#mind u i can barely understand half of whats going on but this is still so crazy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldenstring6123 · 2 months

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HIIIYAAAYAYA I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH AND I LOOK FORWARD TO EVERY SINGLE PIECE YOU RELEASE!!! YOU HAVE ME CHECKING YOUR PAGE 24/7 IM OBSESSEDDD 🫦🫦 ANYWHO ignore my fawning but how do you think the lads boys would react to a suuuuper clingy gf??? idk but if i were mc i would NOT be leaving their side and would literally be glued onto their body like mc is a strong soldier for resisting (especially rafayel my HUSBAND 😩) literally wanna just curl up in their lap and carve myself into their ribcage so they can never escape from me tehe. ALSOOO U DON’T GOTTA RESPOND IF UR BUSY OR UNCOMFY!!!! JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITING 🫶🫶

Lnds: Sticky little lover

Warning: vaguely suggestive, mentions of hickeys, fem!reader, clingy!reader, reader may or may not be the mc, there might be spelling mistakes, I haven't proofread yet.

Author's note: Awieee thank u sm pookie! I understand the feeling of wanting to latch onto the LIs~

Zayne:

Zayne wakes up with you on his chest, your leg over his crotch, and your arm across his stomach. To him, you were like a weighted stuffed toy and a weighted blanket, all at the same time. He wasn't complaining; maybe it was an excuse to stay in bed for another half an hour.

The bathroom is big enough for the two of you, with two wash basins, a separate shower, and a bathtub. There are three bathrooms in the house, but you always choose the one he uses. He's complained once, but you said you didn't like the interior design of the others. Side by side, you brush your teeth and comb your hair while he shaves and flosses. If you wake up earlier than usual, maybe he'll let you moisturize and exfoliate his face. It's no surprise Zayne leaves the bathroom door open for you. It's just normal for both of you to cross paths in the large bathroom.

When he leaves for work, you never miss a day to kiss his nose and give him a quick peck. You embrace him with two arms, but he hugs you back with one, the other hand holding his bag. You don't mind.

Your message gallery is filled with pictures of your mundane life: a snapshot of a book you're reading, the new coffee you tried, the little teacup Maltese that reminded you of him. Even though he's busy, he always finds time to react, and if he doesn't, he brings up the picture when you pick him up at the end of the day. He never forgets.

Calm days are spent in each other's presence. You always cling to him in one way or another. While he's reading a book, your feet are on his lap, and his fingers unknowingly knead your ankles. While watching a movie, your shoulders touch, and your hands are intertwined. When you react to the film, his hand, still holding yours, follows your movements.

Dates are always fun. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do as long as Zayne's in your company. Cafe dates are cute, but Zayne always calls you out for staring at him with a weird look in your eyes—you were admiring him. Whenever you walk, you cling to him, wrapping yourself around his forearm while playfully weighing him down. He stumbles for a second but smiles.

You love leaving hickeys on him, even bite marks if he allows, but the rule is never above the collar of his shirt. You oblige 97% of the time. The other 3%, you sneak in a light hickey that passes off as a mosquito bite, just peeking through the collar of his dress shirt. Sometimes, there's one behind his ear, barely visible. He never knows, but the doctors and patients at the hospital do.

When you're apart, you always call him and go about your day. At night, you video call and try to stay awake, only to snooze off. Zayne chuckles at your attempts to wash the tiredness away, but sometimes, he falls asleep with you. In the morning, both of your phones end up overheating and out of battery.

Zayne loves your company, to others it may seem trouble some but with you, it was adorable. It's through your clingyness that he experiences feelings he never once did before, and those little things always brighten his day. You actions with him makes him feel more loved and he knows he has a hard time expressing them but with you around, it had become more and more easier.

Rafayel:

They say opposites attract, but you and Rafayel are the universal exception.

Rafayel doesn't like it when you're late. Even for a home-date, he fusses about being left alone too long and feeling abandoned. You laugh at his whining over text and enter his door. When he sees you, he jumps off the couch and pouts, "Finally, it took you long enough."

You're like magnets to each other. Wherever one goes, the other follows. If you're cooking ramen in the kitchen, Rafayel sneaks behind you, hugging your back and sniffing your hair. If he's watering flowers in the greenhouse, you sit nearby and watch a ladybug on a leaf. If he's painting, you're reading on a nearby couch. Rafayel's residence is too big for one person but just enough for two.

Rafayel whines when you do something without him, especially if it's something he wants to do. You once took a flower arrangement class without him, and he sulked, "Wow, you didn't even think to tell me? I wanted to do that with you." Even watching movies is hard because you need to pause and wait for him whenever he leaves the room. One time, you finished a mystery series without him, and he ate the tiramisu you were saving for dessert in revenge.

Matching clothes is a thing. He avoids tacky prints but opts for complementary outfits. Because of this, Rafayel buys clothes with you in mind, often choosing items with a feminine counterpart. His shoe closet and yours are practically the same, and you don't complain because Rafayel has good fashion taste.

You love cute matching items. You once bought a two-piece mug set with a heart design, and he took the other one without you knowing. He also took a keychain from your collection, matching the one you have in your wallet.

"Are you tired of me now?" he asks when you keep your distance, avoiding a hug. It's the middle of summer, and the AC is broken. You reek of sweat, and the last thing you want is to be touched. You sigh and pat his back, "After I take a bath, I'll give you all the hugs you want."

He asks about your plans every morning, almost as a ritual. You've gotten used to replying while getting ready. If both schedules permit, he joins you for grocery runs, laundry, or whatever mundane tasks you have. You make good use of him, letting him carry the bags even if you could do it yourself.

When Rafayel is at an exhibit, you bombard him with texts: jokes, articles, or random thoughts. He replies quickly, hiding from the audience, bored out of his mind. In return, he sends you pictures of his artwork, which you threaten to sell online as digital files. He blocks you for a good five minutes.

You're each other's wallpaper. Surprisingly, Rafayel asked to do it. You spent hours finding the perfect pose and recreating trending ones. Rafayel insisted on multiple retakes.

You were rafayel's missing piece. To him, you were the only thing that he has ever wanted in his life. He loved you dearly and a part of him was terrified that you don't reciprocate the same level of love as he does to you; but lo and behold, fate has given him a blessing after all those years of loneliness. His heart swoons at the very sight of your actions. You were clingy, that was factually true but the same goes for him. Nothing makes him more fulfilled than seeing you both think and love in the same wavelength.

Sylus:

His base has become your home. On days off, you often find yourself in one of three rooms: his bedroom, where you lie on his bed, tapping away on your phone or laptop; his kitchen, where the chef cooks whatever you want in exchange for listening to his stories from his little village; or the lobby, where Luke and Kieran update you on the most boring things in the building. Sylus doesn't mind at all; it's less work for Mephisto, and he can keep an eye on you.

Sylus's sleep schedule is the same as that of those in Linkon City. His days begin in the evenings, often leaving you lying in the big bed alone. Sylus is nearby or at his desk if he's not out on the streets. You like hugging his pillow because it smells like his 3-in-1 shampoo. If he's out on late-night trips, you selfishly steal his shirt from the closet, wear it on the pillow, and hug that to sleep, forcing yourself to be satisfied with what you got.

His lap is your chair. It doesn't matter where he's sitting; you always find yourself on him. Sylus sometimes complains about his thighs going numb, but when you leave, he yanks you back, positioning you between his legs, with your butt on the chair instead of his thigh. He goes back to his work as if nothing happened, occasionally sparing you a kiss on the forehead or rubbing his face against yours. If not, you shower his chest and neck with light pecks before snuggling into the crook of his neck.

His biceps are nice to the touch. On dates to the city, while waiting in line, you squeeze his muscles for entertainment, even through his thick leather jacket. He flexes for a minute before relaxing, amused at how easily you entertain yourself.

The boyfriend shirt phenomenon is common. You don't leave the base wearing his clothes, but you certainly walk around the area in them. Whether a turtleneck, a black blouse, or just a plain shirt, you're always wearing his clothes, even in his company.

You're an eccentric one, thats for sure. Sylus never truly got ahold of how you managed to change from being so distant to practically being glued to him. It was like he partnered up with a whole new different person. He wasn't complaining at all if anything, he found it admirable and a part of him was quietly relieved that time did all the adjusting between you and him. Despite being a bit too fussy at times, he'd be more than willing to compromise if that's what makes you happy.

Xavier:

You always steal his hoodies. They're big, soft, and smell like him, so you have two or three at home. Xavier scratches his head when he notices bare hangers in his closet. When you visit, he finally sees what's missing. No matter how many hoodies and jackets he buys for you, you always get your hands on his, almost becoming a problem. Now, he rotates his jackets, giving them to you on schedule.

Xavier's hair is too soft to be human. When he's on your lap, you massage his scalp and fidget with the ends of his silver hair. If you have hair elastics and a cute clip nearby, he ends up with his hair tied up or braided. He needs your help to take it off because it's too painful for him to do alone. Oops?

You prefer sitting beside him rather than across from him at a table. He didn't understand at first because he wanted to face you when eating. But when he's beside you, he slowly gets it. You like touching him one way or another. You enjoy your elbows touching or your thighs grazing each other. It's also convenient to lean slightly and rest your head on his shoulder.

Xavier loves bathing with you. The bathtub in his apartment is big enough for both. He likes the smell of your bath bombs and is sometimes fascinated by the toys or mini jewelry inside. Your back always presses against him, and he willingly holds you. On more stressful days, you light candles and open some cheap wine to enjoy in rose-covered water.

He's riddled with bite marks, even when not having sex. He's dozing off when you suddenly find his arm or leg appetizing. He jolts awake and tries to shake your grip, but it's too tight. When you've had enough, he stares at your work of art and wipes his saliva-coated limb. You grin, watching him wipe your fluids. Because of the frequency, he rarely lets his consciousness drift away when his bare arms and legs are around you.

When bathing alone, you use his shampoo instead of yours. It's surprising he doesn't use all-in-one shampoo and body wash; he uses baby shampoo. When confronted, he shrugs, saying it does the job, and recalls you like playing with his hair. His perfume and powder are also for babies.

In the eyes of Xavier, you were adorable even if your actions were questionable. You were cute, and he never once thought that your actions were a burden or suffocating. The things you do, the way you speak they were all precious in his eyes and Xavier understands that this was you way of showing your love for him. Because of that, he tolerates you every time you bite him.

Your gallery is full of his pictures. Candid photos you secretly take daily. Your favorite is when his cheeks are full of food, resembling a hamster. You take pictures when he's asleep, using you as a pillow. Sometimes, you're both looking at the camera, making random faces.

Author footnotes: I'm sorry if these were pretty general. I'm not the clingy type so I don't know how these type of people act but I wrote it with the things I observed from films and tiktok lol

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

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arieslost · 5 months

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ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo

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onlyswan · 1 year

Text

summary: in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.

> idol!jungkook x reader / est. relationship, fluff, angst / word count: 7k

> content/warnings: yea shirtless jungkook should be a warning… one (1) spank then he kisses it better, also gives a kiss to that lil bow on oc’s undies >:( + a flashback of oc crying and him getting stressed out bcs oc is a careless brat fr

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe i’m here <3 this drabble is basically just oc in a mood and jungkook being the sweetest bf ever 🤨 idk how it got this long either heh it didn’t feel that way at all while i wrote-edited? but i hope u enjoy and i’d love to hear ur thoughts 🥺 reblogs/feedback are appreciated !! <3

—

“oh my god- fuck!”

you cover your mouth in shock, squeezing your eyes shut and flinching at the ear-splitting sound that bounces off the walls of the apartment.

jungkook is rendered frozen, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slacked, staring down at his shirt largely stained by the chocolate milk you were walking around with after brunch.

“damn…”

his eyes are irritable when they communicate with yours.

“baby! really? did it have to be the white one?”

but seconds later, they become worried and calculating — wandering all over the tiled floor, and then your bare feet infront of his slides-clad ones, surrounded by shattered pieces of ceramic.

the collateral damage. an unforeseen tragedy.

suffice to say, jungkook woke up this morning blissfully unaware of the turbulent storm threatening to make a playground out of your mind. it’s craving to feed destruction, and here he is living with you under the same roof, an unfortunate casualty from your antics.

the hand-painted mug, wet from the condensation, slipped away from your hands when you accidentally collided with his tough build at the intersection of the living room and the kitchen. this… wasn’t part of the plan. the plan was a little spill and this is a landslide.

