#knocked my ass out. the lullaby ever

[merriclo]

anyways i fell asleep to japanese folk music last night and woke up to some old guy yelling about fish in japanese which is a lovely way to start the day

if yall ain’t listening to folk music from around the world you’re missing out

[omgwhatchloe]

im back in ur inbox but darragh and sean remind me of the time when i had to stay at my dads for the weekend so he proceeded to make me watch every pitch perfect movie in order NO breaks and yes that was his decision. or the time when i had a loose tooth and my dad decided to solve it by tying a string to my tooth and attaching it to the door he was fixing and then he told me he would yank it out but i got scared and chickened out 😭

OMGGGG ITS SO THEM I LOVE UR DAD FOR THAT😭😭😭😭

sean macguire did knock his tooth out by running into the table and started screaming and bawling while darragh was like yelling at him “SEAN YOU FUCKING EEJIT I TOLD YOU STOP DIDNT I” then also scoops him up and asses the damage because i think that was just what nice parenting was back then😭 also inspired by the pitch perfect thing sean had a favourite story (it was in Gaeilge hehehe) to read at bedtime that darragh thought was genuinely the most stupid and annoying children’s story he had ever heard and proceeded to read it to sean any night he asked because the wee lad thought it was so funny

also if the lullaby “you are my sunshine” existed there and then like in their time period sean wouldve been one of those kids who cried at it

[rashimen]

The bell to class rings ending another one of Jinx and Wally's daily bickering. The two were fighting in the middle of lunch, allowing everyone in the room to hear them spit each other's saliva at their faces. Everyone in the building has gotten used to their usual fights that it doesn't faze them as much anymore. If anything they've always thought there was something between them. An enemies to lovers trope they said! "Enemies to lovers my ass" they both replied to their friends when they broke off such rumors to them, a clear look of disgust on their faces.

They both disappointingly walked to their next class together sending each other glares as they earned a sigh from their friends that were following behind them. "You ever think they'll be friends?" "Never in a million years" Raven and Dick whisper as they, too, walk to potion class.

The moon was beginning to rise and everyone was already heading towards their dorms to get a good night's rest. Well, supposedly, until the loud arguing of Jinx and Wally echoed through the halls. But this wasn't far from normal, so as per usual everyone went on with their night and their nightly routine. Jinx and Wally bid each other goodbye with a last roll of their eyes and blow of a raspberry.

The moment everyone's lights had turned off, Wally had sneaked out of his room through his window and quickly rode his broom around the castle, trying to keep it as lowkey as possible. Jinx was simply lying down on her bed with her cat on her lap, stroking its fur in one hand and reading a book with the other. Humming a lullaby to lull the little creature to sleep. She then hears a sudden knock on her window. She groans along with her growing annoyance at the noise. She gently pushes off her kitten and heads towards the window, opening it gently to avoid any creaking noise and is greeted with a large figure, the absolute bane of her existence, riding on a broomstick.

"And just what exactly are you doing here Mr. Wallace Rudolph West?" Jinx asks with her arms crossed under her chest. "Nothing, just missing you" He flashes her that toothy grin she despises (adores) so much which only results in her scowl deepening by the second. The fellow gryffindor welcomes himself inside her dorm room as she shuts her window to avoid any witnesses. He then settles himself on her bed as her cat crawls towards him and lays itself right next to Wally. "Missing me? We saw each other just a few minutes ago" He pets her animal gently. Jinx wiped his bangs off his face and continued to play with his hair. "I always miss you" he stares at her with huge soft eyes, the kind that always melt her heart. "Shut up since when did you learn to be so corny" he giggles as she starts to rub his cheeks with the palm of her hands. "Ever since i fell in love with you" "You disgust me." "But you love me anyway" she sighs. They stared into each other's eyes as they sat in comfortable silence. "Should we tell them?" Wally proposes with his head lying on her shoulder. "No, it'll ruin the fun" he chuckles, they continued to chat as the night went on.

The next day, when they met in the halls once again, their daily bickering that their dearest friends could not get enough of starts again but when it was lunchtime and god knows whose decision it was to sit them next to each other, little did they know, two hands were intertwined under the table amidst all the fighting.

Creds to @carleypie for the hp knowledge🙏

[babybluebex]

no pressure at all! but if you'd want to write more stan!reader x tom I'd really love that

i literally FLEW to my computer to write this i love the concept of stan!reader so much ((also i tried second person writing here??? i actually like it a lot more than first whoops))

little one [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: tom holland x stan!fem!reader (y/n) ➽summary: when you find out you’re pregnant, you worry about how tom and your brother will react. ➽ word count: 1.6k ➽ warnings: angst, pregnancy, a lot of exposition that doesn’t matter tbh  ➽a/n: enjoy!! masterlist & taglist in my bio

Sebastian stood at the door to your room, just looking. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you had moved in with him, when you were just the smallest thing. Pink skirt and pigtails, toting your dolly with you. He had been young when you were born, but still an adult; he was in college, living in the dorms when his mother had called him and told him the good news. He remembered the day you were born: he had been sitting in a lecture when his little flip phone started buzzing in his pocket. It was his stepdad, your father, telling him that his sister was coming. He left the lecture early and made it to the hospital just in time to be the first person to hold you. He was instantly devoted. 

You moved in with him when you were six. His mom had told him that she needed to move back to Romania and that she planned to bring you, and panic had filled his chest. “No, no,” he said. “Sh-She just started school! She doesn’t speak the language, she’s making all kinds of friends here! Mom, you can’t relocate her, you just can’t.” 

“What else can we do?” your mother asked. “Are you going to watch her?”

A month later, Sebastian was your legal guardian. He came to school plays and parent-teacher conferences, he cleaned up your skinned knees, and he read you stories every night. The two of you had gotten into a habit of falling asleep next to each other, and it got to the point where the bed felt too empty without you. Too cold, too lonely.

When you were twelve, you and Sebastian moved into a new apartment. It was bigger and better suited for two people, and you got a big-girl room. You started sleeping in your own bed, but you had no idea the effect it had on your brother. He couldn’t sleep without you next to him, digging your heels into his back and taking up all the blankets. So, he picked his happy ass up out of bed and, making sure to bring his own blanket, came to linger in your doorway. “I… I can’t sleep without you,” he mumbled. 

“You’re a grown man, Seb,” you said; he was always amazed at the little lady you had become, a smart girl with a biting sarcasm, even when you were little. 

“Yeah, and every night for the past six years, I’ve had your feet in my back,” Sebastian said. He settled into your bed next to, and added, “Now, move over, munch, or I’ll drag you back to mine.” 

Sebastian leaned his head against the doorframe, looking at the room. The walls had once been pink but were now an off-white, more becoming of a young woman, and the band posters were replaced with art prints and collages of you with your friends. Sure, he knew everybody grew up eventually, and he liked you as an adult, but sometimes he missed the little girl who was missing her two front teeth. 

The door to the apartment slammed closed, and Sebastian unwillingly pulled himself from his daydream. “Hey, munch!” he called. “How was Tom?”

Back on Valentine's Day, when you told him about you and Tom, he was instantly thrilled. Even though he outwardly seemed like he didn’t like Tom, he knew that Tom would treat you like the princess you were. And, for the past few months, he had been. Flowers were sent to the apartment on a near-weekly basis, handwritten letters came in the mail regularly, and Sebastian often heard little giggling coming from your room when Tom would call you. He had seen you smitten over guys before, but Tom Holland was a different breed. 

After a date with Tom, you were guaranteed to be talking up a storm, but you were quiet. “Munch?” Sebastian called. “Y/N?”

There was a sniffle from the living room, and a meek, “Seb?” 

Sebastian’s heart fell, and he hurried to see you on the couch, the comfy tufted leather that Mackie had so highly praised. You were crying, your knees drawn up to your chest. “No, no, no,” Sebastian cooed and hugged you tightly. “What happened, darling, is everything okay? Did Tom say something? Did you guys… Did you guys break up?” 

You shook your head and opened your mouth, as if to speak, but a sob left instead. Your chest was so heavy, and you knew that admitting this to Sebastian-- to anyone-- would make it too real but the secret was killing you. You had known that you were pregnant for nearly a month now, but you didn’t want to tell anyone. You knew that your brother would say that you’re too young and that Tom would say that he had a career to think about. And, on a small level, you knew that was true. You couldn’t ask Tom to dismantle his life plans for you and a baby. 

“Talk to me, darling,” Sebastian whispered. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled and leaned into your brother’s warmth, and your tears became new. Sebastian would flip shit, you knew it. “I--” You started. “Please don’t be mad at me, please, I can’t take it right now--” 

“Hey, hey,” Sebastian said quickly. “I could never be mad at you. Please, talk to me. You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N.” 

You settled your cheek into Sebastian’s chest, and the emotions ran hot in your face and chest and belly. “Seb,” you whispered. “I… I’m pregnant.” 

A million different emotions ran through his brain at once. Elation, anger, confusion, and so much more. “You…” he started. “You’re--”

“I’m so scared, Seb,” you whispered. “W-What if Tommy wants to break up with me?” Your breaths came in quick, sharp gasps, and Sebastian held you tightly to try to ease the anxiety. He was prone to anxiety attacks like this too, and you had learned how to settle him down, but he hardly ever had to do it to you. You were so grounded, so level-headed and serious. This was the most emotionally unhinged that he had seen you in years. 

The sounds of your crying died away, and you found your ears full of deep whispers. You had learned bits and pieces of Romanian growing up-- enough to pull out as a party trick-- but could never fluently speak it like your mom and your brother could, but you recognized the sound of it. Sebastian was whispering Romanian to you in a lilting voice, and it took you a moment to place it. A song; a lullaby. Sebastian was singing you a lullaby. The sound of it eased your nerves enough to dry up your tears, and you sniffled a bit as you sat up, shedding your big brother’s protective embrace. 

“Look,” Sebastian began. “I know I act like a dick to Tom a lot, but… I really like him. I wouldn’t have let him stick around if I didn’t. I trust him to do the right thing here.” 

“B-But what if he doesn’t?” You whimpered. “Wh-What if he does leave?”

“If he leaves, it’s his own fucking loss,” Sebastian told you. “That baby doesn’t need anybody but you and me, right? I’ve got you, darling. I’ve always had you.”  

You nodded because, once again, your older brother was the wiser of you. You knew that everything he said was true, even if your whole body hadn’t quite absorbed it yet. Tom would be a great dad; and if he wasn’t, you had Sebastian. “Can you stay with me?” You asked, grabbing your brother’s hand. “I-I’m gonna call him.” 

“Sure thing, munch,” Sebastian said, and he settled his arm around your shoulders. His little sister, the same little girl that cried at Bambi and Bucky falling off the train, was going to be a mom. Where did the time go?, he wondered. 

The phone rang out quickly, and Tom answered it swiftly. “Hey,” he said. “I just dropped you off, is everything alright?” 

You took a deep breath. Your heart was beating so quickly that you could hear it in your ears, and you mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, I just… I have something to tell you.” 

“Oh,” Tom said. “Sure. What’s going on?” 

Sebastian’s gaze was fixed on you, and he gave you a prompting nod. “Tommy, I…” You started. It was real. This was real now. “I’m pregnant.” 

There was silence on the other end of the line, long and potent enough for anger to start to flare in Sebastian’s stomach. “Are you serious?” Tom whispered finally. His voice was static-y over the phone, and you couldn’t place his emotions at all. 

“I’m so sorry, Tom--”

“Sorry for what?” And then there was a laugh. “Are you really pregnant? Please don’t be kidding with me, you don’t know how happy this makes me!”

Sebastian gave a sigh of relief, and he wiped one of your tears away with his thumb. “I really am,” you told him. “You’re not mad?”

“Why the fuck would I be mad?” Tom laughed. “I’m gonna be a dad! I’m gonna be a dad, Y/N! Thank you, thank you! I love you so much, baby, you have no idea. Does Sebastian know yet?”

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s the first one I told.” 

“Oh, no,” Tom whispered. 

“Yeah, oh no,” Sebastian said. “Dating my sister’s one thing, Holland, but knocking her up is different. What, you’ve got an aversion to condoms or something? I’m gonna kill you.” 

“Hey, Sebastian,” Tom chuckled lightly. “Look, it was an accident--”

“Oh, ‘cause that makes it better?” Sebastian scoffed. “Jesus Christ, you’re lucky you’re not here right now--”

“Shut up, both of you,” you sighed. “Tommy, you swear you’re not mad?” 

“Why would I be mad?” Tom repeated. “I’m so thankful. Thank you, my love, thank you.”

[airplanned]

All the Trashy Novels part 11

Part 1...Part 10

The court poet did preform in front of everyone as scheduled, but under threat of bodily harm, he sung a song that he made up at the last minute about Hylia that was highly derivative of a chant that most people sung to their babies as lullabies.  No one was impressed, but at least it wasn't graphic, so Zelda released a breath and went on with her life.

Or she tried to.

An unusually large population of orange locusts had appeared in the east garden, and Zelda was crouched in the bushes beside the portico, collecting the insects in jars with neat labels and then forcing Link to hold all the jars, planning for his arms to grow too full and for him to drop one, and then her plan was to be very upset with him.  So far, he had yet to look over-burdened, and his attention kept drifting off instead of focusing on her rear end.

The voices of fine ladies walking along the portico caused her to duck even lower into her bush.  She did not want them to notice her and did not want them to speak to her, because they would ask what she was doing and then she would tell them and then they would spread rumors of how un-lady-like she was and then her father would banish her from the grounds or have all the locusts poisoned or something.

"Have you ever heard anything so lazy in your life?" one lady said.  "It was as if he wrote it in an hour before the performance."

The other lady snickered.  "Perhaps that's as much inspiration as the princess can provide.  It must be difficult for a poet to be chained to such a lacking muse."

Zelda pursed her lips and continued writing on the jar in her hand.  She already had all the information down that she needed, so she just wrote 'What are you doing, Zelda?  What are you doing?" over and over.

"Oh!  Sir Link!"  The clip-clopping footsteps came closer until the ladies were right over Zelda's head leaning out of the portico to speak to Link.  "What are you doing there?"

He pointed up at the roof of the portico.  Somehow all the jars had vanished from his arms.  In his quiet voice, he said, "I think this is a weak point in castle security."

The ladies looked up, away from Zelda's hiding place, then gasped.  "Oh my!  Really?"

He nodded, distracted by the roof.

"Surely you will fix it though."

He nodded.

One of the ladies sighed.  "We're so lucky to have you, sir."  "You're a blessing from the Goddess."  "I just feel so safe with you around."

"Excuse me," Link said, and then climbed up one of the columns and vanished onto the roof.

The ladies leaned out as far as they could to watch him climb.  When he was out of sight, one of them groaned and whispered, "That ass."  They both giggled and retreated further along.

Zelda flopped onto her back and covered her face in her arms.

A soft thud as Link landed beside her, and the the rustle of leaves as he pushed the bush aside.  He took a seat next to her and said nothing.  Pitying her.  Well, she didn't need pity, least of all from him.

She sat up and glared at him, but he had no reaction at all.  Just that same frustrating blankness.

"I know how inspiring I can be.  I worked hard to ensure that no one else would know, so it doesn't bother me in the slightest.  It's not my job to fill lonely men with poetry."

"But you do it anyway."

Her glare tightened.

"Your voice would call the spirits out of the trees, and your beauty would blind dragons."

And that would have been a very good line had he not taken it straight out of one of his smutty books.  He even had the page dogeared.

She narrowed her eyes.  "What was that?  What are you doing?"

He shifted slightly closer and the fact that her heart rate picked up was beside the point.  "Telling you those women are wrong."

"By quoting a trashy novel?"

He froze in surprise.  Did he not know that he'd done that?  Was it so ingrained that he'd--

She gasped.  He didn't know that she'd read all his novels.  But now he knew that she'd read it.  And now--

"Have you been using romance novel lines on me this whole time!?  How long have you been--That time after the midwinter gala--And when we were having trouble with Vah Rudania--Why would you--For what purpose!?"

"It's--it's easier to talk if I have something to start with."

"And an end-point in mind I suspect.  If I'm not mistaken, that scene ends in some lusty fellatio."

His ears turned red and his words turned harsh.  "And you have no end-point in mind with the fights you keep picking with me."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

He leaned in.  "You're trying to make me so mad that I pin you to the ground."

"Bold of you to assume I don't simply hate you."

"I can be bold."

"Oh really?  Because I thought you needed to borrow words just to speak to me."

"That's when I need to talk."

She gave him a challenging look.  "Then what would you do next?"

"Ruck up your shirt and suck your breast until you begged for more."

She growled, "I.  Don't.  Beg." 

Then she grabbed his hair and yanked him into a kiss that was entirely teeth.

"Goddess," said a voice from the portico.  "She's a pretty girl.  You'd think that poet would be able to say something nice about her."

"I don't know," said another voice as their footsteps past Zelda's hiding spot.  "I heard the more you get to know her the worse she is."

She stilled.  And pulled back enough to see Link looking at her with raw pity.

She growled again and shoved him away, knocking him into the bush.  She was gone before he regained his balance.

**

Part 12

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Patience - 4

Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1786

Warnings: canon typical violence

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

Chapter 4

Natasha was not good at emotions.  She didn’t like them - so she buried them.  It was better to be the cold and heartless assassin who could be killed at any moment than to risk being hurt in a way that mattered.  She shut people out and pushed them towards others so at least she could see what being happy might look like on someone else, even if she never felt it herself.

Except - Natasha was happy.

It took her a little while to realize that was what the feeling was.  She recognized happiness in those short joyful bursts where she’d be with a group of people you care about and they’ve all let their walls down and just briefly she would too.  That quick burst of serotonin never lasted but always felt good while she had it.

That was nothing like what she was feeling now.  It was a long-term contentedness, mixed with hope, and just enough excitement to keep her interested.  It was scary really.  She was vulnerable.  She had something to lose.

Yet all around her things seemed better.  Food tasted better.  Spending time with her friends felt different - she could connect with them more.  Even Clint’s annoying habits seemed to lean more to funny than annoying.

The others noticed it.  Sometimes Clint would flinch when he made some stupid joke - like he was expecting to get cuffed on the back of the head, and when it didn’t come he’d look at her suspiciously - almost as if he thought she was saving up to get him later.

She put it all down to you.

Natasha was falling for you.  Hard.  She sought you out in her free time, and you popped in her head even at awkward times like on missions.  You had cracked through her hard outer shell and even though she was scared of her soft parts being exposed, it felt good.

“Nat, head in the game,” Steve shouted.

Natasha whipped around to see a HYDRA agent running directly at her.  She flipped forward, kicking them in the head and then following through with her baton.  The agent practically flew backward and landed in a heap.

“Nat’s daydreaming about her lover again,” Tony teased as he blasted his way through a bunker.

