#look I have been burdened with this kind of thing forever but it IS kind of a bummer that it continues to happen weh

[burningcheese-merchant]

PLEASE MERCHANT LISTEN TO ME

I started watching Burning Spice Cookie's flashback in the game and suddenly I started thinking "is that all? How stupid" because there are characters older than him and who apparently haven't had this problem of "boredom from "same old thing" so he leaves the Burning Spice Cookie thing as childish. but then I started thinking, what if I developed this? You see, if a person doesn't have a proper childhood they can develop psychopathic traits (more or less what I've seen in Burning Spice Cookie) so what if he and the other Beasts didn't have childhoods? We are not given any clue that they have grown, which gives us to understand that they appeared among the common cookies as adults.

Imagine that you barely have time to know your own name and suddenly you are thrown into... (I don't know, a battle?) expecting you to help calm everything down. What if, as soon as Burning Spice Cookie was born, he began to be burdened with many responsibilities and having to fight to unify Beast-Yeast into one nation? It would be a good reason why he "got bored" with everything, since some psychopaths have that trait of enjoying causing harm or hating monotony and social rules (it could also be an explanation for your au's Burning Spice Cookie).

I am SO glad someone else sees the problem with Burning Spice's "boredom". We have a million immortal characters in this universe and not a single one has had this issue with their lives. The Ancients live forever thanks to the Soul Jam, and they don't seem bothered by it at all (hell, look at Golden Cheese. She is actively pursuing immortality, for herself and especially for her loved ones). The Elementals are immortal, and they have zero complaints about it. Millennial Tree and Sugar Swan are older than the world itself, do you see them crying about it? Nope. They live and carry out their duties happily. You don't even see this with the ones that actually WERE mortal once. Fire Spirit? He loves who he is now, he's said so out loud in cutscenes in Ovenbreak. Sherbet? Though he misses being with Cotton, he otherwise loves being free to travel and see the world almost entirely unburdened, the way he always dreamed. Frost Queen? She adopted her role and upholds the balance of nature with grace. Life and immortality are only what YOU make of them. The Beasts are a bunch of stupid, selfish babies. The end.

"Not having a childhood" IS an interesting point to raise, though. You're absolutely right: having a tumultuous youth can and often does lead to psychological issues of all kinds, big and small ask me how I know lol. And for all we really know, they WERE born adults right from the jump. How Cookies are born and how they age are SUPER weird in this series and neither is ever explained properly besides "baked in oven", so... What's keeping anyone from imagining characters just born fully grown right away?

With this in mind, and with the points you've raised, we can maybe look at the Beasts like this: people who were brought into the world without being asked (although no one is), and burdened with nigh-impossible responsibility right away. Immediately told to sacrifice themselves for people they do not know or care about, who do not know them or care about them. To uphold a balance they may not understand, nor did they create themselves. Never having been allowed the chance to live and grow as all sapient beings are entitled to; to go out and have fun and be foolish and make mistakes that they end up learning from. They were born abnormal, and they never never allowed to escape that abnormality once. They live only for others, never for themselves, not even for small things. One has to wonder if they even counted as people at all in the eyes of those they fought for, or if they were just archetypes whose faces and actions were used to placate and justify whatever anyone wanted them to.

... Yeah, that sounds pretty shitty when you put it that way lol. It just goes to show how the Ancients are the true rightful owners of the Soul Jam, in my opinion. They EARNED that power, it was not given to them on a silver platter. They were able to live life as regular mortals for a while, then actively sought out that power and proved themselves worthy of it. Hollyberry united an entire region of warring houses. Dark Cacao tamed dragons and brought peace to a long-devastated land. Pure Vanilla endured the many arduous trials of the Sugar-Free Road in pursuit of truth and enlightenment. These are all things that require hard work, dedication, humility, and a certain wisdom that you gain from experiencing life in general. Wisdom that the Beasts may or may not have possessed, because they may or may not have ever been able to attain it in the first place.

As for my Yandere AU Spice... Yandere Spice is well and truly a psychopath (all the Yandere Beasts are). It's the thing you see often with actual stalkers: he's more in love with the IDEA of Golden Cheese than the woman herself, as she actually exists. It's all about what HE wants, what HE needs, what HE expects from her. Pure, utter selfishness, projection and delusion, as psychopaths are fundamentally incapable of empathizing with others (that's what marks them as psychopaths in the first place). With the Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese one, he's the same, but A) leaning a bit more into his bloodlust/enjoyment of harming others (which is also common in psychopaths, like you said), and B) him actually being clever/manipulative enough (at least to some degree) to know how to play into Golden's wants and feed her ego in order to sway her (Golden in this AU is also just kind of a fucked up person on her own, independent of Spice, so it's an unlucky combination). She's not "boring" like everything and everyone else is. She captivates him, she surprises him, she keeps him on his toes. He "loves" her. Therefore, he owns her and vice versa, and he will do whatever it takes to have her all to himself, up to and including hurting and killing innocents (it's not like they mattered, anyway). What caused him to be this way ultimately does not matter; maybe it's that overwhelming burden of responsibility and lack of a choice or a chance to live life that we addressed earlier. Perhaps he was just born broken. Whatever it is, he's a bloodthirsty, selfish, uncaring monster and it is Golden Cheese that he has chosen to make pay for it, unfortunately.

TL;DR Not liking immortality is a skill issue. The Beasts are dumb little crybabies. Yandere Spice is disgusting and should face a wall. I like writing deranged people far too much. I enjoy engaging in meaningful conversation with others about things. Thank you for the ask, I vibe with your thoughts and ideas, I hope you find lots of money on the ground today

[bugeyedfreaks]

I’ll quit talking about PPG fanfic after today, but I decided to actually check the amount of fics that still existed if I ran filters on AO3, because I don’t normally check the numbers when I do filter and I was curious.

Here’s the number of fics in total in the PPG section:

Here’s the number of fics when I remove crossovers and the RRB pairing and characters entirely:

Then if you add the RRB back in and search for fanfics that also include the “humor” tag you get this result:

And if you search for anything that includes the “comedy” tag… it’s worse!

I also tried various combos of action and adventure and this was the best result I got from that:

Anyway, I understand that people would like to write a dramatic fanfic every now and then. I get it. Totally. No hate about that kind of thing. I also get that you don’t necessarily have to add those tags if your fic includes those things. Not everyone categorizes everything accurately and that’s fine! But sometimes, looking at results like this, I wonder if I watch the same show as everyone else… 😩

[flwrkid14]

Tim and Danny: Love, Trust, and the Weight of Protection

part 1

Danny knows what it's like to be hunted.

It’s been his reality for as long as he can remember—forever glancing over his shoulder, never truly at ease. Between vengeful ghosts, government agents, and countless other dangers, his survival has depended solely on his instincts, his powers, and the fickleness of luck. He has his friends—two best friends and a sister who would drop everything to stand by him, who he knows would always have his back. But the weight of that reliance feels heavy, a burden he can't quite shake.

Trusting others, truly leaning on them, has always felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford. He wants to feel safe, to let someone else take some of the weight, but the thought of putting them in danger because of him? That’s a risk he can't bring himself to take.

Then he meets Tim Drake.

At first, Tim’s protectiveness doesn’t faze him. It’s Gotham. You don’t date a Wayne-adjacent vigilante and expect anything less than a little paranoia. Danny’s been through worse. A tracker on his phone? Standard. Tim pulling files on his professors? Honestly, kind of funny.

But then, Danny finds out how deep it goes.

He stumbles upon a folder on Tim’s desk—his name printed neatly on the tab. Inside? Background checks on his classmates, neighbors and friends. Surveillance reports. A detailed map of his daily routine. Heart rate data. Sleeping patterns. Eating habits. There’s even a file on Phantom.

For a moment, Danny froze.

This should terrify him—it used to. Being watched, tracked for his every move, reminded him too much of those who hunted him, who’d wanted to tear him apart and dissect him like a lab rat. His first instinct was always to run.

But at that moment? He felt... safe. The notes in the margins weren’t cold or clinical like the ones his parents would have written. No, instead, they were worried. Make sure he’s eating enough. Possible threat? Keep an eye on this one. Look for ectoplasmic spikes—could mean trouble.

This wasn’t someone trying to control him. This was someone trying to protect him.

Tim’s not like the people who hunted him in Amity Park. There’s no malice in what he does. No intent to control or hurt. It’s all fear. Love, even. Danny can see it in Tim’s eyes when he stammers through an explanation, bracing himself for anger or rejection.

He’s scared Danny will leave.

And that’s what gets Danny.

No one has ever cared for him like this, no one willing to go through such lengths just to ensure his safety. Yeah, it’s intense, maybe unhealthy, even by the standards of a world that isn’t known for its normalcy. Danny knows Sam, Tucker, and Jazz would do the same—they’ve all put their lives on the line for him before, and he loves them for it. But Tim is different.

Tim is strong enough to face the dangers of Danny’s world and carry the weight of his burdens without hesitation. It’s something Danny could never ask his friends to do—not because they wouldn’t, but because they have their own lives, their own paths. They would drop everything for him, just as Tim would, but Tim does it with the resolve of a vigilante, already living a life where protecting others is his duty. This is someone who understands the risks, who’s already made those sacrifices, and still chooses to say, “I will protect you, no matter the cost.”

So, he smiles. He kisses Tim’s cheek. And he asks, “Can I put a tracker on you too?”

The way Tim’s eyes light up? Yeah, Danny thinks. This is love.

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

The batfamily doesn’t get it.

They corner Danny one day, all serious expressions and careful words.

“Danny, we’re worried,” Dick starts, voice soft. “About Tim?” Danny tilts his head. “About both of you,” Steph says. “This… surveillance thing. It’s not normal.”

Danny shrugs. “Neither am I.”

They might understand—on some level. They’d lived through their own kind of danger, faced their own threats. But for Danny, it was different. They didn’t grow up being hunted, didn’t spend years hiding from people who wanted to tear them apart just for existing. For him, trusting the wrong person wasn’t just a risk; it was a matter of life and death.

Tim’s methods might be extreme, but Danny sees the intent behind them. It’s not control. It’s care. Tim watches his back because he knows what it’s like to lose people. Danny lets him because he knows what it’s like to be alone.

“Tim’s the first person who’s made me feel safe,” Danny tells them, voice steady. “You see obsession. I see someone who cares enough to watch my back.”

They don’t know what to say to that.

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

Their relationship isn’t conventional. But in a city like Gotham, love isn’t always soft and simple. Sometimes, it’s vigilance. Sometimes, it’s knowing someone’s tracking your heartbeat because they’d die if it ever stopped.

Tim watches over Danny. Danny watches over Tim. It’s not about control—it’s about trust. About knowing that, no matter what, someone’s got your back.

The bats worry. They whisper about boundaries, red flags and healthy relationships.

Danny doesn’t listen. He knows what he’s got.

In a world where ghosts and vigilantes collide, where danger lurks in every shadow, Danny’s finally found someone who won’t let him face it alone.

And that? That’s everything.

[steddielations]

Years after Eddie moves out and Wayne retires, Eddie comes by everyday to help around the house. Wayne doesn’t like the fuss, he won’t be a burden, but the company is nice. The new place isn't as homey as the trailer, his memory's fuzzy about why he ever moved.

One day, Eddie shows up with the Harrington boy of all people. Not a boy anymore, a man fully grown but Wayne remembers him driving that shiny Beamer around Hawkins like yesterday. Eddie says they're old pals, but Wayne can't recall Steve ever coming around with any of Eddie's friends.

It's an odd pair, but Steve’s good company. He chats about baseball, doesn't mind when Wayne mixes up last night's scores with a game 20 years ago. Then throughout the day, Wayne catches Steve giving Eddie the kind of looks and touches that make it clear what kind of pals they are, or at least what kind Steve wants them to be.

It warms Wayne's heart to see. He’s not gonna be around forever, and he always wanted Eddie to settle down with someone. It's hard for men like Eddie, for men like them, but he doesn't want that to stop Eddie from having the chance. So that night before they go, when Wayne's getting squared away in bed, he whispers to Eddie, "Steve's a good one, son. If you ever get ahold of him, don't you let him go."

Eddie just grins, almost something sad about it, and says, "Okay, old man. I'll keep him. I promise." The same thing he always says, every time this happens, but Wayne doesn't know that.

Every day is different, but sometimes Wayne remembers Eddie and Steve have been together for a decade. Sometimes he remembers the small backyard wedding, laughs about how it rained and Eddie slipped in the mud. Sometimes he remembers that he came to live with them when the dementia got worse.

But on days when it's all brand new, when he meets Steve for the first time again, he always knows that he's the right one for Eddie. So Eddie’s gonna listen and hang onto Steve with everything he’s got.

[marathedemonoverlord]

Ahhh! Fam I KNEW I liked you for some reason my Dumb Ass can't stand Lilith either

Though for me it feels kind of icky cause when I first played the impression I got was she was their family/sister and since they look at Lilith like that and reference how you remind them of her and then some of them (Lucifer) want to bone the shit out of you- It just....

Like...

.... If you have a thing for your sister just say so- I promise I ain't mad just mildly disappointed HAH!

why do you hate lilith?

Imagine you’re dating someone you plan to stick with forever. Whether you marry and have kids or not is up to you... Now imagine they won’t... stop... talking... about their ex? All the good and bad stuff that came with their ex? That’s the main reason why, though there are more.