“that was expensive too.” you utter wistfully, chest deflating as you release an exasperated breath. “sorry. i’ll clean up everything. just stay there and i’ll- when did i last see the broom-”

his doe eyes grow two times its size when you start looking around the apartment in search of the broom, and perhaps something you can use to pat yourself and jungkook dry, causing your feet to unconsciously shift on the treacherous ground.

“ba-baby! don’t move! you’re going to hurt yourself. are you crazy?” he interrupts you with a hiss, voice stern as his hands curl around your arms to hold you steady. “it’s okay. this is nothing, i’m not mad… just stay still, understand?”

you nod slowly as he lets go, eyebrows knitting together to convey confusion when he starts pulling his shirt over his head, revealing miles of bare skin and planes of defined muscles on a perfect silhouette. perfect because it’s jungkook.

alright… to see him half-naked wasn’t one of your intentions, but you’re definitely not one to complain.

“tsk, i think i need to shower again.”

figuring that the internet has a solution to every problem one could think of, jungkook has decided to accept the horror that has happened to his shirt. what was it again? salt? vinegar? baking soda? powder? fuck it, he’ll search for it later.

he throws caution to the wind by using it to wipe his damp torso, brushing it over his tan skin glistening with a sheen of the liquid that you wittingly spilled. he winces at the uncomfortable stickiness that could be felt across his stomach, but he can’t help but to laugh when he sees how it further accentuated his abs.

and if only you were in a chipper mood today, you would be laughing along with him. would’ve taken over cleaning him up, apologized with a kiss on his waist. too bad you’re not.

eventually, he gives up on erasing on the feeling, proceeding to fold the shirt in halves.

“what are you doing?” you snap, putting on a guise of harsher irritation over your dreamy stares at your boyfriend’s glorious physique. “are we just supposed to stand here forever like idiots?”

“what is this? why are you so grumpy today?” he questions with a frown, patting your cheek with the soft cottony fabric because the splash managed to reach your face unbeknownst to you.

and then he bends down to place the folded shirt infront of your feet, looking up to you with his galaxy-filled eyes to say, “here- come on. stand here while i clean up.”

you stand isolated on the safe zone he created, childishly pouting with your arms crossed over chest as you wait for him to pick up your slippers in the bedroom.

the simple answer to jungkook’s question is you’re bored and in a bad mood. the more complex answer would be you came up with a one-man game you can only win if you successfully piss your boyfriend off, but you’re too scared to pull off anything that will legitimately make him upset with you.

because the last time you made him angry, it hasn’t been… that long ago. he’s been keeping a closer eye on you since then, and you’ve been trying to be good. keyword being trying. after all, you did lost his car key… at a beach three hours away from home. you searched the entire shore — retraced your steps, made your knees and palms bleed digging through the rocky sand, curled up by the waves to wallow in self-blame and the smell of salt-air defeat. you were nearly in tears as you listened to the call ring for what felt like an eternity, unsure if he already wrapped up the company meeting he mentioned to you the day before.

you still remember the desperate words you greeted him with instead of ‘hello’.

“babe, promise me you won’t be mad.”

—

“____, you didn’t even tell me you were coming here! care to explain that to me first? huh?”

your name, and not ‘baby’? heavens above have mercy; you’re fucked.

jungkook presses the heels of his palms over his eyes to alleviate the dull throbbing of his head, breathing heavily to compose himself, but he can’t disguise the frustration deeply embedded in his voice.

“you scared me!”

not yelling, but tone evidently very upset with you. somehow, that makes you feel worse.

“i had to make up an excuse infront of everyone and drive here fast. i was so worried of you being here all alone when it gets dark!”

“it’s your car so i thought i had to let you know right away. i’m sorry.” you chew at your bottom lip anxiously, eyes brimming with tears as you barely muster up the courage to observe how he’s handling this.

your heart pounds louder in your chest when he finally looks down at you, guilty and gloomy, sat on a wooden bench painted yellow. it drops to your stomach when you see the sullen expression painting his face a light shade of red.

“where did you lose it?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you can only manage to point at the shore with your disoriented eyes, and he traces the direction with his. the majestic orange sky where the sun descends below the horizon fails to be recognized by your foggy, distracted minds.

it’s silent for a few beats, then he huffs, breathing out a sarcastic chuckle before burying his face in hands.

“baby, please. please. are you sure you’re not pranking me right now?”

“no! do you think i’d joke like this? i really tried my best to find it!” you sniffle, roughly wiping away the lone tear that escapes your eye. you’re almost too humiliated to continue talking, volume falling a few notches above a whisper. “but the waves were getting stronger.”

he vehemently shakes his head, rendered speechless and stuttering, malfunctioning. he doesn’t think he has ever imagined this type of scenario before. “this is crazy. really… this is unbelievable… how did this even happen?”

he exhales loudly before removing his hands, revealing a calmer exterior. be that as it may, his skin is more flushed, all the way to his ears and down to his neck, where his veins have become noticeably prominent.

“i mean, what else can we do about it? i’ll request for a new one.”

“but are we just going to leave the car here?”

“did you leave anything in there?”

“i left my bag, but…” you pat the pockets of your skirt to check if your valuables didn’t meet the same fate as the car key. “i brought my phone and wallet with me.”

he nods. “then i’ll call a towing service.”

you pout.

“it’s such a bother.”

feeling exhausted after burning a concerning amount of energy in search of the missing item, you stand on wobbly feet to loop your arms around his waist.

maybe it’s to coax him into forgiving you. maybe it’s to make yourself feel better, nuzzle your face on his chest to drive away the anxiety weighing on your shoulders. but as it’s being lifted off, so is the barrier withholding your salty tears.

“i’m so careless. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i should’ve drove my car instead.”

“ye- no, that’s not…” he cuts himself off with a sigh.

he puts an arm around you, pushing his hair back and repeatedly carding his fingers through it out of habit.

“seriously, baby… you stress me out so much, do you know that? you’re always wandering around places you’re not familiar with… this is secluded. it’s dangerous. you could get hurt if you bump into the wrong people… really, i’m just relieved it’s not yourself that you lost this time!”

the recollection of old flashbacks playing in his mind like a movie reel elicits a throaty chuckle from him, low and rough, the vibrations of his chest rudely awakening the butterflies in your stomach.

“you couldn’t even send me a text. you didn’t turn on your location. i would’ve lost my fucking mind again… did you even thought of that? or is that what you wanted, huh? baby? you enjoy driving me crazy like this?”

and the confession tucked inside his scolding obliterates any coherent thoughts in your head, causing you to lose control of your whirlwind of emotions.

“this isn’t fair. you said you won’t be mad.” you wail out in response, tears fiercely leaking from your eyes akin to a rainstorm. “i didn’t know this would happen!”

he clicks his tongue, gingerly caressing your wet cheeks with his thumb, then with the rest of his fingers, and the paw of his jacket, because the streams just seem to have no plans of ceasing. his wide eyes worriedly scans your tear-stained face, heart squeezed painfully by the restrained sobs forcefully ripping themselves from your throat.

“shhh, shh. don’t cry- don’t cry. i’m not mad, i was just worried about you.”

“jungkook, you’re lying.” you whine. “don’t lie to me. i don’t like it.”

he slowly blinks at you, head hanging low as to compose his thoughts before he reconnects with your eyes. a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips before his tongue unconsciously sweeps over them, its tip catching the silver ring piercing through his skin to play with it.

a moment of silence, thick with restlessness and anticipation, harder to breathe with the unique smell of the salt-air entering and leaving your lungs.

you feel small under his stoic gaze. you want to sit back down and cry harder.

your boyfriend is mad. your boyfriend is infuriatingly hot even when he’s disappointed in you. you need to dig a hole in the sand and live there forever. after everything, these are the only thoughts left running in your head.

“okay, fine. you lost the key of our car in the ocean, ____. but what if someone already found it by chance?” he cocks his head to the side, briefly peering at the road behind you.

he knows that it’s no use. even if he does see the white jeep wheeling by, is he supposed to assume that he can outrun it by some heaven-granted miracle?

“what then? hm…? what else can we do? i guess it could be getting stolen right now and we don’t even know. you parked so far away.”

god, please, not your favorite car.

“it’s not only the car. i still have important documents left in the compartment too.” this only dawns on him now, judging by the look of distress written on his face. he suddenly slaps his thigh, and you flinch a little. “fuck! i should’ve cleaned sooner!”

“then you are mad.” you arrive at a conclusion, chin wobbling as you sniffle. “about a lot of things.”

you resist the urge to stomp your feet. you want to throw a tantrum so bad. tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping such things in the car in the first place, that he owns a safe for fuck’s sake, but you know you can’t get away with shifting the blame because you messed up horribly in comparison.

“i get it. i’m sorry… i take full responsibility this time.”

“shit, baby.” he deeply sighs.

it becomes quiet again. he just looks at your face with knitted eyebrows, not saying anything more, and you try your best to cut off your crying, not to act conscious, but your eyes still fall on the sand. they stay there for a few beats to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

he almost sounds pained when he finally speaks. “how can i stay mad at you when you’re crying?”

he tilts up your chin, and your glassy eyes, sparkling with a new wave of tears, look at him beseechingly.

the setting sun. an eternal witness to a brand new day of humans being humans. it kisses your skin with its golden light, bathing your figure to radiate an angelic glow that drives him to consider once more that you could just be an enchanting character across dreams and the year is still 2017.

you sniffle again, brushing off his hand. sometimes you despise that jungkook brings out messiest, most unstable side of you. you know that he practically signed up for this, and he will always love you the same, love you even more. but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re so embarrassed.

“but i’m not crying just to make you feel bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“yah, that wasn’t what i meant?” he frowns, eyes softening at your reply. “of course. i know that.”

the cracks in your voice, he seals with a soft kiss on your lips, tender and swollen caused by the onslaught of your sharp teeth.

“anyway, i can take care of replacing it. i mean, it’s not like it can get stolen just like that, right…?”

he sounds rather nervous convincing the both of you.

“but i’m most worried about you. i can lose everything but you.” his tattooed arm pulls you closer, casting aside the tension by leaving not even an inch of space between your bodies. he tenderly rubs your back to console you, and another kiss is granted to your temple, his soothing voice slightly muffled as his lips stay glued to you. “did i make you cry? i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry… it’s okay. things like this can happen.”

“no, i’m sorry.” you aggressively shake your head and he carries on with wiping your cheeks, the back of his hand brushing off the tears that drip across your chin. he dries his hand on the hem of his jacket only to get it wet all over again.

“let’s just learn from this and move on. promise me that you’ll be more careful next time, okay? you can do that, right?”

jungkook does scold you every now and then, but although you stress him out, he would hate it if he’s not the first person you call when you’re in trouble. he would hate it if you act nonchalant and secretly cry when you’re hurt. but most of all, he can’t imagine a life in which you don’t make his world spin, much as he tends to get too dizzy at times.

your defiant hum makes his tense shoulders drop in disappointment.

“there should be a bus stop somewhere, i’ll just go home on my own. i don’t want to keep stressing you out.”

you will yourself to break free from his embrace, dragging yourself away to leave behind a trail of footprints in the sand, and he knows he’ll be running after you today, too.

“oh? you better stop right there!” he warns with a hand over his hip.

you become smaller and smaller in his eyes with every tick of the clock, much like how the sun is gradually getting swallowed by the ocean.

“i’ll get angry for real if you disappear from my sight. really, i’m not joking!”

angry? what a joke. you know that he’d cry blood searching for you if you get lost.

“oh? you’re really not going to stop?!”

jungkook’s voice fall on deaf ears, except that of the dog leashed to a tree that stands infront of a humble home. it seethingly barks at him from many meters away.

“fucking shit. i need alcohol.” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. “____, i swear, you’re getting too stubborn these days. what should i do with you?”

but you’re too far away to hear him, and so, he answers himself.

“eh, it is what it is.”

the wind blows with a quiet whistle, deadly as it fuels the roaring waves.

“AH! nuh-uh!” he exclaims, jaw dropping in alarm when he sees an urgent reason to chase after you, putting those leg days at the gym to good use.

you jump, a squeak leaving your mouth when out of nowhere, a solicitous palm smooths over your behind, sliding down to the back of your thighs to hold down your rippling skirt.

but you’re determined to be unyielding, eyes shooting daggers at jungkook. “leave me alone. i can do it myself.”

“baby, isn’t that a little rude? is that how you say ‘thank you’?”

“thank you. now let’s go our separate ways.”

and just like that, you’re walking away again.