Natasha scowled.  She had been distracted, and she had been thinking about you.  This kind of grunt work always felt mindless and repetitive, like putting books into boxes.  She was a spy - not a soldier and it was easy to start thinking about other things when she was doing such repetitive work, but usually, the only thing she had occupying her mind was the job and the mindless banter happening over the comms.

“Please never say lover again, Tony,” Clint teased.  “That gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Thor says it all the time!”  Tony argued.

“Yeah, but that’s Thor!”  Clint said.  “Thor can say all kinds of weird shit and it sounds good.  Doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Why thank you, Barton,” Thor chuckled.  “That is very flattering.”

“I’m as good as Thor!”  Tony yelped.

There was a sudden group shouting of dissent and Natasha couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face.  She had always had such a love-hate relationship with the group’s banter during battle.  It was nice being part of them, and she did enjoy dropping her own snarky comment into the mix but growing up the way she did - fights were serious - fun was for other people.  It felt slightly wrong to be joking while you were also fighting for her life.

“Let’s all agree right now that no one, not even Thor mentions anything about my lovers,” Natasha snarked.

The group continued to fight, Natasha pushing all thoughts of you down and focusing on the job.  By the time everyone had been arrested, the operation had been shut down and Natasha had performed the lullaby on Hulk, it was late and Natasha was exhausted to the bone.

She piloted the Quin back silently, just listening to Clint jabber away as her thoughts drifted back to you.  She knew there would be a debrief to go to, but what she really wanted was to go straight to your place and curl up next to you before passing out for a good twelve hours.

She could wait.  She was better at that now.  Besides, it was worth the wait.

She guided the jet down onto the launch pad and as it drew the jet down into the hanger, she and Clint began the cool-down procedures.  The back of the jet opened up and everyone got up and trudged off.

When Clint got up to disembark, Steve took his place.  “What happened out there today?”  He asked.  “You nearly lost your head.”

“That’s why we’re a team, isn’t it?”  Natasha asked.  “Make sure no one misses anything?  Get each other’s backs?”

“Of course,” Steve assured her.  “And we’re all here to pick up the slack.”

“I’m hearing a big ‘but’ coming,” Natasha said.

Steve smiled and shook his head.  “But…” he said.  “It’s not like you, Nat.  You always have your head in the game more than anyone else.  You’re the one I don’t have to worry about.  So when I do, it worries me.  Is everything okay?”

Natasha frowned.  Her head wasn’t in the game.  Steve was right.  She was happy and happiness meant her work was suffering.

“Everything is fine, Steve,” she said.

“You sure?”  Steve said.  “I’m only asking as a friend.  If there was something up, I’d want to help.”

“It’s fine.  I’ll sort it out,” Natasha said.

Natasha was exhausted by the time she showed up at your place.  She hadn’t slept for almost thirty-six hours and she thought that she’d broken a rib in the battle.  She needed to see you though.  Rip it off like a band-aid.  She liked you.  She liked you a lot.  So much that if she didn’t cut it off now it was going to turn into love and once that happened, she wouldn’t be able to do it.  If she was with you, she would be worse at her job, and if she didn’t have her job, she was nothing.

She knocked on your door.

She could hear you singing on the other side and when you pulled the door open your whole face lit up.  “Tasha!”  You squeaked and launched yourself into her arms.  She made a pained ‘oof’ sound as you wrapped your arms around her, but that didn’t hurt as much as her heart did right at this moment.  You were always so cool and put together, the excitement and pure joy you expressed seeing her were too much.  Natasha was going to hurt you and it was going to kill her to do it.  “I didn’t know you were back.  I am so happy to see you.”

“Krasotka,” Natasha said, closing her arms around you and breathing you in.

You must have heard the pain in her voice because you pulled back immediately and looked you over.  “Are you hurt?”  You asked, pulling her inside.  “Let me get you some ice.”

“It’s fine,” Natasha assured you.  “I’m fine.”

“I can tell you aren’t,” you said, guiding her to the couch and almost pushing her down on it to sit.  “What do you need?  Have you eaten?  I can get you food.  Something to drink?”  You paused and quirked your eyebrow.  “Earth-shattering orgasm?”

“Sit down, Krasotka,” she said.  “We need to talk.”

You narrowed your eyes and took a seat, folding your arms over your chest.  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Natasha nodded.  “I can’t do this anymore.”

“‘This’ as in ‘us’?”  You asked.

“That’s right,” Natasha said.  Her heart was already hurting.  She wished she was a stronger person.  Someone who was allowed to have everything.  Someone who could be in love and do her job.  Someone who could be happy and not feel like the world was falling apart because of it.

“I supposed I should be glad you’re doing this in person,” you said, sitting back in your chair.  “Do I get a reason?”

“Does it matter?”  Natasha asked.

You nodded.  “Yes.  Because I know you’re happy when you’re with me, and I know you like me, so whatever it is, is stupid and if you say it out loud, I’m hoping you’ll be smart enough to figure that out yourself.  I have faith in you.”

“I do like you,” Natasha said.  “This isn’t about you.  It’s about me.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, raising your hands. “I don’t think I have ever gotten the ol’ it’s not you, it’s me before.  Continue.”

Natasha was getting angry now.  She had expected you to be upset, not hostile.  She had prepared for tears and begging, not to be told she was an idiot.  She sat up straight and folded her arms.  “This is hard for me, okay?  I don’t owe you an explanation.  It was fun.  But now it’s over.”

“And that’s that?”  You said.

“Yes,” Natasha said, getting up.  “That’s that.” 

You stood up too, bailing her up against the wall.  She was half tempted to actually fight you.  If that’s what you wanted to make this, she was quite capable of kicking your ass.  You brought your face close to hers, she could feel the warmth of your breath on her lips.  “You’re making a mistake, Natasha.  I don’t know what happened while you were gone that got you all up in your head and made you think you don’t deserve me, but it doesn’t really matter.  The world is not a place of fairness or balance.  It’s just random chaos and in that, you called to me and I came.  You’re going to realize that breaking up is a mistake.  I know you will because it is.  We’re good together and you wanted me.  I can wait.  I’m very patient.”

A million different arguments popped into Natasha’s head but instead, she just pushed you away and stormed out.  She had never felt the desire to cry as much as she did right now.  Her heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces and she’d done it to herself.  She walked down the street not even knowing where she was headed, all she knew was that she wanted to go back up to you and tell you she was sorry and that you were right, but her anger and her pigheadedness stopped her.  There was a bar on the corner, she went straight inside.  She wouldn’t cry but she would drink.  Maybe she’d even find someone to take her home tonight.  Right now she’d do anything to stop herself from thinking that she’d made a huge mistake.

// NEXT

[nightingaelic]

Do that last one about Drunk weddings for the Sole Survivor, too. I may have my biases, but Fallout 4 can have a little love, as a treat.

Cait: "Don't be makin' so much noise in the back if you aren't going to share, you hear?"

Prior to her journey into Vault 95, Cait is just as stumbling drunk as the sole survivor, giggling with reckless abandon and daring guests to go a round with her outside the venue. She enlists the sole survivor to help her change out of her dress to make good on these bare-knuckle boxing promises, but the two of them wind up forgetting about the whole thing and singing loudly over the music on the dance floor. Post-sobriety, Cait heckles the sole survivor after they pass the point of no return, but she abstains in favor of demolishing Piper's gifted stash of Nuka-Cola.

Curie: "Do not indulge too much, mon glaçon. Excess of drink is the cause of many health problems."

Curie, ever the picture of innocent poise, laughs politely when the sole survivor starts making outbursts at the party, then corners them in the bathroom when she's free and insists they drink several glasses of water and eat some mirelurk cake hors d'oeuvres in front of her. She enlists Danse to help her carry the sole survivor to bed when they finally wear themselves out, and she does it all without staining or ripping her dress.

Danse: [speechless, awkward blushing]

Paladin Danse turns beet red when the sole survivor climbs onto a chair to get the party's attention for a toast, and dashes to their side when they start to wobble. To him, a wedding is no reason to let down his guard and drink, but the rest of his Brotherhood brethren don't share that viewpoint: Particularly Proctor Teagan, who is just as far in as the sole survivor. Once embarrassed, Danse tries to stay on the opposite end of the room, and steers his new spouse clear as well. He will give up his avoidance tactics if asked to dance, though.

Deacon: "Everyone drink up, we're trying to erase any memory of this get-together in case the Institute captures us and demands to know what menu and color scheme we picked."

Given his career and his own personal history, Deacon insists on having a small affair with close friends over a large shindig. He's mostly joking about forgetting the party- or is he?- but either way, he's handing out bottles of Bobrov's Best like it's going out of business. Valentine keeps side-eyeing him and calling him an "enabler," but Deacon couldn't care less.

Hancock: "Cheers to you, cheers to me, cheers to us and the whole fucking Commonwealth!"

The sole survivor's drunk? Good, so is Hancock. Like Deacon, the mayor of Goodneighbor is handing out bottles of booze left and right, along with palming chems to anyone in the Third Rail who looks too mellow. Whitechapel Charlie complains loudly when the groom and the sole survivor start dancing on the bar, but Hancock does not care one whit about property damage on his special day. That is, unless someone starts getting fresh with Magnolia.

MacCready: "So when I said partnering up with you beat drinking myself blind in Goodneighbor, that wasn't me saying we should switch spots, boss."

MacCready is too overwhelmed with disbelieving happiness on his big day to care if the sole survivor is wrecking shop. He's too busy staring at his new spouse holding Duncan and laughing with joy to notice the sole survivor spilling drinks on other guests, but he will perk up if they manage to hijack the jukebox. He'll roll his eyes, switch the song back to something more to his taste, and then drag the sole survivor onto the dance floor to work off some of their excess energy.

Valentine: "Gonna water that battery acid down with anything, or do I need to tell Vadim to cut you off?"

The synth detective takes in the sole survivor's antics with a wry smile before pulling them aside to make sure they're going to behave for the rest of the night. Any further shenanigans will earn them a withering frown from across the party. Rather than leave his new partner's side, he enlists Ellie and Piper's help in strong-arming them away from the moonshine supply and out into the fresh air for a bit.

Piper: "Really, Blue, on my wedding day? I don't do many editorial cartoons, but I think this might warrant one."

Piper has roses blooming in her own cheeks from drinking, but she'll insist the sole survivor switch to Nuka-Cola, park them in a chair next to her and toss tongue twisters at them until they can recite them back to her straight. Like MacCready and Danse, she will also accept some impressive dance moves as penance for their crime of disrupting the celebration, but if she starts dancing too, she'll slip quickly into the same territory of overdoing it.

Preston: "No thanks, but you keep going. We'll see whose head feels better come sunrise."

On the opposite end of the scale from Deacon, Preston doesn't want to forget a second of this day and is therefore abstaining. His Minutemen compatriots aren't though, so the sole survivor fits right in with the crowd. Ever the model of manners, Preston will join in on their drunken rendition of Dion's "The Wanderer," but he'll just as quickly bow out to go grab his new spouse a drink, chair, snack or anything else they might need.

X6-88: "Strange. The sensation leaves me unbalanced, but... warm. Perhaps the SRB was right to restrict substances such as this."

The Courser is puzzled the first time the sole survivor hands him a drink, but he accepts it and downs the lot admirably, shaking his head at the taste. He likes the way it makes him feel for a little bit, but learns quickly that if he keeps going, he'll wind up draped over the nearest furniture like the former vault dweller. Once the sole survivor is hiccupping and incoherent, he easily hoists them over his shoulder and deposits them as far away from the liquor supply as he can, ignoring the impressed cheers of Deacon and MacCready.

BONUS!

Gage: "No, I don't care if it was brewed in a settlement, that stuff'll knock you on your ass just as well as the beer that's been sitting still for 200 years."

Porter Gage has been dry for decades, and his own wedding isn't going to be enough to ruin that streak. Seeing as he's pals with a whole bunch of raiders, he can't well keep the rest of them from indulging, but he can sure as hell protest if the sole survivor tries to push a bottle on him. Repeated inquiries will earn them a black eye, but he'll let them steal his eyepatch for the rest of the night as condolence.

Longfellow: "Here's to full glasses an' fulsome lasses, ain't that right, honey? Bottoms up!"

There's not much to do on the island when you live alone, other than get really good at your hobbies and drink. Old Longfellow lives accordingly, and he can out-swig anyone attending his little party, including the sole survivor. By the end of the night, those who dared to pick up a glass around the man are under the table, while Longfellow is still singing sweet, fully-coherent lullabies to his new gal beneath the glow of the bottle lanterns. Knowing him, she's probably just as seasoned at drinking as he is.

Maxson: "Dull senses make for poor soldiers, but I suppose we can set our weapons aside for one evening."

Any Brotherhood of Steel Elder's marriage is a huge deal, and subsequently warrants a huge celebration. Alcohol flows freely at such parties, and any drunken behavior on the sole survivor's behalf is probably drowned out by hundreds of other Knights, Scribes and Lancers acting foolish too. Like Longfellow, Maxson holds his own in contest with everyone else, but doesn't push those around him to keep up. Anyone counting his drinks can't help but wonder where he's putting it. If the sole survivor's not too far gone, they can spot him dumping his glasses after a sip or two to keep up the mythic image, but he'll swear them to secrecy.

Desdemona: "Being able to take a moment to breathe can be just as vitally important for an organization as resupply missions or exterminations. Stop touching my hair."

The Railroad leader appreciates being able to cut loose, but she's still too paranoid to trust any glass handed to her and favors the flask inside her ballistic weave-armored dress that she fills herself. Once relaxed, this is the only time she'll allow the sole survivor and friends to get rowdy and fawn over her in the least. Liquored-up compliments on her outfit, her leadership abilities and her organization are fair game, but any probing into her personal background will result in her simply standing up and walking away.

[tobealostwanderer]

Anniversary

Javier x F!Reader

Cw: angst with a good ending, mentions of giving birth, one mention of funerals and hospitals, cursing, idk if there are things like warrants in 1980 something colombia but there is now, trust issues, unbeta-ed/not spellchecked.

This idea popped into my head because I was craving Javi and some angst so here it is. Could be read as GN but there is mentions of reader giving birth.

One year. Is it weird to remember anniversaries for things that are bad? Not... Funerals or the day you got admitted to hospital... More like heartbreak.

It had been one year since he left you. Almost ten months since you found out he knocked you up. Three months since birthing your son, alone. The only thing thetering yourself to his memory is little Luca. A child he doesn't even know about. His child.

Javier Peña's child.

You should have known. The moment your information wasn't good enough he would drop you like a stone into the river. Still you had indulged yourself into him with every consequence following. After he dropped you, you had found a better way to support yourself and your child. You moved out of Medellín and back to your parents home close to the city but far away enough to stay out of Escobar's and the DEA's messes. It was peaceful here, a better place for Luca to grow up.

Your mind had wandered back to the events a year ago. Being a informatant to the DEA after you got your ass into some narco shit. Hooking up with Javier thanks to it. He was a good, thorough lover but lacked in the actual 'love' department. Sex with him was good. Great even. Best you ever had in your life. You felt wholly unsatisfied after he left and being a horny during your entire pregnancy made that worse.

Shaking your head, you got up out of the old rocking chair and made your way to your babe. It was about time you fed him and just on time, his wailing met your ears. To not disturb your parents dogs too much, you rushed to him and helped him latch onto you, humming a lullaby as he fed.

A knock on the door made you turn to the front door and swallow. Your parents were out for the day and you didn't expect anyone to come here. Walking cautiously to the frontdoor with Luca, you peeked through the peephole.

It's him.

Eyes watering and breathing heavy, you walked backwards until you hit the dining table. Another knock on the door. You didn't know what to do. You felt like you couldn't confront him, nor leave him there on the porch. Your brain short circuited and you just concentrated on holding Luca close to you.

"DEA OPEN UP!" his beautiful deep voice yelled. Your body felt cold hearing his voice like that. Swallowing your nerves, you headed back to the door. Almost enchanted in a way. Remembering the same voice praising you, caressing you with words.

Slowly you undid the locks. Gathering some strength, you breathed in and out to calm yourself down. Then, you slowly opened the door, making sure to hide Luca behind it for now.

Javier looked... Shocked... To see you. Him and some men from Search Bloc were on the poarch. On the street next to a cop car you saw Steve Murphy, Javier's partner. Your eyes returned to Javier and you steeled yourself. "Can I help you?" You asked thickly.

Javier whispered your name, taking a step closer. It made you close the door a fraction in warning. 'Dont get closer'. Javi held up his hands. A glance back to the guys next to him had him wave them off, and they went to wait next to Murphy.

"What are you doing here, Peña?" You asked. Your voice was more hostile than you thought it would be which surprised you. Luca started to squirm in your arms so you pressed him closer to your body, making sure to keep him out of sight of Javier.

"We have received tips of this house harbouring narcos." Javier said simply.

"Well you can leave because there aren't any narcos here."

"We still.... Have to look through the premisses"

"Do you have a warrant for that?"

Javier nodded and turned to the group surrounding the car. One of them stepped up to the porch and handed you said warrant. Swallowing you looked from the piece of paper, to the Search Bloc agent, to Javier and back to the paper.

You felt stressed. Threatened almost. Just the thought of Javier standing on your doorstep was stressful enough. Him and Search Bloc having a warrant to check the premises is even worse. Glancing up at the other guys, you turned your gaze back to Javier.

"Only Murphy can come in." you said harshly. The guy and Javier turned to the blonde American. A few guys protested, saying that you could be dangerous, but Javier knew you. He knew how much you despised narcos. How they tore your life apart. He knew you would never hurt anyone intentionally. He glanced at Murphy, who knew you as well, maybe not as well as Javier did but he knew he would be safe alone.

"'S alright. Give me a few to check the building." Steve said definitive. A few agents complained but Murphy was already stepping up the porch.

"Come in. Close the door behind you." You told him, turning away from the door and bouncing Luca so he would sleep again. The door clicked shut and you turned your head to Steve.

"Why are you here, truly?" You asked him, still not showing Luca to him. Steve frowned at you, obviously something was going on with you bouncing something in your arms.

"To check for narcos. We had intel that El Luca was staying here." Steve said. You snorted, shaking your head. Your gaze turned back to the baby in your arms.

"The only Luca in this house, is this, and he is not a narco." You told Steve, now fully turning towards him and showing him your babe. Steve gasped. It was obvious how much Luca looked like Javier.

"Is it...?"

"Yes... He is Javier's" you whispered, afraid the man in question would hear you.

"Why didn't you tell him? Or me? Or Connie?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked up at the shocked man, who now stood closer to you. A gentle finger traced your son's cheek as he babbled in his sleep.

"He dropped me. I wasn't useful anymore. I found out about Luca and decided 'No, I won't have him be a part of a broken family.' So I have been doing it alone with my parent's help. And Steve... It's going so well... I don't need him. He broke my heart. But at least I got something out of it. Luca is my pride and joy and I won't let him corrupt my babe." You ranted. Steve looked pained.