I’m sick of the talk of Lilith. Every time they bring lilith up, its in reference to something I said or did. like i get it, please stfu

i know lilith never dated any of the boys or anything, she was just like a little sister to them. but like STILL. i already have a gender crisis (lmao dsfjksngfd) i dont need a friggen identity criss bc they keep comparing me to ol dumb bitch lilith

also i can dodge arrows. lilith couldnt. we are not the same, smfh

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : hurt / comfort, crying reader, awkward logan, age gap, mentions of jean + scott, perspective shifts, sunshine x grumpy, implied mutant!reader wc : 1.4k

it’s late afternoon, and the sky is streaked with shades of orange and pink. you’re sitting on a bench in the park, your usual radiant energy noticeably dimmed. your cheeks and nose are flushed, and your soft sniffles seem to almost echo around. the gentle rustling of leaves and distant chatter of passersby fills the air, but you seem to be lost in your own thoughts.

you’ve had a silly little crush on logan for a long time. it’s so stupid really. it started when you moved into xavier’s school for gifted youngsters as a teacher. you were only a few years older than some of the students, so to be in such a position felt like an honour. logan showed you around right at the start. he wasn’t the kindest, nor the most talkative, but he was by far your favourite. the vanilla - pine - woody musk that emanated off of him had you starry eyed from the beginning. you could tell very quickly that logan wasn’t an extroverted person, but he still cared for the people around him. you saw it in the small gestures like how he restocked cans of storm’s favourite soda and how he made sure that charles always woke up to a mug of tea. how you craved the same kind of attention from him.

but he’s so much older than you, and you suspect he still only has eyes for jean grey, even though she’s been gone a long time. in desperation, you’ve even attempted to emulate her, getting quieter around logan and trying to seem calmer in general. it didn’t work. in fact it did the opposite, he seems even more distanced from you. you’ve invited him round for beers or to watch a new movie you heard him talking to scott about, but he declined all of your offers time and time again. the next day, you overheard him ask scott if he wanted to come round and watch the same movie at his place. god, you’ve never felt so humiliated in your life. he must have a problem with you, but you could never put your finger on why.

you seem to have tried everything - bright smiles, thoughtful gestures, and endless attempts to joke around with him. you’d always believed that if you just kept at it, eventually, logan would see how much you cared for him. but lately, it feels as if you’d been trying too hard, pushing too much, and getting nowhere. your heart feels heavy, burdened with the unspoken fear that maybe you’re just annoying him. 

tears begin to well up in your eyes as you recall all the times he’s brushed you off or grumbled at your attempts to get close. you knows he’s not one for affection, but you can’t help wondering if he might never return your feelings. you’re probably just being stupid, thinking that you could melt his cold exterior. a single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away, hoping no one would notice.

but he doesn’t hate you. he couldn’t hate such a sweet thing like you. he’s noticed how you seem overly affectionate in general, but more reserved with him. so has scott. scott seemed to think it was because you had a crush on him and were trying to impress him. 

“c’mon logan! you must’ve seen the way she looks at you!” “i have no idea what you’re talking about summers.”

he’d mentioned it over beers back when the thought hadn’t even occurred to logan. a woman like you could never like a man like him. he was always under the impression that it was a one-sided crush, that he was forever destined to be alone. you were fully aware of the things he’d done in his couple hundred years of life. you were much too good for him :( too cheerful and smiley for a grumpy old man. 

logan spots you from a distance, your usually happy presence now strangely subdued. he’s used to you being the one to approach him, always with a smile and some kind of cheerful comment. but today, you seem… small. vulnerable, even :(

he’s about to walk away, dismissing it as another one of those feelings he doesn’t want to deal with, but something stops him. maybe it’s the way your shoulders are hunched, or the way you keep wiping at your face. are you crying? the thought unsettles him more than he’d like to admit. he doesn’t do well with emotions - especially not other people’s. but for some strange reason, the idea of you being upset tugs at something deep within him.

steeling himself, he walks over and sits beside you, keeping a respectful distance. you don't notice him at first, too lost in your own thoughts.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice gruff but not unkind. it’s a simple question, but it takes all his willpower to ask it.

you startle at his voice, quickly wiping your eyes. “nothing. i’m fine,” you say, forcing a watery smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. how embarrassing. he already hates you and now he has to see you cry too? you feel terrible for him, and for yourself. 

logan frowns. he’s not very good at this, but even he can tell that something’s off. “doesn’t look like nothing,” he mutters, trying to soften his usual harsh tone.

you glance up at him, surprised by the concern in his voice. it’s rare for him to ask you anything, let alone how you’re feeling. for a moment, you consider telling him everything. but then you hesitate. what if he’s just being silly? what if he doesn’t really care? as if he can see into your mind, he softly places a hand on your shoulder and whispers, “there is nothing you could say that would make me stop caring.”

you felt the burning of your waterline filling up again as soon as the words left the tip of his tongue. 

“it’s so stupid,” you finally admit, your voice trembling slightly. “i just… i feel like I’m always the one trying, you know? like i’m annoying everyone all the time. and maybe i am. i don’t wanna be a bother, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like nobody cares at all.”

you look away, embarrassed by your own vulnerability. the silence between you two  is heavy, and you wonder if you’ve made everything even worse by opening up to him.

logan feels like he’s been punched in the gut. even with his limited emotional range, he can assume you’re mostly talking about him. everybody else is quick to reciprocate your attention. everyday he feels like you’re curled up with someone new. he wishes it could be him. he’s never been good with words, especially not the ones that matter, but he never in a million years meant to contribute to you feeling like this. he’s spent so long building walls around himself that he didn’t realise how much they’ve been hurting you.

“y/n…” he starts, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m not… very good at this. at any of this. i’ve been alone for a very long time, and i guess… i don’t know how to show you that i care. but i do. much more than you know.”

he hesitates, searching for the right words. “you’re not a bother. you never have been, not to me, not to anyone. i just… it’s hard for me to open up. but that doesn’t mean i don’t… that i don’t appreciate you. i do. a lot.”

it’s not the most perfect confession, but it’s honest. he hopes it’s enough.

you turn to him, your eyes wide with surprise. you can see the sincerity in his expression, the awkwardness of a man trying to navigate unfamiliar territory. it’s more than you would ever expect to hear from him, and your heart swells with an unknown feeling.

you reach out, gently placing your hand on top of his. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth. “that means more to me than you know.”

logan stiffens at the contact but doesn’t pull away. instead, he squeezes your hand awkwardly, a silent promise that he’s going to try. it’s a small gesture, but to you, it’s everything.

[avocado-writing]

Hello! Might I ask for the lovely bg3 guys hearing tav say they're love them in the middle of an argument please? Take your time!

Astarion

Who knows what you're arguing about. It could be something sincere (his ascention) or something inane (he took your soap without asking, again) but it still slips out all the same:

"You're lucky I love you, or I'd be really angry."

The two of you stop and stare at each other for a moment, before you let out a strangled little sound and exit the conversation.

Astarion is baffled. He wasn't expecting that. Except, he sort of was? He's been trying to get you to fall for him after all, so why does it feel so... nice to hear you say it? And why does he feel so guilty?

The two of you move on like nothing's happened for a while, the tension bubbling between the two of you, until eventually he can't take it any more.

The two of you are on watch one night and he blurts out, "I love you too."

You stare at him for a long moment, he's never felt smaller. "Are you being serious?" "Yes. I am."

You look so relieved. He brings you into his arms and the two of you stay embraced for the rest of the night.

Gale

It's like you're arguing about the bomb inside him.

He's arguing it's the best solution to your problems, you're telling him that he needs to care about himself more. You're getting so frustrated that tears are starting to sting hot in your eyes.

"I wish you loved yourself like I love you, Gale."

Ah, you didn't mean to let that slip out. The two of you let the quiet sink in. You go to move away, his silence crushing, but he reaches out to grab you - not hard, but enough so that you stay.

"You love me?"

Tears come, inevitably.

"Of course I love you, Gale, you utter fool."

You can see he wants to argue about that but for once just takes the insult, pulling you into his arms so tightly you feel like he'll keep you there forever. Yes, he is a fool for not seeing it earlier.

"I love you too. You are the most precious thing in my life. I'm sorry for worrying you... and you're right, of course. You're always right."

You sleep in his arms that evening, and the Netherese Orb is never mentioned again.

Wyll

Oh, Wyll. Why would you be arguing with this sweet, kind man?

Maybe you're begging him to try and get out of his contract with Mizora, take back hold of his own life again. He's arguing about duty, what he owes to Baldur's Gate.

"I wish you'd think for once about what you owe to me, Wyll. To yourself! I love you!"

His mouth falls open, he's flabbergasted. When you try and escape he doesn't let you, following you into the forest where you run, calling your name.

Eventually you slow down enough for him to catch you and bring you in for a sweet kiss, then press his forehead against yours.

"I love you too. Of course I love you. I hate that I ever made you feel anything less than my absolute priority. You are always the first in my heart."

The two of you sit down and have a long, healthy conversation about talking things out as a couple. Making decisions together. At the end of if you come out stronger, united as a team.

Halsin

Halsin is probably the most laid-back on this list, it's hard to think of something you'd really argue about.

It comes down to this: you aren't taking care of yourself enough. Not eating properly, sleeping properly, sharing your burdens. You are trying to shoulder it all.

He keeps telling you that you need to be kinder to yourself - you keep snapping that he isn't in charge, he doesn't know what it's like. He tells you he cares about you too much to see you in pain.

You're angry at first - who is he to tell you what to do - and then you're just sad; burying your face in his chest.

"I love you too much to argue with you, Halsin," you whisper, and his heart melts.

"I love you too, my heart. Let me take care of you."

He cooks you dinner and makes sure you eat it all, draws you a bath and helps you wash. His fingers are magic. He lays down with you on your bedroll and lets his body warm yours, keeping you tight against him, only drifting off himself when he is sure you are sound asleep.

[verxca]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #01 ]

[ j. todd ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which you and jason are relaxing one cold evening, and you start to get emotional over his faded childhood memories.

“Man, look at me back then. So young n’ naive. Thought I could save the world one punch at a time." Jason remarks, shifting slightly on the red leather couch you two were seated on. One of this arms was draped over your shoulder in a protective manner, leaning in closer after every flip.

The photo book you held diligently in hand was very old, containing numerous sheets. The laminated paper itself held a number of memories from the past, in fact all of Jason in his younger years. Robin, Boy Wonder— The countless names he was given reflected the bright white smile he ported in almost every snapshot.

You turn to the next page, ever so slightly relaxing your head onto your lover’s shoulder. “Hah- Look at that one.” His calloused hand reaches forward, pointing at another prime moment of him in his costume, smiling brightly with his signature black mask on, striking a funny pose for the camera. On Jason’s side of things, all of the memories were of course bound to come back; his time as Robin - the training, the adventures, the pain. He lets out low chuckle, leaning towards the side to press a soft kiss onto your temple.

You softly traced your thumb over the photo; a moment captured forever in time, still initiating a reaction in his peers after all these years. Jay just looked so… innocent. You couldn’t even put the sentiment into words— ‘nostalgia’ would be too generous. It was more of an appreciation - a longing.

You loved him now, which meant that you loved all of him. Present, future, and even past.

It wasn’t just the sympathy you held, but also the mere knowledge about what happend in the years to come which fueled this depressing feeling. His death, of course… what kind of a monster would kill somebody as kind as this? A young boy full of hopes and dreams?

Jason was reluctant to tell you his murder’s name. He had never let it slip, and probably wouldn’t in the following months to come for the record. It was a burden too heavy to carry, and you understood that. A strong gust of cold winter snow hit the window from behind, a subtle reminder of the comfort currently held inside your place.

Sniffling, you gently grab onto the sheet, turning the page once more. Another colourful photo appeared; Jason on his 13th birthday, in the batcave standing next to the big man himself. “Babe- Are you…?”

A tear struck the paper, and it was only then that you realized you’d been crying.

Jason’s heart just shattered as a soft cry audibly escaped your lips, quickly prompting him to nuzzle impossibly close to plant another kiss onto your head. He let go of the book with his other hand, instead placing it on your knee in a comforting manner.

“Oh- Hon’…”

Embarrassed, you bring a hand up to cover your mouth and part of your nose. You didn’t cry too often— In fact, you were usually the one here to support Jay when he was upset, injured, or having another horrid nightmare. It was even odd for him to see you break down like this, all over some family photos that he’d volunteered to show you… The mere realization made his heart swell with love and slight regret.

You hiccup on your own breath, looking back down at the collage now held with one hand. “You- Y’were just so small- ” You manage to croak out, sniffling with a now quivering lip. “Yeah, I was a scrawny little shit back then. He worked me hard, but it made me who I am today." Jason attempted to lighten the mood, his advance quickly reciprocated by a recognizing smile and a shy nod on your part.

You glance over at the image once more; his eyes, his hair, that god forsaken smile… It just made you break even more, and it didn’t take Jason long to realize. He leaned forward, taking the photo album from your hand to close and to gently place on the counter.

“M’ sorry, babe- I-” You adjust your position as he leans back down, still wiping your tears with slightly shaky hands, choking on your own breath every time another small cry left your lips. Jason just paused for a moment, admiring you. His girlfriend. Crying over his own childhood photos. Now, this— this was the type of love and intimacy he’d always been craving for.

Jason leans forward, capturing your body in a tight embrace. On instinct you move up to his lap, wrapping your arms loosely around the back of his neck.

“Y’know, as much as I love that version of me, I wouldn't trade who I am now for anything. Because it led me to you."

You nod into him, showing you were listening, and he kisses your hair. The words - the photos - they may all have been hard to hear and see, but it was all in the grand a testimony to your love. That much was clear to the both of you now.

“I love you, Jay.”

“I love you too. More than’ anything.”

He murmurs in response, pressing another needed kiss to your forehead before burying his head back into your hair, inhaling the comforting and familiar scent. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to love; with his past, and his many walls. But Jason realized now that you saw him, all of him, and you still chose to love him anyway. It was both terrifying and beautiful.

[juniperdugong]

hello! can i req for a short bf!shua fic wherein yn has been sick for days and shua takes care of her and it kinda overwhelms her bec it was her first time being taken care of like that by other person (she’s used to being alone & shua just love her so much huhu) thank you! 🤍

Here Now - Joshua Hong

WC: 1k || Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst (?) || Lover boy Joshua Hong is in the house!!

A/N: I'm not gonna tell y'all what to do but...you maybe totally should envision this to "Lean On Me" (aka my favoritest SVT song ever)

It's been days since you've gotten up from the comfy nest you created for yourself on your bed. Wrapped up in blankets and snuggling pillows like a newborn monkey.

You hadn't gotten sick like this in forever, it's very possible that you haven't been this sick in your entire life actually. You've been calling out of work for days and any movements made past the kitchen or the bathroom were futile attempts that would leave you hurling.

So all in all, you're extremely lucky to have Joshua by your side. Bringing you meals, making you meals, making sure you're taking medicine, he even took a few days off to make sure that if you needed him he was there.

Which, if you were being honest, made you feel even more sick.

It's not like the attention wasn't appreciated...no! You loved the way that Shua loved. You really truly did! It's rare that fights ever caused wedges between you because he was always so good with communication. He was always keen on making sure that you knew that he was yours and only yours, calling every single night on tour and planning dates like it was his job. Shua was - just as he's boasted about all these years - a gentleman.

But you'd be lying if you didn't acknowledge that this didn't feel right, that him taking care of you felt comfortable. It was anything but.

You can take care of yourself and you have for many many years. So when Shua started to bring over food, made sure to set alarms to remind you to take medicine, and spend nights at your place - it's fair to say that you felt suffocated? Or it's more like you didn't want to take up his time.

