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nyoomfruits · 2 years ago

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if i’m being honest

pairing: max verstappen/charles leclerc word count: 2k+ a/n: written for the prompt ‘i don’t want them. i want you.” this was just going to be a short little thing and then it completely got away from me and now here we are haha

set during the summer break of the 2023 season. hope you enjoy!

It’s only the second day of summer break when there’s a knock on Max’s door. He frowns, glancing at the door like it’s going to tell him who’s on the other side, while slowly getting up from the couch, pausing the TV as he goes.

There’s another knock, more incessant this time. “Coming,” Max yells, wondering who on earth is showing up at ten in the morning during his summer break when he specifically told all of his friends and family he needed some alone time.

“All right, Jesus, what’s on fire,” Max says as he swings open the door halfway the third knock and nearly gets hit in the face by Charles Leclerc himself.

“Ah, good, you are awake,” Charles says, ridiculously chipper. “Pack your stuff, we’re going to the beach.” He cheerfully holds up his own bag as he says it.

Max blinks at him. Pauses for a second. Blinks again. Charles is wearing some sort of god awful Hawaiian shirt, Ferrari red swim trunks, and bright yellow flip flops. His sunglasses are pushed onto his forehead, and his hair is tied back with a bandana. Despite looking like the Teletubbies threw up on him, he still is unfairly pretty.

God, it’s way too early for this.

“Beach?” Max eventually manages to squeeze out when his brain decides to work again.

“Yeah,” Charles says, rolling his eyes, clearly impatient. “You know, the thing with the sand, and the water, and the sun.”

“Yes, I know what a beach is,” Max says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Seriously, which gods did he piss off to deserve this. “But why are we going to one.”

“You have been moping all season,” Charles says, frowning. “And now I hear from your friends you have shut yourself in, like some hermit.”

Max frowns, too. “Okay, first of all, I am not moping.” He absolutely is, but Charles doesn’t need to know that. “I am not a hermit, and I don’t want to go to the beach.”

Fifteen minutes later, Charles and Max are standing on the beach.

Despite being a Tuesday it’s pretty busy already, with parents looking for the perfect spot to settle down, while children run around building sandcastles and playing in the water.

Charles unfolds his towel and sits down on it, and starts ruffling through his bag. “Did you put on sunscreen?”

“No,” Max says, refusing to sit down because that means admitting Charles successfully managed to drag him to the beach.

Charles’s head appears from inside the bag. “What? Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to be here,” he says, “and also you didn’t give me enough time.”

“Always so dramatic,” Charles says, rolling his eyes. “Come on, sit down, I will do your back.”

There’s a moment where Max realizes he could just walk away. He could just turn around, trudge back to his apartment, and continue doing what he was originally planning on doing today, which was watching a godawful amount of Netflix.

But it’s Charles. And Max finds he’s never really been able to say no to Charles. It’s the whole reason he was being a so called ‘hermit’ to begin with. Because somewhere during the past season, between fighting each other on track and talking with him after and watching him win podiums he’s realized that shit. He’s in love with Charles. Maybe even has been this whole time.

So he was going to use the summer break to finally get his shit together, finally get over Charles, because Charles is a fantasy that’s just never going to happen.

And now here he is. On the beach. With Charles.

Plan’s not going great.

“I swear if you draw a penis on there I’m never talking to you again,” he says, plopping down on the edge of Charles’s towel with his back towards the other man, taking of his shirt as he goes.

“I was going to go for a #2 actually,” Charles says gleefully, as he starts spreading sunscreen across Max’s shoulders.

Max hisses when the cold sunscreen makes contact with his warm back. “That’s worse, actually. You’re the worst.”

“Actually I am the best, seeing as I am number one,” Charles says, his hands swooping over Max’s back, making it hard to focus on anything else.

“Season isn’t over yet,” Max says, his eyes briefly falling close. Charles’s hands really do feel good.

“You’re right,” Charles says, patting Max’s back. “But I am still going to win. All right, you are done, do me now.”

Max turns around, and once again curses all the gods in existence that lead him to his point as he lets his hands sweep over the expanses of Charles’s back.

The rest of the morning is actually quite nice, Max thinks. They spend most of it lounging around, occasionally taking a swim and even attempt to build a sandcastle at some point. They don’t really talk about why Charles dragged him out of the house, or why Max refused to leave the house in the first place, or how this is a thing they don’t normally do.

