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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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pennedwithpassion · 2 years ago

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Your selfie-game post just popped across my feed and I had to come to your page and make sure I wasn’t about to get a massive internet crush on someone who’s like 17, only to find that you’re not only a whole ass adult, but your page is built to give anyone who stumbles across it the biggest crush on you😻😻

You should probably drop a skincare routine, though, cos if I mistook you for a teen?? Ma’am👀

🥹🥰 You are too sweet and precious! Thank you so, so much!! I am very easily crushed on, this is very true lol!! 💖

I can happily offer the skincare routine, but truly: it is 90% genetics, 8% Snapchat filters, and 2% my actual skincare lol!

I would adore keeping you on my page and interacting, but I don't see an age in your bio 🥺 I, too, want to avoid 17 year olds lol! If you may add your age (even just the range, 20s, 30s) that would be awesome!

#dontgetmadgetmaddie #💖💖💖💖#Thank you again my sweet!!

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pigeontheoneandonly · 3 years ago

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@theoriginalladya

Re: art-- I know, right?! I’m still blown away.

Re: the catfish... lol, well. Kelly buys it for her from a pet shop at Zakera Point, in an attempt to cheer her up:

Kelly Chambers just about jumped out of her skin as the hatch slid open. Shepard raised one eloquent eyebrow.

Her yeoman hastened to step back from the fish tank and offered a harried and still painfully incorrect salute. “Shepard. Ma’am. I can explain.”

“These are my private quarters, Ms. Chambers.” She was less bothered than taken aback. Kelly was the last person she’d expect to snoop through her cabin.

“I found it at a pet shop near Zakera Point,” she said, naming the apex of the ward arm, furthest from the Presidium ring. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise me?” Shepard approached the fish tank. Her four acquisitions from Omega had settled in nicely. Watching them swim back and forth was meditative, and she got more simple pleasure out of feeding them than she would readily admit. It was good to have a few members of her crew who were easy to please, even if they were just fish.

But now, a fifth had joined them. It was an ugly thing, blackish-gray with thick whiskers and an eel-like body the length of her forearm. It stared back with sullen eyes. “You got me a fish?”

“It’s a type of catfish.” Kelly fidgeted. “From Earth. Indonesia, I think.”

She’d seldom seen such an unattractive creature. Something in its flat face suggested it was strongly considering reclassifying her as a meal. “That’s… nice.”

“He seemed unusual. I thought you’d be drawn to something out of the ordinary.”

“It’s a him?” Shepard was at a total loss to explain sex differentiation among fish.

Kelly crossed her arms defensively. “It looks like a him.”

It wasn’t like she could return it. “Thanks, Kelly. That was… very generous of you.”

She broke into a jittery smile, as though she’d dreaded some worse response, and pointed tentatively at the hatch. “I’ll just…”

“You do that.” Shepard watched her scamper out, then shook her head and looked back at the tank. The newest fish had curled up around the base of one of the plastic plants, where it continued to glare. “You and me both, pal.”

She gave them their food, noting he was not too snobby to turn down a chance at compressed krill flakes, and got ready for bed.

So far it has made one known escape attempt:

Shepard levered herself out of the seat and went to the CIC, which had slowly populated as first watch woke up. Kelly was positively bereft. She swallowed, once, as Shepard approached.

Shepard assumed it was Ferris Fields. “Look, it’s rough every time a colony gets hit, but we’re not wasting it. We’ll learn as much as we can and be that much closer to stopping the Collectors.”

Confusion crossed her face. “What? Who did we lose?”

“Ferris Fields.” Shepard’s brow furrowed. “What did you want to talk about?”

Kelly stared down at something in her hands. “I found him on the elevator.”

Lying across her palms was the newest and ugliest fish, the one Kelly bought for her aboard the Citadel. Shepard blinked. “How in the hell did it get out of the tank?”

“There are holes in the back. For the filter.” Kelly sniffled. “He must have jumped out. Why would he do that?”

“But all the way to the elevator?” Another thought. “How’d it get through the hatch?”

Kelly made a small noise. Shepard tore enough of her attention from the minor mystery of the fish’s escape to notice her yeoman was unreasonably upset. “Maybe there was… stuff in the water it didn’t like. Different from its old tank.”

“I did everything the store told me before I put him there.”

Shepard tried to muster a little compassion and patience. “Here, give it… him… to me and I’ll disp— take care of it.”

She reached for the fish. As her fingers touched it, he twitched.

Kelly screamed and dropped it on the floor. It landed on its back, wriggled twice to right itself, and snaked towards the main console at surprising speed, dragging itself along with its two front fins like improvised feet.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Shepard swooped down and grabbed it just as its head vanished beneath the console.

The fish put up a spirited fight, but it had been out the water long enough to loose most of its slime. She just barely managed to hold onto it. “What is this thing?”

“The clerk said it was catfish.” Kelly hovered behind her as she headed back to the elevator. “Is he hurt?”

Shepard looked down at the fish in disbelief. It glared back at her with two dark evil eyes and waved its whiskers, like something out of a B horror flick. She took a breath. “Kelly.”

The girl jerked her head up and stopped fussing with the fish. “Yes?”

“I’m going to put the fish back where it belongs. I need you to get a message ready for the crew about Ferris Fields. There’s going to be a lot of questions and I want to get it all out there at once, as soon as everyone’s awake. Understood?”

She composed herself and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

#nathaly shepard #ask me anything

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btsqualityy · 4 years ago

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Yoongi Sleeping Drabble

So, I’m writing this because of the interview where Yoongi said that he likes to sleep naked because I have no self control lol In this drabble, Mama Min and Yoongi have been dating for about 7 months.

The sunlight filtering through the curtains are what causes you too stir, your arms reaching up and stretching out as you groaned lightly. As you did so, you heard a deep, grumbling voice next to you.

“Will there ever be one morning when you stretch and manage to not hit me in the jaw?” Yoongi muttered and you couldn’t help but to smile.

“Nope,” you said simply, turning over in his arms and looking at him. “Morning.”

“Mm, morning baby,” he mumbled, puckering his lips afterwards and you shuffled forward, kissing him firmly for a few seconds before pulling away.

“Are you still naked?” You asked suddenly, and Yoongi’s eyebrows rose.

“Yeah?” He answered. “Why?”

“I can feel your dick on my thigh,” you giggled, making him roll his eyes at you.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” he huffed gently. “I told you that I like to sleep naked.”

“I know, but I’m still not used to you actually doing it,” you shrugged, moving your thigh so that it brushed up against his cock even more. “So, are you happy to see me or did you just have a really good dream?”

“You should already know the answer to that,” he smirked, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you towards him so that your chest was pressed against his. After looking into your eyes for a few seconds, Yoongi leaned forward and kissed you passionately. You responded immediately, lifting one of your arms and wrapping it around Yoongi’s shoulder, setting your hand in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Want me to fuck you baby?” Yoongi asked and you nodded your head eagerly.

“Please,” you requested with a soft smile. Yoongi sat up and moved on top of you so that he was in between your legs, and you reached underneath yourself to pull down the panties that you had slept in. Once you managed to get them off with Yoongi’s help, he wasted no time in gently running his fingertips over your slit.

“So wet already Y/N-ah,” Yoongi whispered.

“What else do you expect when you sleep next to me naked all night?” You laughed. “Now, come fuck me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled, shuffling forward on his knees and taking ahold of the base of his cock, slowly slipping inside of you.

“Fuck,” you drawled, letting your head fall back against the pillow.

“How are you this fucking tight when I just fucked you last night?” Yoongi murmured, almost more to himself than to you. “Guess I’m just gonna have to fuck you back open, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” you gasped, feeling yourself clench around his length.

“You like that, huh baby?” Yoongi smiled. “You like it when I fuck you like a slut but treat you like a queen?”

“Love it,” you whimpered. “You’re so good to me.”

“No, you’re good to me Y/N-ah, and for me,” he replied gently. “Wanna know something?”

“What?”

“I’ve never slept naked with anyone else that I’ve dated,” he revealed and your eyes widened.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he confirmed.

“Why not?”

“Never felt comfortable enough to,” he admitted. “Sleeping naked next to another person is vulnerable, and I never felt like I could trust anyone enough to do it. At least, that was until I met you.”

“Yoongi,” you sniffled as tears welled up in your eyes from his honesty, and the fact that he was still diving into you didn’t help matters either.

“I love you Y/N-ah,” he told you as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, fuck,” you gasped, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck as he continued to fuck you. It didn’t take much longer until you were coming for him, your head thrown back and loud moans escaping your throat as your orgasm slammed into you.

“Come inside of me,” you pleaded. “Please.”

“I am, holy shit,” Yoongi growled, biting his lips harshly as his cum flooded into you. You watched with a lazy smile as he rode out his orgasm, shallowly thrusting into you until it became too much for him to continue.

“Thank you,” you spoke up suddenly, making him raise an eyebrow at you.

“For what?”

“For trusting me,” you said.

“No, thank you for being trustworthy,” he replied. “I love you Y/N-ah. Always.”

“I love you too Yoongs,” you smiled, moaning softly when he leaned down and kissed you sweetly.

#bts #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #suga smut #yoongi smut #bts yoongi #bts suga #btsqualityy drabbles #the mins

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call-signvalkyrie · 4 years ago

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Ignite the Spark pt. 1

So I quit my shitty job today. Yay me! With the extra time I had today, I got a chance to finish the first chapter of a Poe Dameron series I’ve been working on. Let me know what you guys think!

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Summary: After years of undercover work for the Resistance, the daughter of Luke Skywalker has returned. Arriving on Ajan Kloss to a warm greeting from General Leia Organa, the Reader is given a gift and has their first meeting with everyone’s favorite pilot.

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

Tags: talks of the Force, a few flashbacks, Poe being embarrassed lol

Word Count: around 3k

When your transport landed on Ajan Kloss, you weren’t sure you would be cut out for this. You’d spend so much time on backwater planets, filtering information to the resistance and doing your best to go unnoticed. You were so used to not interacting with anyone that the thought of being around so many people on a bustling base was a bit scary. All feelings of reservation were swept away, however, when the door of the transport opened to reveal the face of an older woman. Her hair was different since the last time you had seen her. Her face was aged from the many years of fighting the good fight for the rebellion. Her eyes, however, had not changed a day. They gleamed and twinkled in the dying twilight. Her smile made them sparkle even brighter as she reached out toward you.

“Aunt Leia,” you stepped off the transport and into her open arms. “It’s been too long.”

“Yes, it has. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kept you away.” She smiled lovingly, taking your face in both hands.

“I brought the data you asked for. I’ve got it all here.” You said, pulling a flash drive from your jacket pocket.

“That’s wonderful, Stardust.” You beamed with pride at the mention of your childhood nickname. “Lt. Connix, will you please take this data to the command center. Start running a detail immediately.”

“Yes, General.” Lt. Connix took the flash drive and was gone before you could blink.

“Beaux, see to it that Lt. Skywalker’s bags are placed in her quarters, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Beaux gave you a quick wave before stepping onto the transport and out of sight.

“Now, Y/N, I want to give you a quick tour before you settle in. I’m sure you’re exhausted but I want you to be as familiar as possible with everything on this base. This is your home now. No more field missions, I need you with me.” Leia smiled again, taking your arm and leading you toward the left wing of the base and toward the living quarters.

Home. Leia was the only thing you had left. Wherever she was, that’s where your home would be.

After showing you where your quarters would be located as well as the mess hall, med bay, and a quick tour of the Command Center, you were ready to get settled in for the night.

“Well, Y/N, if you need anything tonight, my quarters are right down the hall. You should have a data pad on your desk all charged and ready to go. It’ll have your clearance codes as well as any information you’ll need to know while on base. I’ll need you with me in the morning to debrief that data. It should be downloaded and ready so make sure to give it a look over before the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You said, smiling softly at the older woman.

“Goodnight, Stardust.” Leia gave a quick wave before walking out the door.

Turning on your heal, you took a quick second to familiarize yourself with your new home. Being the niece of the general had its perks. Your quarters were small, yes but they were cozy. A small bookshelf and dresser were along the wall to your left, a double bed and desk and chair to your right. The data pad Leia had mentioned was right where she said it would be, all charged and ready to go from the looks of it. Straight ahead was your own private refresher. After unpacking your duffle of clothes, along with your rucksack containing a few personal mementos, you decided to take a quick shower before bed. You could wake up early and review that data for Leia. It wasn’t like you hadn’t spent the last 5 years gathering every piece of intel you could on the First Order.

Grabbing a fresh pair of underwear, a grey tank and a pair of sleep shorts from your dresser, you stepped into the refresher. Ten minutes later you were scrubbed clean and feeling surprisingly relaxed. It was amazing what a proper shower could do. Opening the door and stepping into your room, you turned to hang your towel on the desk chair when you spotted something you hadn't noticed earlier. On the desk were two boxes accompanied by an envelope. Scrawled across the front in a familiar script was the word “Stardust”. Opening the envelope, you began to read:

Y/N,

For far too long I have kept you in the dark and for that I will always be in your debt. Please accept these as tokens of my sincerest apologies. I hope at least one of these will help light your way. I understand if you’re conflicted but I have hope that one day you will be able to continue your training. Your fathers only wish in life was to see you follow his footsteps. Maybe we can fix that now.

All My Love,

Leia

Setting the letter to the side, you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. Picking up the smaller of the two boxes, you opened it to reveal a small jewelry box. Lifting the lid, you gasped allowed. Nestled on a small black pillow was a beautifully woven silver chain. Placed ever so delicately in the middle of the pillow was a pendant. Pulling the chain from the box, you let it dangle in front of you in the soft light.

You never thought you would see this necklace again. Your father had given it to you when you left the Jedi temple to be with your aunt Leia all those years ago. When the temple fell and Kylo Ren rose to power, your necklace went missing in the night. That was almost 8 years ago now. Yet, here it was right in your hands like it was never gone. You ran the compass shaped pendant through your fingers, letting the wave of sadness and nostalgia run over you. On one side, a golden crescent moon surrounded by three silver stars embellished the surface. Turning it over, there was an engraving: Stardust.

You gingerly pulled the chain around your neck and adjusted it to size. That’s why you had always loved this necklace.