Joshua is busy. You've always known him to be extremely hard-working, not only in your relationship but also in his professional life. And it's not like you ever minded, in fact, you enjoy being alone. It's just how life has turned out for you thus far, in ways, being alone is much more comfortable than being surrounded by others constantly.

When you'd gotten together it was pretty out of the ordinary. It's not like you're polar opposites but Shua is so outgoing, friendly, and sociable - it astonished you how kind he was to everyone. To be able to call him your boyfriend seems a bit like a privilege. And it only made it that much harder to accept this kind of care.

"You don't have to do all this Shua."

"Hmm? What do you mean?" He stares at you from the edge of the best where he's sitting, the thermometer still in his hand as he had just checked your temperature.

"I mean take time off and stuff. You don't have to do this for me."

Utterly confused he keeps quiet, placing the thermometer on the nightstand. He's always been good about letting other people have the space to speak.

"I know you're trying to be nice...but I can do stuff myself. You don't have to dote on me." He's letting you finish your speech but as you look into his eyes you can see he's readying himself to refute. "I know you're busy-"

"No." His tone is so stern that it scares you.

"Josh-" You nervously rub your hands together but Shua is quick to hold your palms in his.

"I'm not busy, y/n. I'm not busy when it comes to you."

"That's the thing Shua! You really shouldn't feel like you need to do any of this just because I'm your partner or out of any obligations...." He sees the guilty look on your face as you stare down at your intertwined fingers.

He scoffs, "Yeah and you shouldn't feel like you're a burden to me because I'm your partner." He rolls his eyes with a smile but you're completely blown away by the statement. "Seriously...you act like we're not gonna recite the words "through sickness and health" one day."

"Yeah but you have so much going on- I've taken care of myself for forever so it's really okay for me to continue to do so. I haven't had the kind of support you do, y'know? I've grown accustomed to being alone and doing things alone..." You take a big breath and let it out, letting the weight glide off your shoulders. "I just don't want to be another thing you think you have to worry about."

He's looking at you with the biggest stupidest doe eyes, taking in every single word you say. It only makes your heart pound more and not in any sort of lovesick manner, but in embarrassment of the situation.

"You're so...frustrating sometimes y/n."

Dumbfounded at the jab your face screws up in disbelief of his words...it feels like your world could come crashing down right now. Maybe you just shouldn't have said anything-

"I know you've done things all on your own. You're literally one of the strongest people I know. It's one of my favorite qualities about you. You're independent, reliable, and so- Just- Ugh!" He facepalms. "I know all of this about you - you're so perfect and it breaks my heart that you would ever think you could be any sort of problem for me. I'm here for you. Yes, you've learned to go through it all alone and take care of yourself. But that doesn't mean that you have to do that...especially not anymore."

You don't know if it would be more appropriate to cry or smile in this situation so you resolve to just holding him as close as you can. You can feel as tears begin to gather but you hold yourself together -although, now you know that he wouldn't mind if you let it all go.

"It worries me so much that you feel like you can't lean on me." He rests in the crook of your neck and speaks against your skin.

"Just rest now, babe. Look your temp is already a lot better than yesterday." He separates from you and holds the thermometer up as proof, "Rest. I'm here now and I refuse to let you go through life alone!" That goofy smile that had you fallen head over heels for adorns his face.

*RING RING RING* "Medicine alarm..." He presses a kiss to your cheek. Yeah, you're really lucky to have Joshua.

A/N: Crying, I love him, Mom!! Also, I'm so sorry this took so much longer to write than I expected. I was out of ideasssss and dialogue was so rough to come up with for this one. (lowkey might wake up tmrw and feel so shit abt the dialogue ;-;) But thank you for requesting @honglynights !! I hope you enjoy! Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[librababe99]

The Wolverine's Heart

❥・CW: Old Man Logan, Female Reader, age gap, mentions of violence and past trauma, emotional vulnerability, sexual content, body worship  ❥・Word Count: 1649

Summary: Tonight you wanted to show Logan just how loved and cherished he is....

(Masterlist)

The small cabin, nestled deep within the wilderness, was far removed from the chaos of the world. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the steady rhythm of nature was the only sound that filled the air. The tall pines, their needles whispering secrets to the wind, surrounded the cabin like silent sentinels, guarding its solitude. Inside, the warmth from the crackling fire cast long shadows on the walls, dancing with a life of their own.

Logan sat in his worn leather chair, nursing a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled in the glass as he absently rolled it between his fingers, his mind a thousand miles away. The years had not been kind to him, and the burden of a life lived too long and too hard weighed heavily on his shoulders. His once rugged, indestructible frame now bore the marks of time—scars that never fully healed, a limp that never quite disappeared, and the ever-present ache in his bones.

But there was one thing that had kept him grounded in the face of it all—you. You had come into his life like a breath of fresh air, a balm for his soul. Despite the years that separated you, despite the scars that marred his body and the ghosts that haunted his past, you had seen something in him worth loving. And that love, gentle yet fierce, had slowly worked its way into the cracks of his heart, filling the empty spaces he thought would remain forever hollow.

You watched him from the doorway, the flickering firelight casting a soft glow on his weathered face. His eyes, though hardened by years of battle, held a depth of emotion that never failed to take your breath away. You had always admired the strength in him, the unyielding determination that kept him going even when the world seemed intent on breaking him. But tonight, as you stood there, you felt an overwhelming need to show him just how much he meant to you, to worship every part of him that he so often dismissed as damaged or broken.

“Logan,” you called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up at you, his expression softening as his gaze met yours. “Yeah, darlin’?”

You crossed the room to where he sat, placing your hand on his shoulder. The heat from his skin seeped into your palm, grounding you in the moment. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a mixture of confusion and hesitation crossing his features. “You don’t have to do that, kid. I’m fine.”

You knelt beside him, your hands resting on his knees as you looked up at him with a determination that matched his own. “I know I don’t have to, Lo. But I want to. You’ve done so much for me, and I want to give you something in return. Please, let me do this.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something he couldn’t quite name. Finally, he gave a slow nod, his rough exterior cracking just enough to let you in.

You rose to your feet and gently took the glass from his hand, setting it on the table beside him. Then, with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, you began to undress him. His flannel shirt, worn and frayed at the edges, slipped from his shoulders, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, marred with countless scars. Each mark told a story—of battles fought, of losses endured, of a life that had been anything but easy.

Your fingers traced the lines of his scars, your touch light as a feather. “Every one of these is a reminder of how strong you are,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You’ve survived so much…You’ve lived through things that would have broken anyone else. But you’re still here, and I’m so grateful for that.”

He didn’t respond, but the way his breath hitched told you he was listening. You continued to undress him, your movements slow and deliberate, as if each piece of clothing you removed was a layer of armor he no longer needed to carry with you.

When he was finally bare before you, you took a step back to drink in the sight of him. His body, though weathered by time and hardship, was still a masterpiece in your eyes. The strength in his muscles, the resilience in his bones, the raw masculinity that seemed to emanate from him—all of it was beautiful to you.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “You’re beautiful, Logan,” you murmured against his skin. “Every part of you.”

A low rumble resonated deep in his chest, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of your head as he pulled you closer. His touch was firm, but there was a gentleness in the way he held you that made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to say that,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut him off, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “I want you to know how much I love you, how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’ve given me so much, Lo Let me give you something back.”

You began to trail kisses across his chest, your lips worshiping every inch of him. You kissed each scar, each mark, each place where life had tried to break him and failed. And with each kiss, you felt him relax a little more, the tension slowly leaving his body as he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

Your hands roamed over his body, exploring the hard planes of his muscles, the rough texture of his skin. You marveled at the way his body responded to your touch, the way his breath hitched when your fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. He was a man of few words, but his body spoke volumes, telling you everything you needed to know.

When you reached his abdomen, you paused for a moment, taking in the sight of him. His stomach, once taut and defined, now bore the softness that came with age. But to you, it was just another part of him to love, another part of him that made him who he was.

You pressed a kiss to his navel, your lips lingering there as you whispered, “You’re perfect to me, Logan. Every part of you is perfect.”

A low growl escaped him, and you felt his hand tighten in your hair. But it wasn’t a sound of anger or frustration—it was a sound of need, of desire, of a man who was slowly allowing himself to be loved in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

You continued your journey downward, your lips and hands worshiping every part of him as if he were something sacred. And to you, he was. He was your protector, your confidant, your lover. He was the man who had seen you at your worst and loved you anyway, the man who had stood by you through everything, even when he had every reason to walk away.

As you reached his thighs, you took a moment to admire the strength in them, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under your touch. You kissed the scars that marred his legs, the ones that told stories of battles fought and won. And then, with a reverence that took your breath away, you moved further, pressing a kiss to the most intimate part of him.

He let out a sharp breath, his hand still tangled in your hair as he fought to keep control. But you didn’t want him to hold back—not tonight. Tonight was about him, about showing him just how much he meant to you, about worshiping every part of him until he understood that he was worthy of love, that he was worthy of your love.

You took him into your mouth with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, your tongue tracing the contours of him. His taste was heady, intoxicating, and you reveled in the sounds he made as you pleasured him. The low growls, the sharp intakes of breath, the way his body tensed and relaxed under your touch—it was all a symphony to you, a symphony that played just for you.

You took your time, savoring each moment, each sensation. You could feel him trembling beneath you, could feel the way he was slowly losing the battle for control. But that was what you wanted. You wanted him to let go, to give in to the pleasure, to allow himself to be loved in the way he deserved.

And when he finally did, when he finally let go and allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He came undone in your hands, his body shuddering with the force of his release, and you held him through it all, your touch gentle and loving as you brought him back down to earth.

When it was over, when the last tremors had subsided, you pulled him into your arms, holding him close as you whispered words of love and reassurance into his ear. He clung to you, his body still trembling slightly, and you could feel the way his heart pounded against his ribcage, could feel the way his breath came in shallow gasps.

But more than that, you could feel the way he had finally let down his walls, the way he had finally allowed himself to be loved without reservation, without fear. And in that moment, you knew that this was just the beginning.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed! While this is technically a standalone fic, I do have a 2.7K story thats completely done (its smut 🤭 and definitely dives into some new territory for me compared to other work I've posted) so you could look at it as a continuation of this little "universe." I'm curious if y'all would want that later tonight or maybe tomorrow? I don't want to release anything to quickly😭 - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

i want to talk about how tenderly and tactfully the subject of trauma has been handled in family by choice. full credit to the original c-drama for the story — but the remake is my first introduction to the show and its premise.

families can be a person's first experience of a wound: that single unanswerable ache from which each of your hurts flow and fountain forward. it's rare for k-dramas to acknowledge this: to acknowledge that the individual to whom you are born may not belong to you. may not give you the grace you require to grow. may not take your small, hot hand; hungry for solace — and instead simply cast it aside. your family can be your first sharp disappointment — your first clear shock at the sheer ugliness of the world. to some, love is freely given — to others it is nothing more than a bone flung from a scant table. you hug the hunger like it's your own bed-pillow — it becomes your only home. the only house you ever live in.

through sanha & haejun's characters; one can see how the talons of trauma can mark you forever. both actors deserve accolades for the raw desperation and confusion in their eyes at the weight they're being asked to carry — especially inyoup. there's a muted, exhausted malaise in his eyes — the gaze of an adult caged within a teenager's body. by contrast, haejun appears younger than his years — a helpless, childlike hurt and betrayal borne by his eyes. both boys carry boulders unfit for such delicate shoulders — because there is a special kind of cruelty in asking a child to bear a burden that was never theirs to begin with. in lining their shoes with the gravel of grief since they were old enough to walk.

what does it to do to a child (in haejun's case) to be told that love is not intrinsic — and that it has to be earned? that it has to be paid back? what does it do to a child (in sanha's case) to be told that you are not enough as your own self — that you will never be forgiven for a flaw that was never yours to start with? what does it mean to taste a parent's neglect on your own tongue — to have it tint every part of your speech for the rest of time?

what does it mean to be a father to such children — as juwon's appa so fiercely upholds? to treat their scars as sacred. to harbor their hurts in his own hands. family by choice is as much about trauma as it is about healing — about the people knitted to you through their knowledge of your wounds; their patience with your past; their trust that your tears are temporary. about the neighbors, friends, and forged bonds that may not be of blood, yet sustain you nonetheless; surround your spirit with warmth. the people who choose you knowing the charred heartbreak in your chest — who love and accept you knowing the latticework of your loneliness: the people who press it all away with a single touch or smile – they are your true faith. they are your true family. they are the only ones who matter.

sanha, haejun, and juwon all have their crosses to bear — but they also have each other. there is always light to temper the dark. there is always sanha's eyes; and the way they soften when he looks at juwon: the jewel-toned reverence with which he reflects on every single thing she does for him. wherever there is trauma there is also and always a tryst with hope — a heart holding on to the idea that there will be more. there will be peace. there will be resolution. there will be sunlight at the end of the black silence.

family by choice reminds me of this quote by poet and novelist ocean vuong: "we were born from beauty. let no one mistake us for the fruit of violence—but that violence, having passed through the fruit, failed to spoil it."

[furiousgoldfish]

How many of these 'rules for thee but not for me' have your abusive parents enforced on you?

I am allowed to criticize you, insult you, humiliate you and put you down in front of others. If you ever as much as imply I do anything wrong, or make me look bad in front of anyone, I will end you.

I am allowed to be aggressive, loud, intimidating, forceful and violent. You're not allowed to use force even in self defense, otherwise you are the abusive one, and how dare you.

I am allowed to need attention, comfort, appreciation, admiration, praise, reassurance, resources, time, energy, and everyone's support, at all times. If you ever need any of this, not only you are a burden but you're taking away attention that could have been mine and I need it more than you do. You do not deserve any of it.

I am allowed to make mistakes, to do harm with 'good intentions', to make human error and do things completely wrong. Everyone needs to give me a benefit of the doubt and forgive me immediately. If you ever make something I decide is a mistake, not only I will assume you had the worst intentions, but I will punish you severely for it and make you feel like you're the worst failure ever born.

I am allowed to control you completely. I can forbid and deny you anything, even food. I say what you do and when you do it, and you have to do it regardless of how rude I am asking it. If you ever even ask me to do something you need me to do, I will act like you are unreasonable, selfish and trying to take something away from me.

I am allowed to be emotional, whiny, complain, rant, threaten, wallow and cry. You are not allowed to show any emotions or you're spoiled, whiny, insufferable and unworthy of human society.