Eventually it’s lunch time, and they make their way over to the closest beach club for something to eat. Charles puts his incredibly ugly Hawaiian shirt back on and Max has never both hated and loved an article of clothing more. He’s not sure how much more shirtless Charles Leclerc he can handle.

“So why have you been moping?” Charles asks, as they sit down at an empty table.

Max considers lying for a moment, but he knows Charles, knows how observant he is, and settles for telling a half truth. “I have feelings for someone who doesn’t like me back,” He says it with a shrug, like it doesn’t make his heart squeeze in his chest just thinking about it.

“Ah yes,” Charles says, almost a little sadly, “I know that feeling.”

Max doubts that. Who on earth wouldn’t like Charles?

“I do not think moping is going to help. I should know, I have tried,” Charles continues. Seriously, who is out there breaking Charles’s heart and would Max get in trouble for breaking their nose?

“Then what do you recommend?” Max asks, leaning back in his chair, pushing his sunglasses up on his head.

Charles taps his chin. “The classics, really. Getting shitfaced drunk. Finding a rebound.”

“Well, I’m definitely into that first one,” Max says, signaling a waiter and then ordering two beers. “Not sure about the second,” he adds, when the waiter leaves their table.

“No, no, this could be good for you,” Charles says, leaning forward across the table with a mischievous grin on his face. “I will help you find someone. What about her?” He gestures to a girl sitting only a few tables over, talking to her friends.

Max barely glances at her. “Not my type,” he says.

“Ah,” Charles says, thoughtfully, twirling his sunglasses between his fingers. “Too leggy?”

Fuck it. Max thinks. If Charles can’t accept him for who he is, then what’s the point? “A girl,” he says.

“Hm,” but he’s not looking at Max, staring at something over his shoulder, and it’s kind of unnerving. Charles can’t even make eye contact with him. Fuck. “What about him then?” He points to a dude on the beach, behind Max, who is playing volleyball with his friends.

Something in Max’s chest loosens and he twists around in his chair to look. “Too leggy,” he says, turning back with a grin on his face as Charles sends him an exasperated look.

“Please take this seriously, Max. Your hermit status is on the line,” Charles says, and then flips open his menu. “I am kind of feeling burgers. What about you?”

“Burgers sounds nice,” Max says, just as the waiter arrives with their beers.

As they eat Charles points out more guys at him, and Max shuts every single one of them down. Charles never really seem to be upset over it, instead becoming almost competitive about it, like finding Max the perfect boyfriend is now his only goal in life. If only Charles knew it was him.

Max gives vague descriptors of his ideal man, like ‘well build’ and ‘good personality’ that has Charles rolling his eyes and telling him that that’s not helpful.

“All right, I give up,” Charles says, falling back in his chair, burger long gone and halfway his second beer. “You are somehow the easiest yet the pickiest person I have ever met and you are making my job absolutely impossible.”

“I’m sorry?” Max says, wiping his hands on his napkin before taking another sip of his beer.

“You better be. Why do you not want any of these men? They are not ugly. One must jump out to you, no?” Charles puts his sunglasses back on as he says it and god, he truly is the most beautiful man Max has ever seen.

The sun is hitting him just right, making him look like he quite literally shines. His hair is all over the place, and the bandana is doing a terrible job of keeping it out of his face. The Hawaiian shirt is still the ugliest thing Max has ever seen, but it’s also hanging off his shoulders just so, and the first few buttons are undone to reveal just a little bit of chest that is making Max feel like he’s going insane.

It’s distracting, how beautiful Charles is. That’s the only reason he can think of why he blurts out what he blurts out next.

“I don’t want any of them, Charles. I want you.”

The moment Max says it, he knows he’s made a mistake. Charles eyes widen almost comically and he nearly drops the glass he’d just picked up. “You mean that?” He asks, softly, so softly Max almost doesn’t hear him and well.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yeah, that’s why I’ve been. Moping, I guess. But it’s fine, I get it, you’re not into me, I can. I can get over that, I’m sorry I ever said anything,” Max’s heart is pounding and there’s a rushing in his ears that makes it hard to focus on anything and all he wants to do right now is go home and crawl in bed and not come out for the upcoming ten years.

“Right, yeah, we have to go,” Charles says, almost a little frantic, and Max tries so hard to pretend like he can’t physically feel his heart break in two. Charles pulls out his wallet, slaps a hundred dollar bill on the table, and gets up, gesturing to Max to follow as he stalks away.

And Max. Max follows, because he will follow Charles everywhere. Even though he’s not sure why, or where they are going.