“It will grow with you, Stardust.”

Sniffling, you took a look at the other package. Thinking back to the note, you already knew what it was. How Leia had found it, you would never know but would be forever grateful. This box was longer, over a foot in length. The box was made of a soft wood that smelled faintly of burned embers. It had no exterior markings and no obvious way of exposing its contents. Slowly, you lowered the box to the floor. Taking a seat in front of it, closed your eyes. Reaching out with your mind, you felt it: The Force.

“The Force is all around you, Y/N. Reach out with your feelings and let it flow through you.”

“Okay, dad.”

“Ahem.”

“I mean: Yes, Master.”

The box gave no notice it had even opened. If some random onlooker happened to be watching, they would be none the wiser. You knew, however, the moment it happened. Lifting the lid, your breath caught in your throat. The inside of the box was lined with a soft, deep blue velvet pillow the color of the night sky. On top of the pillow, an emblem was stitched into the fabric. A shooting star wrapped in what looked like wings. Atop this pillow was a smooth cylindrical object, covered in beautiful ancient markings. It had a slightly curved handle for better grip for your smaller hands. You always favored nature and practicality over dominance and your build had reflected that.

“You must gather your crystals quickly, younglings. The cave is only open for so long. We don’t want any of you getting stuck in here.” You could hear his soft chuckle even now.

Picking up the silver object, you ignited the switch. Your room began to buzz with the soft whir of noise from the object in your hand. Ethereal, green light radiated from the source. You disengaged the ignitor, taking the smooth metal in both hands. How could it have survived? You looked everywhere after the temple was burned and never found it. Had Leia had it all this time and was just waiting for the right time to return it? Who had taken your lightsaber?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of frantic beeping coming from the hallway. Quickly, you slid the blade back into the box. Tucking it away under your bunk, you scrambled to the door and hit the lock. The door opened with a soft shlick and you stepped into the hallway. Another round of agitated beeps could be heard coming down the hall followed by what sounded like combat boots. Coming around the corner was a small round droid, a BB Unit by the looks of him.

“BeeBee-Ate, I’m sorry! Buddy, our room’s not even this way, where are you going?” a male voice called after the little droid.

“What do you mean you're telling Leia?! It’s the middle of the night, pal. She’s most likely asleep.”

Leaning against the door to your quarters, you began to understand the little guy. He was angry because someone named Poe left him alone with the ship. AGAIN. And got captured and made him worry. AGAIN. You gave a slight chuckle as the little guy rolled by, angry beeps the whole way. Punching your code back into your door panel, you were just about to step back in when a voice called out to you. Stepping back into the hallway, you were greeted by a Resistance pilot. He was still wearing his bright orange flight suit. His thick, curly hair stuck up in odd directions from his helmet. He gave you a soft smile and waved.

“I’m sorry for all the noise, it's been a weird day.” The pilot smiled at you apologetically. “I hope my friend didn’t wake you.”

“No, I was awake.” You smiled back, taking a step out of your room and into the hallway. “Just checking to make sure everything was alright. The General, however, won't be too happy about being disturbed.” You nodded toward the little droid, now rolling his body into your aunts' door at full force.

“Gods, BB-Ate! It’s not that serious! I -” the pilots voice stopped in his throat as the shlick of the door BB-8 was throwing himself into slid open. The little droid went flying full force into the now open quarters of General Organa. You heard a loud clang followed by a series of confused beeps and whistles from the little droid.

“Dameron, you nerf herder! Get your droid out of my room right now or so help me not even the Force will be able to save you!” the General stepped out of her quarters and into the hallway, glairing toward the man to your right. You had to cover your face to hide the smile that was creeping onto it.

“General, I am so sorry.” a deep blush began to creep up the man's neck and onto his face. “I tried to get him to calm down but he just wouldn’t! He insisted - “

“I don’t care, Dameron. Get him out of here NOW. You’re obviously alright so whatever it is can wait until morning.” Leia said, placing one hand on her hip. You hadn’t seen Leia this irritated since you were a child. You were glad that look was fixed on someone else for once.

“Yes, ma’am.” The pilot said, lowering his eyes. “C’mon BB-8. It’s time for bed.” The little droid gave what you interpreted to be a light grumble but complied, rolling out to meet his master. Turning on his heal, the pilot gave you a light nod and started off in the direction he came from.

“Y/N! Ben! Get in here.”

“I told you not to take her lightsaber!” You whispered to your cousin, jabbing him in the ribs.

“She’s my mom. I can take whatever I want from her.” Ben smirked at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever, Bantha-breath! I’m gonna tell her you said that!” You skipped off toward your aunt's voice, Ben chasing close behind you.

“Y/N, you okay?” A hand touched your arm, bringing you back to reality.

“Yeah, Aunt Leia, sorry. I think I’m just tired.” You yawned, covering your mouth lightly. “Hey, who was that guy?”

“Oh, that’s Poe. Poe Dameron. He’s a pilot, leader of Black Squadron.” Leia said, exasperation in her voice.

“Like, THE Poe Dameron? Wow.” You laughed lightly, shaking your head.

“He’s a good guy, just has his head in his cockpit most of the time instead of down on solid ground.” Leia said, shaking her head with a smile.

“No, it’s not that. I just thought he’d be taller.” You both smiled, enjoying the joke between the two of you.

“Well, between you and me, he really is the best pilot I’ve ever seen.” your aunt gave you a little wink before turning to go back into her own room.

“Even better than...” but you stopped yourself, letting the thought trail on.

“Almost. Maybe.” you could hear the smile in her answer as the door to her room shut behind her.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x skywalker #star wars #reader insert #star wars fanfiction #fanfic

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barzzal · 4 years ago

Text

🥩 miss ma’am let me pull the influencer card and use the apology statement that’s badly written on apple notes real quick 🥩

lol no kidding aside, y’all know how this blog is beef-free right so please i’d appreciate if y’all won’t ask me about this mainly because this is basically why you’re reading this in the first place.

so, anyhow, i’ve spoken with the anon and everyone involved is cool now. i missed out a few things, case in point: warnings. that being said, i wanna apologize if the blurbs offended anyone in the process. (tiffany said she doesn’t make mistakes, well do i look like tiffany??? i can only wish)

and for the sake of everyone’s safety– (after all, there’s quite a lot of you i feel like i won’t be able to take everyone single-handedly) i already took down the blurbs in question, the one with sid and the one wit mat (who else do i write for anw lmao) but i will still be doing wet weekends. so you’re very much free to make it spicy as usual just leave the filtering to me ;')) yeah, that’s basically it. excuse my excessive use of tiffany references btw HAH

i’ll post my guidelines soon just to keep everyone in check. i just need to finish up with the blurbs i still have from last year sksks also, i know this is annoying but i’m doing this to not ruin the fun i have here too. i’m not to kill whatever’s keeping 😺 feel things zz so a few things i would like you to take from this:

warnings will now be included always not just on my imagines/series’ foreword. and pls don’t excuse my lazy ass for when i forget. you can call me out. i’m a big girl i can take it.

still— with a firm hand: if you’re a minor, pls for the love of god, don’t read porn!!!

wet weekends are still a thing and you can still send me some nasty things whenever i host one.

not sure if i have it all covered but i think that’s about it. if any of you have questions/concerns, my dms are open. if you don’t wanna dm me, just ask me off anon and i’ll dm you myself. ;)) mwah!!

#unfortunately miss tiff i did—#txt

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theoriginalladya · 4 years ago

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25 for F!Shenko.