I am allowed to be seen as human and reasonable, all my actions excusable, and nobody is ever allowed to forget that I have emotions and that it's wrong to blame me for anything. You are not allowed any of this, you don't get to be taken seriously, and all of your actions are inexcusable. I can forget you're human and that you have emotions and it still makes me better than you.

I am allowed to hurt you if you do anything that irritates or annoys me even a little, even if you did it unknowingly and were just being a human. If you ever hurt me, even accidentally, you are a demon, worst child alive, and deserve to burn in hell forever.

I can take any revenge against you and it's justified. If you even consider any kind of revenge, you're evil.

I can forget that you exist and not care at all how my decisions affect you and your life. If you ever make a decision without considering my feelings first, you are the most selfish, disgusting, deprived and evil person who lives only to cause me harm.

My anger directed at you is righteous. Your anger directed at me is selfish, ungrateful, spoiled, deranged, out of control, disgusting, dangerous, makes you evil.

If I ever show contempt at you, you are supposed to still rationalize it as 'love'. If you ever as much as look at me wrong, I will take it as an expression of utter unreasonable hatred and disrespect.

I deserve respect, regardless of what I do to you. You don't deserve respect, and you never will, regardless of what you do for the rest of your life.

I am intelligent, and my every decision is superior to any of yours. You will never be intelligent, your every decision will be considered stupid until you do exactly as I tell you to.

I decide who you are and how are you to be treated. You don't get to decide, not for yourself, not for me. You will perceive me how I tell you to perceive me. I will perceive you as unlovable and awful no matter what you do, and you must perceive yourself this way too.

You must center me in your life. You are completely irrelevant to me and exist solely to make me look good, give me benefits of labour and love and to avoid making any trouble for me. If you try to do otherwise I will attack you as if you are the worst creature existing who is a burden to everyone alive.

Guests and relatives are here to give attention to me. You are not allowed attention and should instead be there as a servant/make me look good.

It is never my fault how I react to you, or even for what I do to you unprovoked. It is always your fault how you react to me, and you are further responsible for all of my actions and emotions as well. Nobody is responsible for your emotions, you might as well not have any.

I am not responsible for my own violence. You are responsible for my violence, and for violence of other people towards you.

I deserve everything I ever wanted from parenthood and raising a child, and only good parts too. If anyone tries to make me go through any unpleasant part, they're stupid or evil. You do not deserve even the basics of a normal childhood, instead you need to be the toughest kid alive if you want to survive.

I can be sensitive to every little hint, implication or face expression. You are not allowed to be sensitive even to the most crude and humiliating remarks or insults. You are not allowed to even have a problem with threats, blackmail or violence.

Whatever bothers me is a real and serious issue. Whatever bothers you is superficial, unimportant, made-up, you dramatizing and you seeking attention. Your problems are not real.

I cannot be compared to anyone for I am unique and special. You can be compared to the most despicable monsters, criminals, predators, and other groups of people that I consider disgusting.

If I am sick, it's a tragedy. If you are sick, stop pretending and get to work. And it's also your own fault and how dare you be sick only to force me to tolerate you being in bed and otherwise ignore you. You've done this on purpose to make me worry.

If I'm hurt, no measure is big enough to comfort me, bring justice back into the world, ensure revenge and correct whatever evil hurt me. If you're hurt, you deserved it, and you're probably just making it up anyway.

Taking care of me is your responsibility. Taking care of you is nobody's chore and you're selfish for wanting it.

My problem are your problems, and you are responsible for fixing them, even when you can't possibly do anything about them. Your problems are irrelevant and nobody cares.

You have to make me look good even at the price of truth, free will, and your own sanity. I can make you look bad in front of others for fun and amusement.

If you're inconvenient to me, I have every right to hate you, hurt you and do anything in the world to force you to change whatever is bothering me. If I'm inconvenient to you, adjust, and keep silent.

[lamnwar]

Sweet Boy ♡ // Akashi Seijurō x Fem!Reader

MDNI 18+ knb kinktober entry!!

A/N: when I tell you that I somehow always manage to write about that dude as if I worship him fr it's insane 😫 Context: you really lucked out when you managed to pull Seijurō Akashi. Warnings: Akashi has a praise kink, blowjob, reader swallows (teehee 🤭), reader is a bit of a worshipper, mention of fingering, brief makeout, missionary sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names ("good boy", "sweet boy")

Seijurō Akashi is a lot of things. He’s always been, and it seems that he’s destined to be the one to bear a thousand responsibilities. Maybe this is what comes with being the unique son of a rich family, or maybe he’s put that burden upon himself by taking roles of leadership from his youngest age. Captain of his basketball team for most of his education, the top student since forever, even taking the top spot in one of the toughest degrees at a top university. You’ve never known him to be the lowkey kind, the kind of guy that you wouldn’t notice unless you’re really pay attention. No, he is bright and commanding, so much so that for the longest time you couldn’t tell how you managed to pull him. He seems too good for you, like a star out of reach while you are, like everyone else, just a worm on Earth blinded by him. How can someone be so perfect, so well put together?

But the Seijurō that lays in your arms at night is far from who he’s perceived to be, that much is certainty. There’s something about the kindness in his eyes and the goodness with which he treats you that makes you fall in love even more each time. It doesn’t make sense; for all you know, love can’t be that endless, can it? And yet, you are proven wrong everyday, when he looks at you, when he smiles at you, when he kisses you.

Such a soft creature, under all that layer of authority and perfectionism. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever seen him like that, but you rather not comfort yourself in that belief – it’d be a much too strong stroke on your ego. Being the one with whom Seijurō Akashi lets his guards down completely, allowing himself to be seen like he’s never been seen before. Just a sweet boy – which you are deeply convince is his true nature – who loves you to the moon and back, and even beyond.

“Seijurō, you know I love you, right?” you never fail to remind him every time you kiss under the glim light of your bedroom.

He hums, or maybe purrs, like a cat indulging in the affection of another. It’s cute, and it makes your heart jump to see him like that. His hands tighten on your waist as you whisper sweet words of affection against his lips between kisses.

Smooch. I love you. Smooch. So fucking much I can’t even understand it myself. Smooch. You’re so pretty, Seijurō. Let me love every inch of you.

He swears under his breath, dark eyes shining like a thousand stars when he looks at you. He must have done something extraordinary in his past life to have you in his arms in this one. The sweetness of your tongue against his makes his heart melt, and he holds your face close and tight, like he fears your sudden disappearance if he’s not touching you. You giggle, pecking his lips.

“Sei, I’m right here, you know?”

He stares at you, his gaze at first incredulous, before it softens, just like his grip on your face. You’re right, you’re here, and for what he knows with certainty, you’re not going anywhere. He lets you pull his shirt of his body, the softness of your touch against his milky skin soothing his soul like nothing else can. There’s something in the way your fingers trace his perfect skin, and how the sweet kisses that follow right after makes the hair on his arms raise. The sudden twitch of his cock when you look at him with love and lust in your irises – hell, you haven’t touched him there yet that he’s already straining against the fabric of his underwear. You chuckle at the sight; it’s adorable, honestly.

“Ah... love, you’re teasing too much” he huffs in a small laugh.

You wouldn’t say so yourself – in fact, you’re not doing enough. But Seijurō entirely disagrees. Your simple presence is enough to feel like an invitation for more. He can’t help but tangle his fingers in your hair, ever so gently pushing your head lower in hopes that you’ll grace him with the caress of your lips where he needs it the most. You hum, leaving a last kiss to his navel before leaning back, a smile painted on your lips.

“Get rid of your pants f’me.”

He doesn’t hesitate twice to slide the fabric off his legs, and it an act of impatience that would surprise everyone else, he removes his boxers in the same move. Seijurō himself is fairly taken aback by his hurry – so uncharacteristic, but when he’s with you, he doesn’t care to keep up the façade. Every soft gasp and weak moan, everything that makes him so different from who he usually his; not having to be perfect, not having to be impeccable because you love him so much when he’s a mess.

“So pretty Sei... can I suck you?” You purr, face nuzzled against his hardened cock as your fingers trace the veins on the shaft.

That alone is enough for him to lose his mind, something primitive urging him to grab you and ravage you with nothing but pure, instinctive lust for you. But he holds on to the bit of self-control he has, and nods.

“Go ahead love, I can’t refuse you anything.”

His words are punctuated by a tender laugh, almost as tender as your tongue as it licks his tip. He shudders – you really don’t waste your time, huh. You start off nice and gentle, it’s almost how unbearable. Every small lick and every stroke of your hand at his base setting his insides on fire.

Oh, how he’d kill to just feel the warmth of your mouth...

And eventually he does. He can’t tell when, how... all he knows is the way his aching dick twitch from the feeling of you. You look up at him, gaze entranced by the sight of his writhing.

“Sei!” you whimper around him, the vibration of your voice coming out of your mouth resonating against the sensitive skin of his tip, “You’ll come in my mouth, right? You taste so good...”

His breath hitches – how can such lewd words sound so... loving? It’s not even a stroke to his ego, but a genuine expression of your feelings towards him. Your Seijurō, that tastes like heaven in your mouth, and even more when he comes down your throat.

The drunk look on your face when his hips buck forward, shoving his cock deeper down the abyss of your mouth, drawing hums of pleasure out of you. Each time you look at him, only to meet a work of art. His chest rising to his erratic breath, his muscles contracting in a desperate attempt not to come too fast, and the furrowing of his eyebrows as he focuses on the feeling.

“Fuck... ah!”

You can feel your panties soak from simply hearing his huffs, watching him lose his composure the faster you bob your head, the deeper you take him, the more languidly you swerve your tongue around his cock. He groans, unable to stop his release anymore.

“Come for me Seijurō, you’re so handsome when you come” you hum before sucking him through the last seconds before he lets go.

You hum, your voice a song in his ear as he lets out spurts of his sweet cum down your throat. And you swallow all of it, ravishing in its taste. The look of bliss on your face alone could get him rock hard again, and he can’t think straight anymore. A dazed-out gloss in his eyes when you let him go, thumb swiping away the drool coating your plump lips. You crawl to him, kissing him to get him out of his secondary state.

“You’re such a sweet boy” you praise as you kiss him, leaving the taste of him on his tongue. “The sweetest.”

He chuckles, and in a swift move pushes you to your back. Time becomes the most abstract concept when he sees you like this, splayed under him, your lips coated thinly by saliva and your eyes... oh, your eyes. Begging, pleading, praying for him to make love to you. To let himself melt into you, so you could feel a little less insane about how you feel about him. So you’d know with certitude that you aren’t the only obsessed one – though, how can you not be? Even when he’s the desperate man that strips you off your clothes right now, he’s still the most beautiful being you’ve ever seen. The sight itself making your cunt drench, the guttural need for him seeping through your folds and coating your inner thighs.

“You want me that much, sweets?” he asks, somehow surprised by your wetness.

“Sei! What are you surprised about?” you chuckle “you’re my pretty boy, of course I want you.”

“Yeah? You’re too nice to me...” he coos, finger gathering your juices as a testament of your excitement.

“Barely.”

“Then I guess I should fuck you good, hm? Give back for all your kindness.”

You nod eagerly, covering his face in kisses while his fingers tease your sweet cunt. Slow, tender moves, just to feel you and make you yearn for him even more than you already are. Your lips quiver, short pleading whimpers leaving your lips. You need him now.

And to your contentment, so does he. His pretty cock stands proudly between your legs, impatiently waiting for the warm embrace of your pussy. At this moment, not a single thought can cross your mind. No, because it’s filled to the brim with Seijurō. The honeyed taste of his lips, the skilled touch of his fingers that fires up your skin, and the pleasurable sting of his dick sinking in your cunt. You’re entranced, enchanted.

“So pretty...” you mutter between soft whimpers of pleasure.

Your words are enough to take him to the moon, the grip on your thighs tightening as he spreads you open more, pushing deeper. He swears – one of the rare occasions in which you’ll ever hear him use foul language. He can’t help it, not when you whine such nice words in his ear.

Forehead pressed to yours as he thrusts to the perfect rhythm, he lets out the most beautiful sounds against your skin. Your fingers find his hair, slightly tugging into it as you fill his ear with sugar.

“Such a nice boy, Sei...”

“No one – ah! No one fucks me better than you.”

“Such a good boy, hm, gonna come for me again, yeah? You know I love it when you fill me, love.”

He grits his teeth, the song of your praise making his cock leak shamelessly. Your eyes struggle to fixate on him, to your own dissatisfaction. Seijurō Akashi is the most beautiful when he comes. You hold tight to him, fingers digging in his skin as he brings you to your orgasm. You shake and squirm, keeping him in an almost deadly embrace.

“Fuck!”

In a last few messy thrusts, he lets go and fills you to the brim, obediently responding to your previous request to do so. He doesn’t pull out yet; your pussy is heaven. And you keep him close to your body, close to your heart.

The organ pulses in your chest, pulsing in his. You could melt on the spot like honey in the sun. What have you done to be blessed like that? To have him in your arms like that?

Aren’t you blessed by the heavens, to have such a sweet boy all for you?

[arjwrites]

Back On the Beach- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Reader and the Winchesters find themselves at the beach for a rare day off after a long string of difficult hunts. Something about the special day changes things forever. Warnings: Some language and angst but nothing crazy. A/N: Nothing heals my heart more than a happy Dean Winchester. Hope you enjoy <3 Another hunt was in the books. That was the third one this week- you'd lost track beyond that. You and the Winchesters had definitely been “cranking and ganking,” as Dean had been calling it, but you all were exhausted to say the least. No rest for the wicked, though. When you arrived back at the motel after taking out the vamp nest, it seemed like Sam had already found another hunt, and all of you prepped to ship out in the morning.  

You woke after a near restless night, your entire body weighed down by a lack of sleep. Getting up and into the shower felt like moving through Jell-O, so you couldn’t even imagine how Sam and Dean felt. Even more so Dean, who had blamed himself for one of the casualties of last night’s hunt. Before climbing into your bed the night before, you had given him a tight hug. “We can’t save everyone,” you reminded him with a gentle whisper. But you still heard him pacing the whole night- he didn’t so much as sit, let alone lay down and close his eyes. So you were up all night, partially from worry and partially because of the noise he was making. And if you had been kept up, you knew Sam had been too. That’s why you were surprised to hear some particularly chipper laughter and discussion between the two boys as you emerged from the shower. 

“Y/N! Bobby took over that case I found last night. He was in the area, so I guess we have a day off. I was thinking we could just take the time to get some rest, but Jimmy Buffet over here wants to hit the beach,” laughed Sam, hucking a packed bag into Dean’s chest. Dean caught it with a huff before holding it out to one side in order to show off his ensemble. 