“shit.” he curses quietly through gritted teeth, pulling at his hair. “babe, please come back… i’m sorry! i didn’t mean that!”

—

“jungkook! how many times do i need to tell you to turn off faucet properly?!”

you’re hot on jungkook’s tail as he makes his way to the laundry room beside the kitchen, carrying a laundry basket over his hip. he’s still shirtless, only clad in a different pair of shorts after a quick shower.

“the bathroom sink was close to overflowing! again!”

“i know what you’re doing.”

“what? what am i doing?”

the basket touches the ground, standing beside the dryer, and then he turns to face you, eyebrows shooting up. “picking a fight with me won’t work today.”

“why?” your tone borders on a whine.

“what do you mean ‘why’?” he laughs in jest. “why? why do you want to fight with me so bad?”

“i don’t know.” you exhale loudly, rolling your eyes and shrugging. “just because!”

“well, that’s not very convincing, is it?” he teases you with a grin, proceeding to open the dryer to dump the fresh laundry in the basket. the clothes you wore in the past week once again soaked up the sweet, floral scent the people around you distinctly recognizes to be your own and jungkook’s.

“i know, but i’m done playing now. you’re not hearing me.” you close your eyes in frustration, recounting the other times you had to say these exact words. “you’re going to flood our house.”

“okay, okay. i won’t forget to double-check it from now on. i promise.”

“sure, that’s what you also said last time.” you indignantly scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’m not turning it off for you anymore. if we get flooded, i’m leaving you. i’m moving out.”

your threat puts a halt to his movements for a split second before he’s adorably replying in a sing-song voice. “then i’m going with you.”

“no, you’re not.”

and it doesn’t come as a shock to you that jungkook doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“huh! good luck trying to stop me.” he slams the door of the dryer shut, standing up straight. “it’s not easy getting rid of me. you know that.”

he walks to the middle of the room to get a good view of you at the entrance. with the other resting on his hip, he lies his palm flat over the counter, outstretched arm cascading with varied colors of ink in sharp lines and swirling curves.

fuck, he has to know what he’s doing — flexing his muscles like that, not playing fair.

“aigoo, look at you glaring at me. you want to fight?”

and you’d feel intimidated by his challenging stare, the quirk of his eyebrow, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip… only if he didn’t blink to rake a stare over your body, lingering on your smooth legs that couldn’t be covered by your mere underwear. only if they didn’t flicker back to your face, and only if he didn’t smirk like a lovesick fool.

“so cute.” he chuckles. “you’re totally my type.”

“shut up.” you roll your eyes at the random compliment. “i know, i already get that a lot.”

his smile then fades, not so thrilled with the reminder that it’s so easy to fall in love with you, and therefore anyone would die to take his place. he knows that they hover around you like moths to a flame when he’s not there. well, he really can’t blame them, can he? you’re so fucking attractive.

“what does that mean…? who else is saying it, huh? tell me. i think i have a few guesses.”

“does it matter?” you stare at him blankly, which then turns into a piercing glare. “jungkook! i was just talking about you not paying enough attention. look at you proving me right!”

the stomp of your feet on the floor tells him that you’ve reached a level of frustration near to inducing a flood of tears.

oh, he truly got called out, huh?

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry. i admit that. i’m sorry, my love. i was just joking around. i’m listening well now.” he winces guiltily, beckoning you to be where he is. “come here then.”

“i don’t want to.” you stay rooted in your spot. “who do you think you are?”

“m-me…? i’m your boyfriend. boyfriend!” he points at himself, index finger repeatedly poking his bare chest to emphasize his point. his arm then drops to his side. his doe eyes widen as he breathes out a sigh of disbelief. “oh, i’m really getting upset now?”

you bite back a smile. the sweet taste of victory.

you can’t be the only one, can you?

“aish, i see you’re having your way again.” he chuckles, taking it upon himself to cross the distance between you. his hands find purchase on the curves of your waist, and every nerve in your body turns into a live wire. “let’s just go out today. do you want to practice boxing at the gym with me?”

didn’t he just watch you do arms day this morning? does he think you have the same stamina as him? you make a face of disapproval and shake your head.

“shall we go to a rage room again then? break more stuff?” he playfully sticks his tongue out, and you glare once more.

for the record, you loved that mug.

“boring.”

“and fighting with me is fun?”

you purse your lips into a thin line. “well, it’s not boring.”

“of course.” he laughs, softly squeezing your waist, pads of his thumbs mindlessly tracing shapes over the fabric of your top.

all of a sudden, he’s tugging you closer to envelope you in his embrace, voice slightly muffled as he sweetly talks. “are you mad at me for real? i’m sorry. sorry, sorry, sorry. sorry. i’ll really be more mindful of the things you remind me about, i swear… i don’t like fighting. it breaks my heart when you cry.”

what is this five foot ten man with bulging biceps, tattoo sleeve, and piercings doing here in the crook of your neck — affectionately nuzzling his face on your skin and telling you in a baby voice that he doesn’t like fighting?

you don’t know, but you feel good.

and his bare body is so comfortingly soft and warm.

he draws back for a kiss but his nose and lips only graze your cheek when you turn away, and you don’t see the sadness that flashes across his face.

“so what i’m hearing is… you don’t like fighting with me because i’m too sensitive? is that the truth?”

“no!” he perks up to interject without hesitation, shaking his head. “but i don’t think that’s a bad thing anyway… being sensitive.”

but you admit being a crybaby. you cry when you’re angry.

that’s when jungkook distinguishes the glint of mischief swimming in your irises. he feels dizzy after having his heart drop to his stomach.

“no. no, no.”

his mirthful grin returns, revealing his perfect set of teeth.

“ahh, i’m stressed!” he closes his eyes, throwing his head back, chest puffing up when he breathes in then out. “i knew it. no, i’m not falling for this trap!”

then he flees the room carrying the laundry basket, leaving you doubled over and covering your mouth to silence your giggles of amusement.

“i’m hanging the laundry now!”

“how dare you walk away from me?!”

“you can’t follow me!”

“i’m not.” you scoff, purposely bumping your hips against his. “i’ll vacuum the living room.”

—

“where are you going? gym?” you genuinely begin to sulk, watching your boyfriend slide into a baggy pair of bleached denim pants. “are you leaving me here?”

he avoids your inquiring eyes, ignoring you as he pulls up his zipper and does the button. you pout when he walks further away to pull out a black shirt from the clothing rack.

“is that it? are you tired of me already?”

he tosses its hanger in the basket where you discard the empty ones before wearing the final piece of clothing, covering himself fully for the first time today.

you sigh, feeling dejected. “you don’t love me anymore?”

and jungkook needs to physically restrain himself so he won’t grab your face and say ‘i love you’ over and over again until he runs out of breath.

you leave the closet to follow him to the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the mattress to put on his socks.

you stand by him, patience quickly running thin. “hello?”

he brushes away the non-existent dirt on the left sock before switching his legs to put on the right one.

“did i turn invisible?”

your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. this isn’t how fighting works. you need a reaction at the very least.

you tug at the sleeve of his shirt, starting to get annoyed, already planning your exit if he continues this act. “you’re hurting my feelings. you’re not even going to look at me?”

he mumbles, and you almost fail to piece his phrase together. “can’t, you’re too pretty.”

his big brown eyes faintly glimmer with hope when he looks up at you, puckering his rose-tinted lips and making kissing sounds.

your sweet and clingy boyfriend, he’s making this too difficult.

a tsunami of affection washes over you, and it becomes impossible for you not to crack at his cheekiness then. “jungkook, you’re impossible!”

atleast he tried to shoot his shot.

“tsk, see? i thought so!” he grumbles, snapping the elastic band on his ankle. “just want one kiss.”

he disappears into the closet again.

he returns not a minute later, unceremoniously placing a white bucket hat on your head before tugging it down to obstruct your vision.

“hey!”

you hastily take it off, scowling at your laughing boyfriend who turns out to be already wearing a black bucket hat of his own.

“you’re bored, aren’t you? let’s go out, have some sun.”

“no.”

you reply exactly as your boyfriend predicted you would.

jungkook captures your wrist to slip his credit card on your palm, folding your fingers over it, but they aren’t enough to hide the black rectangular thing you can use to buy the world with if you wanted to. your amusement spills out as giggles, brighter as he pushes your hand to your chest so you have no other choice but to accept it.

he scrunches his nose, face only inches away from yours as he persuades you with his natural charm. “what if we go shopping, hmm?”

“thanks babe, but i can’t think of anything i want right now.” you sniffle with teary eyes, flipping the card and holding it between your longest fingers as muscle memory takes control.

“then just keep it incase you see something you want.”

he kneels on the floor out of the blue, and you eye him curiously, your fingers automatically tangling with his silky locks before making a loose fist.

“here, put some pants on. hurry-” he presents your pair of faded gray cargo pants.

you tug at his hair lightly, which prompts him to lift his head. you scrunch your nose cutely, giggling. “i’m spoiled.”

“ey, so what if you are?” he brushes off your observation with his satoori accent, blithe tone listing down reasons. “i love you. i worked hard so i can do these things for you. we moved in together so we can take care of each other.”

and you want to cry. you truly do. your face began to feel warm after he said that he loves you, but the tears never make it past your lash line when his big palm lands a loud smack on your ass, skin-to skin.

“but i do think that you are a brat. does that count for something?”

it catches you by surprise, and a scandalized gasp escapes your mouth as you feel the sting spreading across your skin.

“shut up! give that to me.” you roll your eyes, stealing the pants from his grasp.

“see, that’s what i’m talking about.” he chuckles lightheartedly. “get dressed then.”

his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs when he pulls you closer to kiss the tiny little ribbon on your underwear, heart-shaped lips pressed to you so firmly you can trace their outline bleeding through the thin fabric and onto your skin. “mmm-mwah!”

and then you feel them there next, where it still hurts, a softer kiss in comparison to soothe the sting he left behind.

your heart is beating so loud you can feel it in your throat, feeble knees nearly giving away to crash and break.

who does that so casually? who the hell does that?

oh, right… jungkook. of course.

you raise the white flag today.

perhaps he will flood the apartment tomorrow, and you can stay angry longer then.

—

“what’s taking him so long?” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself, lost eyes scanning the park in hopes of getting a glimpse of your boyfriend and his classic jungkook outfit, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.

your sour mood makes a reappearance.

to your credit, taking you out and then asking you to wait here without telling you where he’s going is rude, and you’re lonely and jealous of the couples around you having a picnic. not to mention that the clouds have uncovered the sun and you’re burning.

this scene also leads your brain to wander to those cliche flashbacks in a film or a show where a parent lies to their child that they’ll come back, and then they doesn’t. it’s always, always at some sort of park.

oh, for fuck’s sake, why are you wasting your time giving this a lot of thought?

too bored and antsy to sit still, you finally decide to text jungkook.

to: my baby love

i'm gonna look for food. do you want anything?

orrr is that what you're away buying 😥

WHERE ARE YOU

why didn't you just take me with youuuu

please me lonely :(

[sent 1 photo]

a black cat !! is sleeping on my shoes!! 😭

i miss you :(

are you almost done

i hate u

whatever i'm going. call if you still remember that you're someone's bf i guess.

—

jungkook crosses the street like an excited puppy, long pretty hair bouncing as he practically skips his way to the area where he left you to wait.

only to be greeted by a complete stranger.

his radiant beam fades into a hue of confusion.

the bench is now occupied by a woman chugging an energy drink after running laps around the park.

they lock eyes for a split second. he averts his befuddled stare to pretend that nothing happened, walking past her with a bouquet of sunflowers until he settles down two benches away.

he wears his bucket hat again only for him to throw it aside with a sigh, messing with his hair to release his frustration. of course you left. he can only snort to himself while he reads the last message you sent. you’re so cute. he knows you’ve never been keen on having to wait, but he didn’t expect himself to take so long either.

not wanting you to be upset with him another second longer, he instantly decides to call you.

his forehead creases when his phone vibrates, informing him that he typed an incorrect password. he tries again, slow and deliberate, only for the same thing to happen, and he begins to feel nervous.

what the fuck?

okay, calm down, JK. one more time.

he freezes as the same words flash on the screen. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he feels the irritation bubbling up inside of him.

“why is it like this…? what’s your problem? what am i touching wrong?”