from this list

On AO3 here

Thank you for this! The fShenko is implied here ... I started off writing it with my canon Serafina Shepard in mind, but it quickly morphed into a generic Colonist FemShep. Definitely FShekno though. And wow .. this one snuck up on me. Because hey, what mission doesn’t immediately go FUBAR when Shepard lands, right? lol Under cut because it got long.

~~~

Standing at her private terminal in the CIC, Shepard stares at the latest message that flits across the screen. It’s from Alliance Command, or Hackett; she’s too distracted by the contents of the message to care, and in the end it doesn’t really matter. It’s a mission and she is nothing if not a dutiful soldier. It’s for the war effort. Alliance personnel on the ground will assist. The climb up the steps to the Galaxy Map is like slogging through molasses. When she gets there, she inputs the destination then turns away.

“Commander?”

Halfway to the lift, Shepard stops, waits. Traynor has learned to question when necessary.

“Are you certain …?”

“Yes, Specialist,” she replies, her voice brooking no argument. The lift arrives; she boards. The conversation ends with the closing door. Traynor’s, “Yes, ma’am,” gets cut off.

Shepard stares at the console. She needs a place to think. Someplace quiet. This mission … this is going to be difficult and she needs to get into the proper headspace for it.

The Normandy arrives in system fifteen hours later. Shepard is ready and waiting on the shuttle when Kaidan, Liara, James, Tali and Garrus arrive. “Let’s go, Cortez,” she tells the pilot, securing the hatch behind them.

Unlike usual ground missions, she doesn’t give them a brief on the descent. In fact, this journey she says absolutely nothing. She stands behind Cortez, staring out the virtual windows as he takes them down, but her mind races. The colony is technically in Reaper controlled space, but as they slip below atmo, her gaze searches the skies, the landscape, the familiar-yet-not plan of the colony. There is no indication of any reaper presence here. Yet.

Turning away as Cortez lands, she looks over at her companions. Her voice is tight, crisp and brooks no argument or discussion. “Let’s go. Intel says no reaper presence, but we all know how that goes. We have five Alliance depots to check out.” She nods at Garrus and Tali. “Grab the first two transports you find and we’ll split into teams. Cortez,” she calls back over her shoulder, “stay here. If by some chance things turn hot, get out and let me know.”

“Understood, commander.”

She pounds the hatch’s release and leads the way out of the vehicle. The others follow.

Almost from the moment her feet hit the ground, she knows something isn’t right. Her hand reaches for the comfort of her Hurricane, pulling it free while she scans the vicinity. “Base is to the east,” she tells the rest as she starts walking forward, toward the colony center. “We’ll head there first, find the locations of the depots.”

Kaidan moves up next to her. “Where are all the colonists?” he asks, putting to voice the one question everyone has.

Shepard checks that her weapon is loaded and ready to fire. “I don’t know.”

Transport is limited to one truck that Garrus gets running for them with Tali’s assistance, and with that adjustment the plan moves forward. Shepard drives, much to the dismay of the rest, and they head east. The grumbling stops once they’re underway. She knows the way; they are on alert.

Thirty minutes later, Shepard slows at the entrance. She idles the vehicle, but there are no guards in sight to let them through. Shepard leans out the window and calls up, “Kaidan? Vega? Anybody?”

“Not that I can see, Lola,” Vega calls back. Kaidan shakes his head.

Damn. Slowly, she backs up a few hundred feet. “Everyone hold on.” The words are barely out of her mouth before she guns the engines and speeds forward. The gate breaks with the vehicle’s impact and by the time she slows, they are well on the base proper.

Like the colony proper, the base appears empty. There is no one around when there should be a hive of activity. Even with the current state of the war, there should be something. Shepard pulls to a stop near the central admin building. She leads the way inside, her hand at her hip again ready to pull the Hurricane in a heartbeat.

The building is empty. From the lobby to the interior halls and offices, there is no sign that anyone is present. Shepard sends Liara to check the terminal at the main desk; Kaidan, Garrus, and even Tali pick other terminals to check. Shepard paces. Something isn’t right …

“Shepard, I’ve found something.”

Her breath catches in her chest as she hurries over to Liara. Reading through the information presented, she tries to decipher what exactly it is. It makes no sense. “What …?”

Liara shakes her head and Kaidan steps in to join them. He scans through the gibberish on the screen before looking over at Shepard. “This … isn’t right.”

“No kidding?” It comes out far too sharp to be ‘usual,’ but all of them sense there is something more at play here for her now.

Shepard stalks back around the desk and heads for the main door. “Load up!” she orders. “We’ll go find them ourselves.” So much for assistance.

She slides behind the wheel again. This time, Kaidan takes the passenger seat and everyone else climbs into the back. They start off in silence.

Five miles out, Kaidan finally speaks. “You going to tell me what’s going on?” He keeps his voice low though there isn’t really a chance anyone will hear. He knows she’s a private person. He also knows their presence is more than just a mission to her.

Her jaw tightens, teeth grinding almost painfully. “Something isn’t right,” she insists, “but I can’t explain it. Something is just … off.”

He nods. “Yeah, we all sense it too,” he assures her. “What did Hackett tell you to expect?”

She shrugs. “Alliance personnel should have been there. Someone was to give us the access points. They know we are coming …”

They know …

The vehicle tops a rise. Below them, the road winds down the side of the hills through the patchwork fields. In the distance is a small clearing, fenced and closed off. The road leads straight to it. Like a moth to a flame …

Shepard slams on the brakes halfway down the hill. She hears shouts, complaints from the back, and even Kaidan’s hand slams on the dash. “What is it?” he asks, looking over at her in concern.

“Fuck! How could I have been so stupid!”

“What?”

She scans the landscape, hoping she’s wrong, but past history is too much to ignore. “It’s a trap,” she replies as she shifts the gears and starts backing the truck to a point where she can turn around.

“How do you know?”

“No one is here – either they’ve been taken, or they’re lying in wait for us to hit those depots.” Frustration eats at her as she maneuvers the vehicle.

Kaidan frowns. “That’s a bit of a jump, isn’t it? Weren’t you the one to tell me when they rebuilt the colony after the attack in 2170 they added panic rooms to every building? Maybe they’re safe and secure down there?”

She slams her fingers to her comms connection. “Cortez, fire up. Mission is scrubbed and I want off this planet ASAP.”

“Understood, commander.”

“Shepard, we can’t just leave!” Kaidan argues. “Don’t you want to help? We need those supplies and … and this is your home!”

She guns the engines, panic driving her now. Something is wrong … something is wrong … something is very, very, VERY wrong … As she skirts the outer edges of the colony proper, the first hint of movement flicks out of Kaidan’s side of the vehicle.

“Shepard!” Vega shouts. “Husks!”

“FUCK!”

The LZ is still a mile or two ahead of them. “Open fire!” she shouts out the window. Ahead of her, she notices more filtering out from the fields on the sides of the road. She grabs her Hurricane and fires out her window as Kaidan starts to do the same on his side.

The LZ comes into sight mere moments later. Shepard slides the truck to a stop some fifty yards from the shuttle. Thankfully, there don’t appear to be any reapers attacking their exit route. “Cortez!”

The hatch lifts and everyone scrambles inside. Garrus and James provide covering fire until Shepard boards. “Go! Go! Go!” she shouts to Cortez. She triggers the hatch and it slams shut as she sinks to the floor; the Hurricane clatters next to her. She buries her face in her hands for a long minute, lowering them when the weight of a hand slides around her shoulders. Looking up, she meets Kaidan’s concerned gaze. “This isn’t my home,” she rasps. “This will never be my home …”

#angst prompts #ladya writes #Colonist Shepard #fshenko #mass effect fanfiction #mindoir #in case that isn't clear #rpgwrites

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wincore · 4 years ago

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AHHHH ive been working all weekend at my part time job and reading ur wips/ideas literally got me thru it!!

WHEN U CATCH UP ON HAIKYUU U GOTTA LET ME KNOWWW omg who was ur favorite character from what u watched?? mine is kuroo & atsumu (s4)!! if u have any anime or drama reccs id gladly take them 🤲🏻🤲🏻

when do you hear back abt grad school btw!! :o like what’s the timeline for applying & hearing back?

OFC I LIKE THEM?? I LIKE ALL UR IDEAS!!!

DISOBEYING FATE??? does this mean 2 ppl who are nonsoulmates are pretending to be together/are together 👀👀 IS THIS GONNA BE ANGSTY!! u know i live for the tension... and u know i love the way u write it!!!! a more flirty and annoying yn sounds so fun to read omg

“this fashion designer fic is dedicated to you tata 💝” IM HONORED TO CONTRIBUTE TO TAEYONG’S DUNGEON ESCAPE HWHSHJSJ will there be runway character cameos 😳😳

“AFTER TWILIGHT” HELP MEEEEE i cant tell who in nomin is edward and who’s jacob.... jeno edward?? LOL

EVERY ROMANCE PLOT SUITS JAEMIN OMGGG SO TRUE WAIT THAT REMINDS ME pls tell me the tropes/plots that u associate with the members!! or which tropes u think suit them well, any pairings that rlly stand out to u. obviously we are both pro e2l & doyoung HSJWJJS but who/what else!!! i am a person fan of yukhei with the f2l/campus crush/heartthrob bestie trope.

ALSO i kinda went off the grid around the time u did that poll about people’s favorite fanfic tropes/plots so i didn’t see any updates on it!! did u find anything interesting from that survey?? :o

I HOPE UR HAVING A GOOD WEEK MOONIE 💛

- tata 💖

THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY AHHH omg i hope your part time offers enough wage for all that work!!! i would be so mad if i had to work over the weekend (but.. then again.. i’m aiming for ..corporate jobs..)

OMG omg okay this is going to get REALLY longer now tata!!!! i think this is where i should include a keep reading 😭

LET ME TELL YOU I HAD THIS MASSIVE CRUSH ON OIKAWA like his character just got to me!! i think i even wrote a character analysis for him back then LOL when i tell you 15 year old me was absolutely enamored with a 2d man. i loved kuroo too omg and the whole nekoma team he was just so chill i wanted to be him 🤩 and i’ve seen pictures of atsumu from my friends!!! who keep spamming me bc they too are in love with 2d men and he looks like someone who would cause problems on purpose but that could just be me sdkdhsj

and ooh, i have so many dramas/animes i’ve been meaning to watch but recently in kdramas, i watched run on which was super cute and i love the female lead; extracurricular oh BOY i love this. i love thrillers and crime fiction. like SO much. it’s a shame i can’t make my own 😔; and now i’m currently watching vincenzo which is a dark comedy about a korean-italian mafia man and it’s rlly funny at times and also i like the theme of evil fights evil bc i am tired of main characters with moral compasses 🙄🙄 it’s ongoing though!! my friends recommended true beauty and love alarm to me but the way they are sobbing over it i am very afraid. i was also planning to watch perfect crime (jdrama) bc my friend is obsessed with sakurada dori. <3

my all time fav animes are still one piece (which i still havent caught up with bc i am so slow) and demon slayer!! i havent watched much anime recently but i watched the ancient animagus’ bride (?? i think that’s the name?) it’s got SUPER pretty visuals and i was in awe of the animation most of the time.

i also watched this japanese movie fairly recently called shoplifters and it’s also crime technically but discusses more of japanese poverty and my feelings throughout the movie were like 📈📉📈📉 and it’s so well directed!!! i think it’s the same director as for after the storm!! idk if you’ve watched that but it was really good too!

i apply to grad school next year!! i’ll be joining in the fall semester so i have to get stuff ready by april and that’s when most of the applications start!! the scholarship im aiming for begins earlier though and like. ma’am slow down i don’t even get my degree that early i’ll have to use a provisional certificate now😭

YES about the soulmates omg hhh the official synopsis is this:

if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.

like jaehyun is not the soulmate but yn doesn’t want her soulmate bc a) he’s in a relationship and doesn’t rlly care about the soulmate system which hurt bc she’s even lonelier now 😔 and b) she thinks money > love but that’s just a coping mechanism for being a lonely (and romantically repressed) person as is her being annoying and nosy LOL. i will end the analysis of my own character here jshgdksh

YES TO RUNWAY CHARACTER CAMEOS and yes you are literally the reason taeyong is escaping the dungeon

PLS neither jeno or nomin can be blue screen filtered brooding men i would be so uncomfortable 😭😭 IMD YING DGKSHDK if jeno plays edward i need him to that apple scene like taemin did ♥

okay so i have nct dream categorized in this way (i feel like it’s kind of biased towards bff2l whoops):

bff2l - mark, jeno, jaemin, jisung

e2l - haechan, renjun

either - chenle

but adding to that, lucas is definitely the campus crush bff you’re secretly in love with but you just can’t tell him!!! he’s too hot and popular for his own good!!!! but a series of romcom-esque events will help you probably LOL (bonus points if it’s fake dating)

if it isn’t e2l with doyoung i will respectfully not accept it as valid ❤

i also associate xiaojun with bff2l likee they’re always together on campus to the point that people think they’re dating also xiaojun majors in music and gets complimented on his lyricism often but like every song’s about you lol and one day he’s like wait is it copyright infringement if he’s using your existence in his songs bc boy are you a work of art ;)

i think sicheng would do REALLY well in royalty aus like hello??? he already has the looks and the poise. also chaebol aus might also work bc what are corporate businesses but modern day kingdoms </3 bonus points if it’s e2l but idk how you beefing with sicheng would work like . i don’t think he can fight like ever y/n will bench press him.

jaehyun is another person who seems to go with any vibe/plot like mans really said i will not give you any onscreen idol personality to work with ❤

i think most of them would pair well with bff2l?? they are all so silly and seem like they’d be great friends LOL except they’re too good looking.

and oh!!! i don’t think i posted the results OOPS let me add them real quick.

the readability is low on this bc google sacrificed that for uniformity 🙄

but the ones i had as options were (in the same order):

i hope you have a great wekk too tata!!!!!! answering this ask boosted my energy for the week 🥰🌼

#tata 💖#anon #answered

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wexhappyxfew · 4 years ago

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Soooooooo you said you could do a whole post on Hazel and Joe and I WANNA SEE THIS PLS SUNSHINE

YES MAAM!! hazel and joe’s friends to lover truly gives me SO MUCH LIFE!! i just wanted to finally write a friends to lover where they had set foundations, trust, loyalty, memories, inside jokes, all of it, to make it clear to the readers that they had history, i just wanted to show how they worked throughout the whole story, and the reason it took as long as it did was to truly show their devotion. i’m sorry if this post is LONG AS HELL but i adore these two :)

WARNING THIS IS SO UNHEALTHILY LONG LIKE WHAT AM I DOING BUT I LOVE THEM AND HAVE NO SHAME -> this is only for the soldier of stars, so if you fancy stuff from Ad Astra, i can do that as well LOL

Hazel Parker and Joe Liebgott - Friends to Lovers

Am I going to give a thorough in depth analysis of their friendship together? YES MA’AM! Honestly writing these two showed me, that even in dark times you can love someone for who they are, just so many things about how love continues to get through boundary after boundary and these two I feel showed me that, and it makes my heart warm :)) ANDDDD since this post is so ungodly long and just the first book LOL if you want me to do it for Ad Astra Per Aspera, i gladly can, but i didn’t want to continue to make it longer and longer HAHA <3

The First Meeting

I loved that when they first met, Hazel managed to shut up both George Luz and Joe Liebgott with one sentence. And I think it’s where we see that Hazel isn’t what many people suspect she is because she regards the fact that if it’s worth fighting for, you’ll fight for it, and to be honest that’s okay. To fight for what’s right for you. And for Joe, seeing someone, supposedly viewed as innocent, clearly then state afterwards that she would fight for what was right as well -> something maybe not suspected of her, it draws Joe in.

The First Stargaze