“Hey, when in Margaritaville, right? How often do we get a case somewhere like this, huh? Let’s live a little.” 

Dean was decked out in Hawaiian patterned swim trunks clearly purchased from the tourist shop down the street, complete with a towel around his neck and a pair of gas station sunglasses. He was right, how often were you taking cases in Florida (seriously, enough freaky shit goes on there, yet somehow none of it is supernatural)? Your first instinct was to laugh, because he looked ridiculous, but simultaneously, your heart soared. To see Dean getting excited about something so mundane as a little beach trip was a small miracle. Things hadn’t been easy on the road recently, and it seemed like Dean had taken the brunt of it- the guilt, the sleepless nights, the long, long hours. It always hurt you to see the way he took it all, never giving himself any kindness or time to relax. So for you, it was an easy choice to humor him a little. And after a bit of convincing Sam (okay, maybe you and Dean begging and annoying the crap out of him), you got him on board too. 

 After remedial stops at the tourist shop for swimsuits for you and Sam, and the gas station for beer, sunglasses, and the sunscreen you insisted on (“Dean Winchester I have seen you take on some scary shit, so help me God, skin cancer will not be the thing that takes you out”), your crew finally found their way down to the water. And from the moment you stepped foot in the sand, the gentle crash of the waves washed the worries from your minds. It was rare day when you three could be normal. Normal people at the beach, with no monsters to kill, no world to save, no burdens weighing you down. 

It had been a picture perfect beach day. Seriously, Dean made sure you all got the full experience. He had picked up beach chairs and towels and a football for him and Sam to toss back and forth. You sat reclined in one of the chairs, reading a book (a non-lore book, you couldn’t remember the last time you read for pleasure) and watching over the boys, laughing at their interactions. After zoning into your story for a while, you lost track of the boys. Figuring they had gone exploring down the beach, you let yourself fall entirely engrossed in the cheesy romance you were reading. They didn’t call them beach reads for nothing! The protagonist was finally alone with the love interest, who was about to lean in for a kiss, until- the book went flying out of your hand, and you went flying over Dean’s shoulder. 

“HEY! Put me down!” Your words seemed frustrated, but your tone was anything but.

Dean raced down to the ocean as you bounced rhythmically off of his strong back. You playfully whacked at him in protest, but it was no use. Finally deep enough into the water, Dean gracefully slid you into his arms and tossed you under. After catching your bearings and emerging from the surf, you surveyed the scene. There was Sam, laughing his ass off. Dean held a smug look, arms crossed and a teasing smile. And you, now soaking wet, caught completely by surprise.

“I will KILL you Dean Winchester!” You ran after him, laughing and splashing. While you had chased down plenty of adversaries recently, there was something about this enemy that was compelling- pretty cute, even. 

That was the rest of your afternoon. Playing in the surf, munching on soggy gas station sandwiches, sharing a few beers, and your constant nagging at the boys to reapply sunscreen. Though none of you ever spoke it aloud, there was a shared agreeance that this was so nice. That it was a luxury to feel normal and that in that moment, you three were the luckiest in the world. And it was so fulfilling to sneak a glance at Dean and see him smiling, really smiling. You let your gaze linger, snapping a mental image and filing it away to remember for when things got tough again. You wished you could give him this peace more often.

The sun was setting on your perfect day, but the three of you remained on the beach, stalling the oncoming nightfall and thus, the return to your reality. After a serene while, Sam rose from his chair, wrapping a towel around himself and throwing you and Dean a knowing look.

“Alright, I’m going to head back to the motel and start packing our stuff. You guys stay down here a little longer.”

So there the two of you sat, side by side, leaned back in the chairs, toes dipping into the still-warm sand. You weren’t sure if the subtle pink of Dean’s cheeks was the beginnings of a sunburn or the effects of the day’s alcohol drawing the blood to his face. Warm, tipsy, sunkissed, happy. This was a Dean you wish you could get used to. 

“Thanks for taking us here today, Dean. It was a really great idea.” A soft smile graced your face as you reached your hand out, resting it on top of his own. 

Your voice drew Dean’s gaze over to you, and the look on his face triggered a pang of hurt in your chest. Though his lips were drawn in a tight smile, his eyes slightly watered and held in them all of the angst of the last few years. It was as if you could see each harrowing memory in their glassy reflection.

“What if we just stayed?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer. His question hung in the air for a moment without a repsonse. You couldn’t stay, you both knew that. There were always going to be people to save and things to hunt. Still, you deserved some peace every now and then. And that was all you wanted to give Dean in this moment- some peace. You wove your fingers into his and pulled him to his feet, meeting him with an embrace. He wrapped his arms around you and continued.

“Obviously we can’t. But, what if we did. You, me, Sammy. We could do this every day. I mean, we’d have to get jobs, but even that would feel like a day at the beach compared to… everything else. We’d be so happy,” he sighed.

“We’re hunters, Dean. We’ve gotta make our own happy.” 

“You make me happy.”

That was all you ever asked for. Dean Winchester, in your arms, happy- and because of you, no less. In that moment, you decided that this would be your own personal slice of heaven. A moment you could return to as often as you wanted- something that could never be taken from you. A perfect instance that could remain untouched by the horrors of your world. Everything in this difficult life had lead up to this moment, and every day from here on out you would exist in a world in which you made Dean happy. 

With the kind of sweetness that brought tears to your eyes, Dean brought his hand to your cheek, cupped it gently as if it were the most precious thing in the world, and joined his lips with yours. They fit in the way you always knew they would, and the touch sparked the feeling you had always imagined it would. It wasn’t nerves or butterflies. It was so incredibly tranquil. Kissing Dean, finally kissing Dean, felt like bathing your troubles away in the ocean. The hurt, blood, sweat, and tears pooled off of you, and you felt clean, new, at peace. You knew that this wouldn’t fix everything, for either of you. Both of you had your demons, and you’d both be facing plenty more. But from this point on, you could return to this moment- return to each other, and feel your worries wash away. You could come back to the beach for a short while, and things would be okay. You could make your own happy, together.

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter three: in the blink of a crinkling eye

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER TWO: MAKING AMENDS

warnings: language, fatshaming, self deprecation,

word count: 3.4k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22

A/N: chapter three finally!! enjoy :) also comment if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Ever since that day, you and Bucky quickly became practically inseparable. Always sitting next to each other in meetings, he’d always come to visit whenever he could, and you’d always be jetted off to missions together.

It only took an hour or two for you to open up, pour all the poison that had slowly been burning away your insides, and the both of you lightening your burdens to each other in the dead of night. The dreams leave you both quite lonely. 

You’re busy patching Steve up, just applying ointment to a bruise you’re both sure will disappear before he even leaves the infirmary. He comments on how happy you’ve seemed lately as you talk away about the plans you and Bucky have for the next weekend, discussing your idea to buy him some new clothes more suited to a man in the 21st century. And then Tony Stark walks in the room, wearing his classic thick, black sweater and looking worried as hell. 

“Nurse! We need to talk.” He looks directly at you, and you flinch at his raised tone. He clocks on immediately, softening his approach. You lead him into a neighbouring empty room.

“What’s this about Mr Stark?” You remain, ever polite. You clasp your hands in front of you, smiling expectantly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, wondering how to phrase his next words.

“I know you’ve talked to FRIDAY about your spot at dinner…but I was just informed that you asked her to not have your meal sent to your room. Is everything okay? Do you need to speak to someone?” You’re well aware of what he thinks, what he’s insinuating. You’ve been here before, the last time Sharon made a mean comment about you was the last time you set foot in that damned dining room. 

You swallow the bitter memory, making way for the sweet words about to leave your mouth. “No, sir. Everything’s alright with me. I asked FRIDAY to not send my meals to my room, because…well, I was thinking of coming to dinner tonight. Bucky talked me into it, and I think I should stop holding onto things that happen so long ago now.” You smile, letting your affection for the super soldier known. 

He relaxes, but shoots you a confused look. “Metalbox? Really?” 

“Yeah. We’re kind of good friends now.” He nods. “Alright, let me know the second anything changes or if anything is said that makes you uncomfortable. Okay?”

You nod this time, assuring him. He walks you out and lets you return to the infirmary, where Bucky is waiting for you. Your smile brightens by a millions Watts, but Bucky never seems blinded. 

“Hey Buck!” You say, taking a standstill right in front of him. You haven’t really discussed how either of you stand on physical contact, but when he wraps you in a warm hug, you don’t fight it. You own arms end up around his middle, turning the embrace into something a lot more intimate, but too lost in each other to care. 

The nickname of a nickname has him completely melting into every soft curve of you and never wanting to leave, forever entranced by the lingering scent of your lotion and perfume, the perfectly concocted pheromones only for him. 

“Hey, doll. I missed you.” His tone is so soft, your heart can barely take it. What started off as a simple attraction has now fully snowballed into a crush of embarrassing proportions, and the fact that he even wants to be around you to this degree has you completely giddy. 

When his words are such sugar, when his touch lingers just half a millisecond longer than it should, you are able to delude yourself he feels the same. You know you’re wrong, you just haven’t been shown such attention since you stopped being naturally amazing at everything as a child. But you dream anyway, of blue seas and black and gold. 

“Missed you too. Did you have a busy day sparring?” He nods, keeping an arm around you as you both walk down the long corridors, arms welded like lovers to each other’s backs. 

“Yeah, I got to practise giving Steve an ass whooping today to show the trainees how to defeat someone when held at knifepoint.”

“Oh, you have to show me sometime,” you say excited, trying not to show how hot you’re starting to run at the idea of Bucky dismantling someone despite the weapons they may yield. It makes you feel safer, snuggling up to him all that tighter. 

And then the doors to your seemingly worse nightmares appear. Simple, made of black glass and sliding open when it recognises the two of you trying to get in. 

She’s really not going to eat all of that, is she? The cruel words ring in your head and you swallow hard. “Hey, we don’t have to go if you changed your mind. We can just go to that restaurant I was telling you about on Monday.”

How long will you let your fears consume you? You shake your head. “That’s awfully sweet of you, Buck. Really, but I want to. I have to try, at least. Plus, its not just her and me in there. There’s Steve, and Nat and Wanda’s just come back from her mission, and Thor’s visiting. And you’ll be next to me. Won’t you?” You look up at him bashfully, as if you expect him to say no.

You have no idea how much he wants to kiss you and that pout on your lips. “Yeah, of course I’ll be there, doll. Always.” You grin like you’re surprised, solemnly untangling yourself from his arms as you step inside. Not that you hate the physical contact, but the idea of partaking in such activities in the presence of other people makes you sweat. You’ve never been one to share details about your romantic life, expecting nothing but a dissection and a ridicule once your chest cavity opens. You know these groups of people may not be like that, but the strange pain still ascends up your chest. You feel Bucky’s presence behind you, though, warm hand just centimetres away from yours like a promise of quick reassurance. 

The room falls silent, and you notice how you and Bucky are the last two members to enter, and so theres only two open seats — one right next to Sharon and another directly in front of her. You swallow, not knowing which position is worse when Steve warmly beckons you over to sit next to him, the seat directly opposite Sharon. 

You smile and accept his offer, watching Bucky as he walks around the table to begrudgingly take a seat in between two people, blue eyes burning like he’d much rather swap with Steve. “Nurse! How nice of you to join us!” Tony beckons from the head of the table, and everyone cheers and welcomes you warmly, Steve patting your back gently. It almost drowns out the scoff. 

You stay mainly quiet, keeping to yourself. It’s your first day here, in this dining room, and you’ll take some time to get adjusted. Hopefully a certain someone will keep her mouth shut and you’ll come back tomorrow. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve whispers down at you in between courses. “Me too, actually. This isn’t too horrible.” You smile just as the servers set down a plate of your favourite dish — a completely vegan chicken Alfredo and garlic bread — right in front of you, hot and steaming. Your stomach grumbles embarrassingly loudly and you try your best to stay oblivious to it, not noticing how Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, at how cute you look when you’re flustered. 

He chuckles and you meet his eye, smiling warmly. You get through the meal without a single hitch, and it seems that someone’s chastised Sharon before you could enter the room. You’re eternally grateful to that person, whoever that is.

During the meal, you get to hear stories of the time when Steve was at “war” with Tony, of childhood incidents from the 1930s, and the way Bucky acts when he’s drunk as shit. Thor’s brought some Asgardian liquor with him, knowing even the finest wine in the Tower’s cellar wouldn’t even get him buzzed. 

One by one, people start bidding goodnight, until it’s just Thor, Bucky and you. Steve has to be up at 5 tomorrow, to prepare for a meeting, or so he says. 

“And then he calls me a son of a bitch!” Thor explains, loud enough for you to flinch. He and Bucky laugh in uproar, and the sound of it takes you away. You find yourself staring, at his tipped back head and his wide grin, so beautiful all you want to do is climb in his lap and kiss him senseless. You refrain, of course. 

“Alright, I think it’s time for bed, Buck. Should we go?” You use your thumb to point behind you, and he nods.

“Yes, I would go anywhere for you, doll. All you have to do is ask.” You roll your eyes, not knowing intoxication also makes him a terrible flirt.

You gently move to him when he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you tight to him, face buried in your soft stomach. “Mm, can we just stay like this for a while, please?” He flashes you his bright blue puppy dog eyes, and you can’t resist. Shoulders sag as you breathe out a laugh at him. “Just a minute, then we’ll get you back to your room. Okay?” He nods, pressing his gorgeous face against your middle once again, and you can’t help but smile. He’s adorable. You gently run your hands through his hair, completely oblivious to Thor’s hunkering form leaving his seat. "How is it that a woman as perfect as you exists even in the 21st century?" He drunkenly grumbles. "It's genetics, darling." You smile like you've been completely lovestruck, and it's inevitably gotten to your head. "No, doll, I'm being serious. You're so perfect, feels like I was made to complement you. So pretty…"

“Alright, time for bed. Come on.” You drag him up and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. He’s so heavy you find it hard to breathe and reluctantly pull away from his warmth. One arm around his back, you gently guide him to his room in the same fashion he’s brought you to the dining room. The entire time there, he rattles off every synonym for beautiful he can think of as you fight against a smile harder and harder. There is a drunken veracity to him in this moment, and you don’t have it in you to fight him in such a state. You haven’t had more than a glass yourself, leaving you perfectly capable of safely navigating the long corridor, planning to drop him off and safely retreat to your own room just beside his. But he pulls you in.

