forgotten next to where you were sitting and carefully folds it for when you come back.

The drawing joins the orange branch on his wall-- an odd starter garden, he thinks, but all the more precious because it came from you.

The next time he sees you isn’t in the greenhouse, but instead at a cafe a couple of blocks away, two weeks later. He’s walking past, gym bag slung over his shoulder, when he hears your laugh ring out across the outdoor seating area. His eyes find you, head tipped back in sending peals of mirth into the lively spring air. It’s the first truly warm day of the season, though you and your companion are the only patrons sitting outside, and the sun catches on your glasses sat atop your head.

Your friend says something apparently hilarious, because your giggles redouble, and an honest-to-god snort pushes out of your nose. Ushijima catalogues it in his ever-growing list of sounds you make, and pauses at the crosswalk, halfway turned back to keep one eye on you and one on the light. If you were alone, he might’ve approached you and told you that he still has your sweater in the greenhouse, waiting on a shelf between succulents, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your— date?

He isn’t sure, but the person sat there with you seems like someone you might date. Clearly also an art student, judging by the carefully disheveled blue hair and combat boots. Are you the type to date someone with blue hair? Unlikely, he decides. You seem too… bright. Too floaty to be so concerned with looking like you don’t care how you look.

Ushijima’s still debating whether you find blue hair attractive when the crosswalk light begins its countdown and he starts across the street. And he almost makes it all the way across, too, when a voice calls—

“Wait! Hey!”

He turns partially because it sounds urgent enough that it might be an emergency, and his grandmother would roll in her grave if he remained a bystander to some horrific accident. But it’s you, standing up from your seat and waving him back over. He glances at the crosswalk countdown, which lights up red as it ticks from four to three, then turns and jogs back towards you, waving a hand apologetically to the cars waiting at the light. You meet him at the metal fence around the cafe seating area, and now that you’re standing, he can see you’re wearing a yellow sundress that cuts off at your calves and drapes over your hips like the fabric was spun from pure light.

“Hello.” Ushijima talks first this time because if he doesn’t refocus his brain on something else he knows he won’t be able to stop staring.

“Hi! Sorry about that, uh, and I’m sure you have places to be, but, um, did I leave my cardigan at the greenhouse? I can’t find it, and I know I have a tendency to forget things, so,” you finish with a laugh, one hand fiddling with the rings on the other.

“Yes, you did. I put it on a shelf in case you came back.”

“Oh! That’s great!” You sound relieved, and Ushijima’s suddenly very grateful he didn’t take it down to the bio department’s lost and found like they’re technically supposed to. “Is there maybe a time I can come pick it up? When you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there all day tomorrow, opening at nine.” 

He can’t tell if he sounds a little too eager, and he’s about to soften his meaning by telling you that they’re open today, too, and anyone can hand you a sweater, but you’re already smiling big and sunny and telling him,

“I’ll see you at nine, then. Do you drink coffee?”

He doesn’t; his coaches have always told him that caffeine can only harm his athletic performance.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ll see you at nine, with coffee.”

Ushijima says goodbye and turns to wait at the crosswalk again while you swirl your way back to your seat and pick up your conversation with your friend. He can feel two pairs of eyes on him as he crosses the street, red numbers blinking down from ten, and can’t help but turn to look back as he steps onto the opposite sidewalk. Where your friend tactfully looks down into their cup of tea, you catch his eye with yours and wave. He lifts his hand halfway in a goodbye before an eighteen-wheeler stops at the intersection and blocks you from him.

Ushijima’s normal work attire is typical of an average agricultural biology student accustomed to being up to their elbows in dirt every day: practical cargo shorts, dirt-stained but sturdy sneakers, a “plant dad” t-shirt (a gift from Tendō when they’d said their goodbyes and gone away to college), and a soft cotton flannel. He’s usually satisfied with this for his shift at the greenhouse, expecting to be mud-covered at least up to his wrists by the end of the day.

But today… Today, he pauses in the dorm bathroom to scrub his face raw, and he clips and shapes his nails like his mother used to do for him every Saturday. He normally only does it before tournaments, now, and it calms his nerves to feel prepared for a Big Event, even if that event is only handing you your gently pilled cashmere cardigan and receiving a coffee he won’t drink in return.

The air that morning is heady with spring, earthy and alive, reminding Ushijima of lying beneath the hedge along his mother’s garden to pass notes to the girl next door. He was seven and she was nine, so naturally she knew everything he didn’t. She knew about the planets and why worms live in dirt and how to spell the word “catastrophe,” and Ushijima would’ve bet his whole weekly allowance that she was the coolest person in the world, if he knew what betting was. (She did, and once bet him half an ice cream sandwich that he couldn’t climb the oak tree in his backyard all the way to the top. He did, and then twisted his ankle on the way down, and she brought him an ice cream sandwich every day for a week as an apology.) She was all shiny, long black hair and dark eyes and fast words, nothing like the spring blooming around him.