—

you return to the park more carefree than before. since jungkook is god knows where, you decided to have a picnic on your own. you had to buy a new picnic blanket, though. you can’t get the one in the car because he has the key. but just to be petty, you hope that he figured it out from the text notifications he got when you used his card.

oh, there he is looking angrily at his phone.

you halt on your tracks, instantly pulling the brakes on your feet when you recognize your boyfriend from your peripheral vision. you slowly chew the remaining tteokbokki in your mouth.

he’s holding his phone… and he hasn’t called you yet?

“wow, did you seriously forgot about me?”

upon hearing your familiar voice, jungkook’s features soften, not having to squint at the sunlight either because you’ve kindly blocked it with your back.

“where did you even go? i didn’t see you!”

the password-protected device that’s been giving him a headache for the past ten minutes is abandoned in the depths of his pocket.

“baby,” he utters airily as he stands on his feet, reaching out to hold your forearm. “i’m sorry. i took so long, didn’t i…? i went to buy you flowers but they didn’t have tulips anywhere. anywhere. every shop said someone bought all of them!”

he scratches his head with a sheepish grin, revealing the bouquet he’s been concealing behind him.

“i got you sunflowers instead… they-” he points at them, eyes flickering on the bundle of yellow flowers he’s offering as a gift. “they’re not bad. i think they’re pretty too. you like them too, right?”

sunflowers are pretty. after all, it used to be your favorite in middle school, mostly because it’s the first flower you received from an admirer… it was for your birthday and you felt like you died when it withered, heavily on-brand for a young heart drawn to romance. excluding that, everything has changed. it’s a typical saturday and beads of sweat have formed on your lover’s forehead after running around under the sun. you think you can keep them alive longer this time around.

“i like you the most.”

and then he receives his gift in return, that particularly sweet smile of yours he only sees when you’re so giddy.

his heart flutters wildly at your following actions.

“kiss.” you adorably demand, copying his pout earlier when he was asking for a kiss.

but unlike you who left his wish ungranted, he crosses the distance to plant a kiss on your lips. he pulls away a mere three inches, muttering to confront you. “but i thought you hated me?”

“who said that? that wasn’t me.” you feign ignorance, eyes so wide as to mimic being confused. you carefully take the flowers into your embrace, subtly exchanging it with the paper bowl you’re holding. “thank you, baby… here, do you want tteokbokki?”

he goes for the fish cake first, poking it with the stick and popping it in his mouth. you find yourself too absorbed in admiring the sunflowers one by one to sense your boyfriend staring at you, thinking to himself, you’re always worth the effort and this overpriced tteokbokki is pretty damn good.

“i turned on my location like i promised i would. did you see?” you mention without looking at him, acting laidback, still too shy when anything related to the incident is brought up.

he awkwardly smiles. no, he didn’t, unfortunately. he’s still fucking locked out of his phone.

you whimper when he pinches your cheek. “good job, baby.”

—

jungkook removes his head on your stomach to lie down beside you on the red picnic blanket. his hair touches his face and he tucks them behind his ears for the millionth time today.

“will you type my password for me?”

you take his phone without question, putting yours over your chest for the meantime. you successfully unlock it within a second, experienced fingers nimble after years of typing on the daily.

“here.” you hold it out for him without looking, picking up your own phone to continue scrolling through trending topics. however, seconds pass and the heavy weight on your hand has yet to be eased, so you wiggle it to catch his attention. “hey, it’s done.”

he gasps, gaping at you in bewilderment. “how did you do that?”

“you changed it again last night, remember? because i told you our anniversary isn’t a good idea.”

shit, right. he added a new one to the list of passwords that he uses for everything. he totally forgot about that. you’ve taken over every working brain cell that he has in his body.

“baby, this is your fault!” he groans, finally snatching away his phone. “ah- i wanted to throw it away. i didn’t know what was wrong with it. i was seriously so close to crying!”

that bad? was he about to get all his data wiped out? your poor baby. you laugh out loud at his reaction, belly aching as you roll over to wrap your arm around his waist and bury your face on his side.

“anyone can guess it if they try hard enough.”

“but that was the trick, you know? they’d think it’s too easy. they wouldn’t even consider it!”

“that doesn’t mean they won’t try it!”

“ah, i don’t care. i’m changing it back.” he stubbornly pouts, falling back on the blanket.

you want to cuddle. he feels a tug on the sleeve of his shirt and he immediately understands. he allows you to use his tattooed arm as a pillow. it envelopes you entirely when he reaches for his phone to type with both hands, and you automatically snuggle with him closer by resting your head on his chest.

“fine. do what you want, you dummy. you better not leave your phone lying around.” you mutter, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as the wind blows to softly caress your face. “and don’t take more pictures of me sleeping.”

“you’re sleeping? i thought we’re going to the mall.”

“we are. i’m letting you rest before you carry shopping bags.”

“ah- wow. thanks, baby.”

you don’t how much time passes, a minute or ten or more, but falling into a deep sleep proves to be impossible with the cacophony of sounds you’re surrounded with. you’re resting somewhere away from the crowd, but there’s still the hiphop music from a bluetooth speaker, honking of vehicles… and the main culprit, jeon jungkook scrolling through tiktok on your phone and bookmarking videos for you to watch later on. you can hear his giggles louder than his heartbeat, feel them make his body vibrate throughout.

so, you give up. you open your blurry eyes with a tired sigh, blinking to readjust to the brightness. he feels your movements, your nose brushing against his neck, and he squeezes you to his side, dutifully stroking your head to remind you that you’re safe despite being in a public place because you’re with him. you kiss his cheek to show your appreciation.

you end up harmonizing with his giggles when you do decide to join him, nearly tearing up at the sight of a cat riding a motorcycle toy on the screen. a little while later, your fascination is then stolen by fiddling with his tattooed hand — tracing the veins, the lines, the tattoos; pressing the faded heart like it’s a button connected to the beating one in his ribcage; grazing the rough areas of his palm calloused by lifting heavy weights.

and as you do so, you mull over the house by the sea you’re saving up for. how much longer will it take? should you check out more locations? do you tell jungkook? that it’s your back-up plan, a place where no one knows your name, just like how this city once was. it’s where you would run to, where you would build a new life if the time comes that this one falls apart, too. if not, if not, if not, would it be so bad to wake up beside you with an ocean view when he’s sixty?

fuck, you don’t know anymore. it shouldn’t be this hard— not anticipating the worst, but still being prepared for it. you despise being an adult.

you do it absentmindedly, taking off one of your silver rings and slipping it into each of his fingers to see where it would fit best… he knows you’re only entertaining yourself, but feeling it in his ring finger still puts a lump in his throat.

“are you proposing to me?”

“this is your right hand, silly.” you tease your stunned boyfriend, sticking your tongue out. “if you want me, come and get me.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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rockstvrdotcom · 1 year

Text

“mi vida”

!! // js imagine miguel being the sweetest during sex.. like ik yall love lil rough dom miguel but broooo miguel whispering sweet nothings in spanish into your ear while he fucks u silly nd u can barely understand him... HELLOOO?? rhis ones kinda short sry guys

tw/cw: miguel being a sweetie pie, nsfw, fem reader

“nunca habia sentido algo asi.. sin ti no puedo vivir, mi corazon.” he murmured into your ear, his hands groping ever part of your body as he pounded in and out of you; leaving no part of your body untouched. you could barely understand the words leaving his mouth, your mind in a haze of pleasure as he fucked you dumb.

you had just had your- god knows what number, orgasm of the night, and he still hadn’t came yet. your pussy was puffy and swollen, your hole aching and your slick leaking out of it. “mm, ‘love you s’much, miguel..” you said inbetween silent moans and pants, clenching around him.

“i love you too.” he replied, and although your back was facing him you could hear the smile in his voice. you felt him twitch inside of you, you were almost relieved. you didn’t know if you could take anymore.

“eres perfecta, mi reina. eres una estrella que se cayo de cielo.” he spoke softly, as if his voice could break you. you were so fragile to him, like you would break and disappear under his touch.

you felt him throb and twitch inside of you for the second time. you moaned loudly as his pace picked up, his fat cock stretching out your gummy walls. you muttered a string of curses as you felt miguel come inside of you. the feeling of his warm load was enough to push you over the edge, your vision going blurry with tears of pleasure flowing out of your eyes.

he rode out his high, thrusting in and out of you a few more times and painting your insides with his spend. you whimpered, taking miguels hand and holding it tightly.

he moved carefully, laying down beside you on the bed. his cock was still inside of you, and his hand was still intertwined with yours. his other hand patted your head, then stroking your head. you snuggled up into him under his touch. “sin ti mi vida no tiene sentido, tu y yo contra el mundo, mi querida.” he muttered against your neck, eyes half lidded.

a/n: to the person who literally j made me realize that i was not rlly inclusive of all skin colors tysm for telling me </33 IM SO SORRY YALL IDEK WHY I WROTE THAT IM NOTEVEN WHITE 🙁🙁 im so sorry guys what the f 🥹

my cat was literally ontop of my arms as i wrote this and he would not get off.

i need to gts

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #smut #miguel smut #astv #astv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader smut

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fyodior · 11 months

Text

DONT YOU UNDERSTAND?

★ pairing: husband!fyodor x reader

★ cw: DARK CONTENT AHEAD!! 18+, MINORS DNI. noncon, drugging, forced breeding, lots of breeding/pregnancy talk, vaginal sex, not enough foreplay, fyodor is evil!!

★ notes: breedtober fic #?? sorry the fics have been coming out so late, thank u for ur patience ily all <3

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DISCLAIMER: i do not condone noncon in any way, shape, or form. this is just fiction with no reflection of real life. please refrain from leaving hate comments, and just unfollow/block. or simply scroll away. thank u!

Dizzy – you’re so fucking dizzy. The room is spinning, your vision is dark and fuzzy around the edges, and you have no clue if you’re sitting or standing up currently. Because, worst of all, every part of your body is numb. You can’t move.

All you can see is the normally gentle, sweet face of your lover that’s now marred with an expression one can only describe as evil.

You want to reach out, ask him what’s wrong, what’s happening, but you can’t. All movement and speech have been rendered impossible, due to the teacup that lay shattered on the ground, bathed in the liquid that made you like this.

It was completely normal, a routine at this point, to sit in the living room with Fyodor in front of the lit fireplace sipping tea out of teacups from his beloved collection of fine china. The tea varied – chamomile, earl gray, mint, oolong, just plain green. And the activities often varied as well. Sometimes teasing and laughing over a card game, sometimes long, difficult discussions about the future with stoic faces, and sometimes just comfortable silence. The night before you had been discussing marriage and children. But it was always just you and Fyodor with cups of tea.

This had been a night like every other, though conversation remained at a minimum. Jasmine tea as the fire roared a little hotter than usual. What differed was how the tea started to make you feel. It was slow enough that you wouldn’t push away the cup or become unable to drink the whole serving, but fast enough that once it came on, you couldn’t stop it – it was too late.

And now you lay limp in Fyodor’s arms as he laid you down on the chaise lounge you had been resting on with your cup of tea – the one had fallen to the ground once your strength had started to fade.

“W-wha-” you manage to get out, your vocal cords and lips fighting against whatever was paralyzing them.

“Shhh,” Fyodor soothes, petting your hair as he hovers over you. “This is for the good of our family, my love.”

Your slack face slightly contorts into a look of confusion as your fuzzy mind tries to make sense of his words, barely noticing the way he tugged down your pants until his fingertips circled around your clit lightly. Somehow you could feel that. You attempted to jerk away from the touch, but your body once again failed you.

“Oh, my love, don’t you remember?” he tuts before spitting on his fingers and prodding at your hole. He had little interest in foreplay right now. “Don’t you understand? How you saying you ‘didn’t want kids anymore’ was completely unacceptable.”

It suddenly starts to click, even in your fucked mind. The way Fyodor’s jaw tightened, and smile faded during your discussion last night when you admitted that you didn’t see kids in your future. You had paid little mind to his disappointed “oh”. But clearly, he hadn’t let go.

One finger pushes past your still tight ring of muscle, making you grunt. “In case you don’t, in case the drug has addled your conscience too much, I shall explain.” Another finger sinks in. “We will be having children. At least three, to be exact. You will be getting pregnant, and hopefully tonight.” His fingers pump in and out of you, faster and faster, scissoring apart to stretch you open. “Even if that means rendering you useless and unable to resist me."

Tugging his own pants down, he spits in the palm of his hand before gripping his half-hard cock, pumping it a few times. “I considered just pulling you ass up for easiest access, but I want you to see me – to watch what happens when you disobey my wishes so severely.”