Stargazing as you know it, is one of the most important aspects in Hazel’s life and Joe coming out to stargaze with her, something that so is not Joe Liebgott, really signifies their friendship for me personally, just because Joe left the dance, to stargaze with Hazel, I mean if that isn’t the start of a friendship I’m not sure what is :)

Teasing - the softest and purest

Hazel had started offering Liebgott her notes, and soon enough they were sharing notes, huddled side by side, writing things down together, and sometimes Joe would bump her as she wrote just to mess her up or peeve her off the deep end. But it was all good fun in the end.

" You know, Joe, hitting my shoulder and messing up my notes, is messing up your notes as well." Hazel had told him one afternoon as Lieutenant Winters stood at the front of the group going over spits of information based on the ideology of the ground and its importance when doing practice runs or drills that were supposed to be of semblance to real combat.

" I don't entirely care, Parker, I'm just here to annoy ya." Joe mumbled back as Winters voice grew louder.

" Funny," muttered Hazel, as she kicked his foot under the table. She saw Joe smirk at her. He kicked her foot back and she glanced over towards him.

" What?" he asked, like he didn't just hit her foot.

" I'm a sniper, Joe," Hazel said softly, as she wrote another few words down in her book.

" And?"

" Well," Hazel said as Winters glanced towards the two, " my bullets came move 1,000 feet per second, Joe."

" Right," Joe said.

" And, I know the spots in the body where the most pain could be inflicted upon bullet entry." Hazel said with a nod looking up at the board again.

" Oh right I forgot." Joe said as Hazel let a giggle pass her lips.

Flowers - The Time Joe Brought Flowers

When she [Grace Burnett] opened the door she smiled wide and let out a jolly laugh.

" Well, she'll be happy to see you all." Grace said as Hazel looked over and watched as a bouquet of yellow flowers appeared with Joe Liebgott as the handler, with Shifty just behind him with Catherine and Lizzie bringing up the rear, with a laughing George Luz, which was no surprise.

" There she is!" Joe called noticing the girl on the couch, curled up into a blanket with sunken in eyes. Hazel smiled weakly.

" Hi." she croaked out.

" Aw, honey." Catherine said, as she frowned with sad eyes, hearing her lost voice. Joe was the first to reach her and pull her into a hug.

" I'm sick." Hazel said as Joe held her close, smelling of pine and cigarette smoke. Joe pulled back with a smirk, a few strands of hair in his face.

" I don't care about that, Parker." Joe said, before holding out the flowers as the rest of the guys filtered into the room, " These are for you." Hazel smiled at him with blushing cheeks.

" Aww, thanks guys." Hazel said, turning and coughing briefly.

" You can thank this guy right here," George said slapping Joe on the shoulders, to which Joe glared.

" Thanks Joe." Hazel said to him and he smiled at her with a nod.

Joe Talks About His Mom

" You sound like you have a nice family." Hazel said as she glanced at him. Joe glanced at her.

" Yeah, I'd say I do, but mama runs the house. You respect her or you get a slap." Joe said and Hazel smiled shyly, as Joe glanced at her.

" 'Course, you know me, I upset her a few times when I shouldn't have." Joe said. Hazel watched him.

" I got in fights a lot, bruised bloody knuckles, some skinny guy like me getting beat up in the bar down the street." Joe said, shrugging before looking at Hazel,

" Ever since I was a kid really." Hazel softly watched him, with concerned eyes.

" I'd get pushed down in the park?" Joe started, nodding his head as he picked at his fingers, annoyed, " I'd cry. And I'd go running home to my mom, where she'd give me hugs and kisses, and then some of that Hershey's chocolate."

" It's why you love it so much." Hazel said, shifting closer to Joe in the cold and looking at him gently. Joe felt a small smile on his face as he watched her.

" Yeah, you could say that." Joe said as Hazel grinned.

Joe loves his mom and I LIVE BY THAT. And chocolate being a comfort food because it reminds him of his mom, like yes, I’m going with that, and I just love that Hazel sits and listens to him, it makes me SOFT. Because mainly they both just love their mothers :)

Tricks and Pranks

She glanced towards Liebgott again thinking of her innocent little plan from this morning. She grinned to herself, before slowly bringing her socked feet over the edge to touch the ground. She slowly stood, with her outstretched hands in front of her, tip-toeing towards the sleeping man in his bed. She wanted to get him back after almost a year of the playful teasing she endured from him. And plus, they were friends, she had every right to wake him from a peaceful sleep. Hazel watched Joe shift a bit in his bed and then resume snoring again. Hazel smirked to herself.

Then she acted. She jumped lightly onto him, right next to his ear, and had to let out a laugh before saying a quick boo in his ear. Joe shot awake underneath her, and it seemed his first instinct was to latch onto her, shoving her to his side, down into the bed, his eyes wide, breathing heavy. But all he saw was Hazel, beside him, small giggles leaving her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut, laughing. Joe tried to be mad at the girl for waking him up, but he felt he couldn't be mad at her. She was too innocent to be remotely upset for waking him up.

" Well, good morning to you, too." Joe muttered out as Hazel managed to let out one final laugh, before looking at him.

" That's for those months of teasing me." Hazel said as she giggled again. Joe couldn't keep the smirk that crawled onto his face off, as Hazel laughed.

" You're gonna get it, Parker." Joe said as Hazel just laughed, turning to roll off the bed to her socked feet again, a smile on her face.

" Sure," Hazel said, as she turned to him, with innocent eyes, and then frowned, " but why would you do that to me?" Joe bit his lip.

" Those puppy dog eyes don't work on me anymore, Parker." Joe said as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, " Only when you were sick and that was it." Hazel giggled.

" Can you two shut up?" a voice groaned and the two looked towards Chuck who's body hadn't moved as the voice crept out from around the pillow.

" Yeah Hazel." Joe said childishly as Hazel scoffed.

" You shut up." Hazel said, swinging her foot out towards his bed like a kid.

" No you." Joe argued.

" How about you both shut your yaps!" Bill yelled as he lied on his side across the barrack, his voice annoyed. Hazel couldn't help but look away and let a giggle past her lips childishly as Joe smirked at her. They were just kids. Hazel and Joe together were a pair of childish kids basically.

PRANKS ARE SO FUN AND THESE TWO MAKE IT SO ADORABLE AND HILARIOUS AHHHH

Comfort + Respecting Privacy

Joe Liebgott was the one who sat down beside his best friend, wrapping his warm, comforting arm around her shoulder and letting her rest her head on his shoulder. Joe wasn't about to start asking Hazel what was wrong, he had learned from his sisters that sometimes they just liked to be held in hugs and not talked to. That being there and being held was enough. Hazel wasn't used to that sort of comfort but she was beginning to welcome it with open arms. Joe came to a realization that night; he didn't like seeing Hazel cry. When Joe finally got Hazel resting, or at least attempting rest, he saw the letter that she had dropped to the side. But Joe held himself and closed the letter up and placed it beside the girl's boots. It was for her eyes only and he respected that.

Joe respecting her privacy with the letter from her father, truly shows the amount of respect he holds for her and I truly find it so beautiful, that middle line in bold, like I just love their friendship so much.

D-Day Hug

" Oh, Easy Company!" the group heard. The group turned and faceswere filled with relief to see more members of Easy sitting on the edge with bright smiles on their faces. A smile blossomed on Hazel's face as she recognized Joe Liebgott immediately.

" Joe!" she said excitedly as he neared her. A smile lit up his features as he immediately came upon the girl and wrapped his arms around her. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and hugged him so tight, she wasn't sure if he was still breathing or not. She could've cried as he held her tightly in his arms, so protectively. She had never wanted to hug someone as much as she did now, just to have someone's arms around her, holding her and securing her. She never knew what security a hug could provide.

Physical touch is an important aspect for both of them, especially the meaning of a hug for the both of them. After this, Joe comforts her after her encounter with a German on D-Day, and it’s the first time Joe reassures her about a very real and impactful and painful, traumatizing situation. From her on we see where Hazel knows she can trust Joe with her emotions.

Talking About Their Faith

" Did you think you'd be here?" Joe asked her, " You know after you joined the WAC?" Hazel glanced at him and let out a tiny sigh before glancing at the sky again.

" I believe in God, Joe." Hazel said softly and then looked at him. Joe watched her softly.

" God believed that he could put me through something like this, and I believed I could to," Hazel said softly, eyes shining with stars in them, " so when the flyer came I signed up." Hazel looked at him with a sad shrug. He didn't know about her dad. But she didn't want to gain all his trust and then show him that she really feared trusting people so much. But the thing was, she trusted Joe, a lot. They were best friends.

This was just so important, for Joe, for Hazel, for both of them, to sit under the stars in the middle of Normandy and for Hazel to tell Joe about her faith in God, and think about her trust she held in Joe. I loved this moment.

Flowers 2.0

That's when there was a knock on the door.

" Blasted, who could that be at this time?" Harry said throwing his kitchen towel over his shoulder and heading up the step towards the door. Harry opened the door as the three women watched and saw Harry's face light up.

" I knew it was you!" Harry called, stepping out to hug the person on the other side, " C'mon in ya blood Yank, gave me half a scare." Hazel raised a brow watching as Lizzie sipped her tea softly. That's when it was non-other than Joe Liebgott who stepped through the door, a smirk upon his features, hair a bit fluffier than normal, and a bouquet of flowers in his grasp. She watched Lizzie smirk and lean over to Hazel and Grace.

" And supposedly he's just a best friend." Lizzie murmured. Hazel shoved Lizzie's shoulder as Lizzie chuckled. Grace smiled at the blush that bloomed on Hazel's face.

" There she is!" called Joe as he entered the kitchen and went over to Hazel first, grabbing her in a hug from behind.

" These are for you." Joe said as he handed her the flowers.

" Aw thank you, Joe," Hazel said, fighting down more of a blush than she ever had.

" Where'd you get them, Joe?" grace asked as Joe gave her a quick hug.

" Down at the market, they have the best flowers there." Joe said, before giving Lizzie a quick hug and resuming standing next to the little island a smile on his features as he watched Hazel gently sniff the flowers and smile at them.

" Thank you, Joe, really." Hazel said.

" What can I say? You're turning 20, I say yellow flowers are pretty important for that." Joe said and Hazel grinned.

Need I say more LOL

Having Each Other’s Backs

" Hey, man what's your issue?" one replacement snapped.

" My issue is, you're not treating her right, and I don't like that. Either grow up or go home. There's a reason you're here." Joe snapped. The replacements stared at him.

" Disrespecting her or any women, is never the reason." Joe snapped again, " you're here to fight a war. And that war's a scary thing, so open your damn eyes and get that through your brains." Joe then put the cigarette back on his lips, and turned away from them and walked back over to Hazel who stared with wide eyes at him. He just placed an arm over her shoulder and turned her around.

" I promise you right now that I'm fuming inside." Joe said to her through the cigarette on his lips. Hazel smiled softly. Joe always had her back, even when she felt she couldn't say anything.

“Best Friend Privileges”

" Let me show ya." Joe said as he pushed from the counter and walked to her side. She glanced at him.

" No." Hazel said, a small smirk on her face.

" Good luck Joe, she's rubbing off on you." Catherine said leaning back to watch. Hazel laughed.

" No?" Joe said a smirk on her face, " Come on, I wanna help you." Hazel pulled the dart back shaking her head. Joe stared at her, a smirk on his face.

" What? No best friend privileges?" he said. Best friend privileges; a cute little phrase that Hazel and Joe had started tagging onto the end of things, when they would play around and they couldn't get what either of them wanted, or just to annoy the other.

“ Best friend privileges”? ok you two LOL

Adoration

Joe watched Hazel's eyes, even if it were from the side. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but Hazel truly fascinated him. And it was a good fascination. A fascination in the sense of adoration. And Joe never thought he'd adore Hazel as much as he did, because he kept a tight circle usually. But Hazel....Hazel was Hazel. She wasn't fake, she wasn't someone who tried to be someone else, she was loyal and trustworthy and genuine and Joe just knew he could talk to her about anything.

Joe had never admitted it to anyone, but he had always thought that even from the start that she had a beautiful soul. And even if it were cliche, he had never met someone who was like Hazel. And he was glad that the person he did meet was Hazel. Maybe it was the look in her eyes when she greeted everyone in the barracks as he stood cowering in the corner pissed off at Bill Guarnere for the fight that broke out between the two of them, and then the anger that resided with him the rest of the boat ride. Maybe it was the fairly firm handshake she had offered and the way her eyes were gentle enough to tell a different story compared to the rest of the company. Maybe it was because she didn't approach him, asking what the other girls would ask; a dance, a kiss. Maybe it was because she had accepted Joe for who he was and didn't seem to care that he was a real asshole or that he was someone who would fight people, until his hands dripped crimson red blood, down his knuckles and into his fingers.

Maybe it was what she had said to him, as she looked into her eyes, without fear, that sometimes people fought because they fought for what they believed in. Maybe because instead of doubting himself for launching at Bill, he actually believed it, for a probable cause. Joe didn't know what it was, why he was the way he was, but Hazel had accepted him for him - and she always seemed to do that with every person. Joe Liebgott felt there was no higher strength than that.

Soft Joe? YES MA’AM. Need I even say more about this scene.

The Two Beans Defending Each Other

Joe and Hazel, the two peas in a pod they were, were practically inseparable after the events of Nuenen and especially her ongoing sickness which fought her throat like a dragon in a cage. So there they were, passed out and exhausted as they snored silently side by side curled in balls like those cats you saw in the window shops on Main Street. But Joe, being the person he was, cared for his friends in any way he could. He agreed, he was an asshole, but he was asshole for specific reasons most of the time. But with his friends, that was different. Especially a friend, a best friend at that who was sick and was kept up at night by coughs or a fever or the chills.

Over the past few weeks, he had been staying closer to Hazel than before, making sure she ate and drank, making sure she slept and was warm and if there was medicine that Gene could provide that she could get some. And so sleeping next to her, was another way to make sure that if she started coughing, he was there, to make sure he patted her back, and got her water. But he'd always been that way whenever one of his family members were sick. He was cocky, and admittedly rude sometimes, and he had a crude sense of humor, but family and friends were important and when he cared, he cared; he didn't try to hide that. And many of the men knew that about Joe. When Joe cared about someone, he did everything in his power to make sure they were alright.

And in this case, it was Hazel. Catherine looked up from her cup of water towards Joe and Hazel who were curled up, sound asleep and smiled softly. Catherine truly admired their companionship. They were complete opposites, yet they were best friends who understood each other like the backs of their own hands. If Hazel was doing it, Joe probably was as well and where ever the one went, the other followed. And they acted like actual children, but knew when to get serious. And if you messed with either one of them, hell came for them.

I can’t preach enough about these two having each other’s back, it’s the cutest thing and it makes me so soft. But Joe being by her side as she is horribly sick, is one of the purest things ever, just to make sure she’s okay, I can’t even describe how important it is that he sticks around as she is so ungodly sick. (+Joe Liebgott punching Cobb out the week before for saying something about Hazel, but maybe that’ll be another post :))

Physical Touch > Comfort