You, on the other hand, are exactly the spring.

He stops at his favorite pastry place on the way to work to pick up two fresh cream donuts. The line is just dwindling from the height of the morning rush, so he manages to make it to the biology building just five minutes before he normally does.

Morning sun sends rainbows through the automatic misting spray as Ushijima unlocks the greenhouse door, letting a burst of humidity out into the rest of the building. The spiral-bound log book is there on the desk, a thick parchment bookmark sticking out from where whoever closed last night marked the page. 

Ushijima places his backpack and pastry bag on the desk and reaches to hang his key on its hook just when there’s a knock on the door.

“I know I’m early,” you start, edging your way into the room with a paper coffee cup in each hand. “But I saw it was already open, so...”

Ushijima smiles despite himself. In their second year Oikawa Tooru had told him that his smiles can be unnerving, but he can’t help it right now. You look so lovely today, in jeans and a silky tank top, with a certain morning tenderness in the way you hold yourself.

“It’s okay, come in. I just need to check the temperature controls and I’ll be done opening.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, smiling back.

As he makes his way to the temp controls on the Southern wall, you perch on the wooden stool and set down the coffee.

With his back turned to you for a moment, you allow yourself to slouch, planting two hands on the table and stretching your shoulders with a sigh. It’s earlier than you normally get out of bed, let alone actually leave your apartment, and you can already feel a quiet exhaustion setting into your bones.

But this is worth it, you remind yourself. Worth it to talk to the beautiful boy with broad shoulders and gentle hands.

He’d been unexpected. That first day in the greenhouse, you’d sat down with the intention to calm down from a tedious school day and nothing more. Your hands had moved of their own volition on that second drawing of the orange branch, scribbling out a hasty message that made your cheeks burn. But he was so present that day, in the corner of your eye but staying respectfully out of your space. And you’re not blind -- you saw the muscles under his shirt as he lifted an entire small tree in its pot. You saw the startling shade of green his eyes took on in the sun. You saw it all, and it drew you back, and now you’re here.

When he joins you back at the table, leaning back against it to face you, you stick out your hand and offer your name.

He looks at it for a moment, then back at you.

“I just, uh, realized we never properly introduced ourselves,” you explain, with a hesitant smile.

He smiles again and your heart thuds, then his big hand engulfs yours and he shakes it firmly.

“Wakatoshi. It’s nice to meet you.”

You learn in the following weeks of coming to the greenhouse that Wakatoshi doesn’t like coffee. But he does like tea and donuts, so that’s what you bring him on the mornings you can find it in you to wake up before nine. You sit with him in the greenhouse, talking and listening as he records data and waters plants and sits next to you on the quilt you’ve fallen into the habit of bringing. The occasional professor or student comes through, and you get to watch Wakatoshi show off his brains when he leaves you to help them.

There are several things you learn about him over those weeks. Number one: he never minces words. Two: he prefers grapefruit chapstick over anything else. And three: he kisses like it’s his last day on Earth.

You discover number three late one night when you decide to drop by after class, shooting him a text to make sure he’s still there. Today he’s closing instead of opening, and you missed spending your morning with him.

The city lights cast a different kind of glow at this time of night. They add a distance to everything that’s palpable as you drop your bag by the door.

“Toshi, are you here-- oh, hi.” You turn the corner to find him closing the door to the supply closet.

His cheekbones are highlighted briefly by a billboard outside flashing red.

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired. And I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?”

He takes a step towards you and you have to tilt your head back slightly to keep your eyes on his. They’re leaf green and unreadable.

“Yeah, uh,” you wet your lips with your tongue, “is that okay?”

“Yes.” He pauses for a long time, then, watching you carefully in the neon glow of the exit sign. His hand shakes as it reaches up to push your glasses from your face onto your head.

Without them, he looks fuzzy and soft around the edges.

He says, “Can I kiss you?” and it feels like there’s a bird trapped in your ribcage.

“Yes. Kiss me.”

Wakatoshi kisses nothing like you expected, all tongues and teeth and heavy fingers in the dip of your waist. He growls when you gasp and mewl against him, sucking on your lower lip as your hands find purchase in his shirt. He kisses you so absolutely breathless that you think you might pass out. Your knees buckle and you pull away, gasping with your eyes closed for a moment until you come back to yourself.

“Are you alright, little one?”

The endearment makes your cheeks flush with heat and your eyes snap open.

“Yes, I’m alright. Please do it again.”

And so he does it again, and again, and again until you find yourself bringing him home with you on the last bus that goes towards your neighborhood. He’s standing in the aisle, one hand wrapped around a pole and the other wound around you, who’s standing in front of him. He keeps you steady as the bus rounds a corner.

That night, you bring the peace of the greenhouse into your home, and the only thing you find yourself wishing for is that it never leaves.

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

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