Since you’re completely dead weight, Fyodor has to manually spread your legs wide in order to slot himself between them, his grip tight underneath your knees. Then his lips are on your as he leans over you, the kiss forceful since you’re unable to reciprocate – not that you would’ve anyway.

The leaky tip of his cock as he revels in your inability to fight back is proof that he’s enjoying this immensely, the sick bastard. You want to scream out, thrash against him as his length slides into your cunt in protest of how unfair this is, how he can’t just decide to get you pregnant, but you can’t. You’re completely stuck just… taking it. Until his balls are pressed all the way against your ass, the puff of hair at the base of his cock tickling against your clit.

And somehow, you can feel it on the inside. You can feel the sting and burn as he pushes in and stretches you out, but can also feel… the pleasure. Maybe it’s the way your slack jaw falls open further at his first thrust, your body twitching, but Fyodor can tell. The way your body is forcing you to feel good against your wishes.

You grunt pathetically with every single thrust, legs hanging loosely around his waist and tongue lolling out of your mouth with drool pooling out of the corner. Fyodor is going mad with how much he loves this, how quickly he’s getting off from just using you without your permission. His violet eyes shine fiercely and the sick smirk on his face only grows as he fucks you harder and harder.

"Going to look so pretty pregnant, my beautiful doll,” he coos, massaging the soft fat of your tits. “So round and so full of my babies, so swollen you can barely walk, can’t even see your feet. You’ll need your darling husband’s help to even walk down the stairs,” he babbles, clearly just talking to himself.

“Do you like it, pretty? The way I’m just using you? It turns you on, doesn’t it? You and your body are mine, you know. I own you. And I own the right to use you however I please, to make you whatever I please.”

Of course, Fyodor had always been a bit possessive, always liked to call you his, but never to this caliber. Never to the point where you thought he’d do something like this.

His thrusts get faster and faster with every sick and twisted sentence, and though your hearing was fuzzy too, the wet sounds of skin on skin echoed through the room. Too wet to only just be his precum… were you wet? From what he was doing to you?

The orange light from the roaring fireplace illuminated Fyodor’s face in the most terrifying way, highlighting his sharp features, and igniting his eyes and sweat that had begun dripping down the sides of his face.

He leans in close, whispering into your ear. “Are you ready for my seed, doll? Ready for me to cum so deep inside you your womb is forced to take all of it?”

You’re able to shake your head a bit, and Fyodor clicks his tongue.

“You’re ready because I say so.”

You can’t feel it, but by the way his eyes roll back and his hips stutter, cock throbbing inside you, you can tell he’s cumming. Filling you up with the seed he promised to get you pregnant with.

After pulling out, he kisses you deeply.

“Before we go again, I will fetch you some more tea, my love. It seems you’ve regained some ability to move, and I can’t have that.”

#fyodor smut #fyodor x reader #bsd smut #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd x y/n

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narcissistshandler · 1 year

Note

Not very specific buuut bottom!miguel o'hara and squirt? thank u, love your blog

𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x miguel o'hara

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 top!amab reader, bottom! miguel, anal sex, squirt

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 I won't be reviewing this here anytime soon.

With shaking hands he grab the base of your cock, firm legs keeping him aloft, semen dripping from him as Miguel aligned the head of your cock against his convulsing hole.

As him sink down, inch by inch, his body overstimulated from four orgasms trembles with the mix of pleasure and a tinge of pain. The familiar stretch and the delicious fullness, sends waves of ecstasy coursing through him, his dick only half-hard dripping with need in response.

You hold Miguel's hips firmly, letting him take his time until he is sitting on your hips in a new position. Miguel's entire body shivers at the sensation of having his ass filled all over again, a combination of pleasure and pressure that bother his arachnid senses. You asked him if he wanted a break, Miguel denied, too embarrassed to say that even though he could barely get hard again and his skin felt so sensitive it was itching, he still wanted more, much more.

He began to move, bouncing on your cock with a desperation he later liked to pretend never existed. His entire body trembling with the pressure and sensitivity, eyes flashing between red and brown as your cock stretched his sensitive hole and hit his prostate almost violently.

The bed rocked beneath you, creaking and hitting the wall, the sound almost muted under the animalistic growls Miguel didn't notice was making, mind too hot, whole body hot, so hot and stinging and wanting even more, deeper, stronger... And there's a strange feeling in his stomach that Miguel takes a long time to notice, a pressure and uncomfortable feeling that he blames on overstimulation and sensitivity on his overloaded senses.

Miguel can't stop or contain himself and with a purely animalistic growl as he rides your cock with need, he comes onto your stomach.

Your fingers dig into his waist and Miguel barely understands your 'you're making a mess' words laden with erotic amusement. This causes Miguel to blink, redirecting attention from the ceiling to you under him. His cock spilled screwily, like an open faucet, spurting clear, thin liquid onto your stomach and chest, which dripped down them and onto the sheets. A real mess.

Miguel's face burned, eyes glassy watching one of his hands shooting out to grip his cock, trying to stop the leak, as if none of the moves belonged to him. But the liquid continues to leak through his fingers against the sensitive head, now in small amounts that drip with a low, slow sound that sounds a hundred times louder in his ears.

"It's okay," you seem to say, licking your lips as you try to dislodge Miguel's hand. "You can let go."

Tomorrow Miguel would be so ashamed of this that he would throw the sheets away, pretend that nothing happened and shut you up if you made any attempt to bring the matter up. But today... Without thinking too much about it, with a whimper, Miguel complied and stopped trying to contain his half-hard cock squirt out what like pee or water and pressed the wet hand against your chest, going back to working his hips in sensual gyrations, enjoying each drop of pleasure and discomfort your cock brought him.

There was something primal about it, as Miguel knew that his scent would be impervious to your skin and even after you showered, his spider senses would still recognize you as his. His. His. His.

Miguel's thighs contracted so hard it hurt, the orgasm ripping through his overheated body like a knife slicing through the inside of his stomach. He stopped moving so suddenly his entire body shook in response, hole tightened around you, but Miguel still wanted more, he wanted you inside him until the pleasure left him numb and unable to reason with anything other than your dick.

#across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #x male reader #x male top reader #x top reader #x top male reader #miguel o'hara smut

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videovamptramp · 2 years

Text

the great war pt 1

natasha romanoff x fem reader

warnings: if you count flirting as cheating then nats a cheater 🤡, angst, breakups, idk why i can never write fluffy shit…, kinda mean nat?, natasha’s a bad girlfriend but she means well.

(part 2 will be uploaded on saturday or sunday morning depending on where u live! i already have it written, just need to revise and edit 😊)

natasha knows treating you the way she has isn’t enough. she knows she’s doing almost everything wrong in the relationship. she doesn’t understand intimacy too well (if not at all), she barely grasps the concept of monogamy (it doesn’t help that she flirts with almost every woman she meets), and she doesn’t understand you at all. sometimes, you feel like she doesn’t even try. above all of that, natasha has never even told you that she loves you. it’s been two and a half years, and she’s never said it. some days, natasha racks her brain trying to figure out why you haven’t left yet.

natasha loves you. she knows this, though she doesn’t know if you do. she wonders if you know just how much she loves you; how she often craves those gentle touches of yours that only you can give her. you read her so well, she never even has to ask, you just know. whenever she’s had a bad day or a tough mission, you somehow know. whenever she wakes up craving pancakes, there you are making pancakes without her even saying anything about it. it’s funny, wanda maximoff is the mind reader, but you seem to be the only one who can truly read natasha romanoff.

though, tonight— tonight you aren’t too sure about what natasha’s doing, or what she wants. you’re currently at the bar with kate and yelena, while watching natasha flirt with maria hill right in front of your face. you’ve had to sit through not one, but two sexy dances. watching your girlfriend let her work partner grind all over her isn’t actually how you imagined the night going. the truth was you didn’t even want to come out tonight, but you did for her. she asked you to come out with her, and now you’re sitting at the bar watching her practically undress maria with her eyes.

you chug the rest of what’s in your drink, and turn your attention back to yelena and kate. “i think i’m gonna head home. i’m not feeling too well.” you half lie, and kate’s face falls. “what?! but you’ve only been here for an hour! come on, stay! don’t let natasha ruin your night.” kate tries, and yelena smirks. “you know, you and i can always dance and make her jealous.” yelena offers, and you giggle sadly. “thanks lena, but that’s not what i do... truthfully, i don’t even care anymore. if she wants to flirt or hookup with hill tonight, that’s fine.” you sound exhausted, and this causes both of your friends expressions to morph into looks of concern. “i’m tired...” you trail off, and you stop yourself to keep your voice from breaking.

... i’m tired of trying to be what she wants. i’m tired of not being enough.

you clear your throat, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a twenty dollar bill for your now finished drinks. “at least let me drive you home!” kate tries, and you shake your head. “no, you stay. have fun! i’ll get a cab.” you assure her, and she looks like she wants to protest but you quickly gather your things and stand up, adjusting your dress. “if nat notices i’m gone, which i doubt she will, tell her i went home.” you request, and yelena only nods as you walk away. you turn your head and catch a glimpse of maria whispering something in natasha’s ear. whatever it is it makes natasha grin in a way you haven’t been able to in months.

your heart feels like it’s being squeezed in your chest, but you manage to pry your eyes off of them, the image fully engraved into your mind as you walk out of the club.

“should we be worried? about her? like i know natasha’s your sister and all, but she’s cheating right in front of our eyes.” kate points out as she sips her fruity drink. yelena looks over at natasha who’s still talking to maria, seemingly unaware that you had even left. yelena shakes her head, “natasha? she’s always like this. she pushes and pushes until she pushes the person she loves to snap or leave. you can call it what you want, but i call it self sabotage.” yelena blurts out her retort, and kate shakes her head. “but y/n loves her, yel. i’m really concerned, because she’s willing to let natasha cheat on her. who does that?” kate asks and yelena sighs, reaching for another shot.

“someone who’s tired. she’s probably... how do you say... mentally gone already? yeah, that’s it. she probably doesn’t care anymore about what natasha does.” yelena says, and kate’s face changes as she notices natasha somehow is now behind yelena, and can hear everything the blonde is saying. “i mean, would you? she’s given maria hill more attention in the last hour and a half than she has given y/n all month.” yelena adds, “i wouldn’t be surprised if natasha gets home one day and she’s gone.” yelana continues and kate shakes her head, flashing yelena a look of panic.

“what? do i have something on my face?” yelena asks, and natasha clears her throat from behind the blonde. yelena turns around, and is seemingly unfazed by her sisters sudden presence. “well if it isn’t the woman of the hour! how is your night fling going, сестра (sister)?” yelena asks with a drunk smile on her face, causing natasha to scoff. “fling? and do i wanna know what you were just talking about? or why?” natasha asks, and yelena chortles sardonically. “yes, your fling. your shield partner who you’ve been dry humping all night in front of your girlfriend.” yelena answers and kate sips her drink awkwardly, trying to avoid natasha’s harsh gaze.

“you know what yelena? what do you know about my girlfriend?” natasha asks bitterly, knowing too well about yelena’s not so little crush on you. yelena rolls her eyes, “apparently more than you. y/n has been gone for almost half an hour now, and you haven’t even noticed. i may not have experience in relationships, but i know you’re not supposed to hurt her all the time.” yelena states, and natasha’s fists ball up. “i hurt her all the time?? is that what she tells you?” natasha asks and yelena huffs. “obviously not, natalia! you know she practically worships the ground you walk on! you know what i think? i think when you know someone loves you, you never think twice about them again.” yelena spits harshly, and natasha’s hard expression falters at the words.

“people like you truly don’t know what they have until it’s gone. and when she realizes she deserves better than catching a cab on her own in the middle of november— better than watching you give someone else attention while you’ve barely spared her a single glance since you’ve been back from your mission— she’ll be fine. she’ll find better. but you won’t find someone who loves you that much again, and you know it.” yelena says through gritted teeth, and natasha is staring into yelena’s eyes as if she could see right into her soul.

kate was positive someone was going to get murdered tonight, and it was definitely going to be yelena. until natasha shifts from one foot to the other, and sighs, “where’d she go?” natasha demands, and yelena chuckles, “oh now you care?” the blonde asks, and kate puts her hand on yelena’s shoulder. “she went back home.” kate cuts in, and natasha only nods. she avoids yelena’s gaze before talking again, “i do love her.” natasha starts, and yelena rolls her eyes, turning her head to the side in order to gaze away from natasha.