Hazel watched Joe come up the dike, her eyes softly resting on him. Joe met her eyes from across the large area. Hazel bit her lip and then slowly approached Joe who stood, seemingly waiting to rip off someone's head. Joe didn't scare Hazel, whether he was happy, whether he was sad, whether he was upset. She never feared a friend. She never feared someone she trusted, but sometimes they broke your heart in the end. And that's where Hazel was careful. But Joe. Joe she trusted deeply. Hazel looked up at him, as he tried to contain himself, contain the anger that seemed to want to spill past every inch of him. Hazel slowly reached forward and gently pushed up the brim of his helmet from his eyes. Joe felt his eyes close at the soft touch. When he opened his eyes next, Hazel's soft eyes were watching his. Her eyes then went to his neck. She slowly reached to his wound and gently touched the skin on his neck. He flinched.

" Make sure you get that checked out, Joe." Hazel whispered softly. Joe looked at her and forcefully nodded. He was angry, so angry. Hazel knew that physical touch calmed Joe more than anything; it was something his mother had always done from what he had told her about Mrs. Liebgott. Liebgott had told Hazel that his mother would always try to hug him, brush her hands through his hair or scuff it up to annoy him, gently pat his shoulder, give him a rub on the back. So Hazel slowly reached forward and adjusted his collar and the part of his ODs which buttoned up on the front. Joe watched his friend, her gentle eyes remaining so focused even after the chaos of the battle they'd just gone through, the little bit of her tongue poking out from her lips as she remained focused on adjusting the front of his ODs, her freckles more prominent from the constant sun she had been getting, the way her blue eyes flitted about. Joe slowly reached up and wrapped his hands around Hazel's, causing her to look up towards him slowly. Joe let out a shaky breath, attempting to calm himself. Hazel always calmed him down, even if she didn't know it. Joe then didn't hesitate to slowly wrap his arms in a trembling hug around her neck and pull her into his arms. Hazel slowly hugged him back, pulling him close, holding him there. Sometimes the boys needed to be held, it was human nature.

Hazel comforting Joe, quite possibly is the purest thing I’ve ever written in my life and the fact she makes him calmer and more controlled makes me love them even more!! <3

Joe Returning From His Neck Wound

" Guess who?" a voice asked and Hazel's eyes widened.

" The life size Hershey bar?" Hazel asked quietly, a small smile starting to bloom on her face.

" I think better than that." the voice said and Hazel slowly turned her head.

" Joe!" Hazel cried, shooting up from her bed to wrap her arms around his neck. She heard Joe laugh in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close. She cuddled her head into his neck, a small smile on her face, as she squeezed her eyes shut. She had missed him more than she thought.

" I missed you Joe." Hazel said quietly so only he could hear. She felt his chest rumble, he chuckled. He smelled like pine, a good pine scent, the one you smelled in winter in the mountains, sorta like when you would get a Christmas tree, and there was that familiar hint of smoke. It was comforting.

" I missed you more, Parker." Joe said and Hazel grinned. Hazel just squeezed him tighter in the hug, he was back and he was here.

THE LIFESIZE HERHSEY BAR I SWEAR I LOVE THIS PART

PARIS

There’s too many good parts in the Paris chapters to even sight, so I’m just going to tell my own view on it, where we finally see Hazel trust Joe enough to tell him about her past, where Joe finally realizes he loves her after the French Aritst drew her and all we see is his interior monlogue of the entire thing of him just straight up ADMIRING her. And Hazel telling Joe about her past, trusting him enough to know, is something VERY important to her and to both of them because Hazel doesn’t tell many people so telling Joe is H U G E. And then of course the Effiel Tower and he helps her DANCE AGAIN because dancing centers around the bad memories of her father who left her and we see Joe really starting to fall in love. AH. It just makes me so so happy to see it and there’s too many adorable things to sight so here’s the chapters:

57 through 58: https://my.w.tt/v6dzKHBML8

Joe Tells George About His Feelings (+Their Underrated Friendship)

I really wanted to bring about the friendship of Joe Liebgott and George Luz, because I feel like they’d be a chaotic duo and writing them is always chaotic and it is HILARIOUS but also full of brotherly love and just Joe telling George about his realization of his feeling for Hazel. We start to see Joe, really starting to get these feelings, but also remembering there is a war on and getting attached could easily get any of them killed in the end, so it’s very much a tough mental battle.

Joe and Hazel Talking About Lieutenant Dike

Honestly these two gossiping about Dike gave me so MUCH LIFE.

" Sergeant Lipton, he told me you had to go on OP duty. Supposedly one's been dug out." he said.

" Sir, what OP, there's multiple." Hazel asked him quickly, confused.

" He said there's one around here." Dike said looking past her and Joe, " I'm not sure, he just told me to find you and that you and Powers I believe are on duty first."

" Yes, sir." Hazel said as Dike nodded and then walked right past them. Hazel and Joe watched side by side as Dike walked away, with the audacity to be whistling as he did so.

" We are in the middle of a fucking war, right?" Joe muttered. Hazel glanced at Joe.

" I don't think he cares." Hazel said. And that wasn't in any way going to be beneficial to the men and women of Easy Company.

" You sure you're staying warm?" Joe asked Hazel as they approached the foxhole where Shifty sat, cleaning his weapon.

" Yeah, of course I am." Hazel said.

" Well, you're tiny, Hazel, and tiny and cold don't exactly mesh if you think of it." Joe said as Hazel smirked. She watched Joe's eyes search hers softly. Joe wished he could do something more to make her warmer, but he could barely maintain 98.6 for himself. She looked like she was freezing.

Hazel Tells Joe About Life After The War For Her

" What's on your mind?" Joe asked her, watching as she glanced towards him and a small laugh escaped her.

" It's stupid, Joe." she said. Joe quirked a smirk her way.

" Really? Try me, Parker." Joe said and Hazel grinned, shrugging.

" I don't know, as a little girl you always think about life when you're older and stuff like that," Hazel said and Joe watched her softly, " I've just been thinking a lot about life, after the war." Joe dropped the smirk and a smile filled his features.

" Just the little things, what I might name my first daughter, or what pictures I might hang up in my living room, just little things like that." Hazel said, with a shrug, a small smile. Joe watched Hazel smile and then loop her fingers together, nodding softly.

" You got a name in mind?" Joe asked her and she glanced towards him, fighting down the tiny blush that was on her cheeks.

" I don't know," she said, a nervous giggle escaping her lips, she never had told anyone she thought about this often.

" Why you nervous, it's just me?" Joe said as she giggled softly again.

" Juliette." Hazel said quietly, with a small nod, before peaking up at Joe who watched her intently, " Not from Romeo and Juliet, but the French way. There was a girl in my elementary school who spelled her name that way and she was always so nice to me. I've always liked the name." Hazel smiled fondly, as if a memory were resurfacing in her brain.

" It's a pretty name." Joe said and Hazel looked up at Joe.

" Yeah," Hazel said," I don't know, it's a unique spelling, I like it." Joe smiled at her, and she smiled brightly back. Even in the cold, she found a way to smile and that warmed his heart because currently she was the only thing making him smile.

ACK MY HEART. but for me this scene I felt was important because even in the middle of the war, Hazel is still thinking about life afterwards and CHILDREN something so innocent, so gentle, so kind, so warm, something to vastly different from that of the horror of the cold and blistery Bastogne.

Hazel and Joe After the Solo Patrol

" How was it?" Joe asked her, and she glanced up at him. Hazel let out a sigh and shrugged.

" Just seeing his body there," Hazel said shaking her head, " it wasn't what I expected to see. You know, I was just thinking of what his parents are going to think when they get his dog tag." Joe looked at her.

" He was only a year younger than me," Hazel said, shaking her head.

" I know I'm not the most sentimental type, Hazel, but I know when something's bothering you. You know you can talk to me, I am your best friend. I hate to think you'll keep it on your chest," Joe said as he looked her way. Hazel's heart warmed. Hazel smiled at him, and Joe noticed her dimples show up. They always did when she smiled. She curled her knees up to her chest and let out a sigh.

" Thank you, Joe," she said quietly looking at him in the silence of the snow falling outside and hitting the top of the tarp. The two looked at each other, as Hazel's eyes seemed to shine in the night. Hazel gently took his hand in hers and began gently curling and uncurling his fingers. Joe watched her, his heart pounding faster and faster by the second and she didn't even know.

" You're still wearing this?" she said with a slight giggle, touching the bracelet she had given Joe, which lay on his wrist.

" Of course I am," Joe said, as he watched Hazel smile.

" You just have a little piece of me," she said, her fingers like ice on his skin, and Joe watched her smile. Then she looked up at him and her smile grew, like a child in a candy store.

THIS!! They can have a very REAL conversation about life, but then can easily make each other feel so much better with just a few words, even just a look, they just know how to make one another feel better, to keep humanity around, something the war deprives them of.

Chrismtas 1944 -> Singing

I wanted to make a scene on Christmas Day 1944, where we see the group have a bit of humanity, singing Christmas songs in the snow, a bit of that realness, that human like atmosphere or Christmas that they all miss still very real and very prevalent in most cases.

" Sleigh bells ring, are you listening..." George sang joyfully, wrapping his arm around Bill's shoulder, before poking Bill's ear. Bill swatted at his hand as George chuckled.

" In the lane snow is glistening, a beautiful sight we're happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland..." Bill sang and George gave a whoop. Hazel laughed lightly before looking back at Joe.

" What?" she said softly, reaching forward to tilt his helmet up from his dark eyes.

" Happy looks good on you." he said with a small smile. Hazel blushed and thanked God for the darkness that night provided. Thank God for the darkness.

" Joe..." she whispered.

" I'm serious, you've been through a lot, and seeing you happy, it's a nice sight to see." he whispered softly to her. Hazel let out a tiny giggle, looking down at her hands, before looking back up at Joe. He was smiling.

IT JUST MAKES ME SOFT OKAY I NEEDED THIS AFTER ALL THAT ANGST :(((

Joe Comes Back From Being Winters’ Runner

This scene centers heavily on Joe coming back from being Winters’ Runner at Battalion for a few days, but eventually was sent back to the company because of the way he was with prisoners, but it is between him and Hazel. And normally Joe’s this soft sorta guy around her, but when he approaches her, he’s glum, and dealing with a lot of emotions of anger and hate. And Hazel doesn’t tell him “Joe, you have to be happier.” No, she tells him straight up, that it is okay to feel those things and in time you will get better, but those sad feelings are okay, and I feel that was important between them and for Joe to hear from Hazel, for her to tell him, it is okay to feel things, those sort of emotions. But by the end, we see him lighten up a bit, because I mean Joe with Hazel? He can’t help but soften up.

" It's okay to feel that, I feel it too," she said softly rubbing his arm," your emotions, they're important, it's okay to feel that way." God, Hazel made him so happy, even with just a sentence like that.

" I don't think I've told you thank you enough," Joe said glancing at her. She quirked an innocent brow.

" Just, you're always there for me and my bullshit," Joe said shrugging as she smiled.

" And you're there for mine." she said with a toothy smile from under the brim of her helmet. Joe's heart warmed.

Quiet Comfort

That night, at the dinner line, it was so quiet. Catherine didn't show up for dinner. Hazel and Lizzie were there, but they were so quiet and closed off, that they could barely talk with tear filled eyes, and red, blood-shot eyes. Joe Liebgott sat next to Hazel that night, on the log from earlier that afternoon, as she pushed the food around in the tin. Joe could see her holding back her trembling lip, as well as the tears that wanted to fall from her eyes. So Joe decided to sit beside her and eat quietly, and not say anything. Hazel needed him to know that she appreciated him just sitting there, without saying a word. She slowly reached forward, and grabbed his hand with her gloved one without even making eye contact. She interlaced their fingers, sucking in a shaking breath as she did so. Her hand was cold in his own warm one, but Joe knew it meant the world to Hazel. Joe knew that as thanks from her, especially right now.

To Hazel, Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye meant the world to her; they were like big brothers, always looking out for her, protecting her, defending her, comforting her, just there for her, so she’s hurt after they get wounded, and Joe knows that he just has to sit by her side and not say a word to let her know that he’s there.

Joe And Hazel Talk About The Stars and Sadness

THIS SCENE IT IS SO UNGODLY IMPORTANT FOR BOTH OF THEM - for Joe to come and see Hazel upset and ultimately comfort her and let her know that he’s there for her, it just ACK.

" I'm sorry your sad, Hazel," Joe whispered beside her and she looked at him, " I wish there was something I could do to take it away." Hazel watched his eyes search hers and smiled gently; she knew he was truthful in his words. Joe Liebgott was always truthful to her, no matter what, they were best friends.

" Can you just stay here with me?" she whispered softly, as her eyes welled with more tears.

" Yeah," Joe said immediately, a small smile on his face, " of course, what type of best friend would I be?" Hazel let out a slight giggle that settled Joe for the moment. Joe gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she rested her weary head against his shoulder, shutting her eyes. Joe brought her as close as he could, her tiny body, shaking in his grasp as she lay there so quietly.

" I'm glad we're friends you know? Best friends?" Joe said quietly, " Remember I told you how fascinating it was to see your love for the stars? Or how caring and kind you were to everyone and how strong you were?" Hazel gently looked up to meet his eyes with her own and she smiled softly at him.

" How'd I get so lucky to have a friend like you?" Joe said to her and Hazel felt more tears rush to her eyes as she watched him, his face turning blurry from the tears.

" Do you want to tell me about the stars?" he whispered softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek that trailed down from her sad, blue eyes.

" Yes," she whispered softly watching him and she saw him smile.

" Alright, get comfy," Joe said as she giggled a bit cuddling into his side, and they looked up towards the gleaming stars.

" I'm excited," he whispered as if he were a kid about to watch a movie and Hazel giggled.

Okay so this scene is actually much longer but I wanted to show Joe’s comfort levels from letting her know she’s there, making her feel better, staying with her to comfort her, to hold her, just let her feel safe finally, that sort of thing, and letting her talk about whatever she wants and then ultimately being the most patient listener and it makes me S O F T AHHHHHH I swear these two ruin me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I AM SORRY THIS IS AS LONG AS IT IS O M G i promise to control myself, but i was like screw it i love these two so much and they deserve this post :) i hope this works!! but i’ll be happy to do ad astra, as i’ve said, because i didn’t realize how long just the soldier of stars would be OMG LOL!! i had so much fun because i relived so many adorable moments that i forgot happened and i can’t thank you enoguh for this post on my little, innocent babies who deserve happiness and the world ;) thank you so so much, truly!! <3

#band of brothers #hazel parker and joe liebgott #the soldier of stars #friends to lovers #THIS IS SO LONG I AM SORRY #SO SO VERY LONG #LIKE L O N G #AHHHHH #but i love them with every fiber in my body so it was worth it :)#PLEASE YALL IM SORRY FOR HOW LONG IT IS

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olivenight17 · 5 years ago

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Fluffvember Day 13 Part 2- Soulmate

Hello! I’m here to bring fluff and a wonderful sunshine boi! It uh... it got sad, I’m not gonna lie. It’s not total angst, everyone’s okay in the end. It’s just a little bit sad lol, I’m sorry! My mind ran before I could stop it. And hey @literally-just-mirio-headcanons I know you love Mirio, so have this! I’m sorry I made him sad lol