"He... He went back for you. Half a year ago? And when he saw you were gone he was beside himself." Steve sighed and shook his head, putting the hand that was stroking Luca's cheek on your shoulder.

"You should talk to him. Now is the best time, I understand if it is too much at the moment. But you need to talk to him, allright?"

Looking down at Luca, you nodded. "He... He can come in... I guess..." You whispered. Steve made you look up, his eyes searched for something and when he found it, he nodded. "I will send the guys away. You two will be alone for the time being. Call this number once you two are done so I can pick him up, 'kay?" Murphy said, handing you a business card. You nodded and walked to the crib in the room to put Luca down as Steve left the building.

No five minutes later, the door cracked open again and you took in a deep breath as you turned to the man that had haunted you for a year now. His big brown eyes gazed upon you, then the room and lastly the crib behind you. Javi stopped and visibly paled as he saw it. Gears in his head churning as his eyes met you again.

"I don't know what to say." You tell him after a couple of minutes. "For the past year... I have created speeches in my head. Wrote down long paragraphs of how I felt... This situation... And now I don't know what to say."

Javier was struggling. You saw it. His entire body was rigid. His eyes darting between the crib and you. Beads of sweat traveled down his shirt. His mouth gaped like a fish, like he wanted to say something but couldn't form the words.

"I... I will tell you what I told Steve. You dropped me, Javier. You dropped me and it broke my heart. I called you and you told me to fuck off and I couldn't take it. I found out about Luca a week later and I couldn't deal with the thought of you so I came here. I birthed him here. We have done perfectly, the two of us, and we don't need you. He is your... Our son. But I wont have him grow up in a broken family. So you are either a part of our lives, or you are not.". You told him firmly.

It felt wrong saying it. You knew he had as much right to see his child as you did. But he didn't want you a year ago, so why would he deserve the two of you now? Your mind was reeling too and you hadn't noticed Javier stepping closer.

"Hermosa... I am so sorry for all the pain and suffering I have brought you. I am so sorry that you had to go through this alone. I am sorry that I wasn't a good man a year ago, that I dropped you like trash whilest it's you I adore, it's you I want to wake up next to in the mornings and hold as I fall asleep at night. It has always been you and I am sorry for being the asshole that never saw it."

You felt more emotional than you thought you would be during Javier's rant. Tears slowly cascaded down your cheeks and you bit your lip to stop the sobs from leaving your body. You didn't want to feel this weak. You should be angry at him for the shit he put you through. But you weren't. You were just sad. Sad for the past that you couldn't have redone together. Sad that his rant felt ungenuine to you. Sad that he was standing here, bringing back the demons of the past.

"You aren't a good man, Javier Peña. And I should hate you. But I find it in myself that I can't. My heart breaks at the mere mention of your name because I have loved you so much. I think I still do. But you broke my heart and spirit and I am afraid I cannot trust you back into our lives."

"I am a horrible man, I know. But I have searched for you since I found out you left... I love you. I love you so much. And seeing you here has been more of a shock than I care to admit. And him... I don't know what to say, hermosa."

He was in front of you now and his hands cupped your face neatly. His thumbs brushed away the stray tears on your face. He dropped his head down so his forehead touched yours. "I am a stupid man. An absolute asshole. And I understand if I am not welcome. But for all it's worth, I wanted to be there with you a year ago, and I want to be here with you now. Both of you." His voice was soft. Tender almost. Different than the angry DEA agent voice.

You closed your eyes, breathing him in with shaky breaths. Your mind was still reeling but starting to clear up now. You were still unsure about his motives. But you were willing to give him a chance.

"You get one. One chance to prove yourself. One chance to be here with us. You need to win over my trust again but I am willing to take this risk. Don't fuck it up, Javier Peña, or you will never see us ever again, understood?" You told him and although your tone was soft, the message was loud and clear. You felt Javier nod against your head and so you opened your eyes to gaze into his.

You stood there for a while, pressed together, watching one another, taking eachother in. After a while, you sighed and gazed to the crib next to you. "Want to meet your son?"

"I would love to."

-----

Taglist: @pedropastelpascal @evyiione @i-neverasktwice @randomness501 @melody13522

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 6/?

Word Count: 2.6-2.7k idk exact

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (your best friend’s name)

MUSIC IS INCLUDED THIS TIME! Please enjoy my personal music playlist, or at least a snippet of it.

TO THE PERSON WHO REBLOGGED AND SAID THIS WAS CUTE (at least the first part) you straight up made me cry omfg

Warnings: Swearing, gets really fucking heated at the end (no sex, yet), no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Outfit Context:

Y/N:

Jason:

(Cause I finally found an outfit I liked on the boy, men’s fashion isn’t my strong suit,,, heh :) )

“Sorry, is my mouth hung open?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Very much so,” she mocked.

Jason closed his mouth and outstretched his hand for Y/N’s, cupping it with both hands and kissing the top of it.

“You just look so lovely, Y/N.”

“And you’re chivalrous, Jay. Now, should we get going?” she asked, putting her free hand on top of his two.

“Yes, let’s go,” he let one of his hands go of hers and lead her to the Porsche he brought with him, not intertwining his fingers with hers.

He opened the passenger’s side door and let Y/N get in, not letting go of her hand til the last moment he could hold it. He got in an turned on the radio,

It felt like a good night, for dancing in the moonlight,

In empty streets, well, everybody's got a reason why,

If we could only just get it right,

Maybe it will all work out like in the movies,

But I know Romeo must die before the ending,

With a final poison kiss delivered gently,

Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth,

“Sing to me sweet just like my memory, 

If New York City Still moves me then I’ve found something real,

I’ll be okay, I could go on for days,

But I just don’t have the courage that it takes to be real,

And even if it’s dark at least we’ll be together,

Slowly sinking in the Earth to lay forever,

You better grab a hold and hold on for your life,

Because you don’t get lucky twice,

No, you don’t get lucky twice,” She sung with the tune.

Without the Bitter the Sweet Isn’t as Sweet - Mayday Parade

“You, you have the voice of an angel,” he said.

“It’s not that hard to mimic works of art with my voice.”

“Did you ever take singing lessons?”

“I did when I was younger, so I could sing French lullabies to my cousins.”

He placed a hand on her thigh as he drove them through the countryside of Gotham to Metropolis, taking the long way on what seemed like purpose. So he could encapsulate the moment in his memory for as long as he knew her and what she was to him. She was an adventure waiting to happen, a love story not yet written to tell for ages, a rock ‘n’ roll song written to please the masses in hidden corners of the world.

And to her, he was a masterwork of intertwining memories of pain, sadness, luck and beauty. A mind of complexity she was just waiting to dive into and see how it functioned. A story behind the white tuff of hair he had, why he was jacked to the masses if he was a book nerd. A story of his favourite book and his favourite sibling, his favourite trope, his love, his pain, him.

The moments where she stuck her hand out the window and traced symbols into the Autumn air swirling past the two as they cruised down the empty back roads. When he laughed as she sang Reste by GIMS and Sting. He didn’t understand the lyrics, but she did, and she called it a love song. Well, he got the parts Sting sung, but French wasn’t a language he knew like she did.

“I guess being Bilingual helped you out massively with that one, huh?”

“It’s a talent I never knew I needed, apparently.”

“Well, you did know you needed.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed, “ I guess I did always need it as a skill.”

“Do your cousins speak English too?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit? It’s better English than my father.”

“Can he not speak English?”

“Well, he can, just not well. But my mother is also Bilingual in English and French so they never had to worry about my father being bad at English. My twin sister and I grew up knowing both languages,” she rambled, still playing with the wind, “I guess it’s a one-up I have on a lot of people, being able to just talk and talk in another language, travelling advantage,” she kept going, Jason intently listening to her as she went on and on, he liked the silence being filled by her voice, “You know? You might know, I don’t know how you were raised to a T,” she finished.

“Well, I can assure you I only know English so you have that theoretical one-up on me, too. But I choose to see that one-up as something you can teach me as time goes on and we progress,” he paused, “If you’re down to get serious eventually, that is,” he panicked.

“Well, maybe we’re at that point where we can say we’re casually seeing each other and exclusive, but not serious. Hopeful, but not pressuring ourselves into something that’s going to be put under a lot of pressure as we go on,” she said, still playing with the wind.

“We’ll see about that after dinner.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Fancy little restaurant with a balcony facing over the city,” he assured.

“Really out here living for the moments?”

“Well, most girls crack under the pressure of the paparazzi, you, however, flipped them off, and that’s being rewarded for showing that you can’t give a fuck about those dingy ass tabloids and how they treat you, by taking you out to nice places,” he said.

She laughed, “I’m glad I’m never going to live that one down, it was really fun to do.”

“I hope it continues as we go along, I would hate to see that behavior change when it brings a smile to everyone who’s ever been harassed by paparazzi” when they pulled over for a second, Jason quickly loosened his tie a tad, “Honestly, I want to ditch this fucking tie,”

“It’s not you,” she said, “It’s just not.”

“And you know me that well to take that guess?”

“I could see you struggling with it from a mile away, Jason. Maybe the fancy restaurant isn’t us,” she laughs, “But we aren’t going to not take that dinner date.”

“Oh we’re so going to take that date, but I’m thinking from here on out we do whatever the fuck we want, no fancy dates. Thoughts?” he asked.

“Done deal,” she said.

----------------------------

In the restaurant, the two of them were basically the worst people to be there, it was levels of fancy that neither of them actually wanted, they both wanted simplicity, but they both thought the presence of the other person was enough of a takeaway from the completely wrong choice of restaurant. They had Dick to blame for this one, and Jason made that clear to Dick in a joking text while Y/N snuck off to the bathroom to ‘fix her hair, she was actually checking her breath.

Dick, this fucking restaurant is a god damn bust, man. We aren’t you and Barbara, that’s what we’ve discovered today. lol.

Bummer! We really like that place.

I can see why it screams Dick and Barbs.

You kissed her yet though?

No.

Wuss! Cat got your tongue? Just do it, man.

And at the same time, Y/N was texting A/N about Jason and what to do,

Girl! Thank you so much for reminding me to bring mints, my god, food ruins your breath so much.

You really want the pretty boy kiss huh?

No, I’m eating the mints to not kiss him, YES I WANT THE KISS.

Ha! Honesty is key, just go for it.

She laughed as she packed her phone into her dress pockets (Yeah there’s fucking pockets :) ) and went to leave the restroom to meet up with Jason again. To which, Jason had already paid and tipped the waiter.

“I could have at least helped on the tip, Jay.”

“I tipped him 200%, but if you want to drop more cash, go for it.”

“You tipped that much?” she asked while slipping in a 50$ she had on her.

“Of course, food service workers deserve a lot more than what they get, especially when they have to deal with terrible customers,” he said as he went and grabbed her hand again, not intertwining fingers again, “And my best friend, Will, he complains about people who don’t tip and praises people who quote ‘over tip’ but I think that he deserves 200% each bill for the shit he puts up with.”

“Did you tip him when we went there?”

“No, I called in a ‘No questions asked’ favour. And before you say anything, he did the same to make me babysit his daughter-”

“Your best friend has a daughter?”

“Well, he’s older than me, but yeah, he’s a single dad because her mum kind of sucks, lovely little girl, I’m her godfather.”

“Does she call you Uncle Jason?”

“Well, Uncle Jay, it’s like one of the only works she knows how to say properly, and Dada,” he laughed, “Great little girl,” he said, nervously, “This doesn’t change anything, does it? ‘Cause if he, knock on fucking wood, lord forbids, dies that will be my daughter.”

“Well, he’s not dead and you’re not worrying that he’s going to die, so nothing has to change. God kids are god kids, noble that you took on your best friend’s kid if, lord forbid, anything happens to the man, really,” she assured.

He sighed and kissed the back of her hand, “Then that is just a gift on top of what I did,” he smiled and lead her back to the Porsche once again, opening the car door for her and she slightly turned on the radio, he let out a small laugh to himself, he got the pretty girl. He got into the Porsche again and began backing out.

“There’s something about ditching a really expensive dinner date that leaves you wanting more,” she said, absent-mindedly.

“What kind of more?” he asked.

“The kind you see in the movies, fully exposed and adventurous, you know?”

“Well, we could always sneak into the Wayne Manor Gardens and dance the night away under the stars like lovers do,” he half-joked, placing a hand on her thigh again and pretending like he did it subconsciously, but he was hyper-aware, especially when he caught her smile as she laughed.

“Wayne Manor? With your brothers, sisters, dad, and grandfather?” she paused, “If you’re serious, then no, not tonight. If you’re pulling my leg then, hell fucking no,” she joked.

“Maybe one day, then, huh?”

“One day, for sure. When it isn’t scary to accidentally run into your family on their property running around with you,” she said.

“Well, we can always go into the Wayne Enterprises Ballroom and dance the night away, no one should be in the office for a while and even then since there are no classes in the entire school tomorrow you can just hide out in my office if we stay too long,” he paused to make sure she was still listening, “Security can’t question me because I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, and security is tight as fuck so paparazzi can’t get to us,” he paused to put a little bit of pressure on her thigh, “What do you say? Can I have this dance, Milady?” he half-joked.

“You want to know something Jason?

“Always, Y/N.”

“I took dance lessons when I was younger, can you Waltz?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, I can.”

“Then I’m in, let’s go.”

-------------------------------------

She loved the feeling of being back in her new hometown, Gotham. So when they pulled into the massive black building, she felt even more welcomed, security at the gates did ask ‘Who’s the girl?’ but Jason just explained it very easily,

“You know that date of mine that flipped off the press and you lot loved it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the man responded.

“You can call me Jason, you know that. But this is that girl.”

And they were let through the parking gates and into the underground parking system, they had to travel surprisingly far to Jason’s reserved spot in the lot, but the did get there before it hit AM. Once out of the car, Jason grabbed her hand and they ran into the building’s employees doors. It was a tight squeeze, but the feeling of Jason pressed so close to her sent chills down her spine. They went through many halls and reached the Ballroom, and entering it was like a dream for her.

Walls lined with intricate shapes and colours, but the colours never brought away from the stage at the far end from the door, the curtains seemed to redden with each step towards them, the 3, maybe 4 chandeliers hung above her like crystals in the ocean, it was amazing and beautiful. Checkered floorboards to give it a little bit of dimension, but it was the same colour as the main wall so your brain and eyes wouldn’t hurt after looking at it. It was stunningly beautiful and that’s what drew her in.

When he grabbed her hand and put on Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine, pulling her close to his chest and slowly Waltzing her around the room, spinning her when it felt right for him to do. Neither of them worried about the sloppiness or how it looked to the naked eye because it was for them. no one got satisfaction like they did at that moment. And grabbing her for one last dip was Jason’s goal when the ending of the song hit, although out of breath and his face stuffed in her chest as they both panted, he did pull her up so they were face-to-face on the dancefloor that they wiped clean.

“Did I tell you that you look stunning, Y/N?”

“I think you mentioned it a few times, Jay,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.

“Well, I mean it.”

“And I’m going to mean this,” she paused, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek, “ The way your eyes are a green-blue tint makes me lost in them, they’re like a sea of this mind I find myself liking more and more every day,” she paused to put her other hand on his other cheek, “And the way your nose and cheek freckles frame them is amazing.”

And he went for it. Somehow when he pressed his lips into hers, it felt like they were meant to match, and they both opened their mouths to play the coveted game of tongue-war, but they didn’t play by the rules, it was soft and sweet but full of passion and love, not lust. His hands would travel to her waist and lightly grip her, while her hands would travel to his neck and drape around the back of it.

They pulled away at the same moment to take in air, something they had clearly been missing as they were connected, they both let out a small chuckle before she put her hands in his hair and went in for round 2.

This time it was hungrier, and they both played with the shapes of the other so much more as time went on, he would grab her ass and she would pull on his hair slightly before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved one of her hands to the nape of his neck, this time, they would break for seconds only to start moving towards his office, which, conveniently, had a couch.

To say he threw her on that couch would be an understatement, he fucking thrust her on that couch and climbed on top of her, it was like 3 days of passion and lust combined themselves in a matter of minutes from their first kiss to them meeting on the couch. They both knew deep down that it couldn’t escalate further than this, especially at 1 in the morning, but time moves fast when you’re connecting in this way.

They finally broke after their passionate exchange and he fell to her side and began to spoon her, “Worth it,” he whispered.

“Worth what?” she asked.

“It was worth it to take a chance and defy my anxieties to ask you on that first date.”

“I don’t like a reality where you didn’t ask me on that date.”

“Neither do I, and I’m positive of that.”

[gloomybabygirl]

{in my head pt.1} Poe Dameron x smuggler!reader (soulmate au)

series masterlist 

next part

a/n: hey y’all!! this is just a lil puff piece inspired by this cute trend on tik tok that i’ve been seeing :) I have no clue who started it but if you do please let me know!! It was originally going to be a blurb but I realized my words weren't flowing because I had so much more to say!!! so here we go with a four part mini series :) let me know if you want to be tagged for it!

warnings: swearing probably, soulmate trope, Poe in the shower if you squint

word count: 3.2k

songs used: quando, quando, quando - michael buble & nelly furtado and invisible string - taylor swift

summary: you’ve been able to hear your soulmate’s voice in your head since you were little. You haven't found him yet. But what happens when you start to develop feelings for a voice you don't recognize as your soulmate? 

You had been able to hear his voice since you were little. You’d been able to hear it as far back as you can remember. An invisible friend that had always been there. An invisible string tying you to your soulmate, whoever he was. 

You could remember the sound of his higher voice when he was in his childhood, sounding like a flute flitting through you head as you played dolls and went through primary school. You used to hold back giggles at inappropriate times when you could hear his voice cracking through his adolescence. Maker, his voice cracking did not stop him from singing at all hours of the day. You’d silently cursed him for singing so early in the morning when you were young. But as you grew older, it turned into your favorite alarm, your mystery lovers voice rousing you from sleep. And then his voice eventually matured and grew into the warmest, richest baritone you’d ever heard. You’d remarked several times how lucky you were that you got to hear his voice all the time. It was a voice you could swear you would recognize across the galaxy. 

But you still hadn’t found him. 

At this point, you were convinced you never would.

It wasn’t common for people to find their person. Often times, people settled with lovers that they knew weren’t their soulmate. But that never stopped them from hearing the others voice. You were determined you would find the man you were suppose to spend your life with. After all, you had a better chance than most. 

But there was always that nagging voice in the back of your mind, never forgetting to alert you to a cold reality. 

He probably already found someone else. 

You were a smuggler. Being separated from family at a young age had you learning very quickly how to take care of yourself. With the... line of work you were in, you had traveled to every nook and cranny of the galaxy and met more people than you could count. Still no him. You knew the second you heard his voice you would recognize him as the man you were suppose to be with. 

One small issue. He didn’t have that same confidence. 