Charles looks around, finds an abandoned alley between the beach club and a little souvenir shop, and grabs Max’s arm, dragging him forward until they come to a stop behind a collection of large garbage bins, completely hidden out of sight from the street.

“Charles, Jesus, if you’re going to kill me I’d rather you do it somewhere a little more comfortable,” Max jokes, even though his heart isn’t really in it.

“What?” Charles says, bewildered. “I am not going to kill you. I just needed some privacy to do this,” and then he takes Max’s face into his hands, and kisses him full on the mouth.

Max gasps, a little surprised, but then leans into it, kissing Charles like his life depends on it. His hands are on Charles’s waist, and it feels like a dream, being able to do this, being able to hold Charles like this and kiss him.

Charles seems equally enthusiastic about it and even though it should give Max whiplash, from going to think him Charles is going to kill him to this, it sooths something deep inside him. Charles likes him too. He isn’t alone in his feelings, he isn’t doomed to love someone that’s never going to love him back.

“You will really do anything to stop me from becoming a hermit, won’t you?” Max jokes, when he finally pulls away, and it startles a laugh out of Charles.

“I do not mind you becoming a hermit, not really,” Charles says, with a bashful little shrug. “As long as you are my hermit.”

Max, giddy and elated and deliriously happy, just leans forward and kisses him again.

#lestappen #drabble #god i had way too much fun writing this one

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 2 years ago

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Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Six: Will You Be Mine?

Summary- 8.7k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. You ask if Curtis would like to do one of your favorite things- go pick out some pumpkins to start really embracing the Halloween season. Curtis and You get to enjoy being in one another's company which helps Curtis realize that he himself is ready for taking the next step in this relationship.

Warnings- Reader having personal internal debates about herself. Sexual activities. This is an 18+ Only Blog

A/N- Well there is no hiding that Curtis and Reader are going to be intimate in this chapter and frankly I'm excited for them to have reached this far in their growing relationship. It's been a journey already writing for these two. Thank you so much to everyone reading, commenting, and reblogging. Just reading your thoughts gives me so much joy, especially when someone just finds something they relate to. Thank you so much @what-is-your-plan-today for editing my work and dropping your thoughts before posting. Moodboard at the end was made by @xxindiglow. (Which I love so much, thank you!) Dividers made by @firefly-graphics.

Chapter Five / Masterlist

“Okay scarf, check. Jacket. Mhm. Papers…” Doing a mental checklist at your desk while gathering your stuff, Claude popped in your classroom with a loud sigh of relief.

“Listen, TGIF, am I right?!” She perched on one of the students desks while you grabbed your kids' latest homework assignments and put them in your bag. “What are your big plans this weekend?”

You closed your bag and took one last scan to make sure you had everything. “Well Curtis and I are going out Saturday for the day, so tonight I’m just at home with netflix and grading papers. What about you?”

Claude gave a smirk and wiggled her brows. “How about Y/N, you come out with us tonight and Sunday you can grade those? Please? It’s been much too long.” She pleaded with a flutter of her lashes and clasped her hands together like in a prayer. “It sounds like Curtis isn't stealing you away tonight.”

“No, he is doing a dart tournament tonight, his friend signed him up without knowing about it.” You chuckled as you shouldered your bag, considering Claude's offer. “Sure, just text me where you want to meet up.”

“Sounds like a girls' night to me.” Claude got up to follow you out. This time you were sure you would have a way to properly get yourself home. Last time you had gotten lucky that Curtis happened to be at the bar that night, but you didn’t want to be unprepared again.

Curtis bustled into Paulie’s with a muttered ‘Hey’ to his old friend at the bar. Edgar saw him from across the room and waved him over. Paul immediately handed a cold beer over to Curtis with a tip of his head towards the darts.

“Kid has been yammering for the past hour about this.”

Curtis chose this moment to take a long drink, get himself started on that buzz he was probably gonna need for this sudden tournament Edgar signed him up for. “Keep these coming Paul.” He motioned to his beer before approaching his friends. Curtis eyed the other team, who were indeed wearing matching shirts. A glance at Edgar showed he had not gone that far yet, but it was only a matter of time until he made some.

“Are you ready Buddy?” Edgar said excitedly as he gathered the three of them around a small table. “We are going to kick ass.”

Grey, in an effort to reel Edgar back in, responded with a gentle reminder. “In a good sportsman-like way.”

“Yeah of course. But… I got some money on this, so we gotta give it our best shot.” Edgar shot a look at the group they were going up against. Curtis shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his beanie to hang them off the back of a chair.