“Stay with me…please, doll. Need you.” His breath is hot against your ear, tone soft and needy. Like he’s two seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you.

You yield. “Okay, Buck. Let’s just get you to bed, alright?” He nods, head lolling against his shoulders. On your way to the bed, you trip over one of his socks, his shoes long discarded at the entrance, slipping. He catches you without so much as a second thought or grunt. Reminding you of his strength. His hands on your waist turn you around, and you let out a yelp as your back meets the bed, his chest meeting yours and knocking the breath out of you.

Your hands grip the sheets while you’re trying your best to not look at him, his kind words reverberating around your head. His supposed infatuation, though deep down you know isn’t true. It can’t be. 

“Stop squirming. Look at me.” He whispers, metal hand cupping your face. He’s become more confident in using it when he’s around you, you’ve noticed. But you haven’t seen how much it means to him, to have someone who didn’t know him before, and only after. Someone who knows everything and loves him despite it. Now, the definition of love used in the previous sentence can be heavily disputed —is it platonic, or something more? He feels the latter brewing in his chest, but he’s more than happy with either option. He just wants you by his side, soft and warm and everything good in the world all wrapped up in one woman.

When your eyes meet his, the sky blue has you swallowing. It’s so clear you feel like you’re flying. Even with his crushing weight sandwiching you between him and the mattress, you ache for him. More than you’ll ever admit, even as his bitter-tinted breath washes over your face.

“So pretty…Do you know how much I fucking want you? Even when I can hear every whisper, every sigh, every goddamned sound you make in here when you’re alone, after we say goodnight. All I want is to knock on your door. Would you ever answer, if I did?” His eyes are glued to your mouth, the colour entrancing him. You let out the smallest sigh, and you feel his thumb rub against your lower lip, making your eyelids flutter. The motion stirs something inside you, deep and primal, rabid and wanting. 

“Yes…” You respond before your brain has even a second to catch up, to filter your thoughts. You see his pupils dilate in real time, entranced by the sight as he takes you in, the metal pushing against your teeth no longer cold. He asks you like he hasn’t already knocked, albeit for other purposes, and you haven’t already answered at the drop of a hat.

He leans in closer and closer, and you both are aware of the current pace of your heart, slamming in your ears like you would upon a door. Your head tilts up as his moves down, hot lips just grazing along yours, igniting every bone in your body as your hands grab at his chest instead, and he lets out a breath. You swallow it, eyes closing, giving in to the desires you’ve kept locked in a bottle deep inside your chest, just under your diaphragm.

Then reality come hurtling towards you like a freight train.

“Bucky…stop.” You push a hand against his chest, surprised to feel his heart pounding just as fast as yours. You’re full expecting for push to come to shove, but to your almost disbelief, he retracts immediately. Completely off, and lying next to you, while you try to hold back tears.

You know the truth — he doesn’t really want you. He’s just drunk, and you’re the only female body around. Nothing more.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You gaze is fixed on the ceiling, unable to look at him even when he’s on his side, eyes trained on you. “After everything I’ve told you about my…my past. All the bullying, and the trauma, and the pain. Why—Why?” Several shaky breaths escape you, trying to blink back the tears. 

His fingers brush your temples frantically, absorbing the salt as he talks over himself. “Wait…Wait no. I— Doll, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I don’t wanna make you cry. No, no no, not what I meant, not what I—“ You turn to meet his eyes, grabbing his wrist in yours and unable to stop yourself from stroking the inside of it with your thumb. 

“Then what did you mean? I’ve told you, how people treat attraction to me like a joke. And then the second you have some alcohol in your system, you start acting the same way?”

“But it’s not a joke! I’m not joking when I call you beautiful. I think—I know you are, doll. Why else would I say it? You know I hate lying…” As you gaze upon his distraught expression, you realise the error of your ways, knowing he probably won’t remember any of this. So what’s the point of wasting your breath twice? For now, you accept it, lock it away for another day.

“Alright…Let’s just go to bed now, okay? I’m tired, baby.” The nickname slips out absentmindedly, and the way his mouth falls open lets you know that you didn’t overstep as his tongue traces his lips in the same way you wish to do so. 

“Yes! Let’s get my pretty baby some well deserved rest. Works too hard…” His eyes begin to close with his hand still fondly placed on your cheek, but you jerk him awake.

“No, Buck, not like this. Properly, let’s find you some comfy clothes and tuck you in. Come on.” You stand up, extending a hand to him. God, he looks so pretty from this angle, staring at you like you’re his sun and it’s a lazy picnic in the park. He entwines his fingers with yours, again bringing up that feeling of desperation in your system but you tamp it down. You gently hum the latest song stuck in your head as you get him ready for bed, slowly taking off his socks and handing him his comfiest pair of sleeping shorts, informing him of every step before you take it so you can give him the chance to tell you if you’re about to do something he doesn’t want.  What you don’t realise is that there is nothing you could do that he wouldn’t welcome. He knows you wouldn’t hurt him, only show him the gentle warmth he’s been deprived of for decades with your light fingertips and heavy gaze. You turn your back as he changes, giving him some privacy.

He doesn’t let you leave, scared you won’t come back to him. He’s never been like this, so desperate to keep you by him. You’ve only known each other a month, and you two often stay up together when he knocks after a nightmare, either diffusing the bomb in his head with mellow hands, or holding him tight as you both lose your worries to some old sitcom you introduced him to. In your heart, you can’t find yourself to leave, either. And so you use a spare toothbrush he keeps in his bathroom to get ready for bed, stealing one of his shirts he handed to you with the brightest, most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. When you throw it over your head, you relish in the remnants of his cologne and something else, something so innately Bucky, that all you want is to bury yourself in his scent intertwined with the magic fabric of his shirt, which turns out to be loose on you. 

You set your hair, marvelling at how big he is, that his shirt is loose on every part of your body. A secret part of you wonders if he’s done it on purpose, intending to give you his clothes and opting for this looser fit…You quickly dispel the notions, ditching your bra and formal outfit on the floor, rubbing your tired eyes.

Bucky lays on his side, facing you and taking you in as you walk out. He lets out a groan and you wonder if it’s related. “You look so pretty in my clothes…fuck. Come back to bed, beautiful.” He outstretches his arms, making grabbing motions at you with his hands like an adorable child. You chuckle at his neediness and brush off the compliment as you settle into bed next to him, suddenly shy of the space in his bed you’re taking up. It’s been ages since you slept in the same bed as someone else…but you try not to dwell on it.

Bucky flips around immediately, sliding a warm arm around your waist and pulling you closer, eyes already closed. He’s so hot, practically a furnace when he pulls you in, like he can’t stand to be apart from you. What has the alcohol done to him?

“Good night, doll.” He rests his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His warmth is beautiful, and your glad his eyes are closed so he can’t see the absolutely wanting look plastered over your face, so deep it makes you physically ache inside your chest when you lift a hand to stroke through his hair, so soft like the sigh that escapes him. Like you soothe him, and it’s all he’s been waiting for.

“Good night, Buck.” Sleeps comes quite easily.

NEXT PART

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 7

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo 

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 8900

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Idiots to Lovers

A/N: I wrote this in less than a day and none of it followed any of the plans I had for this story. This new laptop makes it too easy to write and it might end up adding extra chapters to this fic. Sorry and you’re welcome.

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

The silence that sat down atop both of your heads after that door closed tight, leaving you and him completely alone together for the first time in literally forever was about as loud as anything you’d ever experienced. 

Kyungsoo stood just inside of the drab entryway and you had been lingering closer to the hallway that would take you further into the shelter. You watched his face for a while, trying to gauge the mood he would be in to find himself trapped in here with you for at least one night, maybe two if things got wild at the hospital and Mr. Chen wasn’t able to get away as he promised. 

How would he feel about this? The relationship and you used that word strictly for lack of any other word to describe the you and the him, had been strained from the start, downright hostile at times, and only very recently kind of sort of settled into this civil agreement in which you did not antagonize him and he did not antagonize you -- much. 

It wasn’t a friendly relationship for he himself had told you quite brutally last night that he had no interest in being your friend, but lately, with the interactions that had grown just a little bit softer, the chat you’d had with him out on the patio as he made you ramen and teased you about your sexual optimism, the silly time passing game of stating a personal preference between two completely inconsequential things and you found, much to your surprise that you and he shared more than a few minor tastes in common; the fright you had been triggered into with the spiders in the movie and the genuine comfort you felt from him; it felt almost as if something somewhere might be changing. Were you, just as you had been with the threat from the fake spiders, simply imagining the entire thing? 

“Well, shit,” Kyungsoo whispered mostly to himself after the heavy door slammed shut and you looked up into his face to catch the smallest furrow of his brows and the frown of his lips. 

Was this a worst case scenario for him? Trapped alone with the girl he never wanted to be trapped with? Having gone out of his way all those months ago to ditch her on that stupid blind date and she just had to be pathetic enough to pick a fight with him about it, and then about anything and everything she could find to fight about and just when he thought he’d escaped that nightmare of a person she shows up here and not only is she forced upon him by the staff here but now he’s somehow charged with feeding her and entertaining her? You could see it in his face. He looked disappointed as evidenced by the furrow and the frown.

You pulled your arms up and crossed them over your chest, pulling your eyes down and away from that disappointed look you saw in his eyes and you made a deal with yourself then and there; you would not be a burden. You would keep as good a distance as this situation allowed and behave yourself as far as your temper or your tangled feelings for the man were concerned. You wouldn't let it show just how far down this pathetic rabbit hole you’d fallen of uninvited attraction and unrequited love. You’d treat him with disinterest, maybe casual civility that a shop worker would get, or that old man at the grocery store who made a friendly joke about the price of eggs and you provided the required perfunctory laugh at exactly the right pitch and tone to be deemed socially acceptable. That was what you would do, you would perform as expected by society in such a situation. 

It wasn’t his fault that you’d allowed this little crush to fester deep inside your stomach; and for a man who didn’t even desire friendship from you. It wasn’t the first time you’d let your heart run away with your mind. It didn’t have to happen with this man. 

You felt a slight burning in your stomach, just below your breastplate and you placed a palm over the space where you felt the pain. You knew enough about your body to recognize that you were just feeling the aftereffects from the panic from earlier. It always came as an upset stomach that burned and ached usually for hours after your heightened emotions had run their course. 

“What is it?” You hadn’t expected his attention but he must have seen your hand sink down hard just over the space at the top of your stomach. He must have noticed the look of discomfort on your face that you quickly blanked away with the drop of your hand. 

“Nothing,” you said flatly dropping the subject entirely before he had a chance to probe or suspect more of you and you lifted a hand to half shrug into the air, “umm… did you want to finish the movie or … maybe play another game?”

His lips parted and he closed them up, his eyes briefly leaving your face and glancing behind you into the dark hallway from where you both had come. 

When he didn’t answer you right away you inhaled to speak again, before you sounded like his own liability that he had to deal with, “you don’t have to do either, if you don’t want to. I don’t need you to entertain me or anything, I can figure something out for myself if you just want to be alone.”

You’d already spun on your heels, determined with your newfound resolve to be exactly as aloof and unaffected by anything he said or did as required by society to keep the peace; taking the first few steps away from him and turning back toward the dim light from the open kitchen door that you could barely make out as a direction in which you should travel.

“We could,” the first sounds of his voice stopped your steps and you turned your face in his direction, not committing to turning around the whole way, “play something, if you want.” 

“Not Monopoly again, I swear to God,” you said with a finger lifted into the air and you heard the soft chuckle that came from behind you. 

“Awww, my little Princess didn’t like the bitter taste of defeat?” You could hear the joking tone in his voice and weirdly that strong feeling of uncertainty you’d felt only moments earlier seemed to change with the teasing tone he used with you. Changed into what? You wouldn’t say, but it was only a slightly more comfortable feeling. There was a burning sensation just under the skin below your cheekbones and you thanked whatever god was responsible for putting you in this darkened hallway during this moment for the cover that would keep the blush from being noticed by him. You were imagining the softness you heard in that nickname. This man did not hold any affection for you. 

Inside the kitchen you returned to the familiar set up that you had left, only it felt wildly different. Gone was the soft comfy feeling of the mattresses on the floor, the pillows set up at your back and the fluffy down winner’s blanket sat in a tangled clump on the floor beside the bed that you both had occupied. The briefest of thoughts flittered by -- would you be able to smell him in it now? That clean, crisp fragrance he seemed to carry with him, would those microscopic molecules be wound into the spaces in between your one thousand threads ready to drift inside of your nose, bringing you back to the moment below the blanket when his fingers intertwined between your own and he held your hand, keeping you grounded and still connected to this world. The comfort he had given you then, but why? To keep you from embarrassing yourself or maybe him? You couldn't find the reasoning for it anywhere inside of you, but this wouldn't be the first time that man did something you couldn't understand. 

The burning was back. You had an absentminded hand running over the spot on your belly and your feet carried you to the spot beside the fridge where the water bottles sat. You ‘d seen an electric kettle there and you busied yourself grabbing a mug and heating the water. Behind you, Kyungsoo was looking through the games again, trying to find something that he could no doubt destroy you with again. Your heart wasn’t in the fight this time, you felt too distracted. 

The water was heated and you poured some into a cup, finding that plain hot water always soothed your stomach the best and you returned to his side to peer over his shoulder holding your mug. 

He glanced over at you and down at the mug, making no comment about either, and then he held up a game. It was your game. It was the first game, a word game you’d picked to play with a nostalgic and hopeful glint in your eye. 

“We can play this one, if you want,” he said with a bit of a whisper as if you two weren’t the only ones in this entire building, “it’s still fun even with only two people.”

You nodded and took a seat near him but not close enough so he could cheat and look at your letters and he quietly set up the game, not once looking directly at your face for too long apart from the smallest of brushes with his eyes into yours as he handed you bits and pieces for the game. 

You settled into your seat and took a good long look at the letters you had to pick from, picking a few up and shuffling them to see if you could come up with something good and after a few moments you settled on something that was actually pretty decent, especially for the first round. The realization pulled a small smile to your face and you grabbed the letters to place them on the board. He’d already told you that you could go first and as you began placing your tiles on the board you looked up to find that he was watching you, of course he was; you were playing the first word. This word would determine what he could or couldn’t play from his letters. 

You played your word and did the math, giving yourself a nice start with 20 points and you wrote down the number on the pad of paper and looking up at him expectantly. You had expected him to be paying attention to the word, to be impressed by your intelligence. You had managed to spell that word on your very first go. You had expected him to feel thoroughly challenged by the force he had to reckon with. 