You didn’t enjoy singing as much as he obviously did. You would sometimes catch yourself humming in the refresher but would quickly stop yourself. His voice was just so... soothing. Flowing out of him like caramel. You didn’t want to bother him with your voice. Finn and Rey were tired of hearing about it, in fact. He had only heard you sing a handful of times and always very softly. If he didn’t hear your sweet voice for too long, he’d go into a fit convincing himself you were dead. But then he’d hear it. The quiet humming that sounded like someone singing gently in his ear. Just as he would realize it was you, it would stop. It drove him absolutely crazy. He wanted to be able to know you. 

And you felt like he had given you a piece of himself by sharing his voice with you. The songs he chose always felt meaningful and each word told you the story of the man you knew was yours. 

Most nights he happened to be singing very softly at the same time you were trying to fall asleep after a long day. Tonight however, you were crash landed on some desert planet in the outer rim trying to fix your old A-Wing from the Imperial days.

You could hear his voice in your head, still smooth and rich even with the late hour. Periodically, he would stop mid phrase, or trail off into a hum. You knew it was something or someone distracting him. You’d silently wished he could tell you about these interruptions when he came home to you. 

Tonight he was singing a new melody. You liked his usual mix of songs, but this one made you feel like an exploding star. You knew it was about you and not some Twi’lek he’d accidentally fallen in love with. 

“Tell me when will you be mine? Tell me quando, quando, quando...”

His voice flitted around in your head. It sounded like he was singing as you laid on his chest. 

“We can share a love divine, please don’t make me wait again...”

You wish you knew when he could be yours too. It elated you that he wanted to find you just as bad as you needed to find him. You wondered aimlessly what it is that makes him so kriffing hard to find. 

“Oh my darling tell me when.” 

The way his voice landed softly on the last note made your heart flutter. You knew you needed to give him something in return. it had been too long since you’d given him a sign you were still there, waiting for him.

Knowing it would take him a moment to find another song that conveyed his blind love for you, you decided it was your turn. 

You’d been flirting with the idea of singing back to him for a while, you’d just been waiting for the stars to align and for the man to stop singing for two kriffing seconds. Not that you really minded. 

Poe almost knocked himself out cold on the frame of his X-Wing when he heard a quiet, sweet voice fill his head. The way the voice felt like it was coming from his own memory told him he was hearing his soulmate. He stilled, tools in hand and held his breath, almost worried he would scare you off if he budged. 

BB-8 gave him an aggravated round of beeps when Poe ignored the tool he was trying to give him.

“Shh buddy, they’re singing.”

Happy beeps. 

He was thrilled when he realized this wasn’t just you humming to yourself on accident. This was you singing to him. On purpose. He listened as you sang your way through the whole song, your voice flowing melodically through his head, making him dizzy with the love he already had for you. 

“Isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me...” 

You finished the sweet song and Poe held his breath, hoping you would sing to him again. When you didn’t, he felt his heart sink, but he hoped it was because you were waiting for the lullabies he sang every night while working on his ship. His way of telling you goodnight. At least, he hoped they helped you sleep rather than keeping you up. He was sure one day he’d be able to lull you to sleep while you were in his arms. 

_

It had been a few weeks since Poe had heard your voice so clearly. He had been insanely busy in the weeks following that night that he didn’t have time to think. He had been on mission after mission, each more grueling than the last. 

The Resistance was loosing people left and right. Too many good people. Poe didn’t feel like singing when his hope was dwindling down to nothing. 

A bright spot in his week was the day a new recruit came to base. Anytime someone new walked onto the base, Poe made a point to introduce himself, always secretly hopeful the recruit would recognize his voice. 

Today was no different. And boy was he hoping you were the one he’d been waiting for. His breath caught in his throat when he saw you at the hangar. Rey showing you around and introducing you to everyone who dared cross her line of sight. 

“Poe, buddy? You good?” Finn asked. Poe had stopped talking mid sentence when he saw you. 

He followed Poe’s gaze and saw you with Rey, arms hugged around your middle, obviously overwhelmed by all the people she was introducing you to. 

“You wish, Dameron,” Finn laughed. “I guarantee you don’t deserve a soulmate that good looking.” 

“Shut it Finn, it could be them.” 

“Guess we’ll find out...” Finn clapped Poe on the back when he saw Rey leading you over to the two men. 

Rey had introduced you to practically the entire base, most names going in one ear and out the other. But now she was leading you to the last two people you had to meet. ‘Best for last’ as she had told you. 

A damn. She was right. 

Both men were handsome, for sure. But the slightly shorter one in the orange flight suit? Maker this was going to be hard. 

You’d made a habit out of turning off any sort of feelings you’ve had towards anyone in the past. You didn’t want to bother with someone that wasn’t your soulmate. Even if that meant you’d be lonely your whole life. Why would you have a half assed love when there was someone else out there that was made for you?

But Maker, this pilot was giving you butterflies.  And you hadn’t even spoken to him yet. Now you had to find a way to kill the damn butterflies...

“And finally, this is Commander Poe Dameron and our friend Finn!” Rey introduced you to the two cheerfully, giving them your name.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” You said quietly, offering them a small smile before looking down at your feet. You silently tired to make the ground open up and swallow you, but once again the universe insisted you weren’t force sensitive.

“Always nice to have a new person join the cause. Where are you from?” Finn asked, trying to politely make conversation. You noted to yourself that his voice was too low to be the one in your head.

“Nowhere. And everywhere I guess? I was a smuggler for years,” You explained, heat bitting at your cheeks at the admission of your unsavory past.

“Well, we don’t judge people for that here. Do we Poe?” He hit his buddy on the back again, encouraging him to speak. 

Poe seemed to be coming out of a daze when he spoke. He cleared his throat and finally spoke.

“Uh, no, nope, not at all. Very nice to meet you.” Your heart deflated when his voice came out. It sounded similar to your soulmate at first, but the more you listed the more you came to the conclusion that Poe’s voice was too raspy and rough to be his. 

You and Rey said your goodbyes and she finally showed you to your quarters. How the hell are you ever going to learn your way around this base?

“Hear anything familiar?” She asked as you got to your door. 

You sighed deeply, exhausted and dejected, “Nope. It’s okay Rey. I’m convinced I’ll never find him at this point.” 

“That’s a shame. I thought you and Poe would probably get along well,” she gave you a knowing look. Maybe you made it obvious how attractive you found the pilot.

“It’s really okay. Thank you for showing me around base today.” You gave her a soft smile and turned to punch in the code to open your blast doors.

_

Your soulmate’s voice had been absent in your mind since your first day on base. You dearly missed him lulling you to sleep at night, or pleasantly interrupting you throughout the day. 

Panic shot through you at the thought that maybe he had died. But every so often you would hear him softly humming to himself, keeping the spark of hope alive in your chest. 

Besides that slight nagging making its way back to your head, you were having a great time getting to know Finn and Rey. You got caf with them most mornings, and would often spend nights in Rey’s quarters playing Sabacc. You hadn’t, however, seen the dashing pilot again. Finn complained a lot about missing his best friend.

“He's been so depressed lately. He wants to find his soulmate so badly, but he doesn't want to leave the cause to try to find them.” Finn explained one morning. 

“He used to sing to them all the time, but I think he’s given up hope... I haven't heard him sing in ages.” Rey commented, sipping her caf. 

Just as you were about to comment on your similar lack of luck in finding your soulmate, the handsome flyboy himself walked up to your table in the mess hall. 

“Hey guys, mind if I sit?” He asked in that damned raspy voice. 

Poe wasn’t necessarily happy to be spending so much time apart from his best friends. They were the only things keeping him sane sometimes. But now they chose to spend every waking hour with that aggravatingly cute new recruit. 

Poe was a friendly guy. Some may argue too friendly. But he didn't want to be around you. Actually, this issue is that he did want to be around you. Very much so. 

You were a dream walking into Poe's line of vision. He suddenly felt like everything was in slow motion when he caught a glimpse of you in the hangar.  You looked so nervous, arms crossed over your chest, shifting your weight as Rey made it her life’s mission to introduce you to the entire base. His mouth popped open like he was the star in a damn holomovie. 

When Rey pointed your attention to his general direction, Poe's mouth felt like cotton. Which muscle did he use to breathe again? Oh Maker, you could probably see his heart beating through his chest. 

He hated that he got his hopes up like that. And Finn was right, he didn't deserve a soulmate as ethereal as you. 

Then of course there was the devastating (albeit familiar) ache when you didn't give him any inclination that you recognized his voice. Poe didn't want to waste his time with anyone that wasn't his soulmate. He didn't want to put either party through unnecessary heartbreak when they both knew it wasn't written in the stars for you to be together. He had to distance himself from you. 

But it had been about a week since you first flew onto his radar. And you took the liberty of crossing his mind everyday since then. He knew he was risking falling for someone that he wasn't meant to be with, but he missed his friends. Sure, Poe was sad about his failed mission of finding his soulmate, but nothing could keep him down for too long. 

When Finn nodded for Poe to join, he scrapped his chair across the permacrete. He was purposefully sat next to you and across from Rey and Finn so he didn't end up looking in your direction for an inappropriate amount of time. But now he could feel the warmth emminating from you and smell the same waft of lavender her recognized when he first met you. Kriff. 

“Where have you been man?” Finn questioned him. “Avoiding us?” 

“Nah, nothing like that,” Poe lied. “I’ve just been working on my ship.”

“She must be in pretty good shape if you’re spending that much time on her,” You quipped. Shit, you hoped Poe enjoyed a good tease like his friends did. 

He gave you a lopsided smile, “You’ll have to come see her.” 

Unfortunately, the conversation continued on like this. Gentle, teasing, light conversation. It was easy. And Poe knew he was going to get hurt.

_

Your quick, light footsteps could be heard echoing through the halls towards your quarters. Alongside them was the heavy slow footsteps of the pilot you’d spent the whole day with. A chuckle rumbled through his chest as you reached the door to your quarters. 

You turned to face him and leaned up against the cold durasteel of your blast doors. There was a moment with no words shared between the two of you, just comfortable silence. 

Poe was so busy just looking at you that he didn't think twice before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He immediately pulled back and hastily shoved both hands in his pocket. He could’t help but notice the flustered smile creeping up on your lips. Damn, he’d like to make you smile like that more.

No, no. He had a soulmate to look forward to. He hoped. This wouldn’t end well. 

“Hey I wanted to apologize for the lack of usual ‘welcome wagon’ Poe this week. I just... I’m having a hard time finding my soulmate and I wasn't exactly in the right head space. I didn’t want your first impression of me to be depressed Poe.” He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable with the oversharing he couldn’t seem to help. 

“Don't worry about it. Finn and Rey may have mentioned something about you being upset about that this week. I completely understand.” 

“I take it you haven't found them?”

“Not yet, but I still hear him all the time so I have hope at least.”

Poe’s heart sank a bit. He hadn't been singing lately. 

“I’m sure you’ll find him then. Goodnight, thank you for today.”

“’Night Poe,” you smiled, turning to punch in the code to open your doors.

_

Poe was sat cross legged across from BB-8 in his charging station. 

“I don’t know buddy. I feel.... Guilty?” He nervously picked at the skin around his thumb nail. 

A series of confused beeps came from the droid.

“I guess I feel guilty that I spent the day with that new recruit and that I’m starting to have feelings for them when I have someone out there waiting for me. I wish this war would end so I could go find them.” He lamented to his little buddy. 

BB-8 let out a sweet melody, sounding like an automated songbird.

“Yeah you’re right. I’ll sing to them tonight, that should help me feel closer to them. Plus it's been a while, I’ll bet they miss this gorgeous voice.” 

He stood up and made his way to the refresher to wash off the day. He made it a cold shower to wash off his feelings for you. He wracked his brain for a song that would describe how he was feeling that day. When he came up empty, he resorted to the song he had fist sung a few weeks prior. Maybe since it prompted you to sing last time, he could have the chance to hear your voice again. 

“Tell me when will you be mine? Tell me quando, quando, quando...” 

When you heard the voice in the back of your head, you heart faltered. He was okay. Relief washed over you in a great, calming wave. 

“We can share a love divine, please don’t make me wait again...”

Your soulmate’s sweet voice cleaned away all the feelings you had developed for Poe. His soft voice felt like home to you and was soon causing your eyes to grow heavy. 

“Oh my darling tell me when.” 

He finished his lullaby with the usual soft tones that you already loved so dearly. Being friends with Poe was going to be difficult, but it would be worth it when you found your soulmate. His voice would always pull you back home to him. 

_

everything taglist: @softly-sad @clumsy-writing-rdb

[baeklination]

🎃 Being

Date: 211001

Warnings: it starts smutty (not explicit wording) so eyes closed if you're too young!, if you're a terrible scaredy-cat (particularly of the dark) you might want to skip this.

Characters: Baekhyun, Reader

WC: 1,2k

Masterlist

¤¤

The pillows your hands crush, your head buries in; the wrinkled sheets and plush covers; the bluish light covering everything, it's all yours. You're in your own bed - it's a lucid dream. Aware enough to enjoy, but away enough to just let it happen.

The pulsing against your ass, the image of his crisp shirt hanging open at your sides, his dewy, blonde hair dangling to-and-fro, the creaking of the bed posts and his wet breathing - it's all in a delicious delirium.

"I've … been waiting to have you…", he whispers, ripping his shirt off, laying down.

His weight feels good on your back, his hungry grinding and touching are sensual euphoria. Kissing you behind the ear, a scent travels to your nostrils. Difficult to put your finger on, but off, somehow. Seeming to be released by his continuous rubbing against you, a smell - stench - overcomes the room. It's putrid. Mushed oranges green with mildew, a soiled diaper, puss from an infected wound. The atmosphere grows dark and heavy; you squirm to get away, rocking back and forth but unable to speak. You have to wake up. Have to. Screaming internally you, thankfully, feel the electric buzzing over your skin - you're going up.

"No, wait for me", he begs, acidic saliva running down your neck.

Pong…

Your skin settling down, you look out over the bedroom - you're awake. With a crushing feeling around your heart you take a few breaths "you're okay, you're okay…".

"Ugh…"

You pinch your nose and snort, trying to get the remnants of the stench out, but failing, you start to get up. Pushing your foot over the edge of the bed something...

An uneasy feeling in your gut mixes with a reasonable one in your head "just look so you can feel ridiculous". Hanging your head down you peer into the darkness...nothing. You sigh, but look some more. Two feet in, like yellow beads, eyes appear, looking straight at you. Screaming at the top of your lungs you throw yourself into the headboard, seeing a dark, not entirely solid figure dash out of the bedroom. Jumping out of bed, leg getting tangled in your covers, you crash violently into the radiator, ribs first. Doubling over, cradling yourself from the jarring pain you find the chord to your lamp, but in your panic pull it down on the floor, the bulb shattering at your feet. Keeping your eyes fixed on the doorway you feel for your phone on the nightstand and, locating it, stand up to push the window open just as you hear your door get pummeled. Crying out from the pain, you squeeze your body through the gap and topple onto the fire escape, the harsh metal digging into your body, a chilling breeze blowing through the bars. Peering over the edge into your room, dialing emergency services, the hallway lights up and a figure rushes to the doorway calling your name; Kee, your neighbour, with panic in his face and a hammer at the ready in his hand.

•

"And you say the door was locked when you tried. You're sure?", the officer asks Kee.

"Yeah, I had to bust it open. No way it was unlocked."

After refusing to set foot in the apartment Kee had gone out to the fire escape, helping you down on your wobbly legs and taken you to his place. Not at ease with the proximity to which he lived to you - the paradox being that he managed to help because of it - he carefully looked in every nook and cranny, turning on the lights in every room before you moved away from the wall to sit down.

Relaying what had happened, not leaving any part out, but also not a hundred percent positive things had really been the way you had perceived them; were the eyes really yellow? They were, but...ye-llow..? Did the dream have anything to do with it? You'd been fully clothed when you woke up, so there was no doubt about it being a dream, but the stench…

Luckily he believed you and wondered about it the same as you. Making a huge cup of chamomile tea, looking over your ribs (his unused nurses degree coming to use) and deciding they probably weren't fractured, you waited for the police to arrive.

"M-hm… Miss, did you have anything to drink before going to bed?"

Flabbergasted, yet knowing this was coming - "hey mister policeman, a shadowy figure with yellow eyes was hiding under my bed" - you wouldn't believe it either, you stick to your guns.

"No, nothing. And no drugs, prescription or otherwise."

"Nothing over-the-counter..?"

"Are you kidding me..!", Kee bursts out. "Look at her! I found her on the goddamn fire escape in her pyjamas! Broke down the door 'cus of her screaming..!"

"Sir, you need to calm down…"

"Ca-! You're acting like she-"

"Kee!", you hiss, pulling at his t-shirt.

"- had a bad dream and called the cops!"

"If you don't calm down, sir...", the officer warns him again, casually putting his hand on his cuffs. "I'll have to remove you. Now, is that what you want?"

Incensed, Kee's eyes grow large and his jaw flies open, but realising you'll be left alone if he says another word he shuts his eyes, composing himself.

"Now… Have you been getting any strange phone calls, messages from anyone..?"

"No", you shake your head.

"Notice anything missing from your home? Things out of place..?"

"Ehm...no… I don't think so. I don't have a stalker, if that's what you mean."

"Just checking all the boxes, Miss. Sometimes we don't notice until we think about it closer."

•

"I don't think they'll find him…", you sigh, propping up your pillows, adrenaline giving way to drowsiness.

"Him..?"

"It. The thing, being. What ever it was."

"If it got scared off by you, then maybe he- it is gone for good..? I don't think you have to worry-"

"No, don't!", you protest, when he flicks the living room light off.

"Sorry, force of habit. But you can stay here as long as you want. I'll grab some stuff from your place tomorrow..?"

You nod, check under the bed for the gazillionth time, then get into it.

"Do you want me to stay up until you fall asleep?"

"Yes. But no. But face my way."

Searching the net for every and any story similar to yours might not be the best way to fall asleep, but you reckon you won't anyway so you stare at your phone for two hours. Eventually Kee's soft puffing works lullaby magic on you. Not enough to knock you out, but enough to make you put away your phone and pull the covers to your chin, looking at the little bits and bobs he's decorated his bedroom with. Looking at his poster you smile; it was given to him as a joke, minding his sometimes quick temper: a bright, computer animated sun with the words "remember, the sun is always shini-'' the flat goes pitch black.

"Kee!", you hiss, accidentally hitting him in the face going for his arm.

"Aoh, wha- shit", he whispers, sitting up.

Absolute darkness.

You grab onto his t-shirt, your chest a vacuum, tears burning behind your eyes...

[fanficshiddles]

Triple Threat, Chapter 9

Darcy had managed to talk Loki into letting her go with the team to get Jane. They were able to get there within minutes on the Quinjet.

Jane was standing there, in the middle of the park. Looking… odd. She wasn’t causing any damage, nothing.