“you’re both the only two people i love unconditionally in this world.” natasha adds and yelena seems to soften only a bit at the words. “you have a funny way of showing it, сестра (sister).” yelena murmurs, and natasha sighs as she looks at kate, silently apologizing like a scorned puppy. “she’ll forgive you. she always does.” kate tries to reassure the redhead but this only makes her feel even more guilty. natasha nods, but says nothing else. “you better gravel.” yelena blurts out, snickering as natasha walks away.

the entire way back to your guys shared apartment, natasha thinks about you. the way she’s treated you. yelena’s words ring through her head, and she can’t help but grimace she thinks about them.

“you know what i think? i think when you know someone loves you, you never think twice about them again.”

that couldn’t be further from the truth. yet, yelena’s words still hurt. what if you think the same way as the blonde?

“i wouldn’t be surprised if natasha gets home one day and she’s gone.”

yelena’s words hold heavy weight and meaning, and they manage to make natasha’s blood run cold. she doesn’t want to think about you leaving, but she’d be lying if she said she never does. every day she thinks about how much better you deserve, and how wonderful you are. she thinks about all the little things you do for her, like purchasing her favorite brand of hot cocoa from the grocery store. the way you always leave sticky notes on the mirror, telling her you love her. she notices every little thing you do for her. from the way you organize her drawers, to the way you cook dinner based on the foods she prefers.

when she gets home there’s a chilling, deafening silence in the apartment. there wasn’t a single sound other than the sirens and noises coming from the busy streets of new york. “detka?” natasha calls out, as she shuts the door behind her. when she walks in, she sees your sweater from tonight carelessly thrown on the back of the couch. the redhead walks further into your shared apartment, and as she approaches her bedroom, her heart sinks.

you’re not here.

“y/n?” natasha asks, her voice louder this time. when she’s met by more silence, a wave of panic washes over her. “no— shit, fuck—“ natasha slurs while she curses as she fumbles with the purse in her hands, her slightly shaky hands searching for her phone. something in her chest tightens as she unlocks her phone, the screensaver she has of you eating ice cream would in any other case make her smile. right now it makes the uncomfortable pit in her stomach grow as she starts to sober up while pressing on your contact information.

the phone rings twice before natasha can hear your phone ringing somewhere in the kitchen. natasha rushes over in the direction of the sound, and when she sees your phone on the counter, her heart drops right into her stomach. that little condescending voice in her brain is screaming ‘she left. of course she left you, who wouldn’t leave you after all the shit you’ve pulled?’ along with things like ‘yelena was right.’ ‘you never deserved her anyways.’ ‘you’re just a whore, natalia.’

her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by you casually entering the apartment wearing your pink velvet short pajama set. your hair is in unruly curls, and you nearly stop in your tracks at the sight of your girlfriend standing in the middle of the apartment with an inscrutable expression on her face. “you’re home?” you ask uncertainly, yet your voice and face don’t indicate any signs of anger. in fact, you sort of look confused. it’s hard for natasha to swallow as her hands tremble and she lets out a breath of slight relief as she realizes you’re back. “what’s wrong?” you question after not getting an answer from your gaping girlfriend.

“i— i got home and you weren’t here... where— where’d you go?” natasha asks, swallowing past the lump in her throat. her fists are opening and closing, and she’s standing robotically across the room. you step closer to her subconsciously, “mrs. rodriguez knocked; mr. whiskers got loose in the building and i was helping her look for him. we found him on top of the vending machine on level three.” you reveal, explaining your short absence to the ex-assassin. “why are you home so early?” you ask nonchalantly, as you walk past natasha, towards the counter where your phone is.

“you left early. why’d you leave?” natasha asks, ignoring your question, and you notice the way her voice breaks every so slightly. you furrow your brows, “i— i was tired, and i didn’t want to ruin your night... i told yelena and kate to let you know.” you retort, and natasha folds her arms. “you should have told me.” she states, and you raise a brow. “and interrupt whatever the hell was going on between you and maria? no thanks, i was already humiliated enough.” you murmur, and natasha tenses up.

“there’s nothing going on between me and agent hill.” she says seriously, and you roll your eyes. “does she know that? because she was blushing at everything you were saying tonight.” you respond smartly, and natasha scoffs, her crossed arms tightening over her chest. “i didn’t do anything tonight that i don’t usually do when i go out.” she points out, and you sigh, pushing your hair behind your ears. you look at natasha, and she can see on your face how exhausted you are. “yeah, i know.” you say under your breath, “that’s the problem.” you add as you go to leave and natasha moves with you, blocking your way to the bedroom.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” she asks a bit demandingly. you shake your head, “it doesn’t mean a thing to you, i know that.” you respond, your tone lacking it’s usual softness. natasha pauses, and you sigh. “look, i’m really tired, okay? i can’t do this whole fight just to make up thing tonight. i’m going to bed.” you declare, and natasha blinks a few times as you manage to make your way past her and towards the bedroom.

“you’re tired... tired of me?” natasha asks, her voice different than it usually is. this causes you to stop and turn back to look at her. “i’d never get tired of you. ever.” you affirm certainly, but your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy natasha. your shoulders slouch a bit, “i’m tired of the way you make me feel, nat.” you admit, your tone low, and your eyes on the floor. “i’m tired of laying awake at night while you’re out flirting and doing who knows what with people i have to face day to day, and they all wonder the same thing i do. i know it.” your voice cracks as you swallow thickly in order to keep your voice clear. “and what’s that? what are they all wondering?” she asks in a manner you’ve never heard before. your eyes meet hers, and for the first time she can see just how hurt you are.

“if i’m even enough for you. or why you’re even with me in the first place.” you whisper, looking away as your eyes begin to water. the way your bottom lip begins to quiver, and the way your eyes are begging for an answer makes natasha’s heart shatter. “detka...” natasha trails off, her voice faint and quiet. you shake your head, trying to be strong as your teary orbs meet hers. “you know you don’t have to pretend to love me, or settle for me... right? i— i’m a big girl, natasha, i can handle the truth. i think... i think i deserve the truth.” your voice trembles, but you keep your gaze locked on natasha despite the tears in your eyes and you’re trying to blink them away rapidly, causing each tear to fall one by one; streaming down your cheeks to your jaw.

the titian-haired woman stares at you for a long moment, her eyes now glossy and full of anguish. the flicker of emotions in those forest-green orbs does nothing to ease your fears and anxieties that are creeping up on you. tonight’s the night, you think, the night she finally admits you’re not enough for her. you never will be. “pretending to love you? is that what you think i’m doing?” natasha inquires in pure disbelief. “you think i don’t really love you? you think i settled for you??” natasha asks, sounding more upset than you’ve ever heard her. you don’t know what comes over you, but the dam that’s been poorly put together, finally bursts.

“not just me, natasha… everyone thinks that. and tonight— god, tonight you were just showing me how you really feel and i need to stop ignoring it.” you breathe out, the end of your palms digging into your eyelids, as you try your absolute hardest to ignore the urgent need to cry. natasha shakes her head, “that’s not true! i love you more than i love anything! you know that!” natasha raises her voice, and you stare at her with a pained expression. “i don’t. not anymore, and especially not after everything you’ve done.” you respond in a monotone.

natasha stares at you, trying to figure out your next move, but for the first time since she’s met you, she can’t. “maybe... maybe you should just go. go back to the club... back to maria. i’m sure she’ll be more than happy to let you stay at her place... just till i can find a place of my own—“ you begin to ramble, and natasha’s eyes widen. “no!” she shouts, causing you to nearly flinch. “no, please— please don’t. please... don’t make me go.” natasha begs, her voice cracking and you can’t help but flash her a heartbroken expression.

“what else can i do, natasha? i’m not going to compete with her. i can’t... not when she’s obviously the better choice for you.” you hug your arms around yourself, turning away from natasha in order to hide the insecurity written all over your face. “the better choice?” natasha asks unrecognizably, and you turn to face her; the look on your face shatters her. “please don’t make me say it.” you beg, you’re heartbroken enough. “you’re going to have to, because i don’t understand. on what planet is maria hill a better choice than you?” natasha asks, and your fingernails dig into your upper arms.

“just... just leave me alone for the rest of the night. please.” you plead, and she takes a step closer to you, causing you to instinctively take a few steps back. “not tonight.” you add in a strained tone, natasha swears the floor might swallow her whole, and she desperately wants you to hold her. but the way you looked at her— you look absolutely disappointed in her. it makes her realize yelena had more of a point than she anticipated. you turn away, facing your bedroom, and you’re ready for this night to end already. you’re exhausted and all you wanted was to watch movies and cuddle tonight. instead you got this. again.

“i’m sorry.” natasha croaks out, and you close your eyes tightly, clenching your jaw. “me too.” you manage to voice out as you walk into the room, shutting the door behind you. the sound of the lock makes natasha’s heart fall further into that pit that only seems to be growing.

natasha’s legs feel like jelly as she shuffles to the bedroom door. her nose practically touches the cold wood, “i’m sorry.” natasha repeats through the door, “i’ve been a shitty girlfriend. i haven’t treated you the way you deserve, and i know that. i don’t mean to be this way...” her tone is broken and frail, and you stare at the door with tears falling out of your eyes. “the truth is, i don’t know why i do a lot of things. i was trained for everything...” natasha trails off, her voice getting caught somewhere in her windpipe. she swallows past the lump in her throat, “... but i wasn’t trained to keep a good thing. i’ve never had a good thing like this, and when you say you’re not enough for me, that’s just not true. i’m not enough for you.” natasha doesn’t realize she’s crying until she can taste the bitter salt on her lips, falling off her jaw and down to her collarbone.

her forehead is touching the door, and she lets out a ragged breath, squeezing her eyes shut. you don’t say anything, and god, she‘s terrified that she fucked this up beyond repair. then, she hears the door click, and she stands up straight, sniffling as you open the door. you peak through, your eyes full of tears, and they only multiply when you see her red and puffy eyes. she’s staring at you like a lost puppy and you reach for her, immediately seeking her comfort. natasha wraps her muscular arms around the back of your neck, pulling you flush against her. you both say nothing as she holds you in her arms, crying simultaneously. natasha’s arms are wrapped around your neck and she breathes you in. she never wants to let you go.

a few minutes of silence tick by, “i can’t do this anymore, nat…” you whisper, and the words make her heart fall deeper into that blackhole. there’s tears falling out of your eyes and you sniffle as you pull away from the taller woman. “i c-can’t keep doing this. i’m… i’m gonna stay at lizzie’s for awhile.” your voice cracks, and natasha’s eyes widen, she shakes her head quickly, “no— detka please. i can fix this. please, just give me a chance to fix it.” she begs, and you look down, the salty tears streaming down your cheeks. “no nat. i— i need time to think… i don’t want to feel this way anymore.” you express, your hand on your chest as if she’d literally taken a knife and stabbed you through the heart. natasha feels an enormous amount of guilt and regret as she realizes just how badly her actions have affected you.

“baby please… i’m sorry. i don’t want you to leave.” her voice cracks, and her mascara is running. she looks heartbroken, but so do you. it took her this long to realize you’ve been feeling this way, and it was all because of her foolish actions. “you should’ve thought about that before… you really hurt me, nat.” you try to sound strong, but the way you’re crying makes you feel weak. you turn around and make your way into your bedroom, ready to gather a bag of your things then call your sister to come and get you. natasha’s stuck in place as she watches you move around the bedroom, packing a duffel bag. her hearts pounding in her ears, she can’t move or say anything as you talk on the phone with your sister and she agrees to pick you up.

her body doesn’t feel like her own as you throw on a pair of jeans and your own hoodie; it becomes too real as you put your shoes on. she feels like a robot, standing in the middle of her bedroom. you give her one last look before throwing your bag over your shoulder and leaving; you don’t even realize you take natasha’s heart with you when you leave. after the door slams, the silence engulfs her and she can physically feel her heart break in two. what the hell did she do?

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mamawasatesttube · 7 months

Note

10 for timkon from my favorite timkon writer, please? if u have the time?

10. "I won't let you."

“Go away,” Kon pleads.

His voice is raw, his breath rasping in his throat; he’s crouched amid the rubble, hidden behind a half-demolished wall, all curled up with his knees tucked to his chest. He’s clutching his head so hard his knuckles are pale. Tim looks at him for a long moment, thinking.