He sat there though, his eyes watching you but something about his mind seemed disconnected from the game. Your smile at your own move slipped just a little bit, falling flat because he hadn’t even looked at the word you played yet. He just sat there with his shoulders relaxed, his unshuffled letters sitting there in front of him, he didn't even have his fingers on them, rearranging and thinking as you would have expected. He just sat there -- it was odd. You lifted your chin and wiggled your head, lifting your eyebrows and you heard an inhale as he took a deep breath and exhaled as he slowly pushed the air through his lips and when he was empty his eyes closed up. He gave his head a little shake back and forth and finally, finally his eyes left your face. 

Finally he was looking down. 

“Oh you played that, hmm,” you heard him mumble and he was back. All at once, his fingers were touching lightly over his letters, picking some up, moving them, shoving some aside, actually thinking about the game in front of him instead of whatever in the world he had been so distracted by. 

You lifted your mug and took a sip, feeling the warmth of the hot water warm the inside of your stomach a little bit. The pain was still there even after another sip and you looked down at the mix of letters you had thinking of what word you might play next. You adjusted your posture some, lifting a hand to rub just below your breastplate again, wishing that knot would just go down and be done so you could win this game already. 

Kyungsoo had played his word, counted out his points, and wrote a sad little 16 under his name. You were already winning. The self-satisfied smile was back, it had replaced the wince on your face when you realized you already had your next word. You played it quickly and tallied up your numbers. 24 -- He really didn’t stand a chance. 

You heard the scrape of chair legs and the sound pulled your attention up to the man who was standing up and walking away from you toward the kitchen cabinets at the back wall. 

“It’s your turn, Kyungsoo,” you called toward his retreating back. 

“I know, I’m just getting something real quick,” he called without looking back at you and you heard him inside the fridge, heard him pulling something out and he was slicing something with a knife on a board. The kettle was going again and you heard a metal spoon hitting porcelain as he stirred something into a cup. 

He was back quickly with two mugs in his hand and when he returned to your side he’d place one of the mugs in front of you. 

The color of the water inside the cup was a pale yellow and you saw a single disc of sliced ginger floating on the surface. You could see the string and tab from a tea bag in his mug. 

“Honey and ginger,” he said as he busied himself with playing a word on the board game, “for your stomach,” he added as if you’d made an announcement at the start of your game that your stomach was hurting and he was just responding to that. 

You hadn’t said a single thing to him about it. In fact, you had thought you were doing a pretty good job hiding it from him. You hadn’t let him see you frown or groan or cry out in pain once. The worst you did was lightly massage the space where it hurt the most. 

You lifted his offering to your lips and took a sip expecting it to be too hot for you to drink comfortably and finding the temperature rather mild actually. You took another bigger sip and felt the soothing warmth slip into you. It was sweet with the honey he added and slightly spicy from the fresh ginger he’d added. It was delicious. You’d never tried this for your stomach aches before but it seemed to actually be helping. You took another sip and swallowed, finding that the burning lessened with each sip you took. 

Kyungsoo silently played a word and you watched his mouth moving as he added up his points and wrote down his score of 20. 

You smiled widely. He had just played the letter you needed to play your next word and with the orientation of the word you would be able to get the bonus points. You were already laying your letters out on the board and counting out your points before he’d even had a chance to replace the letters he’d used on the last word. 

“Oh come on, what? You gotta give me a chance to catch you,” he groaned in annoyance that didn’t really seem to sink too deep into him for him to really mean it. You could still see the smile on the edges of his mouth and in his eyes. You did a little victory wiggle in your seat, wrote down 50 points under your name, and even stuck your tongue out at him with a giggle. His eyes slipped down your face and his lips had been pulled into a smile, despite the fact that he was losing this game miserably. 

He pulled his head back a little bit and looked up into the air above his head. A quick glance at his pieces told you he still needed to replace letters and so you held up the bag with the open end toward him. He was still sulking about the heavy blow and you had to reach out to touch your fingertips over the back of his warm hand to get his attention. You gave the bag a little shake and you had his eyes in yours again as he reached into the bag, pulling out tiles and groaning at the letters the universe had decided to give him. 

“Ugh,” he was groaning with each new letter he pulled out. His eyes darted over the game board and occasionally slipped back up into yours, probably because you had been watching him for signs that he had something good to play. It didn’t seem like he did. 

“Blegh,” he made a disgusted sound,  complaining again. “What am I going to do? What do I do, what do I do?” he repeated to himself as he pondered his brand new fate as a loser of this game. 

In his hand, he held only two tiles and he hovered lightly over a space on the board. You giggled when he set them down. It was the saddest word you’d seen in a while. 

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to beat me, Kyungsoo,” you sing-songed playfully watching him spell out the word ‘SEE’ for only 5 points.

His hand moved and he spun his letters around, showing you very quickly the hand he had. You saw a slew of vowels, mostly the letter E and everyone’s least favorite burden a single solitary X. 

You were openly laughing at him now. His cheeks were pink and he was reaching into the bag to select his replacement letters and when he pulled them out he tossed them in disgust. They both landed flat on the table, face up with a clatter. He had thrown them there. You looked down to see two more Es and the sight threw you back into a noisy fit of laughter that seemed to be catching. You could hear him giggling beside you and he gripped the Es in his fingertips and tried to put them back into the bag. You snatched it up quickly and held the bag of letters out of his reach so he couldn't cheat and put them back in. 

“No no,” you gasped through the giggles, “Think of words with lots of Es like meet, umm, teeth, f-feet,” you said through a strained voice and you were laughing again at the look he shot you at the mention of the words that brought up a very recent sore memory for him. 

“Teeth and feet?” He said with his eyes wide, “You really brought that up again?” He exhaled through his teeth, his lips pulled wide in frustration. He was leaning now, reaching desperately past your game pieces to where you still kept the bag of letters out of his reach to keep him from cheating, even though you were pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to catch up with you even if he replaced all of his letters now. He had scooted his chair closer to you and you reached for his desperate hand, gripping around his fingers and pulling his hand down into your lap, holding it tightly there and leaning into him to help you gain some leverage against him. He was quite strong when he wanted to be but he seemed to be letting you hold him back like this. He definitely wasn’t putting his all into this struggle against you. Something was off with him. Kyungsoo had never held back on that chance to be terrible with you before. 

Instead, he had moved in too close to you and after the small playful struggle, you felt the warmth of him all over you. You had been giggling as he reached out with his other hand, reaching again for the bag of letters you held out of his reach and you felt the tips of his fingers wrap around your wrist and he pulled your arm down. It was a bit of a stalemate and you heard the soft laughter from him settle and go curiously still, when you opened your eyes you found his face in front of yours. You had his hand inside of yours down on your lap right over your thigh and he held your other hand with his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist.  You hadn’t expected this level of closeness from him, the shock you felt radiating through your chest had taken the laughter out of your voice and left you stunned in a frozen silence instead. 

You suddenly felt hyper-aware of your own body. He was so close to you, that you wondered if he was able to hear how noisily your heart was pounding inside of your chest, or if he could hear the stuttered way your breathing moved in and out of your lungs. 

God, he was beautiful up close. His skin was clear and he had a scattering of tiny moles all over. The small freckle in his upper lip seemed to have a presence all of its own and you struggled to look away from him. Your eyes roamed over the length of his face. He had long since stopped laughing and he had even stopped reaching for the bag, stopped struggling against your hands and he was watching you with slow blinking wandering eyes over your face that seemed to settle again heavy and deep inside of your eyes. 

You exhaled a breath you had been holding through your parted mouth and his eyes slipped down to look at your mouth when you moved. This was something. Something was happening here. Something that shouldn’t exist with the intense animosity he’s always felt for you. Something between you and something between him. You could feel it in the way your skin flushed, the blood in your body seemed to seek refuge in some place that wasn’t in your veins. You found it difficult to breathe with him so close and those eyes of his didn’t let up, they didn’t let you go, you felt so much more trapped here in his eyes than ever before. Your ears picked up on the smallest grunt of effort from somewhere in the back of his throat, then the smallest inhale of breath lifted his lungs, and finally, finally, he closed his eyes.

“I think I’ve lost this game,” he whispered through closed eyes with a sudden tight clench of his jaw. 

He was leaning. He was moving. You watched the sway of his balance and he moved closer to you, impossibly closer and the fingers he’d wrapped around your wrist released their hold, that hand was moving. You felt the first tiny touches of his fingertips as he moved his hand to touch your face lightly and achingly slowly along your jawline. You felt as if you could burst into flames at any second and judging by the heavy puffs of air that left his lungs, something similar was happening to him too. 

He leaned into you, close enough for a kiss but something stopped him. You felt and saw the lean though. He pulled back half a centimeter and it felt like he was at war with himself. 

You watched his face as he did it. His eyes, he kept them closed up as tightly as he could and the hard clench of his jaw did not let up. 

He was touching you though. His hand had moved and his thumb brushed lightly over your bottom lip and his fingertips dug in behind your ear. His other hand, the one that you held in your lap had moved too and you felt a squeeze from his fingers as he clenched tightly around your hand. 

Everything about him was tense. His jaw, his hands, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. 

This man was very purposefully attempting to regain control of himself and resist whatever it was he was feeling by being this close to you, by you touching him, and by him touching you. Your own self-control felt thready. How easily you could snap in two. How flimsy your resolve had grown around him. 

You’d long since dropped the bag of letters. You felt the need for the warmth of his soft skin under your fingertips. So you reached for his face, delighting in wonder at the smoothness your fingertips traveled over, even with the hard clench of his jaw he felt so warm and inviting and he was still so very close to you. He smelled so good, it was overwhelming. You wanted him. 

He was so very close; close enough for you to feel every quick burst of air that came from his nose against your lips, close enough for you to so easily lean your face into his and press your lips up against the softness of his mouth.

So you did it, you did it -- you leaned into him and you kissed him on the lips, relishing in the softness you felt when his lips gave into yours so, so easily, it seemed to come like second nature when you had actually worked up the nerve to do it. 

There were almost imperceivable changes in him when you did it; when you kissed him. The hard clench in his jaw let up with the soft grunt of surprise that came from the back of his throat and in his hands; the loosening of the tight grip he held you with on your face as he simply let go of you entirely for the first few seconds of this kiss from you. 

The next change was less subtle, you felt the careful way he caved to your lips. The tilt of his head paired with the parting of his jaw and he leaned into you further, pulling your soft bottom lip into his mouth then pulling you again, your upper lip. When he moved again you felt the tip of his wet tongue guide along your teeth and reach for yours with that same suction he had pulled against you which you gave to him, giving him what he wanted, feeling very much out of control now with greedy the way he sucked on your tongue. The kiss was too much in an instant. The undeniable attraction you felt for this man had taken every bit of rational thought and tossed it out the window, carrying them all away with the wind outside. 

His mouth and teeth and tongue nipped inside of your mouth, pulling at your lips and he was moving, peppering tiny kisses, bites, and nibbles along your jawline as he moved lower to taste the skin below your ear. 

You reached for him again, reaching a hand forward for his waist and lower, you’d lost your mind when you touched near his belt, slipping the tips of your fingertips in between the denim fabric and feeling along the elastic waistband of his underwear. Feeling the very clear bump of his arousal and the warmth of his skin there.

His hand flew up to stop you and you heard the soft groan that came from his chest against his will. You could feel your labored breathing taking your chest and heaving it up and you shook your head back and forth at the nerve he had to stop you. You wanted him, you wanted the sex. You were beginning to feel desperate for him. 

Kyungsoo leaned his forehead against yours and his hands now had a strong ironclad grip on your wandering hands. You felt the very slight movement of his face back and forth. 

No. 

He was telling you no. 

You had to take a genuine moment to absorb it. He was telling you no. You closed your eyes and inhaled a deep breath and you inhaled the no, the refusal, the rejection took its time coming at you slowly in a big old sluggish wave and your breathing was beginning to calm down now. 

“Kyungsoo?” You called out lightly, feeling just a bit upset and even more confused as to why he would have kissed you back so intensely if he didn’t want this. 

“I,” he opened his mouth and pulled his head back, “I don’t—” his words were broken, staggered, and fractured, “I couldn’t live with myself.”

“You don’t want me like that.” It wasn’t a question. You weren’t asking him a damn thing. It was a stark realization that you had simply misread his actions as affection. 

“I don’t mean that,” he began, his voice clearer and with slightly more urgency than the staggered speech from earlier, he inhaled and swallowed, licking his lips as his eyes searched over your face. 

“I don’t do that lightly,” he exhaled and furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes and looking into your face again, “I’ve never slept with someone outside of a relationship. I don’t do it. This can’t happen. We aren’t going to have sex.” 

He had released his tight grip on your hands now that his reasoning was out and you sat there feeling just a little bit foolish for having jumped so quickly straight to sex. You felt the embarrassment hit you hard and you closed your eyes through it and shook your head, straightening your back and removing your hands from within his fingers and pulling them back toward you as you carefully busied yourself with straightening your shirt back out. This felt awful. You reached down for the mug with the now cold ginger honey water and you downed the remains quickly, hoping that some of that sweet honey might coat your insides and soothe your fractured ego while it was at it. 

You felt the softness of his hand land over yours when you put the mug back down and you looked down at it, his hand covering over yours. You could feel it then, he was asking you to look at him. You had been embarrassed by the rejection and had been busying yourself with literally anything that wasn’t him. He’d given you time to process it and to get yourself under control before calling your attention again with the softest and most gentle pull of just the warmth of his hand on yours. You signed deeply, willing all of that oxygen to fill your lungs and power your brain well, and after what felt like several inescapable seconds passed you looked up into his face. 

He was watching you, no words on his lips and a slow and steady blinking of his eyes.

You swallowed before you spoke, “I get it,” you said plainly, biting down on your lip once before you continued, “I understand. You don't sleep around. I sleep around. You and I aren’t the same.” 

His lips parted and his eyes rolled over his face once before they sank back down heavy inside of yours. He inhaled a breath, clearly ready to counter your words. You knew you were misinterpreting his meaning. It wasn't even as if he’d called you a slut or anything, but goddammit that recent discovery of his. Him having found your 20-pack of condoms in your bag; you couldn't help but compare them to the single 5-pack he brought which he probably never even had any intention of using in the first place when you had every intention of using some of those condoms on this retreat. You would be goddamned if you didn’t get laid at least once on this trip. It had been so long for you, that you needed something from someone that made you feel desired and attractive to another human being. 