When the team emerged from the jet, Thor went forward first.

‘Jane?’ He called out to her.

Jane’s gaze snapped in his direction, her eyes were a weird cloudy dark red colour, the aether running through her veins. She tilted her head at him.

‘Jane… We’ve come to help you. To take you home.’ He said calmly, easing his way towards her carefully.

But Jane threw her hands in his direction and there was a huge energy blast that came from her and hit him, knocking him flying backwards.

‘Jane!’ Darcy called to her and ran forward, Loki tried to grab her but Darcy went ahead anyway.

‘Jane, it’s me. Your best friend… Come on. This isn’t you, you’re under some weird ass mind control. We can help you.’ Darcy tried reasoning with her softly.

Suddenly, a small army of Chitauri came flying out from the ship behind Jane. The team jumped into action to take them out before they got out of the park, to try and reduce damage to the city. They didn’t want a repeat of before.

While they were busy fighting the aliens, taking them out slowly one by one, Darcy tried moving closer to Jane. Who was randomly throwing energy blasts left right and centre at the Avengers, clearly on the Chitauri’s side.

‘JANE! PLEASE, STOP THIS!’ Darcy shouted to try and be heard over everything going on.

She then tried to get closer, but Jane locked onto her and looked furious. She shot her hand out towards Darcy, it was like time almost stopped for Darcy.

But Loki jumped in and managed to grab Darcy, they tumbled to the ground as he rolled them out of harms way. Then he put his cape around her and teleported her back to the Quinjet.

‘Stay here!’ He snarled at her firmly and dashed back out to continue fighting.

Loki had seen it happen, his heart almost stopped completely just before he was about to teleport to save her, but when Loki got to her before he did, he was just relieved that she was safe.

Darcy watched from the safety of the jet while the team took out the Chitauri. But not before Jane managed to escape. She just vanished, right on front of Darcy’s eyes, she couldn’t believe it.

She ran out of the jet as the team gathered, surrounded by dead Chitauri.

‘Where did Jane go?’ Vision asked as they all looked around.

‘She just vanished, one minute she was there and then I blinked and she was gone!’ Darcy said as she motioned to the spot on the grass where she had been.

‘She’s powerful, the reality stone is within her. I just hope we can find her and get it out before it overcomes her.’ Loki said worriedly.

‘Do you think she’s strong enough to control it?’ Thor asked.

‘No. Not now she is using its powers in the way she is. Thanos must’ve shown her how to use it, trained her. But she’s had it running through her veins for so long now.’ He sighed.

‘We need to get back to base and come up with a plan.’ Steve said as he motioned for everyone to get back on the jet.

Natasha quickly got Hulk to return back to Bruce with his lullaby, then they joined them in the jet and headed home.

Once everyone was recovered and had something to eat and drink, they all congregated in the living room.

‘Thank you, for saving me.’ Darcy said to Loki. Who nodded at her.

‘Yes, thank you.’ Loki agreed.

‘What do we do now?’ Clint asked.

‘We need to find Jane, again. At least we know she is on Earth now.’ Loki pulled out the tracking necklace and brought up the map, but he frowned as he studied it.

‘What’s wrong?’ Tony asked.

‘There is no signal for that reality stone anymore… Thanos or Jane must’ve done something to it, to stop the tracking beacon.’ He looked around the team, who all shifted nervously. This wasn’t good.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Right. So we need to find her, trap her in something that will contain her powers and then somehow get the damn thing out of her.’

‘And destroy it!’ Thor snarled.

‘No, it can’t be destroyed.’ Loki interrupted.

‘I bet I can.’ Thor snapped.

‘No, you can’t. Thor already tried, trust me, it can’t be done. I need to return it to my reality. But we will need to build something that can contain it once it’s extracted from her.’

‘How will we get it out of her?’ Darcy asked.

Loki looked at Loki. ‘We can do it. But only together, it takes a lot of energy. But we are powerful enough to remove it from her.’

Loki’s eyebrows almost shot up off his head. ‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Very sure.’ Loki nodded.

‘Alright. But that doesn’t solve the other problems of finding her and containing it.’ Loki drawled.

‘Bruce, let’s get to work. I’m sure we can come up with something to contain its powers. Steve, go speak to Fury and see if the cell we kept Loki in is still usable.’ Tony said.

‘Will do.’ Steve nodded and headed off.

‘You still have that thing?’ Loki asked, smirking.

‘Of course. Just in-case we ever need to lock you back in it, if you ever have any cravings of power over us humans again.’ Tony grinned at him as he walked by and patted him on the shoulder.

‘Who said that craving has ever went away?’ Loki smirked.

Tony did look a little worried for a moment, but he shrugged it off.

‘Don’t worry, if it’s needed for you it will be that one.’ Darcy said and motioned to Loki with her thumb. Making Loki laugh.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her, but smiled a little.

Vision, the two Loki’s and Darcy ended up in the lab with Tony and Bruce, all trying to come up with something to contain the stone in once they got it. But as they weren’t sure if it would be able to be turned back into a stone or if it would remain in a liquid matter they had to plan for both situations.

Darcy was in the corner of the lab, being awfully quiet a few hours in. Loki was getting suspicious. He wandered over to see what she was doing. She had written some notes down and made a small diagram of what looked like a large containment cell.

‘What are you doing?’ He hummed and rested his chin on top of her head as he slipped his arms around her middle.

‘I had a thought. What if we convert the cell that you were held in, to pull the stone out of her. If it’s likely in liquid form, we could modify the cell so that it will help you to pull it out of her and contain it. We would need you and your twinnie over there to somehow connect with the cell. But if we use a venting system, it just might work.’

Loki’s eyes widened slightly at her idea. Loki had overheard and looked over at them.

‘That might just work… The aether in its liquid form needs a host to thrive, if we modify the cell and force the aether out of her of its own will, it might be a lot easier than pulling it out of her.’

‘What would be needed to force it out?’ Tony asked, tapping a pen against his lower lip.

‘Loki and I can easily do that. Our energy should be foreign enough to scare it, if we can put enough into the cell and pressurise it, so Jane has to in-hale our energy, it should be enough to send it running out of her to try and escape and look for another host. We then open the vents and it goes through them, hoping to get away. But then we will be ready to contain it.’

‘Will Jane be ok though? Your energy won’t poison her or something?’ Darcy asked as she spun around on her chair to look at them all.

‘It’s not a poison, just different energy to the aether, but there is a risk it might overwhelm her. But she will die from the aether anyway if we can’t get it out of her. No amount of training or torture from Thanos will change that, especially if she has had it within her for as long as we think she has, I’m surprised she’s lasted this long.’ Loki said as he draped his arm around Darcy’s shoulder.

Darcy sighed. ‘I guess we have no other options, do we?’

‘No, not really.’ Loki said regretfully.

‘Well, that’s settled then. We have a plan, we just need to hope it works.’ Loki said.

‘And we need to actually find her first.’ Vision reminded them.

‘That’s probably going to be the hardest part.’ Loki sighed.

[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 1! - for Sara [@bravadostyles], the ultimate muse. 

SOUNDTRACK:

Empire State of Mind - Jay Z.

Animals - Maroon 5.

Dopamine - Børns.

Word Count: 4,731.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Freshman Year. 

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City. 

“You’ve got that face on,” Claire said. 

“What face is that, Claire?”

“Your trademark ready-to-go-home face,” she giggled. “You tired?”

“Just a little,” you whispered, head resting on her shoulder, feet hanging off the bed. “Had a long day at rehearsal.” 

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, if you wanna go, we can go. I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you shook your head, and placed your hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’m having a good time.” 

Soft music played through the small speakers on Jonathan’s desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone sat in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on John’s bed, and you and Claire rested on his roommate’s bed. Open solo cups of beer were scattered amongst the room. It was calm, chill, and then the door swung open.

“Yoooooo!” The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Johnathan, who hopped off his bed and ran towards the entrance. 

“Gube!” John exclaimed, arms open wide to embrace his friend. He always got a little touchy-feely when he was tipsy. “Where the hell you been, man?”

“Consider my good time ruined,” you murmured to Claire.

“Be nice, [y/n],” she responded, patting your leg. “Everyone’s having a nice time, don’t start anything.”

“Me? Me? I don’t start anything, I never start anything. It’s him who starts it. That di—“

“Hey, [y/n],” Matthew greeted, taking a seat beside John. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Gube,” Claire smiled. She gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow. 

You rolled your eyes, “Hi, Matthew,” you reluctantly replied, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Aw, c’mon, that’s all I get?” Matthew teased. “What’s wrong, sleeping beauty? You tired?” 

“Oh, you have no idea,” you told him, finally looking over at him. He wore a white polo, paired with a busted pair of jeans and white converse with his mismatched socks poking out. On his chest sat his trademark gold chain, the medallion set in the center of his sternum. 

“Might be past your bedtime,” he shrugged. “Really. Might be better if you just left.” 

“Me?” You scoffed. “Why don’t you leave? We were perfectly fine before you got here.”

“Oh, God,” someone groaned. “Here they go.”

“John wants me here. I’m a little more fun than someone who falls asleep mid-conversation, so I can see why.”

“Matthew, why are you talking to me? Can you just pretend,” you waved your arms around. “Pretend there’s a wall here.” 

“Don’t mind her,” Claire interjected. “She’s crabby because she hasn’t started editing her project yet.” 

You gasped, “Why would you just announce that, Claire? I didn’t wanna be reminded of that.” 

“[y/n], you’re gonna be fucked if you don’t get that shit done. It’s due next week.” Another friend told you. 

You groaned, “Yes. I know that. But I’ve been killing myself practicing for the show every night. And when I finally sat down to start editing, I didn’t know how to work the damn software!” 

“You don’t know how to work EasyEdit?”

“No,” you sighed. “I missed class that day. I tried to learn on YouTube, and that confused me even more. So, I have since then given up.”

“Hm,” John hummed. “You know who’s really good with EasyEdit?”

“Who?”

“Gube,” John answered. This prompted Matthew to lift his head up at astronomical speed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He taught me how to use it. He could help you, [y/n].”

“John...” Claire said. 

“What, Claire?” John replied. “[y/n] needs help and Gube can help. I’m just saying.” 

You cut your eyes over to Matthew, who was watching you, but he quickly turned away when you made eye contact. 

“You’re not clever,” Claire shook her head. “You’re nosey is what you are.” 

“Nosey?” You pipped, tapping Claire’s arm. “What do you mean nosey?” 

“I mean, if you and Gube just...” John said. “I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

“And stop arguing all the damn time,” someone added. “The shit’s annoying.”

Your jaw had been dropped since the word ‘fucked’ was uttered. You looked up at Claire who gave you a sympathetic smile. 

“I-“ You stuttered. “I...never say that again, John! Ever. Ew!”

“Ew?” Matthew exclaimed. “You’d be lucky if I tossed you a bone.”

Your jaw dropped even lower, stunned by Matthew’s words. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you muttered. “And this is who you want me to allow near my final project?” You directed at John. 

“Hey, if you don’t wanna fuck me, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Matthew taunted, biting his lip and tilting his head. 

“No. I don’t wanna fuck you! I also don’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. So I will learn EasyEdit by myself.” 

“Okay,” Matthew shrugged. “You’re not gonna figure that shit out in time, but fine, princess. Be stubborn.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance. 

“[y/n], let Gube help,” Claire said. “You’re gonna drive yourself insane with that and the show coming up, plus finals? Just this once.”

You looked over at Matthew, instantly getting angry again. Hate is a strong word. It’s a very, very strong word. And you’d never use it against anybody. Ever. Except Matthew Gubler. That may sound a bit dramatic, so to clear up any confusion, here’s a composite list of every asshole, dick, bastard, bitch-ass move he’s made in one semester:

1. Broke your editing equipment trying to do magic tricks in class.

2. Didn’t apologize.

3. Called your last documentary “uninspired, dry, a little like a lullaby.”

4. Took the last spot for an internship over Christmas break. 

5. Which he knew you wanted.

6. Refused to partner with you on a final project because “you can’t even get to class everyday.”

7. In front of everyone because he’s a jackass.

8. Told you that you were insane for majoring in film making AND ballet. 

9. Proceeded to tell you that you look better in a leotard than a suit.

10. Fucked your roommate.

11. While you were in the room.

12. Insisted that Wes Craven is a better horror director than Tim Burton? Is he dumb?

13. Calls you ballerina barbie, short stack, princess, anything other than your actual name. 

14. Won’t drop dead. 

And, because you’re not going to let anyone treat you that way, here’s a list of things you’ve done in retaliation: 

1. “Accidentally” stepped on his canvas. 

2. 3 times.

3. Uploaded a video of you calling him a dick in place of his documentary. 

4. Yes, he did play it for the class on accident.

5. Told him you didn’t want to be his partner anyway since he walks around stoned 24/7. 

6. Laughed. 

7. Told him he’d be a good ballerina. His tiny dick would fit perfectly in a leotard. 

8. Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project. 

9. Told him none of Edgar Allan Poe’s work was actually interesting enough for screen time. (He almost passed out, he got so mad.)

10. Told him his mismatch socks were dumb. 

11. Consistently call him asshole, dick, jackass, or just Matthew. All synonyms.

12. Refuse to let him mess with you. 

So, the idea of him helping you with your project, coming into your room, bothering you for hours on end, was a ridiculous thought. You should punch John for even mentioning it. Except. It wasn’t a bad idea. 

“Hey, pants stay on,” Matthew said, giving you a smirk. “Boy Scouts honor.” 

Everyone was looking at you. It made you queasy. Annoyed. Angry. And you couldn’t take it. So, you sighed heavily and cut your eyes towards Matthew. “Fine,” you grimaced. “Fine. Monday night. You will teach me how to use EasyEdit. And then we can all drop this.” 

“Ah, success,” John cheered. “I’m not worried, though. Look at [y/n], she’s so innocent. She looks like she belongs on top of a Christmas tree. She does ballet for crying out loud. I doubt fucking is on her to-do list.”

“And on that note,” you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.” 

Your room was just down the hall, and you showered, changed, brushed your teeth and got into bed in all of 30 minutes. Just about to fall asleep, you were disturbed by the sound of keys jingling in the door. Sloppy footsteps stumbled into the room, accompanied by silly giggles.

Thinking you were asleep, your roommate admired your sleeping frame, “Awwww,” she cooed. “Precious, precious, [y/n].” She walked over to you and rubbed your shoulder. 

“You’re crazy to not wanna fuck Matthew,” she whispered, chuckling. “You don’t know what you’re missing, kid.”

And you stayed still, silent, pretended to snore. All while Claire crawled into her bed. 

When Monday rolled around, you spent the entire day with a chip on your shoulder. Claire kissed the top of your head and insisted you’d be fine, that your project would be done by the end of the night and you’d be grateful for Matthew’s help. But she knew that was a  dead cause in her heart of hearts. You both knew it’d be a miracle if Matthew and you made it through 15 minutes of editing. 

When she left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into pajama pants, combined with a cozy cropped button sweater. You sat at your desk, and waited. You’d told Matthew to arrive at 7. 

He got there at 7:59.

By then, you were laying in bed, pissed and upset that you’d actually been convinced to give Matthew a chance. He knocked on the door, and you answered with an attitude. “Go home, Matthew.” 

“Don’t be like that, short stack,” he sighed, following you as you stomped into the room. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah? What’d you get caught up with? A gram?” You spit. 

He laughed, “Haha, so funny. No, I was not getting high. I was working on my own project. That I finished. Ahead of time. Can you relate, [y/n]?” 

“Get out of my room,” you scoffed. “I asked you for one thing. One. And you couldn't even do that. You knew how important this project was to me, and you didn’t give a fuck. I wasted time waiting for you that I could’ve been working or rehearsing! I—Are you listening?” 

Matthew’s eyes had been concentrated solely on your chest, “Are you wearing a bra?” He asked. 

You took a step back, stunned, blinking rapidly as you searched around the room. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just trying to find where the hell that came from?” 

“It came from that itty bitty shirt you’re wearing,” he replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.” 

“Stop staring at my tits!” You shouted, face turning red. “God, Matthew, I can’t stand to look at you right now. Just, leave. Please.” 

He did not stop staring at your tits. Not for a very long time. But when he did, he had this look in his eyes. Like a wire had snapped. And he kissed you. Cupped your face in his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. You pressed your hands against his chest, face contorting in shock and confusion. 

You pushed him away, lips retracting with a sharp smacking noise. Saliva dripped from your lips, and you stood there, huffing and puffing like the two of you had just run a mile. “What the hell was that?” You snapped, your fingertips lightly touching your bottom lip. 

He didn’t reply. He was just as speechless as you were. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so, so pretty. He was so pretty. Has he always been that pretty? 

You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Matthew’s hand gripped onto your hair, his body pushing itself against yours in an eager attempt to get as close to you as possible. His other hand made its way to your waist, gripping onto your skin so hard, his nails left marks. Both his hands began to snake down your body, landing on the back of your thighs. 

Very suddenly, Matthew scooped you up in his arms, yanking your feet off of the ground. You let out a breathy ‘oof’ as you found yourself perched in his grasp, your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supported your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth. 

He carried you over to your bed, where he abruptly dropped you onto the mattress, and looked down at you with a lustful grin. Standing beside the bed, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you — slowly, with his hands reaching out to touch your body — but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on your ribs and pushed your sweater up, over your breasts to reveal your chest. 

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.” 

Your breath caught in your throat, before you released it shakily. His lips wrapped around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you gripped onto his hair in ecstasy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He sucked harder, to the point of pain, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise. When one nipple began to pulse between his lips, he moved to the other, leaving a trail of love bites between them. 

The heat between your legs was suffocating, and you rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Matthew noticed this, and proceeded to stick his hands down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirked at how soaked you were already and rubbed your clit as he licked a trail up to your neck. You tightened your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets. 

The sound caused Matthew to take in a sharp breath of air. His cock was pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and was getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your nerve, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs. 

He nibbled on your ear, and as you gave him a quiet moan, your eyes flickered down to look between your bodies. Flushed, and horny, and suddenly so desperate, you grabbed onto Matthew’s large erection and pressed the tip against your clit. 

He grunted and pulled back to stare you in the eye, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He laughed, “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Innocent? Innocent, my ass.” 

As you rolled your eyes at him, he kissed your lips softly, hands holding onto your thighs. You positioned his cock at your entranced and allowed him to press into you. He stood up straight, watching his cock disappear inside you, slowly, steadily, before he suddenly slammed into you. The sound of skin colliding on skin mixed in with your and Matthew’s moans, and he watched your head roll back in pleasure. 