And, I’m not sure if this soulmate au actually exists, but I thought this up in my own head. This is my original soulmate au, where you can see the emotions your soulmate is feeling and it changes as their emotions at that point in time do. It affects how you see the world as you can only see the world in the various tones of whatever emotion your soulmate is feeling. You can tell when you’ve met them because they’re the only ones not affected by it, they’ll be the only ones who look normal and not in the same colors as the emotions. Also, if the soulmate is dead or unconscious, the world reverts back to how human sight and colors usually work. Hopefully that makes sense 😅

Also, I should probably put this here WARNING: This contains some manga spoilers about Mirio, so if you’d like to stay manga spoiled free, I’m afraid this won’t be quite for you.

Well, have fun you guys! Gotta say I like how this turned out, hopefully you do too.

———————————————————————

Mirio x Reader “Soulmate”

For a majority of your life, you had always seen the world in yellow hues. It was as if someone had put a filter over your eyes and the color was everywhere you looked. There was an occasion or two where the world turned blue or red, sometimes even gray, but it always seemed to leave as quickly as it came. In those moments, you created your own happiness, hoping to put some yellow back into your soulmate’s life.

It was comforting, having that sign of happiness in your life. However silent it was, it encouraged you to push through tough times and even helped you figure out your goal to help people. That goal started with UA. You took a deep breath as you walked through the school. The world around you was practically glowing with golden colors, and you couldn’t help but grin, apparently both you and your soulmate were having a good day. Peering down at your schedule, you checked one last time which classroom you were headed to first, looking up in confusion when the yellow was so bright you could barely read the words on the paper. Then, warm hands clasped around your shoulders.

Before you stood a blond haired boy with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. You felt your jaw drop in shock. You could see him in full colors, his figure not being filtered in yellow like your surroundings.

“Hey there! You’re my soulmate! Wow, you’re way prettier than I imagined. Not to say that I didn’t think you wouldn’t be pretty, because I did! You’re just more beautiful actually seeing you…” He started to ramble, but you weren’t quite getting everything, still coming to grips with the fact you had finally met him. This was the person giving you so much energy and support these past few years without even knowing it. Eventually, he paused and tilted his head with a smile. “Well, everything around you is starting to go white, so your mind’s either going blank because this is kinda surprising or you’re showing me how much of an angel you really are.” He gave you a lopsided grin as you felt heat spread across your cheeks like a wildfire.

On top of being energetic and happy, he was apparently also charming.

Trying to clear your head, you stuck out your hand. “Well, I don’t give out answers like that until I know your name. I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you.”

He took your hand, shaking it gently but eagerly. “The name’s Mirio, it’s nice to meet you too.” His eyes trailed down to the schedule you still had in your other hand and he was quick to take out his own. “Hey, which classes do you have, maybe we have some together!” You switched schedules, only to find you had just about every class together, save for homeroom and math. “Darn, I was hoping to get to know you more on the way to homeroom, but I’m in the opposite direction. Oh well, I’ll see you in English though!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm as you both began splitting off. “Don’t keep me waiting!” You called out, waving as he turned to face you.

“I can’t make you wait more than I already have.” He joked with a wink before disappearing around the corner.

The days seemed to fly the more time you spent with Mirio, only three years had passed and yet it felt like you had known him your whole life. Hanging out with him and the rest of the big three, goofing off with him, it all felt right. It was like everything finally clicked into place being with him, knowing you treasured him as much as he treasured you.

You hummed quietly as you thought about it, dropping some ramen noodles into your cart. Mirio had been on a lot of patrols lately and he said something about a secret mission he was handling. Though you were curious, you didn’t want to get him in trouble talking about something he shouldn’t be, which resulted in the surprise dinner you were making him when he got back tonight. It was a small reward for working so hard. Just as you dropped the last item in your cart, the world switched from yellow to a somber red. Mirio was probably getting ready to fight or save someone.

Thinking nothing of the change in his emotions, you went to the checkout area and began pulling out your money to pay.

“That’ll be $36.78, ma’am.”

“Alright, here it all-” Your body froze as the world changed color once again. Everything around you flashed a bright white before black overtook your surroundings, it was so dark you were sure you had gone blind. You dropped the cash you were holding, something was wrong. Something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” The cashier leaned towards you cautiously as you blinked.

Quickly, you collected yourself and managed to find the money, putting it on the counter. “I’m fine, I’m sorry. I just remembered something.” You told her briskly.

She nodded at you and the second she handed you the bags, you were out of the store, fishing around in your pocket for your phone. You pressed call at least five times and each time you were left with no answer. Panic was already bubbling inside of you, twisting and churning your gut. Nejire and Tamaki said they hadn’t seen him and you were at your ropes end when you saw a tv through a store window. There was a bunch of rubble where the reporter was standing, then you saw the headline. “Young Hero in Training ‘Lemillion’ Injured.”

Your blood turned to ice, and you were forgetting how to breathe. Glancing over the subtitles, you caught the name of the hospital and took off running. You pushed the doors open, frantically looking around to see if you could find him, fighting against the nurses urging you to sit down. “No, my boyfriend, he’s here, he got injured. His name’s Mirio Togata, his hero name is Lemillion, where did you put him? I need to see him!” You shouted at them, desperately trying to wrench your arms out of their grasp. “Get off of me, I need to see him! He has to be alive, I...I can’t see his emotions.” The realization all but slapped you in the face as you looked around. The world looked...normal. There wasn’t a strong color presence, it all looked ordinary. Bile began to rise in your throat.

The strength in your body left you and you all but collapsed into the nurses arms as they dragged you to a chair. You gripped onto one of them. “Can you at least tell me he’s alive?” You rasped, blinking back the tears that were trying to fall.

The nurse gave you a pitying look. “The last I saw, he was in surgery. We’ll tell you if anything happens.” After that, the nurse was gone.

There was a cold emptiness that stayed with you as you waited, sitting in that chair for hours as you hoped and prayed that he would be alright, that he’d be alive. Scenarios circled in your mind to save you from the despair that was threatening to crash over your head to drown you. Walking in the park with Mirio, going to get ice cream, laughing at all of the ridiculous faces he made to get you to smile. You were so lost in your own head, you barely registered the nurse in front of you, or the gray tones that were overtaking your vision. Slowly, you looked up at her. She had a smile on her face. “Mr. Togata is out of surgery, he’s resting well in room 203, you can visit him if you’d like.” Practically jumping out of your seat, you thanked her as you began to look for the room, but she caught your arm. “There’s one more thing you should know… he got hit with a bullet, this bullet had special properties and he no longer has his quirk.” She explained, letting go of you.

Stiffly, you nodded, before going to find him. When you found the room you were looking for, you stepped in, finding Mirio’s figure facing away from you, hunched over in a sitting position on the bed. “Mirio…?”

He turned to you, face almost completely covered in bandages, as well as the rest of his body, but he still had a smile on his face. “Hey, Sunshine.” He chuckled weakly, barely getting the words out before you rushed towards him, hugging him as tightly as you could. “Woah, it’s okay. I’m okay.” His arms wrapped around you, finally settling your frazzled nerves.

“I was so scared, you were passed out, I couldn’t see your emotions. I-I thought you were…” You trailed off, sniffling as you buried your head into his shoulder.

“I know, but I’m not. Everything’s fine, I’ll be in tip top shape in no time.” He tried to reassure you, but you could hear the emptiness in his words and the heavy gray that surrounded you suddenly became more prominent.

Taking a deep breath, you started thinking of happy things. Puppies playing in the park, the prank Nejire had pulled on Mirio last week, every good memory you could think of flooded into your head all at once. You were almost starting to giggle about it. “Sunshine, what are you doing?” Mirio asked and you pulled back to look at him with a smile.

You took his hands and you squeezed them, rubbing your thumbs along the skin in a comforting manner. “Mirio, before I even met you, you made me happy. Even on my darkest days, when I wanted to curl up into my bed and stop existing, your feelings of happiness kept me going. Even though all you could do was give me the color yellow, you gave me hope that things could be better and encouraged me. You gave me happiness when I couldn’t even muster any for myself.” Your eyes met his as you continued. “So, I think it’s only fair that I repay the favor. I know what happened, and I know it’s going to take some time to come to terms with this. I’ll be your support until then. You won’t go through this alone.”

You leaned your forehead against his, and kissed the tip of his nose. There was still a shaky smile on his lips and his eyes looked misty before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his. You happily complied, placing your hands on either side of his face. Eventually, he pulled back and brought you into a tight hug, clutching onto you like a lifeline and burying his head in the crook of your neck. You rubbed his back gently.

“You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay…”

#bnha #mha #fluffvember #fluff #bnha x reader #mirio #mirio togata #mirio x reader #mirio togata x reader #bnha mirio #bnha mirio x reader #minor angst #manga spoilers #soulmate #soulmate au

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bitshortforastormtrooper · 4 years ago

Note

Hey there! It’s anon that loves your sub Mulder again lol 👀❤️😊 I was thinking about requests and like I’m not sure how specific you wanted but maybe Scully’s just had a really shitty day at work and needs to let off some steam? And Mulder, true to his bratty self, is just pushing her buttons until she snaps and he just quietly whispers a “yes ma’am” or a “yes agent scully” or something and off they go. Sorry if this is too weird/specific akhfnsksjejanr it is Late and my filter is Gone but this is what came to mind and what I haven’t yet seen in the sub Mulder tag? Hopefully you can find something to do with it. Thanks again for all your lovely fic!!! 💕

Hey anon! This prompt is amazing and I love it!! It’s not too weird at all, I love sub Mulder and his brattiness and having no filter is no problem whatsoever! I need to get writing smut again and this has sparked something in my brain so keep an eye out 👀 (also feel free to message me and then I can DM you so you don’t miss it!)

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tealvz · 5 years ago

Text

Make Like a Bubble (And Fade Away)

(AO3) Summary: Despite everything, Remy finally makes a friend. He tries not to let this one slip his grasp too. Warning(s): Near drowning, vomiting, bullying(??) Pairing(s): Remile (platonic or romantic it’s up to you lol) Character(s): Remy, Emile, Deceit (Ethan in this) Word Count: 7188 A/N: sooo uhh here’s the story i said i was writing like 3 months ago sdhfsjkdfjkdsfh sorry it took so long, i got kind of self conscious about it… but now enough time has elapsed so that i dont really care that much anymore lmfao also… just a reminder… i dont really write that much so dont bully me too hard ple ase dssdhfjkdsh hope you enjoy tho! :)

A yawn escaped Remy’s mouth, and he held a hand over it in a feeble attempt to disguise it.

Today it seemed like the lights in the coffee shop were especially bright (he supposed it was due to the gloomy weather outside), so he’d opted to wear his glasses inside as well. Business was slow, since the hellish rush that were the hours after school let out had already passed. Remy found peace in the quietness of the shop, his only other companions being an old lady with tea chatting quietly with her husband and a college student clack clack clacking away at her keyboard in the corner next to the fern.

The bell atop the door jingled as someone walked in. Remy shut off his phone and stood up from the stool he was crossing his legs on, placing the device under the countertop.

“What can I get for you, cutie?” Sure, this method of greeting had gotten him in many heated conversations with his manager over the years, so he dialed it back from using it on every single person that entered the store to cute old ladies and cute boys.

And boy was he cute. And boy did he stand out. Remy had never met a person with dyed pink hair before (although he did have a period in middle school where he seriously considered it), but the vibrant color was fading so that it gave way to his natural brown. He was wearing a cardigan, and, perhaps most pressingly, was soaking wet.

The boy took off one of his earbuds, digging around in a pocket of his cardigan with a tongue sticking out. He was creating puddles on the hard wax floor that Remy would have to clean up (read: leave it for the next guy to deal with). “I’ll just take a large black coffee!” He chirped, seemingly unfazed by the nickname. Remy quickly punched the order in.

“Can I get your name?” Remy asked once more.

“It’s Emile,” The stranger said. Remy typed in ‘Emil’ into the machine and allowed a white sticker to print out.

A faint purple glow surrounded one of the large cups stacked near the register. It grew in intensity as Remy levitated it towards his person, slapping the sticker onto it lazily as it spun away from him. He was counting the $2.57 he’d have to give back in change to Emile as a similar purple aura lifted the coffee pitcher behind him.

“Oh… Wow,” Emile mumbled, causing Remy to glance up. His light brown eyes were trained on the scene unfolding in front of him, coffee pitcher pouring into a white cup all by itself. Streaks of yellow light accompanied the purple aura occasionally.

The finished drink landed in his hand alongside a lid to cap it. He settled the coffee pitcher safely on the table as he handed the drink and change to Emile.

“What’s your size cap?” Emile asked, leaning in ever so slightly as he took the items. “My mom has powers too, but they don’t look nearly as pretty as yours!”

“Well, I don’t do cars,” Remy listed. “I think the biggest it’ll go is people,” He omitted the fact that the only person he’d done it on was himself.

“My mom’s can only go up to jars… Things like that. Hers don’t have any colors though,” Emile nodded, more to himself than to Remy he supposed. “Imagine you could levitate buildings and stuff? Li-Like freaking Superman?! How awe- I mean, I guess it wouldn’t be that cool now that I think about it...”

“Nah, I think it’d be pretty cool,” Remy absently tapped his finger to his chin. “Lifting up the Statue of Liberty and just dunking it into the sea for kicks. That sounds kinda rad. But I guess it’d suck if it were some kind of like… Maniac.”

Emile nodded again solemnly. “With great power comes great responsibility,” He said. “In the wise words of Uncle Ben.”

“Sounds like a nice guy,” Remy conceded.

“... It was a reference,” Emile laughed to himself quietly. “Anyways! Thank you, I don’t want to keep you away from your work for too long!”

Remy glanced around the near empty Starbucks. The elderly couple were getting up to leave. “No, it’s okay, you really aren’t. It usually doesn’t get too busy unless it’s like, 3 or 4 o’clock.”

A grin spread across Emile’s face. “Ah! Good thing I usually stay behind a little later then,” He laughed to himself again, looking down and one hand playing with the wires on his earbuds. “Will you be here again tomorrow?”

“All week, babe,” Remy responded.

“Cool! That’s cool,” Emile mentioned that he had a bus to catch soon, and he apologized for not sticking around longer. Remy in response told him not to worry about it, and truth be told he had never met anyone who apologized for not being able to hang out with him more. Most of his friendships had ultimately ended with the other party always slowly but surely trimming him out of their life.

So Remy sat back down on the stool as Emile left the shop, bell jingling to signal his departure. His phone sat forgotten underneath the table as he leaned into the palm of his hand. Remy watched the fluorescent lights of the Starbucks filter into his vision as his glasses slipped further down his nose, raindrops falling against the clear windows allowing him to close his eyes…