“You know,” he was speaking, his eyes had drifted closed and he was having trouble getting the words out again. Maybe he was about to tell you he was on his way to pray for your forgiveness for being such a slut. 

“You already know how I feel about you,” he whispered and pulled his eyes open. 

You looked at his face for a moment before your eyes wandered over the space above his head; giving the smallest head shake as a reply. Not really. He hated you for one minute. He laughed at you and teased you another minute. He made you ramen and tasty honey tea to soothe your upset stomach and beat you mercilessly at Monopoly but his cold hard facade fell apart when you teased him back. He was a mystery to you, whenever you thought you had figured something out about him, he would pull out the rug from under you and swear that no matter how desperate you were for it he would specifically not ever sleep with you. You felt that same familiar pain in your stomach flare up again. You hissed through it and inhaled a small gasp, doing your best to keep your reaction under wraps. 

His eyes narrowed and he dropped his chin, “you must know,” he said again, “you already know.” 

You must have flinched somewhere in your face. Those knowing eyes of his caught it and his head ticked as his eyes moved over you again. 

“How could I know anything?” You were beginning to feel like you should go lie down. You even felt a tiny bit dizzy the more you stayed here just withstanding this. Maybe a warm shower would help. 

“Sara told you. You know everything.” he threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling above his head. He had a sort of exasperated expression on his face now and you tried to focus on this conversation but you’d already been through enough of it. 

What had Sara told you? She had been so excited about every little interaction between the two of you that her words had been too exaggerated and overly dramatic to be able to trust what she said. Your mind flew through her words to you about him. About him saying how pretty you were. So what if you were pretty. The man hated you. He hated you. Her words, were a distant memory now even though it had only been a couple of hours since she said them. 

‘The way he looks at you -- If I didn't know that he was desperately in love with you, I’d think he was trying to set you on fire with his eyes -- he was desperately in love with you -- he is desperately in love with you.’

It was impossible. Sara was wrong. This man did not love you. He couldn’t love someone like you. 

Doh Kyungsoo had just rejected you for the third time now. The first when he stood you up on the date, leaving you to stew in the rejection, publicly calling you out amongst your best friends about it, basically ridiculing you again and again for your stupidity; how dare you really think someone like him could ever actually be interested in someone like you. The second rejection was shallower, the way he treated you when he found out you were here with him. You had the audacity to show up here and play pretend like you belonged here beside him; going so far as to reject even your offer of friendship, the lowest form of acquaintance and even that he didn't want. And now, reminding you of just how little he thought of you. 

He didn’t sleep with people he wasn’t in a relationship with. You’d offered yourself so easily to the man, practically begged for it but again, you received another rejection. 

Wasn't there a point in which you should give up on this? 

“I don't know anything, Kyungsoo. I don't even know you, remember? We never really even met each other.” You said it with such finality that his lips closed up and he pulled his head back. He seemed taken aback by the force with which you said those words to him. You stood up, done with this. There was only so much you could take. That surprised look on his face from earlier had flattened out and he was staring ahead of himself, not looking up at you. 

You stood there looking down at him for much longer than your pride should have allowed. Watching him staring ahead of himself with his silent lips and his bright red ears, his chest heaving up and down as if all of the emotions bubbling just below the surface of him could ever presume to break through that thick outer shell of a man who keeps everything inside when he should have just let it out. Goddammit Kyungsoo. But he wouldn’t move. He wouldn’t explain and he sure as hell wasn’t about to try any more than absolutely necessary with you. You’d been the one to put yourself out there again and again for this man. You felt let down. 

“I’m going to shower and lie down for a while.” 

You took the first steps to leave, to walk past him and you’d made it three whole steps toward the door when you felt the warmth and strength of his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, pulling you back. He pulled you back roughly. You had been moving forward with such a momentum that the break in your stride caused you to stumble backward and you yelped out in surprise finding yourself pulled into him, pulled to where he still sat uselessly in that chair and the rough yank on your wrist sent you moving until you collided with a resisting barrier.

You stumbled on your feet and you bounced against him and the second you collided with him you felt the strength of his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You felt the push of his firm chest hit against your thighs and in your belly you felt the point of his nose as he buried his entire face within your shirt, just below your ribs deep, within the softness of your belly. It tickled uncomfortably but you felt too stunned to do anything. You looked down in shock, seeing only the top of his head, his soft black hair fell into the fabric of your shirt and from his mouth somewhere you heard the softest moan that reverberated through your body. 

For lack of anywhere else to put them you rested your hands on his shoulders and you heard and felt him make another sound, a rough growl from his chest sounded out into your skin, buzzing into the skin of your stomach and his hands around your waist tightened to uncomfortable levels. He inhaled a deep breath from somewhere in the center of you and you found some semblance of some words to say. 

“Kyungsoo, what,” you began but his hot exhale warmed you on the exit and sent goosebumps cascading down your spine, taking whatever words you thought you could speak. After several breaths he lifted his face, propping his chin right against your skin to look up into your stunned and confused face. 

“What are you doing?” you managed. You felt too blindsided for more.

“Get to know me then,” he whispered up into the air and you wiggled against the tightness you felt in his arms matching the crazed look you saw in his eyes. He did not loosen them any, “get to know me, until you understand how I feel about you.” 

This didn’t feel real. It was impossible that this was happening. Was he serious? 

Your mind was spinning. You couldn’t reconcile the two versions of Doh Kyungsoo you were witnessing. The desperate way he clung to you told you one thing and yet, so much bad had already happened to tell you the complete opposite. This version clearly hadn't listened to a damn thing the other one had just told you. This one didn’t know about the no sex before commitment rule, the one that had his chance and squandered it, humiliating you in the process. But as tightly as you were wound here within his arms; you could feel your body responding to him all over again. You’d already been too affected by him before.

His eyes were looking up at you and you could just barely make out the tiny pout on his lips that was hiding within the fabric. 

Maybe he was drunk. Maybe that mug he had been sipping from had been full of whiskey instead of tea and this man was off his head right now. 

“What are you talking about?” 

He was moving with the question you hung into the air above his head. You could feel the slow way he moved his face, pressing himself against the softness of your belly again, breathing you in slowly and deeply as if every bit of sanity had simply left his body and this was a madman whose only purpose was to drive you as crazy as he was. 

“You know for someone who doesn’t want to fuck me, you are doing a terrible job of letting me leave this room.” 

Your own bluntness surprised you but you’d expected him to wake the hell up and release you so you could go take care of this problem he’d caused. 

“I never said I don’t want to fuck you.” He whispered it with his face hidden deep within the skin of your belly but the words echoed inside of you, hitting you hard with their heavy impact. 

The man was a menace. He’d just turned you down only to do this to you? You felt so turned on you almost couldn’t keep upright.  

You braced both of your hands on his shoulders and you pushed against him hard, pushing your hips backward too until he got the message and loosened his hold around you. The release allowed you to take a step back. His hands still lingered around you and you even felt one of his hot palms lying right over your ass, having slipped down from your waist he didn’t seem to be in too big of a hurry to take his wandering hands off of you. 

“Sorry, sorry,” his immediate apology told you that he knew exactly what sins he had committed against you, “I’m not in my right mind.”

You reached behind you and grabbed his hand off of your ass and brought it back around, dropping it down on his own lap. It landed with a flop in his lap and his eyes pulled deservedly down as he took on a much more sheepish expression in his face. You couldn’t tell if it was genuine. 

“You say one thing and do another, Doh Kyungsoo.”  

You felt ready to snap. “You say we won’t have sex, and that’s fine. I’m fine with that,” you said through wild eyes and even though you managed to get the words out, it felt like a lie. You weren’t fine with that. This hot piece of ass needed to figure himself out and in a hurry because you weren’t sure how much more of his torture you could take. 

“You seem fine with it,” you heard him mumble under his breath and your eyes widened as you lifted your eyebrows and looked at him. He lifted a hand and waved it lightly, “Sorry, continue.” 

“I was fine with it until you,” you lifted your arms and wrapped them around your body, doing a speed-run pantomime of him grabbing you around the waist, hugging you tightly and you even ran your fingers over the entire length of his face lightly, jumping back in pure frustration, “did all that to me, Kyungsoo. What the fuck?” 

The man who sat in front of you with his forearms crossed strategically over his lap ‘just so’ dared to smile at you. It was a tiny smile but you lifted a finger and pointed right at his face with a frustrated gasp. Again his smile, impossibly, widened.

“I am going to go take a shower. And I am going to lie down.” These words came out in a low growl. “I better not see you standing at that bathroom doorway.”

You’d spun on your heels for the second time to walk away from this man and you nearly screamed when you felt his hand reach for you again. This time he was standing up and you lifted your own hand in an 'I swear to god, give me a reason’ pose, enjoying how quickly he flinched away from you. 

“Wait, wait” he quickly spoke, not wanting to get smacked. You decided then and there that you weren’t above doing it. The memory of last night's tit punch was still fresh in your mind and you were feeling almost crazy enough to do it. 

“Just wait, goddammit,” he had the nerve to sound annoyed. He actually reached up and grabbed your raised hand and carefully brought it back down. “Come back later. Later tonight, give me like two hours maybe.” 

“What happens in two hours?” your eyes narrowed and your lips pouted just a little bit with the suggestive tilt of your head as your mind whirled through the possibilities. Did he just need two hours to decide that maybe you were worth a round or 20 of pressing your back into your mattress, or maybe his mattress? Hell, four mattresses were lying over there on the floor where the movies had been showing, you were not that picky. Literally this table here would suffice. Your face must have betrayed your filthy thoughts because he squeezed your hand and you heard a tiny laugh break free from him. 

He was laughing through his words, “Dinner. Just dinner with me. God, will you relax, please?”

His proposal sounded promising. Your eyebrows were lifted in curiosity without you even realizing it you eked out a tiny question for him.

“Like…a dinner date?” This sent a strange wave of panic through you. The tiny smile on his face and the little hum he made as a response sent butterflies flying. You felt at odds with the strange burst of nerves. The idea of having an actual date with this man was, well — you’d never once considered a re-do with him. Back then you’d been so offended, so humiliated, and so angry that the last thing you wanted was to give him a second chance. After a while, you’d even run out of any desire for him to explain himself for what he did back then. 

Perhaps a make-up for that botched blind date all those months ago that started all of this trouble was the kind of thing your heart craved deep down inside. You suddenly felt nervous. Sex was one thing but a date with him? Sex was just physical but starting this over again, a date with Kyungsoo felt too vulnerable. Why was that so much scarier to you? 

What if he didn’t show up? 

Wait, he was trapped here and he was the one doing the cooking. Plus if he didn't show up, you knew where you could find him. You’d beat down the door and kick his ass as long as he was hiding away in one of the rooms here that didn't have any spiders. 

His eyebrows lifted and the smile he was wearing on his lips was gone. 

“You don’t want to?” He asked the question and left his lips hanging open. You could see on his face that despite the false bravado he wore when he proposed the date, to begin with, he also was feeling a lot of the same nerves about it that you felt. His focus on your face was flighty, not quite able to commit to solid eye contact with you with this heavy question handing in the air like this. 

“Okay,” you finally answered in a whisper and you closed up your mouth and nodded your head up and down twice. 

Kyungsoo’s eyes watched your face and you caught him mirroring the same head nod. “Okay,” he also whispered. 

You nodded again and he was quiet as he looked at you, eventually looking away from you and looking around the kitchen space with a small exhale of air through his mouth. He didn’t move, but what was even worse was that you also did not move. You weren’t sure how to do it.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no this was awkward. Did you just say goodbye and walk away? Did you give him, like, a high five or maybe lean into him for a hug, God that would be terrible, Imagine? A hug, thanks buddy, thanks pal, thanks for letting me make out with you, sorry to freak you out when I got too into it and touched your boner because apparently that is a no-touchy zone, I did not get the memo about the boner. Should you lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek? How did you leave this situation with at least one-fourth of your dignity, an acceptable amount for someone with your history of humiliating yourself, still intact? 

The kiss on the cheek might be okay, right? His cheeks were soft and his skin was smooth. You took the smallest step into him and you leaned in for it, but oh god, he was moving already. You leaned at the exact same moment that he spun around on his feet and began to walk away from you toward the doorway that led toward the bunk beds, which would have been completely fine except for the fact that he had seen you beginning to lean into him right before he moved. He had seen you move, he had seen you lean, but his feet had already stepped, his body had already begun the exit process and what resulted was a terrible, awful, awkward time in which he stopped walking abruptly and turned back around to face you, halfway toward the doorway, stuck somewhere in the middle of this kitchen with him again facing you and neither of you wanting to explain to each other with words why the journey to the exit had been halted so abruptly. 

“No,” you shook your head back and forth. His face was pink again. “No, just go. You already ruined it.” 

“What were you going to do?” 

“Doesn't matter. It’s over.” You sidestepped him and moved quickly through the space, placing your handle on the kitchen door and pulling it open. You hurled yourself into the darkness of the hallway, feeling just a tiny bit of irritation at the realization that you could still hear the sound of his footsteps very clearly. He hadn’t stayed behind in that kitchen but he seemed to be following you down the hallway toward the room with your bunks. 

“You were leaning, what were you leaning for?” 

“Why are you following me? I have things to do. Alone, Kyungsoo.” You emphasized the last bit while looking directly into his eyes and he was fighting his smile a little but he didn’t seem to stop following you until you reached the door to the bunks and stopped to look at him with your hand on the door handle. 

“I just need to get my bag. Then you can have the place to yourself.” He was already pushing past you, rushing through the room toward the bed in the back and he was grabbing a black duffel that he slung over his shoulder and he made quick work of the distance with his quick walking reaching the space in the doorway that you still occupied in no time. 

When he was back at your side you moved inside the room to give him room for his exit but before he disappeared through the doorway you caught an abrupt shift in his balance. When he was close enough he leaned into you and pressed his soft lips against your cheek, lingering against your skin for one second too long before he pulled back again and looked into your eyes. Admittedly, you hadn’t expected that at all and you had closed your eyes halfway through the lingering part and you had to act quickly to open your eyes up in time so as not to miss the smoldering look part. 

“Now, wouldn’t that have been awkward to do back in the kitchen when I was going to come all the way over here the whole time?” 

You’d opened your mouth and inhaled a breath to respond to him. You would have lied and told him that you weren’t going to kiss him in the kitchen, or that he was imagining things again, or maybe you would lie and say you took it back and you didn’t want to have sex with him ever. He had already disappeared and the heavy door slammed shut before you had a chance to think of a clever comeback. 

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8