He licked his lips, smirking. And he did it again. And again. And again. Pulling out all the way and pushing back into you. Hard. The sensation struck your chest, and elicited vulnerable moans from you every time he pounded you. Matthew instantly began to speed his hips up, nails digging into your thighs as he pressed your legs open for him. His used all his strength to fuck you, your head knocking into the wall with every thrust. It was sloppy and messy and you couldn’t stop whimpering. Your eyes were screwed shut, and when you opened them again, the first thing you noticed with his chain. The gold medallion dangled in your face, Matthew’s lips pressed against your cheek. 

Absentmindedly, you tangled your fingers in the chain, tugging on it as your volume increased. “Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, fuck.” 

He brought his hand up to your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, quietly, softly. And you did it without thinking. His thumb slid into your mouth, twirling around your tongue and stifling your moans. 

He removed his hand and placed his thumb on your clit, wetting the skin with your own saliva. You let out a loud yelp at the new sensation, and a bubble instantly formed in your stomach. 

Oh, no, not Matthew, you thought. Don’t let it be Matthew. 

But with his cock and his hips and the way he kissed your neck and rubbed your sensitive nerve all at once. You came, you came with a fit of pornographic moans, trembling and writhing around on the bed. 

And it was Matthew — the first guy to make you come. Ever. 

He licked his lips as he watched you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he pulled out of you and released himself onto your chest, watching the fluid cover the hickies he’d left there. 

He looked angelic on top of you, moaning, panting, swearing under his breath. But the moment he finished, he stepped back, fastened his pants and walked away. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him in a daze. 

Matthew logged onto your computer, pressed a few buttons and then closed the laptop shut. Then he left. 

However, the next day he sent you an email. Your project. Fully and perfectly edited. 

Okay. So, that happened. They said it would happen and it happened. Didn’t necessarily make you hate Matthew any less, but it happened. It was good. You hated to admit it. And it was all you could think about. You couldn’t even touch yourself or hold your pillow without thinking of Matthew. It was bad. 

Especially, given the fact that after the whole situation, he decided not to talk to you. At all. Not in class, not while hanging out with friends, not even to pick a fight. Complete and utter radio silence. He looked at you enough though. Not while you were looking at him, of course. So, as far as you knew, you were far off of his mind. But life had to go on. You had to focus on school, and on top of that, you were due to perform in NYU’s production of Swan Lake in less than two weeks. 

You landed the main role of Odette, meaning for the next two weeks, you had to eat, sleep, breathe ballet. You practiced for hours on end, barely saw your friends, which gave you a good break from seeing Matthew. 

Opening night rolled around and you were so nervous, you thought you might puke. Only a freshman, it was a miracle you landed the role in the first place, which meant your performance tonight was a make or break moment. Claire could tell you were sick to your stomach and tried to distract you by taking a bunch of pictures on her phone.

“Smile, pretty girl!” She beamed, the flashing going off in your face as you posed. “[y/n], you’re gonna kill it! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah...” you whispered. “Deathly excited.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she swung her arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna be front  and center, cheering you on. Just focus on me, okay?” 

You smiled and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.” 

Your body was on autopilot out on stage. The movements you’d practiced everyday, for hours and hours on end, just flowed. The lighting in the audience was dark, but you could just barely make out Claire’s figure under the soft hue. 

It wasn’t until the finale, when you stood ready for your closing performance, that the lights switched to their full intensity and you noticed a hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. An arm resting behind her head. Someone whispering in her ear, making her laugh. 

Matthew.

He was here. He was here and he was with Claire. He was with Claire and he was watching you. And it made your stomach feel weird. But then the music kicked up. So, you had to go. You fell into your dance, your rhythm and for some reason, you could not stop staring at Matthew. 

Every twirl, you made him your focal point. Looking at him again, and again, and again. Until the lights went out. 

Supporting ballerinas cheered you on as you walked offstage, throwing flowers at your feet and giving you applause. Your instructor marched right up to you, kissed both sides of your face and embraced you. It was a wonderful feeling, but right then, you were drained, emotionally, mentally, physically, you needed some rest. 

You locked yourself away in your dressing room, taking a seat in the mirror and beginning to remove your tights. Pressing a makeup wipe to your skin, you jumped, startled by a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and walked to the entrance casually, expecting Claire to greet you. 


But you froze, as soon as you opened the door. Eyes glazing over the person in front you, your breath caught in your throat. “Matthew.” 

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked you up and down — your naked legs, your breasts poking through the thin material of the leotard. “You...you were amazing tonight.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You attempted to close the door on him, but his put his elbow against the frame, stopping it in motion. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is your problem?” He closed the door behind him.

“My problem is that I’m very tired, and still need to change, and greet everyone waiting for me. So, I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

You ducked your head down, “Nothing. Nothing. You need to leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey, ballerina barbie,” he mocked. “What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal! I have nothing to say to you Matthew. Same way you have nothing to say to me.” You scrunched up your face in a frown.

“I...” he paused, laughing under his breath. “I never said I didn’t have something to tell you. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” 

You looked up at him — the gel in his hair, his black button down shirt flowing over his belt buckle, his dark eyes, his lips and the way they were pouting just a little. And like a magnet, you found yourself being pulled towards him. You jumped into his arms, hands on his face, and connecting your lips, mouths open, tongues touching. 

Matthew held you up, moaning against your lips. “Mm,” you hummed. “Wait, what if someone comes in?” 

Matthew thought quickly, hiking you up in his arms and shoving your back against the door. “Well, now they can’t get in, can they?” He mumbled, leaving kisses along your neck.

Your jaw dropped and you started to undo his belt, freeing his cock from his pants. He grunted against your skin as you stroked him, your head leaned back against the door, your chest heaving. You used your other hand to pull your leotard to the side, revealing your throbbing core. 

Matthew smirked, letting you guide his dick to your entrance, and pushed his way into you swiftly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck to keep yourself quiet. His thrusts were quick, rough, messy. He was much more vocal this time, making no effort to stay silent.

“Fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “F-fuck, I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.”

The feeling was mutual. For the past month, you’d be wondering what the hell about Matthew had you so stuck. So fixated on him. And this was it. He filled you up perfectly, could manhandle you however he wanted, and always, always made sure you came. 

He fucked you harder when he noticed your orgasm nearing — your quickened breaths, frequent moans and whines, and your legs tightening against his torso. “Oh, my God,” you whimpered. 

“Shit, are you gonna come?” He asked. “Good.”

Breathless, speechless, you stared into his eyes helplessly as your body began to crumble. All power left your body and you held onto his shirt for dear life. He gave you a small smile, and flipped his hair out of his face, looking down at his cock. He could pinpoint the exact stroke that did it. The one that sent you into a state of euphoria, sent your eyes rolling back, your body into intense shock. 

You let out a long and weakened sigh as the wave washed over you, and Matthew continued to plow into you like nothing was happening. 

“It’s so cool how your pussy tightens up when you come,” he chuckled. “It’s hot.” 

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, clawing at the back of his neck. His breathing became ragged and hoarse, and he had to pull out of you before he came. He jerked himself off until he exploded onto your clothing. And with you being dressed in all black, his stains stood out perfectly on your costume. 

This time, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before he left.

The week after that was finals week. And neither of you could be bothered to reach out. Despite the not-so-subtle confession of bitterness and the very intense orgasms you shared, you and Matthew simply went back to not talking. Your friends thought it was strange, even commented that they missed the bickering. The two of you shrugged in response. 

Most of your dorm room was in boxes by the time you finished your last final exam. Claire was slower to pack up than you were, considering she only lived an hour away, but she applauded you for your determination. The day Claire did start packing was the day before you left for the summer. The two of you spent the day getting everything cleared out, cleaned, squared away.

While the two of you sat on your bed, watching Netflix, a knock sounded from your door. Claire hopped up and headed towards the entrance, opening it with a grand smile. “Gube!” She shouted, instantly opening her arms for a hug. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her into the room with a smile.

 “Are you about to leave?” She asked him, holding onto his arms as he placed her feet back on the ground. 

“Yeah, my mom’s here. So, I wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” he nodded. 

“Aw, Gube, you softie,” she giggled. “[y/n], come say bye.”

“I can say bye from right here, Claire,” you replied. She gave you a look, and you felt compelled to get off the bed. So you did, you approached them, “Bye, Matthew.” 

“Bye, shortcake,” he laughed. “Bye, Claire.” He pulled your roommate into another hug, while you stood there, crossing your arms in annoyance. 

Matthew peeked at you over Claire’s shoulder. One hand rubbed her back and the other reached out to you, holding a small note.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, then the note, then Claire. You ripped the paper from his hand, and stuffed it into your pocket right away. He smirked at you, and turned his attention back to Claire. 

“Hey,” he said to her. “Come back to my place, I want everyone there to show my mom I actually have friends.” 

Claire chuckled and nodded, “Okay,” she shrugged. “Let’s go. [y/n], you coming?”

“Uh, no,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna keep packing, but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Claire smiled, and she let Matthew whisk her away. 

You sighed, and as soon as the door closed, you pulled the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. You opened it up to reveal — not a meaningful message, not even a few words. Just one string of numbers, writing in his handwriting:

505. 

[PART 2.]

[qqueenofhades]

17 for helnik?? <3

fleurdufeu asked: 63 for helnik?

Anonymous asked: Uhm so if you still accept prompt requests (damn these time differences, my sorry european ass didnt see the prompt post till now), could you do #43 for helnik pls: “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” 💙

17. “I can’t sleep, can I stay here?”

43. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

63. “I am home.”

The distant whine of Spitfires and Lancaster bombers in the sky, heading across the Channel as they do every night to tangle with the Luftwaffe, has become akin to a soothing lullaby. How else would they sleep, Nina thinks, except to this strange howl that is almost comforting, the promise that they have a better-than-even chance of not dying in their beds tonight. Not when it's October 1943, and the world has been coming apart at the seams for almost four years.

That is not to say that she isn't unbelievably lucky to be here. She is. She knows full well the horror that is unfolding back home in Leningrad right now, at least when news manages to make it out from behind the siege lines. She is stationed in London as a member of Soviet intelligence, and since the British and the Russians are, of course, allies, she has been welcomed in particularly by the deputy head of MI6's Section Five, Harold Russell "Kim" Philby. Nina is responsible for running a covert network of informants across Europe, trying to keep Westminster apprised on how the Soviets are holding out on the Eastern Front, and other such responsibilities. It's good for a tiny apartment in the Blitz-battered East End, a more-or-less guarantee that she will get to eat once a day, and an utterly obnoxious tall blond Norwegian roommate. Matthias Helvar.

Matthias is, of course, also a spy, and the two of them didn't break protocol and tell each other their real names until after they had already been stationed here for almost eighteen months. His country is presently occupied by the Nazis and run by a man whose name will become synonymous with "craven collaborationist": Vidkun Quisling. Matthias himself runs a ring of Scandinavian informants and tries to recruit sympathizers inside Norway to join the anti-Nazi resistance. Since it would be improper and attention-grabbing for a young couple, especially a young foreign couple, to live here together otherwise, he and Nina are posing as husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Trassel.

The furniture on the table rocks as a particularly heavy Lancaster rumbles overhead. Nina twiddles the dial on the radio and tries to concentrate on copying down the transmission on her one-time pad. It will make its way via a byzantine network of sympathizers to the Soviet high command in Moscow -- some things that the British know Nina knows, and some things they don't. That is how this works.

Another boom out there in the darkness. She grimaces, struggling to still her shaking hand, lights a candle since the power is at best unreliable, and finishes her work. Then she gets up, hides everything away, and goes upstairs. Climbs onto her narrow bed, pulls up the scanty covers, and tries to sleep. She can't.

After almost two hours of tossing and turning, Nina gives up. Climbs out of bed, crosses the creaky hallway, and knocks. Quietly, though she doesn't think he's asleep either, she whispers, "Can I come in?"

A pause. Then. "Yes. Of course."

Nina bites her lip and enters Matthias's equally small garret of a room. He's sitting up on his bed, trying to read a cheap paperback book, but he puts it aside at the sight of her. "Is everything all right?"

"I can't sleep," Nina says. "Can I stay here?"

Matthias blinks owlishly. No matter how good they have gotten at playing an ordinary married couple to their neighbors' eyes, they've been careful -- perhaps a little too careful -- at maintaining private boundaries. Not that anyone would be surprised if they didn't. They're young and otherwise unattached, it's war and everyone is clinging onto whoever they can find, and it's not like Nina isn't interested. Truly, Matthias has no idea (or maybe he does, and is pretending otherwise) how much she wants him right now. Just to hold her, if nothing else. To keep her close in the dark, and tell her that this will end.

He moves aside, and she squirms into his bed. He's large enough that there's not really room in it for him, much less her, but he gallantly does not protest when she edges onto his lap. He wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on her hair, and Nina lets loose a shuddering sigh, tracing her fingers on his broad chest. His breath catches, and he gulps. She looks up, and their eyes meet.

Slowly, ever so slowly, as if he is holding something fragile and perfect and lovely in his hands, as if he can't believe it's there and has to take care not to frighten it, Matthias says, "Nina...?"

"Shh," she whispers. "Shh. Just kiss me."

For once, for bloody once, he does as told without arguing. He bends his head, as she fists her hands in his rough blond hair and pulls his mouth to hers. They kiss and kiss in almost-silence, in their lonely attic kingdom in the middle of a broken world and shivering city, on a long dark night that seems, in more ways than one, as if it will never end. And yet, be all that as it may, much as her heart still lies in Russia and always will, Nina Zenik is not unhappy.

Don't you want to go home? he asked her, the other day. She knew the answer, but did not say it. Yet now, she does, and it is not London that she means. Not a place, but a person.

I am home.

[blackmissfrizzle]

A La Nanita Nana

Pairing: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Based off this imagine

Warnings: Sweet, soft fluff and smut

A/N: Also listen to the song also inspired by this.

You had your friend, Ashley meet you at the clubhouse since you were already there dropping off lunch for the fellas. Last night she left her wallet in your car and she was coming to get it back.

Hearing her car pull up, you ran outside to see if she brought your favorite person with her. Ashley just took Luna out of her car seat when you made it outside.

“Ahhh, give me my godbaby!” You ran towards her with open arms with Angel following behind you.

Ashley scoffed as she handed you the baby. “Oh, hey nice to see you too,” she said sarcastically.

Waving her off you cooed at Luna. “Heifer, I just saw you last night and listened to you extensively go into detail how well Darren ate it from the back.”

Crossing her arms, Ashley pointed at Angel. “And I listened to you explain how Angel fucks you so good that he could do whatever he wants to you and you’ll say thank you.”

“EARMUFFS!” You covered Luna’s ears even though she was only a couple of months old and didn’t understand a word coming out of y’alls mouth.

Angel sneaked behind you and snaked his hands around your hips. “Aw, that’s what you think of me sweetheart?” He teased as he places a kiss on your cheek. He was backing away when Luna caught ahold of his beard and started giggling.

“Looks like someone has a crush on you, babe. Do you want to hold her?” You spun around towards him to give Luna to him.

Automatically, Angel was resistant to the idea. Luna look so fragile that if he even touched her the wrong way, he thought she would break. “Nah, I’m good. Don’t wanna hurt little mama.”

“Nonsense, Angel.” You began untangling her from your arms and put Luna in Angel’s. He looked to Ashley for approval and she nodded yes.

His nervousness was coming out in waves, but he looked like a natural with a baby in his arms. Recently, you’ve been thinking about having kids with Angel and now this visual was only fueling your dreams.

Angel was getting into the groove of things with holding little Luna, but she randomly started crying and Angel was freaking out. “I promise I didn’t do anything,” Angel swore to Ashley, thinking he did something wrong. Ashely assured him it was nothing he did, that babies cry for no reason all the time.

You took Luna from Angel and started rocking and singing her to sleep.

A la nanita nana

nanita ella, nanita ella

Mi niñ(a) tiene sueño

bendito sea, bendito sea

Angel’s eyes shot up to you as he heard your voice. He was surprised for multiple reasons. 1) he didn’t know you could sing, 2) he didn’t know you could speak Spanish, and 3) he hasn’t heard that song since EZ was a kid.

Fuentecita que corre

Clara y sonora

Ruiseñor que en la selva

Cantando y llora

Calla mientras la cuna

Se balancea

A la nanita nana

Nanita ella

EZ was walking by when he heard your voice and he stopped his tracks. Just like Angel he was stunned. “Is she, is she singing-”

“The lullaby mom used to sing for us?” Angel completed the sentence for his brother. “Yeah.” He sniffled, the tears slowly trying to escape.

As you calmed Luna down, Angel came to a realization. He was ready to have a family with you. Already he could see it: him coming home from the scrap yard, you cooking dinner pregnant with his son, and his daughter on the floor playing. His perfect little family.

EZ saw how Angel looked at you adoringly. For awhile he knew that you were the one for Angel and it looked like Angel was coming to that conclusion as well. “Guess I should get ready to be a tio.”

Angel wiped a tear away and gripped EZ’s shoulder. “Yeah, little bro get ready.”

--

You just stepped out of the shower when Angel reached out to you and pulled you to the bed down with him.

“Querida, there’s been something on my mind.” Angel mumbled into your ear.

You looked up at him, palming his cheek taking in his serious tone. “What is it, Angel?”

“Seeing you with Luna today made me realize I want a baby with you. Will you give me a baby?” Angel asked nervously rubbing his hands up and down your hips.

Undoing your towel, you rolled on top of Angel. “I’ll give you all the babies you want.”  You reached behind and began stroking Angel’s already hardened length.

“Fuck! Be careful with saying shit like that to me, amor. I’ll keep you knocked up.” Angel sat up to kiss you, his hands wrapping in your hair.

Angel rolled you back, so he could be on top once again. Easily, he slid into you, no buildup needed. He stretched you out perfectly, pleasure mixed with a little bit of pain. His strokes soft and sensual, making you needy for more.

Your hands went to his ass to make him go deeper. “Angel, harder please,” your voice trembled.

“I’m trying to be romantic here,” he chuckled when you slapped his ass.

“Fuck romantic. Use me and fill me up like the little cum slut I am.” Usually, Angel was the dirty talker in the bedroom, but you had to give him some motivation to use you like you want.

Angel’s hips stuttered and his eyes darkened. He was always trying to break you out of your reluctancy to talk dirty with him. “Your wish is my command, querida.” His strokes became harder, but he kept up the sensuality. He leaned down, his lips hovering over yours telling you all the dirty things he’s gonna do to you throughout the night.

Soon, you started playing dirty. Your lips sucking all on Angel’s hot spots, you throwing back your own dirty words at him, and squeezing him tightly.

“Shit, Y/N! You want me to fill that tight little hole up already?”

“Yes, Angel, please!”

“Fucking cum slut. I’m fucking you like this all night long. Might as well get ready to call in at work tomorrow.”

A few more deep strokes and extra pressure from Angel’s rough fingers led to the most mind-blowing orgasm. Your legs literally shaked as Angel kept fucking you through your orgasmic high until he went into his.