As Remy fell into the depths of the ocean, feeling his body catapult deep into an underwater cave, light entered his vision.

The dream ended as soon as it began, and Remy stirred at someone gently shaking him awake. He blinked sleepily from behind his glasses, and he used them to hold back his hair as he looked around in bewilderment. Various objects were hovering in the air surrounding him, a few couple cups, lids, spare change and a Sharpie. The purple glow surrounding them faded as Remy became more aware of his surroundings, and they all dropped to the floor.

“Wha’ time,” Remy mumbled, rubbing his right eye as he looked to the person who woke him up. The lights were way too bright, lines and starbursts nearly blinding him. He put his glasses back on.

“Almost 6,” His coworker responded. He had a disinterested expression on his face as he tied his green apron around his waist. “I’m guessing it wasn’t very busy?”

Remy felt hot all over. He abruptly stood up, the world spinning slightly before everything stabilized. “No, I don’t think so.”

He left before he could hear his coworker’s reply. As soon as he collected his bag from the back room, Remy realized he’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. While this elicited a strong swear from him (mentally), Remy decided not to dwell on it for too long and proceeded to exit the establishment only mildly annoyed with himself.

It wasn’t pouring, but it wasn’t drizzling either. Remy took a deep breath, holding his leather shoulder bag over his head as he lightly jogged towards the bus stop. He was not going to look like an absolute clown sprinting and slipping on a puddle. Or worse, just flat out passing out in the middle of the sidewalk. No ma’am. Not today.

As he rounded the corner however, a familiar stranger sitting on the bus stop’s bench made his jog slow.

This wasn’t a stop with a roof covering the bench, so the boy with pink hair was even more soaked than when he’d come into the shop for the first time. He was holding a mint colored umbrella with his knees, shielding not his head but the yellow notepad he was scribbling furiously on. Remy wondered how he could see with his glasses dripping water down the lenses like that.

“Hey,” Remy announced his arrival, pace slowing to a walk as he approached. Emile jumped at his voice, turning to look at him with wide eyes as his pen finally stopped writing. However, as soon as their gazes met the tension in his shoulders relaxed, and he gave Remy a sheepish smile.

“H-Hello again!” Emile said cheerfully, like he was desperately trying to hide the shaking of his voice. “Gosh, what abhorrent weather, huh?”

“True that,” Remy plopped down on the bench next to him and shifted his bag so it rested on his lap. Raindrops dripped down his dark hair. “Bus never came?”

Emile laughed to himself and rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, no it did. Several times probably. I think I got a little carried away…”

Remy glances down at his notepad, filled with lines and lines of tiny text all squished together as to conserve space. He seemed to be almost running out of pages. “You don’t say?”

“I-It was important, so!! I just wanted to take a little extra time-“

“An hour.”

Emile blinked in bewilderment at him. “Excuse me?”

“You left the shop an hour ago,” Remy elaborated.

Emile swiftly checked the time on his (waterproof) watch and groaned loudly. “Ah, dangit, mom’s gonna kill me! … Oh, wait, do you need this?”

Remy stared at him as he scooted closer to him on the bench, putting his notebook back into his bag (it was shaped like a cheeseburger, Remy realized. A really soggy cheeseburger). He lifted his umbrella from between his knees with one hand and held it up over the two of them.

Although, truthfully, it wasn’t working that well. The umbrella only covered Remy’s right side as the left was exposed to the relentless rain, but he still gave a soft thank you regardless.

After a moment’s silence (Remy checked his pocket for his phone, except it wasn’t there. He cursed his forgetful brain for the second time as he now had to settle for staring awkwardly at the cars passing in front of them), Remy opted to speak up.

“... What were you writing?” He asked.

Emile gave a noncommittal shrug, shifting the umbrella so that it was covering Remy more. Remy frowned at this, pushing Emile’s hand back to where it was hovering between the two of them.

“It’s kind of dumb-,” Emile cut himself off with a sneeze.

“Bless you,”

“Tha-”

“And nah, I’m sure it isn’t,” Remy reassured him. “Anything that makes a guy stay outside in the rain for an extra hour probably isn’t that dumb.”

It seemed as though this was enough for Emile’s expression to brighten, and he immediately sat straight up on the bench while unknowingly bumping Remy in the glasses with his umbrella. “Well!! If you must know,” Emile began. “I actually write just a teensy, weensy bit,”

He emphasized this with a pinch of his fingers before he leaned backwards on his free arm. “Basically, I thought of this idea where a girl named Elizabeth gains the ability to travel through different dimensions as a result of her ingesting some bad salmon! On her journey, she meets a cute girl who, plot twist, is actually a fish! And then, they’d both get married in a meadow on another dimension’s Mars, and she’d have salmon as a part of the catering on their wedding day which is where Fish-Girl, horrified, would be disgusted with Elizabeth due to the very notion of consuming salmon because of her ancestors, who-”

Emile took a deep breath of air, red coloring his cheeks as Remy tried to retain the information that had just been spilled out in front of him. Elizabeth was a constant, there was a fish in there somewhere, multiverse…

“Elizabeth doesn’t know she’s a salmon,” Remy asked.

“Well, actually, salmon isn’t a specific type of fish. It encompasses a wide variety of them (I read that once on Buzzfeed), and no, that revelation comes in the second act,” Emile pushed up his glasses. “It’s kind of a metaphor on how you may not know your partner as well as you do, and the value one should place on communication in a relationship.”

It seemed as though pure, unadulterated happiness was radiating off the boy next to him, and it took everything within Remy to keep his smirk at bay. Emile seemed content, despite him sniffing occasionally (because of the rain) and his fingers twitching (because of the cold) as he played with the sleeve of his cardigan.

“It’s okay if you didn’t follow that,” Emile laughed hollowly, tone suddenly turning self deprecating. “I know my words are ah, kinda a handful! To keep track of that is.”

“I don’t follow anything anyone says,” Remy blurted out. “Like, ever. So it’s cool.” Emile blinked, opening his mouth to respond before a bus suddenly pulled up in front of them as though it materialized out of the raindrops. It wasn’t Remy’s bus, but Emile stood up from the bench and tugged his school bag over his shoulders.

“Oh! Here, you can have this!” Emile exclaimed abruptly. He jerkily shoved the umbrella towards Remy, who only stared at him for a few moments in bewilderment.

“Uh, what?” Remy said dumbly.

“You can have it! I’ll just tell my mom I lost it,” Emile looked off to the side, rain cascading down his face in rivulets. Remy thought he looked like he desperately needed it more than he did. “I-It’s as thank you! For talking to me.”

Remy began, “I don’t really need it-” He was cut off by Emile all but throwing the umbrella towards him as the bus driver honked loudly.

“I’lltakeitbackfromyoutomorrowbye!” Emile sprinted up the steps of the bus and Remy was left fumbling to gain a grip on the mint colored accessory, it clattering to the ground as the bus pulled away.

Remy stretched out his cold, numb fingers towards the umbrella. Upon closer examination, there was a little tag that looked suspiciously like a yellow Post-It note stuck to the inside with clear tape, the words “Emile Picani! =)” scrawled across it in barely legible handwriting.

Ah… There was an extra ‘e’ at the end of ‘Emile’. He’d keep that in mind for next time.

Remy’s head slammed against the underside of the countertop when he woke, and he let out a hiss of pain as he dropped back to the floor again. His glasses, hovering in the air in front of him, promptly fell onto his face and proceeded to clatter to the floor. A couple other items followed suit, including but not limited to: An old Sharpie, some spare change, and Emile’s umbrella.

“Good morning,” A voice called curtly. Remy, not moving from his spot on the floor, turned towards the darkness under the countertop and let out a groan.

“Oh, don’t even right now, Ethan.”

Ethan shrugged, slipping off of (Remy’s) barstool easily. He stepped towards Remy, crouching down and picking up the umbrella. “Didn’t peg you for a teal kinda guy,” Ethan said, turning it over in his hands.

Remy snapped his attention to Emile’s umbrella, and hastily began trying to scramble to his knees. “P-Put that down, man” He huffed, gripping the edge of the countertop as the world spun around him. Ugh, he got up too quick. “That isn’t mine.”

A frown appeared on Ethan’s face. “You… Stole it…?”

“No I- I didn’t,” Remy wobbled over to Ethan, grateful for the fact the only customer in at the moment being the same college student from yesterday. With a quick hand that totally wasn’t shaking at all, he snatched the umbrella from his hands with a scowl.

His scowl, however, quickly softened into an expression of anxiousness. He bit his lip as he leaned against the counter. “Hey, you didn’t see a guy with pink hair come in here, by any chance?”

Ethan shrugged. “I just got here. They totally shouldn’t give me more hours for the afternoon when the only guy working here keeps passing ou-”

“Ah ah ah!” Remy jabbed the end of the umbrella at Ethan’s shoulder. He let out an offended hiss in response. “That’s enough outta you, sis.”

As though he hadn’t just assaulted his coworker, Remy continued, “He had pink hair and glasses,” Remy explained this by making circles in front of his eyes to imitate glasses, as though he wasn’t already wearing a pair. “And his school bag was, like, a burger or something. He-”

“By any chance was his name Emile?” Ethan interrupted.

Blinking, Remy nodded. “Wow, that was easy.”

“Yeah, he totally blends in at school,” Ethan said bluntly. “Like, I barely ever notice him.”

“Really?”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Whatever, just,” Remy, exasperated, shoved the umbrella towards him. “Give this to him, please? He was supposed to come in today but I think I missed him.”

Ethan eyed him warily before saying, “He wasn’t at school today, so I’m guessing he probably didn’t come in anyways,” Although he took the umbrella from Remy regardless.

A sudden pang of concern hit Remy as he recalled the boy’s creative episode in the rain the day prior. Maybe he should have thrown the umbrella back at him (Wait, no, it would’ve just hit the bus instead…).

“Does he skip a lot?” Remy asked, trying not to let the worry show from behind his glasses.

Ethan kept feeling at the handle of the umbrella, like rubbing it was going to unearth some ancient rune that he needed to discover. “Hm… I don’t think so. He cares a lot about his grades, definitely,” Ethan, smile suddenly appearing on his face, turned the umbrella once more. “Wow, this is bumpy.”

“... Alright I’m gonna go now,” Remy said, walking into the back room. “Make sure he gets it.” He added, only slightly threatening. “Like, seriously.”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” Ethan mumbled. His attention was diverted from the umbrella to a customer walking into the store, his voice fading into the background as Remy walked, “Hi, how may I help you…”

Remy shook his head, pushing open the door to the back room. Well, it wasn’t like Ethan was totally untrustworthy or anything.

The next day it was raining again (Because of course it was, it was Florida), but Remy was, surprisingly, not fast asleep when Ethan walked in for his shift.

The first thing he noticed was the mint umbrella in his hand, and Remy’s neutral expression very quickly turned into a frown.

“Hey-”

“He said I could keep it,” Ethan explained cryptically.

“He what-” Remy, who had been busy questioning Ethan’s moral integrity all day already, tried not to scream as his coworker briskly entered the back room to deposit his things. Because his mind was already going to the very imperative questions of Well, why didn’t he come in today? Didn’t he give me the umbrella? Am I being #clingy right now?

“Also, he had to monitor for a teacher after school for parent teacher conference, so he couldn’t come today.” Ethan emerged from the back room, in the middle of tying his apron around his waist. “He told me to tell you that.”

“Are you two friends or something?”

Ethan moved to the register after tying his apron and pulled out his phone. “Eh… We just have Latin together.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He already has a bunch of them, so I’m sure he’s fine without me.”

For some reason that statement made a knot twist in Remy’s stomach, but he ignored it. Because jealousy was not a good look, and Remy would not be caught dead looking so desperate for friendship he saw in a dude he’d only known for one day.

So he made himself a coffee (so that he wouldn’t fall asleep waiting for the bus) and ended his shift. He glanced back at Ethan as he neared the front door, still toying with the umbrella handle under the counter while on his phone, and realized that he’d once again forgotten his umbrella at home.

Emile came back in for a black coffee. Remy spelled his name correctly.

They talked briefly, Remy questioning his decision on the umbrella, and Emile just gave that same nervous laugh. He was wearing a sweater today, with a cartoon cat on it shaped like a cookie.

“He seemed to like it a lot, so I thought I’d give it to him!” Emile heaved his backpack up so that it rested more comfortably on his shoulders, smiling so brightly at Remy he felt like he needed to put his glasses back on. “I didn’t know you two worked together!”

Remy smiled. “Small world.”

He couldn’t stay for long this time, because he was going to be hanging out with his friends, Remy learned. They were going to be studying for a test together at the library, which didn’t sound that fun to Remy, but Emile seemed rather ecstatic about the whole thing.

Before he left the shop, Emile paused at the front door and turned his head around. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! I was working on the story again yesterday: Elizabeth and Ella (her girlfriend) make up afterwards! But the story leaves off at a cliffhanger when a meteor strikes the wedding reception. Whether or not it was premeditated is still to be determined.”

Remy took a long sip of his coffee as Emile was talking. “Love that for them.”

Emile grinned, pushing up his glasses and waving as he exited the coffee shop. Remy decided to begin wiping down the counter while waiting for his shift to end.

“You haven’t seen Steven Universe?!”

Remy picked at the inside of his ear with a pinky finger. “I mean. I’ve probably seen like, half of an episode. Or something.”

“Ohmygosh, you have to watch it-” Emile abruptly cut himself off, realization dawning on his face. A wide grin spread across his blank expression, and he pulled the hem of his sweater down to gesture at it.

“Look! Remy, this is Steven Universe!” Emile animatedly went through the effort of pointing each colorful character out on his sweater, going as far as to explain their faults, character arcs, backstories…

“I like this one,” Remy said as Emile was taking a breath, and pointed at a girl in large comical glasses. “She looks pretty cool.”

“That’s Connie,” Emile continued, Despite him being in the middle of explaining… One of the colorful ones before Remy interjected. “She’s very inquisitive yet cautious, and I think one of the most interesting traits about her is her feelings of loneliness.”

Remy quirked an eyebrow at him, absently rubbing the countertop with a cloth. “She doesn’t look very lonely here,” He said, poking at the character on his shirt. She was grinning with her eyebrows set in a determined expression. Also she was carrying a huge sword.

“Well, due to her father’s job, there is a lot of instability in her life,” Emile elaborated, leaning forwards so that his elbows were on the counter and a hand was propping his chin up. “Simply put, her family moves around a lot, and thus she finds it difficult to hold onto friendships.”

“That’s… Kind of depressing,” Remy said, an odd knot of sympathy forming in his throat. “For a kids show.”

“Well, I guess, but it’s just so… So frickin cool how realistic that is,” He sighed dreamily, and he let his head rest on his forearm instead of his elbow. “Gosh, I love cartoons! Do you have a favorite show, um…”

Emile blinked at him owlishly, straightening up. “Wait, I don’t know your name.”

“Oh.” Was Remy’s only response to that.

“Gosh, that’s so rude of me!” Emile squeaked, the onset of embarrassment on his face so fast that Remy almost had whiplash witnessing it. “I-It must have slipped my mind! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Remy said with a smirk. “I was just worried you’d never forget it if I told you.”

“Don’t keep me in the dark any longer!” Emile gasped, leaning forwards suddenly. “What’s your name? Or I’ll just keep referring you to as ‘Starbucks Guy’ in my head.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It could be.”

After a drawn out pause as Remy sipped his iced coffee, he responded with a simple, “Remy.”