If Kon really wanted to, he could push him away with a brush of TTK, could prevent him from taking a single step closer. But he’s too terrified of himself to even think about using his powers on Tim right now. It’s funny—just half an hour ago, before the attack started, he was laughing as he rotated Tim in the air (“See, Bart, it’s a ro-Tim-sserie! Get it?!”).

Tim steps closer. “No.”

Kon scrabbles backwards, his back hitting the dusty corner. “Get—get back! It’s not safe, Rob, please!”

“I’m perfectly safe here.” Tim keeps his voice level as he plops down on the ruined floor next to Kon. “It’s just you and me.”

Kon’s face twists with anguish. “Yeah, that’s the problem—I know you’re not this stupid! She—she tried to m-mind control me, and—and I barely fought it off! What if—if—”

He breaks off for a second, his chest heaving with barely-controlled panic. Tim’s heart aches, just from watching him.

“I could hurt you. Again. Or—or worse—Rob, you have to leave, because—because if I kill you I’ll never, ever forgive myself, I—I’d probably just k—”

“Kon-El.” A note of sternness creeps into Tim’s voice. It does the trick; Kon’s panicked rambles choke off before he finishes that sentence. They both know what he was going to say. “You’re not gonna hurt me.”

Kon’s eyes flick up to meet his, a flash of inhuman blue. All too quickly, though, they drop back to the dust-strewn floor, and Kon bites his lip. “…How’re you so certain?”

“Because,” Tim says, as though it’s simple. It is simple. “I won’t let you.”

Kon inhales sharply. A look of shock, then incredible relief smooths over his features, and he lets out a slow breath, leaning his head back against the wall. “You have kryptonite? God, Robbie, you shoulda led with that, I—it’s a lot easier knowing you could put me down if you have to—”

Tim whips around on him, glaring with the full force of his cowl. His friends joke about it, but the thing is pretty damn unsettling when he needs it to be. And right now, he needs it to be. “Put you down?” he hisses, horror rippling through his stomach and radiating all the way down his legs. “I would never.”

Stunned, Kon stares at him, lips slightly parted, eyes too bright. As Tim watches, his lower lip wobbles just a touch. “I… then what do you mean, you… you won’t let me?”

Oh, for the love of—

Tim reaches for him. Cups his face in his gloved hands, strokes his thumbs over Kon’s cheekbones, and pulls him closer. Presses their foreheads together, cups the back of Kon’s neck. Kon’s eyes are wide as he stares into Tim’s; Tim counts it as a victory that he doesn’t try to pull away.

“How did you fight the spell off earlier?” He rubs his thumb over the back of Kon’s neck, aching inside where it can’t show. Kon doesn’t understand just how precious he is. Maybe that’s Tim’s fault, for struggling to tell him out loud often enough. He’ll work on it.

Kon sucks in a breath. Bites his lip. He still doesn’t pull away. “I… thought really hard about… being my own person,” he finally mumbles. “And about—about what I fight for. What I wanna protect.”

“Bingo.” Tim smiles at him, pets his cheek. “And what do you want to protect? Wouldn’t having it right there make it easier to fight her off again, if she even got the chance to try?”

Kon’s eyes widen. He sucks in a breath, and his lower lip wobbles again. There’s a smear of dust on his cheek from Tim’s glove. Tim tenderly thumbs it away.

“Oh,” Kon whispers, and then—

A net of TTK wraps around Tim and hauls him into Kon’s lap, and then Kon’s arms wrap around his waist as Kon buries his face in his neck. Tim can feel him trembling.

There we go, Tim thinks, pleased. He cradles Kon’s head to himself, strokes the back of his neck again. “See?” he asks. “I told you. Perfectly safe.”

“You have got to stop ruining sweet moments by saying ‘I told you so,’” Kon mumbles into his neck.

Tim laughs, squeezing Kon’s shoulder. Just like that, he knows—his clone boy will be okay.

#rimi writes #bandanabiel #casually dredges up ask prompts from last month. yes im still sitting on these djkldsjd #timkon #tim #kon

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donutz · 8 months

Text

Craftycorn x reader fluff alphabet[4/8]

—☆You are a smiling critter in this, if u want to know which one(but don't know what animal or insect to pick) you could start out as a sheep!

Affection(How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

— She can be pretty affectionate, in giving her art to you

— She shows affection in other ways, so if you don’t like getting gifts that’s fine(barely), she wouldn’t even mind if you didn’t want to receive them at all(lies), just don’t make it seem too personal

— In other ways she shows it by giving you her art, when you receive it you always see erased pencil marks, makes you think she wants her art to be just perfect for you

— You can see the erased scribbles over her art she made out of anger

— Craftycorn may be shy but when it comes to art a whole new body is unleashed

Best friend(How would they be as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

— It would start with her showing her art to you

— You complimented it, saying it was amazing, her toy-like heart beating a little faster once she heard it from your voice box

— You even started wanting to see her drawing process, it made her love you even more, as a best friend. Maybe.

Cuddles(Do they cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

— Cuddles sometimes, loves it, but doesn’t do it alot, but it’s often, like she doesn’t do it too much but she still does it

— She isn’t too keen on physical touch(like she doesn’t absolutely love it, like a lot, but loves it… It's pretty confusing), she doesn’t mind it though

— Would cuddle if you asked, she loves it so she wouldn’t mind at all

— Butttt if she’s staying up making art(which isn’t good for her, even as a toy) you can drag her to bed and she will 100% cuddle with you while sleeping

— She’d try cuddling while doing art, but apparently she needs two hooves for that(to still the paper), so you can’t cuddle as much

— But she is practicing on how to draw with one hoof, just so she can cuddle with you and then you’ll both be happy

Domestic(Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

— If settling down means doing art then yeah, she would LOVE to ‘settle down’

— When she is actually ‘settling down’ she’s usually doing art

— Not so good with cooking, but good with baking, she likes the sweet smell, and usually the food that’s being baked is full of color

— Despises cleaning, the mess is art! What do you mean the paint on the floor is bad? It’s beautiful! You just don’t understand what art is…

— Even if she’s doing the cleaning with you she’ll drag herself around, not even so you can carry her she just really hates cleaning

Ending(If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

— :(

— She'd put it on paper, she wouldn’t even call it art

— “I need space… Sorry.” Then on the sides of the sentence it would be half of a heart

— She barely even put color so you know she feels horrible about it

Fiance(How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)— Idkk…

— Wouldn’t do it first, you gotta do it

— Kiddy way because I don’t know her ageee

— Her dress would be FULL of color, and would have a blue ringpop

Gentle(How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

— She’s pretty gentle, not with her art

— She can go insane and get insane with her art

— It’s scary

— But to you? Yeah she’s gentle, she doesn’t know how to really.. Go with hugs, so sometimes she can squeeze too hard

— Then she asks if she squeezed too hard

— She’s trying to work on it

Hugs(Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

— Wouldn’t... Mind hugs... At the least…

— Just don’t hug her when she’s ‘arting’ she calls it

— Especially when she’s visibly mad

— Honestly just leave her alone until she’s done with her art piece

— She doesn’t often do hugs, as in she doesn’t really give them, but when you do it, it can be sometimes

— If she hugs you first then you better say thank you because that’s the only hug you’ll get from her for the next 2 weeks

— She’s trying her best to put love into her hugs, she isn’t really into physical touch, though she does put a lot of love into her hard squeezes

I love you(How fast do they say the L-word?)

— She’s only say(draw) over paper

— She’d put so much color on it and make it so loving

— She’s too shy to verbally say it

— “I love you” Like really quick and then she runs away

— If it was on paper then it’d be those words with a bunch of amazingly shaded vibrant hearts around it

Jealousy(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

— It’s rare for her to be jealous, but it is scary

— She can seem very off when she’s really jealous

— She stays away from you for awhile, doing art to distract her from the fact you were with someone else

— You can try to talk to her but she’ll give you the cold shoulder

Kisses(What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

— Her kisses can be quite rare, so appreciate it while you can

— Her kisses are pretty much just love

— Like her kisses are synonyms to love.

— She likes kissing the back of your hand and your forehead

— It's just something about forehead kisses that have a lot of meaning.

— LOVES kisses on the cheek, she gets even more shy

— THIS IS A MOMENT HISTORY, TAKE A PICTURE?!?!

Little ones(How are they around children?)

— I just might repeat this in every smiling critter fluff alphabet, there is NO having kids with the critters.

— But anyways, she really brings out the creativity in the kids, especially the older and younger ones

— You don't know why, but you feel proud whenever she's getting along with the kids even with her shy personality

Morning(How are mornings spent with them?)

— You're the one who always wakes up first, she can get really tired from spending a lot of time on art

— Butttt, you never wake her up, she needs as much sleep as possible.

— Being an artist makes you pretty sleep deprived(╥_╥)

Night(How are nights spent with them?)

— Sometimes you drag her to bed

— She'll say, “Noo… I need to art…”

— You should feel special, you're the only one who's able to drag her away from arting

— She gets knocked out like a light though so it isn't THAT hard to get her to sleep

Open(When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

— Probably would never open up

— For Craftycorn it takes a lot of convincing to have her open up… Because usually shy artists have… A little somethin goin on

— It's a slow process really

— She's never going to spill it out by herself

— Wouldn't do it even if you ask her

Patience(How easily angered are they?)

— Could get annoyed if you bother her while she's arting(like when she's frustrated about her drawing)

— She wouldn't really get mad at you when she's just regularly doing art

— Unless she figures out that you're purposefully distracting her

— Then she'll tell(ask) you to stop

— I mean she'll listen when you're talking but when you're repeatedly asking her questions?

— You might as well just shut up.

Quizzes(How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

— Remembers EV-ERY-THING.

— When you change your opinion in the SLIGHTEST, she will be like, “But didn't you just say..?”

— You kinda don't get how she can keep up with everything you say

— I guess it means she really was paying attention while she was drawing…

Remember(What is their favorite moment in the relationship?)

— The first time you complimented her art.

Security(How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

— Isn't too protective, she thinks you can handle yourself

— In a physical fight she'll just run away with you

— She's not leaving you behind unless she's comin’ back

— She thinks she can handle herself

— She can! With art and physical fights

— I feel as if she'd randomly know Taekwondo or something

Try(How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

— Dates? What, you mean doing art together? Yea, her amount of effort goes through the roof

— She even tries to tone down her anger if her drawing doesn't go the way she wanted it to

— That means you're reallyyyy special, y'know that?

— On the anniversary she would paint, somehow manage to get a frame, and put it together, then she'd give it to you

— She'd do it before the anniversary since it took some time

— She woke up earlier than you on that day and gave you the frame

— Her gifts are her art, so you KNOW that she puts effort into it

— But chores she barely does em(and hates them)

Ugly(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

— If you're the type of person who wants physical affection but hates asking, the fact Craftycorn waits until you ask might be an ick

— When she spends hours and hours on an art piece and barely gets sleep

— Her deal with cleaning

Vanity(How concerned are they with their looks?)

— Maybe if she went black and white one day she'd paint colors all over herself and go insane if the colors only ended up being the same colors as her

— If that doesn't happen she doesn't really care, as long as she has 3 or more different colors on her she'll be fine

Whole(Would they feel incomplete without you?)

— She'd be really sad, everyday, it would demotivate her to do art

— Huge art block

— She wouldn't even be known as Craftycorn anymore, just corn

Xtra(A random headcanon for them.)

— Her love language is quality time and gift giving, she loves quality time just a little bit more than gift giving

Yuck(What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

— You insulting her art, jokingly or not, don't do that, it's not funny( `ε´ ).

Zzz(What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

— Snores very loud

— Even if she's a quiet toy it doesn't mean she has quiet snores

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime fanfic #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gn reader #craftycorn #craftycorn x reader #craftycorn x gender neutral reader #smiling critters x reader #smiling critter x gender neutral reader

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teriuss · 1 year

Note

hello, i love ur writing so muchh! do u mind if i request about buster bros with reader that easily flustered? thank you!

thank you, love! that sounds so cute 🥺🥺🩵

Buster Bros!!! x Easily Flustered Reader

cw: slightly suggestive in jiro's part

Ichiro

It's what attracted him to you. He loved how easy it was to turn you red from something as simple as him running his hand through your hair.

Calls you Anpan-chan when you blush, because of how red your cheeks and nose get. (damn otaku)

He loves PDA, but understands it can sometimes be difficult with how embarrassing it is for you. That won't stop him from innocently holding your hand to make you trip over yourself hehe.

He writes music for you. It's always so sappy and cute, it makes you turn into a puddle of emotions.