As you caught your breath, Angel reached out to hold your hand, his other pushing back your hair clinging to your sweaty forehead. “I’m definitely fucking you some more tonight, but that’s the one. I just got you pregnant.” And it may seem silly, but you agreed with him as well.

*9 MONTHS LATER*

Angel’s voice and small little cries woke you up out of your sleep. “Aw shit, I’m not as good as this as your moms. Who the fuck am I kidding? I’m horrible at this, but we can’t have your mom waking up. It took a lot of her energy to bring you here today. So, please don’t cry when you hear this, preciosa.”

A la nanita nana

nanita ella, nanita ella

Mi niñ(a) tiene sueño

bendito sea, bendito sea

Angel’s voice was rough and a little bit offkey, but you smiled anyways. He was so nervous that he was going to be a horrible father, but you knew he had nothing to worry about.

You grabbed your phone to get a video and snap a couple of pictures. The sight of Angel holding your and his little girl with the moonlight illuminating them was breathtaking and needed to be captured. It would be a reminder for Angel if he ever doubted his parenting skills.

You thought you were gonna get away with capturing the moment until your phone clattered against the counter. “Mi dulce, you’re supposed to be asleep. Did I wake you?” He whispered, careful not to arouse little Marisol, but still very much concerned for you.

“Yes, but I’m glad you did or otherwise I would’ve missed your singing.” You reached out for him to take his seat back next to you.

Angel obliged but sat on the bed with you. “I’m sorry.” He kissed your forehead and put Marisol in your arms.

“Don’t be. I loved every second of it.” You kissed him back.

Marisol began getting a little antsy again and started crying once more. “Can I sing it with you this time?” You looked up to Angel while rocking your baby girl.

“Of course.” Angel agreed, loving to hear you sing any chance he could get.

A la nanita nana

nanita ella, nanita ella

Mi niñ(a) tiene sueño

bendito sea, bendito sea

Fuentecita que corre

Clara y sonora

Ruiseñor que en la selva

Cantando y llora

Calla mientras la cuna

Se balancea

A la nanita nana

Nanita ella

The rough timber of Angel’s voice combined with your velvety smooth voice got Marisol to calm down and back to sleep in no time. And just like that the two of you vowed to keep this little nightly tradition up as much as you could.

Tags: @marvelmaree​ @starrynite7114​ @thickemadame​ @angrythingstarlight​ @briannab1234​ @sadeyesgf​ @carlaangel86​ @backoff-imreadingdarkness​ @sparklemichele​ @titty-teetee​ @chaneajoyyy​

[guudak]

andante, andante

pairing: jungkook / oc genre + tags: college au, f2l, alcohol, pining word count: 7,522 The aftermath of your best friend singing that ABBA song, clumsily flirting with you and then drunkenly professing his love to you multiple times in the same night.

“Is he ok? Namjoon, what’s he doing?” 

“He’s severely hungover,” he explains to you, propping an arm on the windowsill. His hand gestures. “This is his remedy.” 

You look out the window again, overseeing the frat’s backyard, and down below at the deck - is the person you sought. The gales shake the trees, you can hear it howl, and not to mention the downpour of rain that had you soaked to the skin through your jeans between your sprint from the bus stop to here. You look back at Namjoon, disbelieved. “What, sitting in a hot tub outside in the middle of a hale storm?”

“Erm, well, not the storm bit. That was just unfortunate. Sitting meditatively in a hot tub though, yeah. He does that a lot, moreso when he has something on his mind.” He peeps a discreet eye at you while you claim a seat on the ledge. Your arms cross, huddling your oversized cardigan over yourself as you glance back at the mop of matted black hair on the deck. Jungkook is sitting very still, laying back, eyes closed and his neck craning upwards towards the gloomy sky. A breath of air expels from your nose when you imagine how cold the rain must be. 

“I really wanted to talk to him in person … I don’t know, do you think I should have waited a few days?” You turn to Namjoon who shakes his head. 

“It’s good you came here. I think it would have left him to assume the worst and overthink otherwise, and you know what he’s like - better to confront him sooner than later. He’s been in a kind of sad, mopey daze since this morning.”

Your lips purse together as you mull this over. “I don’t necessarily want to confront him about it now, not if he doesn’t want to yet. I just want to see him and … make sure he’s ok. Because you know, that … overthinking thing he does.”

The upward lift of Namjoon’s lips is soft, the same kind of softness that’s perceptible in his eyes. The look reminds you of Jungkook’s own gentle demeanour. “I think seeing you here will disorient him a litte, but I think deep down he’ll be relieved. ” 

He invites you to sit in the warmth of the lounge downstairs while you wait. The house of Beta Tau Sigma is cosy, and your favourite visits are always during the winter period when they’d decorate the interior, reminding you very much of the setting of a classic Christmas movie. Alas, however, it isn’t winter, and there are still strewn cups around and a broken lamp on the table in front of you; consequence of the party they hosted the previous night.

You’re surprised Jungkook remembers. He’d been so far-gone yesterday, yet you woke up this morning to four successive texts from him -

i’m sorry

im so so sorry.

can we talk

please

You’d thought over a tactful reply; taking into mind Jungkook: despite the calm, rational front he has - is emotional, an individual with a soul as sensitive as they come. You had to be careful with what you said, but soon after aborted all efforts when you’d found yourself backspacing each time. You prefer face-to-face conversation, and for something like this - you couldn’t possibly venture any other approach that would be befitting. For anyone else, perhaps. But Jungkook isn’t just someone else. He’s your best friend.

You check the text in reply that you’d left for him from two hours ago, which is still left unread.

 hi jungkook i’d love to talk

are u ok

Sleeping it over had dulled the shock from the night before, as hearing it from him had been a double whammy for both your head and heart. You hadn’t known what to think, hadn’t known what to say.

In his tastefully tipsy state he’d been very happy. The chirpy go-lucky sort of happy that made you coo. Tipsy Jungkook is sweet and endearing, more affectionate and made it his mission to pull you with him to the karaoke machine. You’d been friends with him long enough to know that he could sing. He’s a soft singer; has a voice that could be lullaby to late sleepy evenings, it’s one you’d heard snippets of because he did it without conscious thought; he hummed in the car, while waiting in line - one of his many mannerisms that makes clear when he’s in his head.

“ABBA? Good choice,” you’d commented, after he jabbed the numbers on the remote. He budged over so you could sit beside him on the armchair. So cramped and close that you moved to drape your leg over one of his, and he welcomed it. “Not their most popular song, but definitely one of their most soulful. That’s a good one, it’s one of my favourites,” and then he stilled. 

At the cease of his movements, you’d found your spine straightening just slightly, as if on guard, but for what you hadn’t been sure. You were about to ask him if he was ok, only to be taking the brunt of his bright puppy eyes that smile at you.

“Me too,” he’d said, with that characteristic gentleness shining in his orbs. 

A few hours later, he’d morphed from sweet boy-next-door with the angel voice to himbo football jock slash and quote “pussy-whisperer,” courtesy and words verbatim of Park Jimin, who vibed with Jock Jungkook like a long lost brother. 

The amount of girls that suddenly flocked to him and sat on his lap had you reeling in hysterics to the extent that you had to bury your face in Hoseok’s shoulder. Even when Jungkook’s on the football team, you’d never thought of him once as a jock. Didn’t they say all jocks are athletes, but not all athletes are jocks? He’d never lived up to the greasy college stereotype. Turned out maybe some alcohol was missing in the mix. Was this what you were missing? Who knew he had it in him?

“How many have you had, man?” Hoseok had asked, and Jungkook grinned, mouth lop-sided, before then thwacking him solidly on the back. 

“I’m good, thanks for asking, man.” 

“That wasn’t what I - ok,” Hoseok winced, clutching at his shoulder blade, and exchanging a bemused look at you. 

You were alert to the sliding gaze of Jungkook on you. He slid into the chair close beside you, and you propped your elbow onto the counter. Head resting in your palm, you’d anticipated it.

“Hey, cutie.”

And there it was.

Your mouth twitched during your attempt to stifle your laugh, but you were eager to play along. You straightened, not shy to look him direct in the eyes, even when his own wandered to your midriff. “Hey.”

A moment’s pause, before he let out a wistful sigh. 

“Holy shit, I love your boobs.”

Hoseok spat into his cup, a succession of coughs after.

“No, I’m just saying, from a non-biased, impersonal point of view …” He made a vague, rounded motion in the air with his hands, “- they’re really nice. I’m saying this objectively.”

“Objectively,” Hoseok wheezed. You aimed a calculated kick at his ankle.

“Thanks! They’re not much but they’re cute, I grew them all by myself.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, a critical eye on you and his head bobbing solemnly. “You did a good job.”

“Oh my God,” Hoseok was crying; head ducked, full-blown tears of laughter, ears pink and slapping the countertop. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Yours are pretty neat, too,” you told him. 

He looked down at the outline of his chest. “You think so? I’ve been working out but they could do with a bit more volume.” 

Hoseok was doubling over, desperate to leave but at the same time rooted to the spot, thumping his chest to stop himself from choking. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna die if I stay any longer. See you, guys.”

He left, leaving you alone with Jungkook and a few others in the kitchen. “You alright?” you asked, and he nodded again, smiling tiredly and head lolling a little to the side.

“Did you like the song I sang for you earlier?” 

“You sang it for me? How sweet of you,” you cooed, cuddling up to his side. “You know, if you wanted to touch my boobs, if you asked I think I’d be ok with that.”

He seemed hesitant. “You’re bullshitting.” 

“Ok, maybe I am a little,” you chuckled, feeling the rumble resonating from his chest. 

“Seriously,” he murmured, and for a millisecond, you swore you detected the tone of the Jungkook - not this Jungkook who was a confident force, but the one you were most familiar with, “I think I’d -”

Jimin’s voice boomed above the stereo, “Jungkook! It’s your turn! Get your ass back here!”

A heavy sigh was drawn out from him as he slid his chair back. Though, he waited for you to lift your head from his chest before doing so. 

“See you.” He winked at you before following Jimin’s ongoing calls. Though, more of a wink and a half. He never could wink properly with just one eye, both had to be involved.

Then came the finale.

The most recent drunken Jungkook phase - one you’d never witnessed beforehand. If there was anything you could have concluded, it was that beyond his sober level-headed exterior, he must have a lot of pent up anger. Jungkook in drunken phase three transitioned between a three colour spectrum of moods and you’d barely caught up. 

Exhibit one -

“The ocean is so important!” he cried, literally cried as he began bumbling about blue whales and the sheer plastic in the ocean, morosed how the first piece of plastic ever produced still hadn’t decomposed. 

It was no help that Namjoon enthusiastically joined in - the fucking nerds, until Jungkook started bawling and knocked back the salt shaker on the countertop mistaking it for a shot of tequila. 

You’d panicked and dragged him to the nearest bathroom to wash it out of his eyes. The seconds that followed afterwards, was you rubbing his back while he sobbed and puked the hearty contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Exhibit two - 

“If any dude is giving you a hard time, chances are - you’re hotter than them. And on top of that, they made you cry, making you a better person than them!” he proclaimed. Once you’d helped him clean up, he’d bumped into Ola - a girl you recalled was in his media class, and was crying outside of the door of the bathroom you and Jungkook had been in. 

She’d sniffled her way through a story about a boy she’d been talking to for six months, and Jungkook was as revved up as his ocean speech while he pep-talked her about how heartless the guy was; that he gave good guys a bad rep; and that she simply deserved better. Of course, you’d agreed with him. It sounded all too familiar to something you’d said in the past, though who could blame him for adopting your mannerism of speech when he’d spent so much time with you?

Exhibit three -

“Hey, Chad! Why the fuck do you hate poor people?!”

You were mortified. “Jungkook! Literally, where did you get that conclusion from?!” 

“He plays lacrosse and owns a golf cart!”

You groaned, yanking at his arm away from Chad - captain of the boys’ lacrosse team, and who’d also fortunately passed out on the couch, otherwise Jungkook for sure would have had his face beat in. Though, you’d like to think that Jungkook would win, for sure, but you promised sober Jungkook that you’d take care of drunk Jungkook. 

So that was that. 

By now you’d contracted a stress-induced migraine, by which your own best friend was accountable for. And you thought - by God, did he have to deal with this every time you went to a party together while you’d run rampant? This had been an eye-opener, and you should definitely be considerate next time because drunk people were babies, and not in the cute way either.

And finally: exhibit four.

“Hey.” 

You endured all the pet names, had endured being called the Apple of his Eye, Angel Face, and his Compass Star, because flirty Jungkook had been throwing pet names around all night. You’d seen and heard it yourself. But nothing would have prepared you for what he’d say next. 

You glanced at him, just a second to look away from your phone screen. “Yeah?” 

His eyes drooped, form slouched, and head atop his folded arms on the countertop. It was just after midnight, and the kitchen was a quiet lull, besides you and Jungkook who were sitting together; and then there was Jimin and Taehyung, and Seokjin by the sink in their own private conversation … and whatever it was that Taehyung was doing. Admittedly you hadn’t been paying much heed nor did you endeavour to find out.

Body curling into himself; Jungkook looked so much smaller than when he stood to his full stature. 

“I’ve got it bad,” he mumbled, wistfully, “real bad. So bad - I’m doomed bad. End of the fucking world baaad.”

Your hands rubbed at his nape, tender fingers toying with the longer hairs there. He’d been growing it out, and he looked good. You tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “What makes you think that?” 

Again - the glossy puppy eyes that gazed up, contemplating you like you’d fallen from heaven. 

His smile was meek, as shy as the drawling voice that spoke, “I … I really think you’re my soulmate. I don’t like saying it too much but I … like, love love you, but we’re only best friends. Someday you’ll date for real - instead of flings, I’d have to accept it. I don’t think I’ll be ok, but I will be, jus’ will take time to get over you. Have done it a few times before. I’ll be ok.” 

Your hand stilled, fingers still tangled in his locks. 

Rendered motionless, like air had been punched out of you from the stomach, unable to bring yourself to salvage the words. Breathless, all you could bring yourself to do was to weakly call his name. 

He hadn’t heard you, and he yawned, leaning into your touch. His body trembled with his giggles. “One time, you were sooo drunk. You were so drunk, don’t think you remembered - blacked out. You flirted with me that whole evening. After that … after that I became obsessed with you forever.”

It was with a sinking stomach when you’d realised that you couldn’t recall that night at all. 

Gulping, you peered down at the mop of tangled hair on the countertop, wishing for nothing else but to properly see his face, but it was half-hidden where he’d snuggled into his arms. 

“Jungkook?” you whispered, gently moving away the hair that flopped over his eyes. “Jungkook?’

No reply. Just steady, heavy breathing.

No reply, because he’d fallen asleep.

It’s a splitting headache that rouses Jungkook from heavy sleep. One of those slumbers where he wakes up groggy, as if he hasn’t rested at all despite it being hours since. He tries to get up, but to no avail. His limbs are leaden heavy, and he collapses back onto his bed within seconds of mustering the strength to hoist himself up.

There are a series of knocks on the door but what’s the point of knocking when Jimin barges in anyway. He snickers seeing Jungkook: a sad, spectacular heap on the bed with a bitching hangover to boot.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” 

“Shut up,” Jungkook drawls, barely recognising the cadence of his own voice. He throws an arm over his face, brow tightening as he shuts his eyes to recall anything that happened hours prior, but even that’s too much of a Herculean effort that his brain isn’t willing to commit to at nine in the morning. Hangovers are not worth the night before for this - this is a different kind of hell. 

Jimin places a glass and a jug of water on his bedside table. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.” 

“Thanks,” he replies. He at least has enough strength to reach for the glass. When he sits up a hand goes instantly to knock against his temple, as if it would stop whatever invisible vice it is that’s squeezing and hammering at his brain from all directions. He notices Jimin’s narrowing scrutiny on him. 

“You remember anything from yesterday?”

“Honestly, not really. Just some bits here and there.” 

“Blacked out, huh.” If Jimin hesitated it’s only for a split second, he stuffs a hand into his hoodie pocket for his phone. “There’s something I wanna show you. Not sure if you’re gonna like it much.”

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, but Jimin proffers a look, and Jungkook frowns. “... Right?”

Jimin licks his teeth in a way that makes Jungkook’s stomach drop just slightly.

“Famous last words, bud,” is all he replies.

 /

The slide of the back doors from the kitchen is what jerks your head up, followed by the sound of feet pattering on tiles. Suddenly, there’s a rise of anxiousness. Until you drum into your head that, no , this is nothing for you to be anxious about. There are the natural nerves budding that stem from confrontation, and you think this may be it.

Towel around his shoulders and dampened hair swept back, Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first when he appears by the doorway. He walks, gazes ahead like his legs are functioning on autopilot - but when he does notice you, he could have skidded. The way he halts and how his body almost springs backwards into the kitchen as soon as he sees your form huddled on one end of the couch, and how Basil - the frat’s cat, is curled by your lap, peacefully asleep and indulging in the soft stroke of your knuckles on his head. 

His expression mirrors a man who wants so desperately to sink into the floorboards. Or to dash back into the hale storm and fully immerse himself head to toe into the hot tub’s waters and never surface again.

The first few seconds of silence is heavy. As if you’re both still trying to process the presence of the other. It’s an uncomfortable silence you’re not accustomed to when with Jungkook. He’s always leaned more to the quiet side of the spectrum; introverted, introspective. But silences had always been comfortable, even when you two clashed. 

You endeavour for eye contact but he’s suddenly so transfixed on a shadow upon the wood flooring. 

“Hey,” you begin, quietly, like the walls are listening in on you. It’s enough gentle encouragement for him to peer up. He hides his hangover well but the mirth, the glint; the starry eyedness that reflected in his orbs from the night before is absent, and no amount of hot tub therapy could conceal the physical and mental exhaustion. 

“Hey.” He sounds almost breathless, smothers the tremor in his voice with a cough. “You’re … you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” Your tone is apologetic, “Sorry I came on short notice, I messaged you but I don’t think you saw it.”

He winces. “Right - sorry. My phone died. Haven’t checked it since.”

You muster a small smile. “I thought as much.” 

Another breath. Another nervous lilt in his voice. “I’m sorry. Not just the phone thing but everything I said to you last night.” 

You sigh. “Don’t be. It’s just … I’m surprised you remember what you said.”

He takes a breath, bicep flexing when he rubs anxiously at his nape. “I don’t,” he admits. “Jimin told me. It’s in this video he took last night of Taehyung eating cake off the floor, you could hear my voice in the background.” 

“Ah. That explains it.” Your lips pursed. “Did you mean what you said?”

His eyes round and flash to yours. He chews his lip, throws a glance at his feet. “... Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Not just the alcohol talking?”

“No.”

You’re quiet, continuing to stroke Basil who’s still fast asleep beside you.