Emile stared at him for a moment, before a squeal escaped his mouth and he clamped his hands over his lips. “Li-Like from Ratatouille!! Remy and Emile, oh my god!!” He exclaimed loudly. A woman on the phone in the corner of the establishment sent him an odd look that Emile didn’t notice.

“Like… From France…?”

“Ratatouille!” Emile repeated. “Please tell me you’ve seen Ratatouille.”

Remy took a guilty sip from his coffee. “It’s probably a TV show?”

“It’s a Pixar movie,” Emile took out his phone and typed something into Google (He didn’t have a passcode it seemed) and showed him various pictures of a 3D cartoon mouse. In a chefs hat.

“Wow, she’s cute,” Remy deadpanned. “Glad that reminds you of me.”

“He’s great! It’s a great movie!” Emile smiled despite the sardonic slight. “You should watch it sometime! Oh, you have Netflix, right? It’s probably there.”

“Totally,” Remy lied.

“Awesome! Um…” With his gaze stuck on his phone, Emile trailed off, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. A look of horror then struck his face, and he immediately shoved his phone in his pocket. “Shoot! I was supposed to meet up with them like thirty minutes ago! Ah-”

Emile gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry I can’t stay for much longer, I’ll see you on Monday, though!”

“Why Mon-” Oh, yeah, the school week ended on Friday. “Yeah… Yeah I’ll see you then.”

Emile waved as he bolted out of the Starbucks, and Remy all but sagged onto the countertop, glasses sliding off the bridge of his nose as he glared at a speck of dust in his peripheral vision.

He probably should have asked for his number… Or was it too soon for that? Ah, whatever.

One nap, his boss yelling at him for it, and an hour later, Remy had officially clocked out. He didn’t have much else to do for the night, since he had finished his homework the day prior, so Remy settled for the grim reality of going home to watch a rerun of The Office before he inevitably fell asleep halfway through the episode.

On the way to his bus stop, there was a bridge he had to walk past. It laid across the polluted river, shitty paint job and all. Graffiti consistently covered the underside of it (somehow), and Remy never spared a second glance towards it.

Well, the reason why this insignificant, minute detail in his own insignificant, minute life was suddenly relevant was due to the head of pink hair on the bridge.

It was a group of about five people, including Emile. His bright, pastel colored sweater was tinted to a pretty shade of dark periwinkle due to the sunset over the bridge. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the group of individuals wearing mostly earthy, warm colors.

Remy catapulted himself behind a building, sticking his body up against it and digging out his phone. He was just going to check Instagram really quick. He definitely wasn’t eavesdropping, nope.

“... ile, isn’t that show like, for little kids?” A voice drifted from over the bridge. Remy adjusted his sunglasses. This was stupid. He should just keep walking. Pathetic how attached he grew to one person even after knowing them for a grand total of three days at most.

“Well,” Emile’s voice was loud. There was a cartoonish quality to it that Remy couldn’t place, maybe it was the way he said his e’s. It might’ve been an accent, but Remy could not place which one for the life of him. Despite this, his voice didn’t seem to carry as much authority as the speaker prior. “I just thought it was fun, I guess.”

A bubble of bitterness welled up in his throat at Emile’s tone, because it was softer than when he had spoken to him at the bus stop. Like he wasn’t using it to its full potential.

Whatever, Remy conceded he’d leave it alone. This was kind of bad, wasn’t it? To be eavesdropping like this. #Clingy! Blared in his mind as he walked slowly away from the scene, towards his bus stop.

“That’s weird, Emile,” Another speaker said. “Don’t you watch any, like, real shows?”

“... I don’t really watch that much TV.”

Remy awoke with a start, much like he always did. Though this time he was floating above the ground, drool pooling in a puddle on the countertop.

The barstool clattered to the ground as Remy scrambled to get a grip on the countertop before he fell off of it. He heard snickering, and whipped his head around to glare at Ethan.

“Your shift’s over, princess,” Ethan said. He sprayed whipped cream into his mouth, setting it back down before his attention returned to his phone once again. Remy sighed, rubbing his still groggy head before clocking out for the day.

The sky was clear, though there were a gaggle of looming rainclouds near the horizon. Remy didn’t mind, however, since he found the sunset was freaking gorgeous today. Definitely Instagram-worthy.

So he decided to take a picture of it before heading to the bus stop. Who knew when he’d get another opportunity like this, especially since it was rainy season. Maybe the bridge would be a nice photo-op?

As he passed by the old, graffiti-littered bridge, Remy’s steps slowed.

It was Emile again. While Remy didn’t find it odd to witness highschool students being outside during the weekends, the odd thing about this was that Emile was completely alone.

He had an elbow on the railing of the bridge, propping up his chin in a way that he looked almost serene, gazing out over the polluted water. The oranges and angry yellows of the sun made his beige cardigan look more like a deep red-brown.

Remy’s hand lingered over his hand. This was probably the most perfect photo he could ever imagine for his Instagram, but of course he wasn’t going to take a picture of someone just standing there. That would be weird, right? Should he forget about this now? Go up to Emile and talk to him? The lack of an expression on his face didn’t suit him well, Remy noticed.

In his other hand, hanging by his side, was the yellow notebook Remy had witnessed him writing into many days ago.

As Remy continued debating whether or not he should go up to him, Emile had shifted his position. He was walking backwards from the railing, face set in a determined grimace. His grip tightened on the notebook so much that his fingers were smudging the ink and the pages were wrinkling in his grasp. He seemed to be psyching himself up for something, clenching and unclenching his fingers as he kept his gaze on the water in front of the bridge.

Then he swung his hand back, and flung the notebook into the river.

Similar to how people, quote on quote, had their lives flashing before their eyes upon their deathbed, Remy only saw his friends. Or lack thereof. The empty birthday parties, the pitying stares from other students, a teacher extending a hand to him as he laid asleep on the floor…

And it was probably then that he realized he hated being alone. The feeling clawed inside of him like a vice, and yet he could never seem to hold onto anyone before they faded away from his life. He didn’t want to feel that way again.

He felt his feet moving before his mind could wrap itself around the situation. It was like a primal instinct had taken over, and suddenly Remy was vaulting over the railing with a strength he never knew he possessed, extending a hand towards the yellow pages that were half submerged into the water.

And as he let the notebook float gently into the air, his familiar purple aura surrounding it, Remy felt his knees give way.

A mute scream bubbled from his throat as his grip slacked on the railing, body falling into the water despite his mind yelling at him to move, to regroup, to do something-

A rush of cold water hit him like a ton of bricks, and Remy felt dizzy as all the breath from his lungs left him despite himself. He felt the familiar haze of sleep cloud his mind, and he thought ruefully that he had never fallen asleep in a river before…

As his vision went darker and bubbles filled it, he saw the stream of light from the sunset, a soda can surrounded by purple float to the top of the river, and there was something pink coming towards him… He was fading, fading...

Emile Picani watched as the Starbucks barista, the one who always knew to get him a black coffee, vaulted over the railing of the bridge. He watched as his powers made his notepad levitate into the air, and watched as the barista’s legs seemed to freeze up, hold on the railing slacking all of a sudden. And he watched as he plummeted into the polluted river, notepad still floating with a pretty spark of purple surrounding it despite it all.

He was stunned! Flabbergasted, floored, er… He didn’t really know what to do. Emile was still standing and staring at where the man had disappeared under the water… And he wasn’t floating back to the surface… Oh no-

Things suddenly started shooting to the surface, a soda can, old shoes, a couple fish and a hair dryer. That was probably what spurred Emile to lurch himself over the railing as well to dive into the water.

It was murky and hard to see- And oh god why was everything brown?! Emile resisted the urge to gag as his heart raced, eyes squinting to make out anything in the water atop the bubbles escaping his nose. There were still things rising to the top of the water, a phone, a ring of keys, glasses…

Emile’s eyes focused on a hazy blob of darkness lying on the river floor, and he quickly shot his hands out to grab at it. By now he was very quickly running out of air, and it didn’t seem like Starbucks was going to wake up at any point either. So Emile gathered as much of the man’s jacket as he could in his hands, panic pooling within his stomach as he felt a large amount of air leave his nose through bubbles.

Okay, okay, it’s fine, this is fine, fine and dandy, Emile heard his voice scream inside of his head. He tried not to gasp at the darkness fluttering in and out of his vision, trying to kick his way back to the top of the river. But his movements were growing sluggish, and everything was suddenly covered in a haze that wasn’t there before. And Emile was sinking, sinking…

Floating…?

He felt a light feeling overwhelm him, and looked down to see his hands surrounded in a purple aura. Was Remy… Doing this?

Emile’s hands were in a death grip on Remy’s jacket, squeezing his eyes shut as his body was shooting to the top. Bubbles were escaping his mouth, but soon enough, his head broke the surface and he was gasping for air.

Sweet, sweet oxygen invaded his lungs and Emile allowed himself to cough up the water he had accidentally swallowed while resurfacing. His attention snapped to Remy, still submerged in the river and he quickly brought the other boy up to the surface while trying to kick to shore at the same time.

As the effects of Remy’s powers wore off, Emile had gradually reached the shore. He all but threw Starbucks onto the shore, and laid himself down next to the sleeping barista atop crushed soda cans and sharp plastic. His arms felt like they were on fire, and his heart wouldn’t stop beating like he was running from a known serial killer… Man, maybe he should start working out more.

Then, Emile’s attention refocused onto the matter at hand… Oh god, Remy probably swallowed a gallon of dirty river water or something. Emile quickly scrambled to his side, looming over him as he surveyed the condition of the unconscious teenager. Would he have to perform CPR? Oh no, Emile wasn’t qualified to do that!! Maybe if he looked it up on Google he’d have a better understanding- Oh, but he’d lost his phone in the river…

As soon as the feeling of helplessness welled up inside of him, it popped like a bubble. Remy’s eyes cracked open, squinting against the harsh rays of the sunset. His fingers twitched as he tried to sit up.

“Wh-” Remy began, voice hoarse, but as soon as he started his face turned a sickly shade of green and he turned his head to vomit up river water. Emile kindly looked away from the scene, grimace present on his face. “Um,” Emile started, but a strange feeling overwhelmed him, made his eyes water and the back of his throat burn. He’d realized that most of what happened was mostly because of him, and his little stunt back on the bridge. If he hadn’t been so stupid, Remy wouldn’t have…

“I’m sorry,” Emile couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks, and he was pointedly looking away from Remy as well. “I-I, oh gosh,” He mumbled wiping at them with the sleeves of his cardigan despite them also being soaking wet.

As Remy opened his mouth to respond, another torrent of river water escaped him and onto the shore. He held out a hand, motioning for Emile to wait a second and spoke after vomiting.

“Do-Don’t apologize,” Remy muttered, wiping his mouth sheepishly. “I think I dropped it anyways. Your notebook.”

All that statement did was make him cry even harder, and he curled in on himself, hugging his knees and burying his head in them. He tried saying that he didn’t care, it really didn’t matter to him, because the fact of the matter was that his actions nearly caused another human being to die. Not only that, it was Remy, someone who had been nothing but kind to him through the brief interactions they’d shared together.

Remy was patting him awkwardly on the back. “Sor-Sorry, yi-yikes, it’s kind of cold out, huh?” He said, laughing.

Emile didn’t respond, and Remy opted to draw his hand away from Emile to sit cross legged on the shore line. He reached down to extract a soggy piece of paper from one of his leather boots.

“So… I kind of fall asleep sometimes,” Remy blurted out suddenly. Emile blinked at him, furrowing his eyebrows in questioning. “Like, it’s really random.”

“Huh,” Emile said. “That’s why you-”

“Yeah. Um,” Remy scratched the back of his head. “It gets really strong when I fall asleep. My powers, I mean. I’m usually not strong enough to lift people or anything.”

Emile thought back to when he was surrounded in a purple aura, the feeling of weightlessness as he floated to the top of the river despite him sinking just a moment before… “Ah.”

“Sorry if that’s weird,” Remy laughed bitterly. “But I just thought I should tell you ‘cause… You know.”

He didn’t know, but Emile suddenly wondered what Remy’s life must have been like living with a condition like that. He wondered if he had a hard time connecting with other people too, he wondered if he was lonely too.

“It-It’s not,” Emile remedied. “I mean, kinda but I don’t care… You’re great, I-I just don’t know why you… Did that.”

He wondered if it was the lighting or if Remy’s face had grown red. “I just… I know it means a lot to you,” He answered. “And don’t give me that crap and pretend it doesn’t matter. I know it does.”

Emile tried to pretend like that statement didn’t make a new wall of tears well up in his eyes. “Y-Yeah,” He whispered, hugging his knees closer to his chest. “It does.”

So they sat together on the shoreline, Emile trying to ignore the chill that came with a gust of wind. Looking up at the sky above, Emile wondered if there would ever come a day where he’d make a friend that he could show his writing to without the debilitating anxiety that came with being judged. Maybe a friend he could watch cartoons with without them asking to change the channel to something like a reality show instead. He wanted someone who would spend time with him that didn’t come at the expense of having to do a project together for AP English.

Then he looked over at the barista, staring blankly out at the water, dark hair plastered unflatteringly to his forehead while squinting. Was it too bright? Was that why he wore sunglasses indoors too? It seemed like Emile was learning something new about him every time they interacted.

A hopeful feeling ignited in his chest, and Emile wished that he could learn more about Remy with time.

“This is my number!”

Remy quirked an eyebrow as he took the post-it note. “Uh-”

“I lost my phone because of, you know,” Emile waved his hand vaguely, but Remy already knew the incident he was talking about. “So I had to get a new one.”

“... Thanks,” Remy said. He furiously engraved it into his skull to remember to text Emile, because he’d probably never forgive himself if he forgot. “I’ll text you after my shift’s over.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Emile said flippantly. “I just wanted to say thanks for the other day… I was kind of- heh, kind of a wreck! Emotionally, haha.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Remy thumbed over the new cracks on his phone- He referred to them as battle scars in his mind though. “I’d nearly drown in a shit-filled river anytime for you, babe.”

Although he was kind of joking, Remy was delighted to see a nervous smile on Emile’s face. Much better than tears for sure.

“Haha!! Um, I uh, hah,” Emile squeaked, putting a hand to his red face. “Gosh, it feels like Agrab- You probably don’t know what that is! Haha!! Anyways!”

He unceremoniously dumped a shoddily wrapped parcel onto the table. The wrapper was a repeating pattern of cartoon characters he didn’t recognize.

“It’s the Loud House! Okay, uh, happy Saint Patrick’s day, bye!”

With that, as soon as he came he was gone. Remy watched mutely as Emile bolted out of the shop, though not before nearly tackling an older gentleman making his way in and apologizing to him profusely as he colorfully swore at the retreating teenager. A genuine snicker left his mouth, and he looked down at the gift in his hands.

He’d open it after his shift ended, Remy decided. Using his powers, he levitated it so that it rested underneath the counter, hidden from view. Remy smiled at the older guy and adjusted his glasses.

“How may I help you?”

#remy sanders #sleep sanders #emile picani #dr emile picani #remile #remy x emile #sanders sides #thomas sanders #cartoon therapy #sanders shorts #deceit sanders #he's in this for like 2 scenes lmfao sorry my boy #writes

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