The time he was as flustered as you was your first kiss. He took you on a date to a small cafe, one that had your favourite pastries. He had called beforehand to ask the staff to draw a heart on your food, and when it was brought out, Ichiro was covering half his face in embarrassment. You sat there in awe, not knowing what to do but stare at him. Your face felt so hot and no words could form.

"I, um, wanted to take you out today to tell you that I love you..."

He reaches over and kisses you softly. You're quietly screaming in the kiss, it was so cute, so romantic. But everyone who was in the cafe was watching!! It felt like a cloud of steam was about to come out of you. You pulled away to see he was the same.

Jiro

Does anything and everything to embarrass you.

Hand holding, sneaky kisses, laying an arm around you. All in public, by the way. You punched him when he brought you home.

"Haha, but you're so cute when you're shy..!"

He's very romantic in private, much to your torture. He kisses the knuckles on your hands with a tenderness you can tell he only reserves for you.

When this happens, it's so hard to look him in the eye. It's almost unbelievable that someone from Buster Bros! holds so much love in his heart for you! You hide your face in your hands.

He's still holding your hands, though. He's able to easily move them away and plant a sweet kiss on your face.

One time, you walked in on him watching an ero anime. You couldn't look him in the eye for days. What is up with that!

He ended up doing things to make you unable to talk to him without stuttering.

Saburo

Oh you think you're easily flustered? Check this out.

Who confessed first? Probably you.

You two barely spoke, so when you left a letter asking to meet after school in his desk, he had no idea it was going to be you.

The confession was an absolute disaster. No one could look each other in the eyes, someone tripped. Lots of uh's and um's. But it was perfect anyways. He accepted.

You two text more than you call, which works for both of you. Everything is new and embarrassing.

The first time he held your hand was when he walked you home for the first time. Your hand was sweaty, his was cold. So, so gross. But it was magical.

He began to hold your hand more often, which had your face a tomato the whole time. You so badly wanted to kiss him, but you were so flustered just having his hand touch yours. What would happen if his lips did? You might die!

Well, you didn't die. It was awkward, though. Your first kiss had too much teeth. But it was so you. You both were identical in redness and stammering madly.

#hypnosis mic #buster bros #hypnosis mic x reader #hypmic x reader #ichiro yamada #ichiro yamada x reader #jiro yamada #jiro yamada x reader #saburo yamada #saburo yamada x reader

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blamemma · 1 year

Note

30 maxiel!!!

things I wish you’d said - this literally does not fit this prompt at all really, it does if you squint really hard at the end, but anyway :)) - 2,072 words - yes we're out of the depressed daniel era, but sometimes u just need to sit down and re-visit it for a lil cry

In the end, Daniel has to take a break from everything. Racing. Social Media. Public Events. Every One. Michael. His parents. Max.

He buys a converted van, featuring a sofa that pulls out into a single bed, a tiny kitchen, and a shower he can just about squeeze into, and heads out along the coast of Australia. He turns his phone off for the most part, only using it for Maps and to message the group chat his family forced him to set up every two days, a small update and a selfie, so they know he's okay, alive.

He avoids tourist trap areas; he received enough sympathetic looks and kind words in Abu Dhabi, can't face strangers who barely know who he is or what he feels, coming up to him and passing on their condolences.

He drives and drives and drives and drives.

Open road. Sandy banks. Rock faces and dried out trees. Open barren land with a singular road cutting through it.

He avoids busy restaurants and sticks to quiet bars. Drinks too much whiskey and then passes out on his too small, cold, bed. Stops off at vineyards he's been meaning to visit for years, stock-piles bottles of wine to gift his mum and dad when he eventually arrives back home.

Max had hated the idea. Had come stumbling out of the door of Daniel's home, sleepy-eyed from jet lag, when Daniel had driven up in the van after heading out early to collect it.

He'd looked perplexed, cocked his head as Daniel had clambered out of the driver's seat.

"What is this Daniel?" Max had asked. He'd walked forward to Daniel, still in his sleep clothes, an over-sized Enchanté shirt and tight boxers, arms lifted a little higher than his waist, looking to curl into the side of Daniel's body in the early morning sun that was already blisteringly hot.

"It's my van," Daniel replied. "I'm going to go away for a bit."

Max stopped in his tracks, his hands instantly forming fists at his sides, before stretching out his fingers again.

"What?" He asked again.

"I'm gunna go away for a bit Maxy. Just me. And the Australian Road. Get my head straight."

"No," Max had responded. Daniel knew this would be Max's reaction. It's why Daniel hadn't told him beforehand, had kept the secret since Brazil, an impulse purchase after he'd crashed out in his second-to-last race. "We have just got here Daniel. You are not going to go away on your own. You can stay here or I will come with you!"

Despite Max's defiant attitude, Daniel had won. He'd left Max at his home in Perth, the first time he'd visited as Daniel's boyfriend, a promise of barbeques with family and chasing each other on dirt bikes forgotten. They'd argued, they'd cried, they'd pleaded with each other to understand, but ultimately, Daniel's mind was set.

He hasn't spoken to Max in two-and-a-half weeks now. Doesn't know what he'd say. I miss you. Your love isn't good enough to fix me. I love you. I can't stand the way you pity me.

He doesn't even know if Max is still in Perth. He wouldn't blame him if he'd gone back to Monaco.

His decision had been finalised when his Mum and Dad had arrived in Abu Dhabi. The tears prickling at the corner of his mum's eyes as she'd pulled him in sent guilt washing over him. He'd failed. They'd sacrificed everything for him to drive. And he couldn't give them the one thing they deserved. A Championship.

He'd marked Exmouth as his stopping point, where he'd turn around and head back home, but he arrives, camps under the stars for two days, rents a boat and sits for hours with a fishing rod that's never successful and still doesn't feel complete. Whole. He'd imagined, in the days between Brazil and Abu Dhabi, that this would fix him. That a solo trip would give him all the answers. Show him whether he's happy with this being the end, or driven to find a way back.

Instead, he just feels lost and alone.

He clambers back into his van, pulls out the beaten-up map that came with the vehicle and tries to pick a new place to go. No where strikes inspiration in him though. The big bold lettering of PERTH near the bottom of the map taunts him over and over again and he scrunches the map up, throwing it at the windshield.

Across from where he's parked, just across his van on a grassed area sits a family, at a picnic bench, fitted with a barbeque. Two dads sat side by side, a young son and daughter sat opposite them. Daniel can't tear his eyes away from them, as the kids sit eagerly awaiting their dinner, laughing, conversing. They're happy.

He'd promised Isaac and Isabella in Abu Dhabi that when they got back to Perth, they could come round to his house, and they'd spend hours in the pool and have a large barbeque, and end the night around the fire with smores.

Instead, he'd been too chicken to say goodbye to them.

He'd promised Max that he'd take him hiking at his favourite spot. Take him out on a date to his favourite Italian restaurant. Promised trips to the farmers market, and out for brunch, and endless beach days. Promised him a winter break of relaxation. A Christmas at Daniel's parents, one filled with sunshine and shorts and a mountain of presents.

Instead, he'd made Max fly all the way out here, and then abandoned him. The guilt hadn't left him, not since he'd pulled out of his dusted driveway and away from Max.

He props his feet upon the dash and watches the family as they move about their evening. Burgers eaten far too quickly by the children. A plea from their fathers to at least try the salad they'd purchased. A rugby ball emerging from their bag that they kick around and throw to each other. Small gentle kisses shared between partners, an arm around the waist, one thrown around the shoulder. Kids piling on top of their dads as they fall to the ground in a tackle. Laughter. So much laughter. And joy. And happiness.

Daniel calls Max.

It rings and rings and rings. Then Max's voicemail sets in. Daniel tries again. It rings and rings and rings. He puts his phone down on the seat and starts his engine. He'll follow a road somewhere.

His phone rings. A photo of Max curled up asleep in the sheets of their Monaco bedroom fills the screen.

He answers immediately, clutching the phone to his ear. It's silent on the other end of the line.

"Max?" Daniel asks gently.

"Daniel," Max repeats back to him.

"Max." Daniel says again. "I miss you, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, and I'm just so lonely and I hope you're okay, please tell me you're still okay. Are you still in Perth? I'm so sorry Max. I'm gunna drive home. Yeah? I'm gunna drive back okay. You'll be there right? When I get home? I'll make this up to you. Okay--I'll drive home tonight and then tomorrow we can do whatever you want. Whatever you want. " He's crying, and his words are coming out so fast, but the simple sound of Max's voice, the Dutch intonation speaking his own name, collapses him.

"Where are you?" Max asks. Daniel can hear his voice quiver on the other end of the line and a fresh wave of guilt washes over him. He should be there right now, Max shouldn't be feeling this way.

"I'm in Exmouth, it's almost at the tip of Western Australia. So it's about 13 hours to Perth but I can drive through the night Maxy, and then I'll be back home tomorrow. Yeah? Does that sound good?" Daniel selfishly, wants Max to beg him to come home, tell him how much he's missed him, and needs him. Daniel can't even tell if Max is still in Perth, too scared to outright ask.

"You should get some sleep Daniel. And then come home. You should not drive through the night you might crash. And then I will not be able to shout at you for all the horrible things you have done and I will have to attend your funeral with all these unresolved issues of course, so probably my speech would not be that good." The glimmer of teasing that comes through in Max's voice makes Daniel clutch at his chest in want.

"Yeah, okay baby, I'll see you tomorrow yeah?" Daniel asks.

"Yes Daniel. Come home. I will cook dinner for you when you get back. We can have a lovely evening."

"Sounds good. I love you." Daniel responds.

"I love you also." Max says, and Daniel has to hang up quickly before Max catches on to his desperate sobs.

---

He does what Max asks, and sleeps. Not very well, and not for very long, but the next morning, he starts the van up at 5am and drives, joins the open road and heads home. He turns the stereo up, his Max playlist on loud and proud, singing along to the lines that resonate most to him. Whenever he stops off for fuel, and snacks, he texts Max, updating him on his journey and when he'll be home. Max responds to Daniel's first message, when he'd left Max know that he was leaving Exmouth, with Drive safe ❤️, the second message with See you soon! 😁 and the third message with I hope your bum is not feeling too numb!

He pulls up onto his track road and into his driveway just after 8pm and is greeted with a house decorated and ready for Christmas. Lights strung across the porch, pretend Snowman's just beside the front door, mistletoe hanging from above the entranceway. Max had put out all his Christmas decorations from years past.

He's already crying as he fumbles to undo his seatbelt, and stumbles out the drivers door.

The tears start falling when he sees Max running out of the front door towards him, jumping over the steps of the porch and bounding towards Daniel. Max stumbles into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around Daniel and pulling him into him. Daniel collapses into him, exhaustion and want and love all seeping out of him.

"Your mum showed me where all the Christmas decorations were kept last week. I asked her if she could show me. I thought that maybe if you would come home, it would be nice for you to come home to." Max finally says, his voice shaking, speaking into Daniel's neck. "Isaac and Isabella helped. They kept on asking where you were. And I didn't have an answer for them Daniel. I had to tell them that you'd gone on a trip. And then they would ask when you were coming back and I would say I do not know. And then they would ask if we could go and join you and I said I do not think we can. You were cruel, Daniel. You were so cruel."

Daniel finally wraps his arms around Max, kisses the crown of his head and cries with him.

"I'm better now Max, I promise you, I am better." He whispers into his hair. Max's grip around his waist gets tighter, pulling him impossibly closer.

"You never said you were bad, Daniel. I could tell and I tried to help, but you would always shut me down. You never said--"

"I know baby, I know. I'm so sorry."

Max's hand comes to the back of Daniel's neck, holding him tight, his fingers moving through his hair. It's all Daniel needs, he's realised. Is Max. Is Family. Is simple moments.

They both stand there, crying, in each other's arms, birds singing above them, the last remnants of the evening sun warming their backs, until Max, pulls away, intertwining his hand into Daniel's.

"You have to come inside now and eat," Max insists, stepping forward and tugging Daniel's arm. "Your mum has been giving me food every few days and I think that Brad is going to have to work overtime."

Daniel laughs then, his first proper, from-the-gut, endearing, happy laugh, in a long time. Max watches him, the way his eyes light up and his broad smile make up his whole face.

Daniel's back.

Daniel's home.

#this is like....something.....lots of holes that should have way more details probably but yeah #western australia tourism ad inspired with a big splash of depressed mclaren daniel era sprinkled in :))#dr #mv #maxiel #my fic

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