“Sor—“

“Stop apologising,” you snap. You didn’t mean to, but his shoulders tense, and it makes you wallow in guilt that only he out of everyone has been able to make you feel. You haven’t thought this through and now you’re here you’re saying all the wrong things and asking all the wrong questions. But you remember it’s him, and recollect yourself. “Jungkook - it’s just … it’s just a lot to unpack.” 

You peer up, his nod is slow, but he gets it.

He’s tired, you see it clear as day. See it in the trudge of his walk, the dim in his eyes, and neither of you talk on the way up. Not until you reach his room. 

Despite your protests, he insists you help yourself to his draws for a spare change of dry clothes. It’s with that thought when you realise you still have yet to return several shirts to him with the promise of them all being washed and folded; washed and folded they are, but you never have been great at remembering to give them back. Putting it into perspective - maybe it is a little weird. Weird for two people who fall under the label of best friends. But then again you borrowed clothes from your own roommates all the time to the point you sometimes forgot whose is whose. It isn’t weird. Right? 

While Jungkook goes for a brisk shower, you peel off your soaked clothes, hang them over a spot on his clothes rack. His room is mostly devoid of personal touch, though there are a few photos of his high school football days and some of him and his friends pinned to a board. Otherwise, he’s never had much interest for interior decoration, but he likes his room clean and uncluttered. 

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Are you …?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m done.”

The door cracks open, and Jungkook appears, adorned in another change of clothes. His hair is still damp, fluffed at the patches that have managed to dry and his cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, but he’s less rugged than earlier. Still tired, though. So tired that you don’t question it when he makes a beeline for his unmade bed and collapses face-first into his pillow. You perch on the edge, pulling his duvet over him. 

He wriggles closer to the wall, like he’s making more room for you to sit. You appreciate the gesture and shuffle closer. Outside, the wind still howls.

“You should dry your hair properly,” you murmur, fingers at the damp ends of his nape. 

“Yeah … prob’ly should,” he sighs, muffled where his mouth is buried in his pillow.

You came here to talk about yesterday night, but maybe it’s a conversation for another time. You out of everyone should know how strenuous it is to have a heart-to-heart while being victim to a hangover that gives you the same capacity as someone half-dead. 

You’re staring blankly at the wall, so occupied with the whistle of the winds, so lost in the strands between your fingertips - that when you peer down you’re met with half-open shining eyes, and a lazy blinking gaze directed upwards at your face.

“Yes?” 

“Nothing,” he murmurs, like clockwork, and buries half his face again into the plush of his pillow. It’s enough time for you to catch the shy tilt of his lips before they hid again. It’s almost ironic, how you’re the one next to him while he nurses a hangover when it’s always been the other way round. Here, he’s so vulnerable. Your mind wanders to the possibility - what if it was the other way around? An alternate universe where it was you who serenaded Jungkook with karaoke and confessed. 

In whatever reality, you imagine him to confront you in the way you did now. Perhaps approached it a little differently, would perhaps be a little gentler, but he would never give you the cold shoulder.

For now, you both pretend there’s been no drunken confession. Best friends, like how it’s always been, and you’ll discuss it all when the time comes.

At some point you’re lowering yourself next to him; your head on the same pillow, and your bodies beneath the same blanket. He’s warm. 

And it’s peaceful, as comfortable as it always has been. 

/ 

“Oh my God, where the hell’s your shirt? I haven’t seen you swim once so far,” you scoff, and Hoseok pulls a sour face.

“You’re talking big for being the one in the string bikini.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Yeah, but I actually used the pool?”

“Scooch over, babe.”

Your eyes roll skyward as he plops beside you on the loveseat. It’s another weekend, another frat, another party, another excuse for Hoseok to walk around without a shirt because there’s a pool. Correction: a further excuse for hoards of frat boys to walk around without a shirt, but at this point you’re desensitised to it.

The music booms, a dull vibration you feel through the ground. 

Kappa Omega is infamous for their extravagant parties (at least, as extravagant as college parties can go). Compared to others it’s vastly over-the-top, with most of the guys getting in through connections just like how their college applications got past admissions, but it is what it is. They’re not all bad people, they hold parties for fundraisers but sometimes it can’t be helped not to feel sour when you see what they blow their money on. The Kappa Omega mansion is so big that you’d spent a good portion of the beginning of the night lost.

“Lucky bastards,” Hoseok mutters. He’s said that several times this evening. He’s only here for the booze and the cheese tray. He pops open another beer, chucks the bottle opener onto the low table in front of him, besides the cheese tray he stole from the kitchen. “Which frat party was it again when you blacked out and dived into the pool fully clothed? I can’t remember anymore.” 

“We don’t talk about that, thanks,” you utter, wrapping your long cardigan tighter around your torso. “Have you by chance seen Jungkook around? I thought he’d be here by now.”

He looks up, mid-way from tipping back his beer. “Yeah, I saw him some time ago.”

“What, where?”

“Sat with some food by himself somewhere.” His arm gestures vaguely. “He looked a little sad. You know, in signature Jungkook fashion, you know how he gets sometimes.” 

Your form slumps. “Right,” you murmur. It’s been over two weeks since the last time you saw him. Not that it’s unprecedented. He has football among other commitments that strung him away for days and sometimes weeks at a time, and you had your own as well.

Be that as it may, somehow it feels like the both of you are drawing the whole thing out. Not purposely, but definitely unnecessarily. Neither of you brought it up in your messages to each other either, and it hit you recently that, well - you miss him. You’ve seen him around campus, but never for too long. Nothing more than fleeting sightings of him and his disheveled hair in a half-pony while he rushes to class after football practice; a hand usually holding onto a snack while the other held onto the strap of his half-open duffel bag, but you only had time to exchange a wave and a look that held promise of your next meeting. The fact remains that you miss your best friend, and it would kill you for your friendship to be awkward because of what happened. You had every intention to talk to him tonight in person, and no dallying or delays this time.

Hoseok’s eyes squint your way. “What’s going on between you guys, anyway. You guys a thing or what?”

You sigh, “That’s the thing, I have no idea yet.” 

“Yet.” His lips purse, contemplating you. “He really likes you, you know. So, like, go easy on him.”

Your eyes narrow. “How long have you known, then?”

“As if it was hard,” he scoffs, sitting back. “Guy wears his heart on his sleeve. You have to be thick as a brick not to notice.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you deadpan.

He stabs his fork into the blue cheese. “You know why him and Yerim broke up?” 

“Oh no,” you morose, frowning, “don’t tell me it was because of me. I talked to her after they broke it off and she said it wasn’t.”

“Not entirely. But I think she was bending the truth a little so that you wouldn’t berate Jungkook about it. She’s a cool girl, really nice and a good sport. Knew you two were close and accepted that like a champ. But -” and he pauses for emphasis. A pause which is seconds too long, and then finally he puts his fork down, clutches one of your hands in both of his, and waits for you until you’re hanging on to his every breath while he chews and swallows the remaining in his mouth. He resumes, brightly, “it’s not my story to tell. So you better go and find him.”

You shove him. Harder this time - enough that he topples over, and he cackles obnoxiously. 

“Prick,” you laugh, but rise to your feet. Your gaze spans the backyard, the pool. You spot a hot tub, but it’s filled with other students who are laughing and raucous. 

“Ok, I’m going,” you announce, glancing at Hoseok who’s still very much captivated by the cheese tray before him. It does look really good. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

 /

The problem with knowing so many people, and having the same friends as those people - is that in situations where you try to pull yourself away from yet another drinking game you’re taken by the elbow by someone else. Having all of your mutual friends congregated in one domain that is the Kappa Omega House has made your search for the ever-elusive Jeon Jungkook a grand Pain in the Ass. He’s like gold dust. You’ve texted him but you’ve yet to receive a reply.

“Hey, have you seen Jungkook?”

“I saw him at the front porch a few minutes ago?”

“... Seriously? I’ve literally just been there.”

You even scrambled over a balcony and leaped over a hedge when you tried to get away from Chad’s third invitation to join the game of chicken fight in the pool (a parkour stunt that you like to think would put Peter Parker to shame). You give yourself a quiet moment to catch your breath. 

It’s then you realise you’re in a part of the backyard you swear you haven’t been in before. You can presuppose why. It’s dimly lit, less people, and the boom of the stereo is still loud, but is more of a distant noise in comparison to the other parts of the house you’ve been in. Like what the hell, how big is this place? 

“Sooo, you’ve found him yet or what?”

You hear the voice before you see the face. 

Unbelievable. So you cross paths with shirtless Hoseok for the third time and yet haven’t so much as had a hair’s glimpse of Jungkook. 

“Nope,” you reply, quite miserably, hands stuffing into your cardigan’s large pockets. You feel for your phone. He still hasn’t seen your message. At this point you’re one teetering step away from letting go of the remaining wisps of your dignity and yell his name through a megaphone with a hope he'll come to you instead … you’ve probably done that while drunk before but you’re nowhere near tipsy now, and that’s besides the point. 

Behind you, Hoseok hums, quite serene. When you look back you see he’s lowered his back onto the grass, his eyelids shut.

Eyes scanning this part of the backyard, it’s a different ambience to the atmosphere by the pool. More relaxed. There are students either sat or lying on the grass in small groups, their conversations a low murmur with the occasional twinkling sound of someone’s laughter rising above it. There’s a slabbed stone pathway that leads further up the grass, which then disappears behind a tall row of hedges, and with that you find yourself on your feet again. 

“As much as it pains me to leave, there’s only so much of you I can take in one evening before I go crazy,” you tell Hoseok, who’s unbothered reply is no more than a lazy thumbs up from his spot on the grass.

It gets darker the further away you are from the house, but you’re led by the quiet warm-white glow of the lawn lights that highlight the path. It calms your mind to a lull that puts you at peace, something you desperately sought after your hopeless goose-chase just minutes prior. 

The waters of a hot tub glow blue up ahead. You skid to a stop when you come closer and see someone’s in there; shoulders immersed and their head just above the water’s surface. What’s the phrase? When you stop looking for something, it finds you? That’s probably not how it goes, but it doesn’t matter. After futile searching, hedge jumping and greasy frat boy dodging, you finally found him. Of course he’d be in a place like this.

His eyes are dazed, mesmerised by the ripples in the water that his smallest movements create. He hasn’t yet noticed you coming.

You pad closer. “... Jungkook?” and like a switch, his spine straightens, goes rigid as a ramrod at your voice. He’s blinking, head shaking side to side as if to snap himself out of the trance that clouds his head. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you exasperate.

He blinks. “You … you have?”

You scoff, amused at the way his brows knit. “Yeah,” you sigh, stopping so your forearms can lean on the sides of the tub. “May I join you?”

After a beat of hesitation - “Of course you can.” 

You shrug your long oversized cardigan off of your shoulders, and double check that your phone is still in the pocket before you chuck it in a heap on the bench. You secure your footing on the step, eyes intercepting his own. His Adam's apple bobs when the rest of your body comes into view, and you shiver at the breeze but warmth engulfs you the second you’re in contact with the bubbling water.  

“Feels good?” he asks, and you sigh contentedly, leaning back.

“Yeah.” If you really wanted to, you could fall asleep right here, right now. “What is it with you and hot tubs? Always knew you had a thing for them but never asked specifically why. Or does it just feel good?”

“Mainly that. The guys on my team use the excuse that it breaks up the lactic acid in your muscles after training, but it just feels good when you’re sore.” 

“Huh.” When you crack an eye open, he’s already looking at you. 

His lips purse. “Did you want to talk?” and when you nod he sighs, wearily. “I wanted to, honestly. But I … I guess I never felt ready to hear what you’re going to say.”

You frown. “What do you think I’m going to say?” 

“I don’t know. That you don’t feel that way about me, which I’m fine with. I was never meant to let it slip, but I ended up saying all the things I didn’t want you to hear yet. And while I was drunk, of all things.” 

You consider this, broach your tone carefully. “Were you ever going to tell me?” 

His eyes avert to the water. “... Eventually. It would have been after graduation. No step three beyond telling you, no secret ploy to get you to fall in love with me, I only would have wanted you to know how I felt. I’d leave you alone and we’d finally move on with our lives. And what better timing than after graduation? But that’s not how it turned out, did it?” He laughs, but it’s with rueful discomfort.

“How long?”

He exhales. “A while.”

“I see.” You think hard for a second. “Even when you were with Yerim?”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, but you can tell he’s honest when he replies with, “Yeah. But I never pretended she was you.”

“Of course you didn’t, you’re not that type of person.”

At last, he does smile at that, and seeing the tilt of his mouth settles a warmth in your heart.

Part of you wants to ask what happened between him and Yerim, but you think perhaps it’s for the best you don’t know, at least now. It’s not your business nor his obligation to tell you.

Before you could dwell too much on your oncoming words, you continue barging forward or you’ll chicken out from what you’re going to say next.

“Jungkook,” you begin. “What if I said yes?”

A pause. 

“What do you mean?”

“If you asked me out, and I said yes.”

He’s so bewildered he looks as if he’s just been slapped. Suddenly, something more serious shadows his features. “You know I’d never want you to date me just because. I’m fine with rejection, seriously, I’ll get over it. But I don’t want you to settle for less than what you want. You deserve someone you want, and if I’m not that person, that’s fine. You deserve -”

“Last time I checked, you don’t get a say on what it is that I do and don’t deserve. Who I deserve is for me to decide, so stop cutting yourself so short because you’re more decent than most of the guys I know.”

He shifts, looks away. “So what are you saying?”

“Should we try it?”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” you say, simply.

“But then it’ll be awkward.”

“You telling me that you became obsessed with me after I flirted with you for one evening while I was drunk already made it awkward. Not like we have anything else to lose.”

A breath of air expels from his nose in a chuckle. “Oh, ouch.”

“Jungkook,” you sigh. “It’s so easy to be around you. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but how are we supposed to know how it’s going to turn out if we don’t even give it a chance? It’s going to be awkward either way but we’ll figure it out. Like with all the other crap we’ve gone through. I’ve been with enough guys to know that guys like you come far and few between, I trust you enough to want to do this. You’re one of those few guys I know I can trust, alongside Hoseok. Even though he can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Jungkook doesn’t rebuke you, but he laughs. It’s a sound you’ve never been more relieved to hear. 

“So what do you think? I don’t want to force you into it. If you don’t want this, I’m fine with it. If you do, I’m fine with that too. Everything on my end is fine, so what about yours?”

If him confessing happened a year, or maybe two years earlier, you don’t think you would have confronted it in the way that you’d done now. You understand why Jungkook wanted to bide his time. You’re stubborn, fiery, and don’t think things through in the way that Jungkook does. If this happened two years ago, you can imagine you’d have yelled at him on impulse, asking him why, why he let it happen.

But there’s a very particular fondness you’ve honed for your best friend that has unfurled in the years of your friendship, to the point you couldn’t possibly imagine yourself putting blame on him for his feelings. It seems being friends with him has really mellowed you. While Hoseok is the friend you’re most similar to, your other pea-in-the-pod, Jungkook is the friend who balances you out. Someone so different to you, yet someone who still knows what makes you tick.

He’s a friend who doesn’t judge, but yet is always first to call you out whenever you’re out of line. A friend who waits until you’re inside of your dorm building before driving away. The type of guy who pays for dinner and doesn’t expect you to pay him back. A friend who makes sure you’re back home safely when you’re drunk, puts a glass of water next to you and watches over you to make sure you don’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.

Finally, after careful consideration, he nods. He nods, finally.

“So we’re doing this then.” You crack a smile, and he finds it difficult to suppress his own.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

With an unchanging temper, as still and as serene as waters below the turbulent surface - Jungkook is your anchor, he always has been. The anchor that tethers your feet to the earth when the elements threaten to topple you over.

In the blue glow, you shuffle closer forward on your knees. 

“Can I kiss you?” you murmur, and he chokes on his saliva, spluttering. You smile sheepishly. “Sorry it’s weird, you don’t have to let me if that’s going too fast. I just … I want to see what it feels like.” 

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He mulls it over, but it doesn’t take much thinking. He stares at you, hard. But then you disrupt the stillness with a disarming smile, and unable to resist, he beckons you over. “Come here.”

It’s odd to straddle his lap at first. In the same way it is when you’re getting on a bike for the first time or any kind of first. He doesn’t make any first move, it’s you who he waits to initiate. 

The path of your fingers trail slowly upwards, until they’re splayed against his chest. They remain there, and you detect the quick pattering of his heart, the rise of his chest. His breaths are deep but they’re controlled, and he feels sturdy beneath you. 

Jungkook is stupid handsome, with the body to match. But that’s not what swells your heart. It’s not what pushes you to move further forward in his lap and finally press your mouth to the seam of his lips before you could think twice.

It’s how tenderly he gazes up at you. With the same sincerity and adoration he’d shown the night he’d confessed drunk. His eyes, an opening to his soul which is a whole other wonder. 

When was the last time someone looked at you like that? 

The kiss is soft. No sparks, no butterflies on your end - not yet, but somehow it still feels right. Like missing pieces that have finally fallen into place. Warmth and love spills from him. It saturates your body to the very tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes, like a slow, spreading glow. It feels good.

When shy pecks don’t become enough anymore, you get needy, touching and grasping for more of him. His palms press against your lower back, massaging the skin there, and eventually your mouth parts pliant for him. 

“Oh,” he croaks, his head leaning forward so his cheek brushes yours. You can’t see his eyes, and you attempt to move but he curtains the planes of his face with his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, having to strain to catch his whisper. 

“I’m embarrassed.”

You chuckle, warmth spreading from the spot on your ear that his lips hover over. “How come?”

“Like, there are probably bricks softer than my dick right now. And … I really, really don’t wanna jizz my pants in a Kappa Omega hot tub. I would have hit my lowest point in life if I do.” 

“Oh my God.” You’re almost crying, shoulders shaking with how hard you’re laughing. 

“Please, I’m so serious right now. I’d never be able to redeem myself.”

“Would jizzing in an obscenely expensive hot tub be so bad?”

“Yes,” he emphasises. “Really bad, actually. Have you heard of that guy who ejaculated in a swimming pool and accidentally got twenty girls pregnant?”

“That sounds like fake news. There’s no way. Sperm aren’t homing torpedoes, Jungkook. They’d be unviable as soon as they’d be in the water. But if you want me to move back, I’ll move back.”

His face is taut, like he’s trying so hard. “Yes, please.” His eyes go stern, but there’s a nervous jitter you feel with the skin beneath your fingertips. “And just because I think it’s worth mentioning, I don’t think we should have sex straight away.” 

“Oh. Right. I see,” you deadpan.

It’s his turn to cackle at the dead-set, disappointed look on your face. “What’s with that?”

Your eyes roll. “You know I’m kidding.” You brush the hair out from his eyes. “Jungkook, will you wait for me?”

His expression softens, and he hoists you until you’re pressed impossibly closer.

“Of course I will. However long it needs to be.”

a/n: when jk says you flirted with me the whole night and i became obsessed w you forever, yea that was from b99

originally posted on ao3! thx for reading!!! <33