“Do I even wanna know how much you put on this game?” Grey questioned.

“Or who you even got to bet with you?” Curtis countered while Edgar pulled out a box and popped it open to find a brand new set of darts.

“A little incentive present to do your best, because we are the best. And Paul is taking bets if you guys wanna place some. Good chance to earn a few extra bucks.”

Curtis gave it some thought, they were pretty good at this game. “I could use some extra cash.” He left the table to wander over to Paul, pulling out his wallet and handing him some bills. The barkeeper promptly tucked it away and marked the total in a notebook he had on him.

“If you guys win, you are looking to make a good profit.”

“That's the plan.” Curtis slipped his wallet away and Paul leaned against the bar having a lull moment.

“You know, we have a big back yard behind this bar. This summer I’m thinking of doing an axe throwing stand if there is enough interest. You look like someone who can chuck an axe.”

“I don't know, never tried, but I would be willing.” Curtis gave a nod, Paulie grinned wide with enthusiasm.

“Good! Spread the word, I want this to be the summer hangout this year. With you guys willing to play in competition, I already have the darts on lockdown in downtown.”

Curtis flashed him a thumbs up while pulling away from the bar, digging out his phone on his way back to the table to see Honey highlighted.

Kick ass and take names tonight.

He paused at the table, sitting on one of the high stools while typing out. You sound like Edgar now.

Edgar and I could be on a team then. We would win it for ya 💪

Hmm, that's an idea. You all do the work, I can reap the benefits. I did put money on this game.

See, more incentive to win then.

Edgar came over, pushing the brand new darts towards Curtis. “You ready?”

“Sure, give me a second. Just texting my girl.”

Edgar got a sly grin hearing Curtis. “Oooh, now it's ‘my girl’. Wait till I tell Tanya.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Curtis muttered while finishing up. See you in the morning, be safe out tonight. Need anything give me a call.

I should be fine, I was sure to have my own car this time and not get stranded like last time… although it seemed to work out pretty good for me. Got myself a dart throwing, truck driving, steady job boyfriend…

Curtis laughed reading your message. No complaints here Honey. How else was I gonna get me a Pretty Girl on my arm, all respectable and shit being a teacher? Have fun. Putting his phone away, he grabbed the darts. “Are we playing or what?”

Saturday morning had you up excitedly, thankful for not suffering a hangover that you were sure Claude would be nursing. This time she stuck around with you for the night although she got rather drunk and kept promising she wasn’t leaving you again. During that rant, you assured her that it was okay, and last time you were perfectly fine. You were able to get her back home all in one piece and inside to bed. Before leaving, you raided her medicine shelf in the bathroom for aspirin and a tall glass of water to leave on her nightstand. You had yet to get a text from her, not really expecting one for a few hours still.

But for you, you had plans that a hangover would have ruined. Curtis had been sure to inform you that he would be picking you up in the morning as soon as you had told him how you wanted to start properly getting ready for Halloween. While you were dressing, you kept an eye out the window for his truck as well as your phone for a message from him. As soon as he pulled into the apartments’ lot, you grabbed your coat and headed down the stairs, your mood turning giddy.

You exited the apartment complex sporting a scarf around your neck and tying the front of your coat closed. You looked so enthusiastic that Curtis couldn't help but break out in a smile of his own. “Well someone is excited.” He made it around the truck fast enough to pop open the door for you and you pressed a kiss to his bristled cheek, his hand fell on your waist to guide you into the truck so you could settle in the seat.

“I missed out doing this the last couple of years.” You bubbled with excitement, which was infectious as Curtis leaned against your open door, basking in it. “I’m just happy you agreed to go with me.” It had been the right call seeing just how genuinely happy doing this made you, he would have agreed to anything at that moment just to see that smile of yours. “I said I wanted to get pumpkins and you were all for it.”

“Well, there is a first for everything.”

In the middle of buckling in, you twisted in your seat to face him just before he could get the door closed. “You never did all this?” Your brows arched up high, your quizzical look making him hide a laugh, although you could see the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, unable to hide that away.

“Well a first for me in many years, Honey. I did always make sure to have some candy on the porch steps for the kids though.”

Your hand reached out to brush against his cheek, giving a sigh as your palm cupped against his bristled cheek. You put on a sympathetic smile as if he didn’t know what he was getting into with you. “Oh Curtis, well that is about to change.”

Now that made him laugh out loud. “I’m looking forward to it Y/N.”

You had googled the best place to go, which took the two of you out of the city area and a few towns over. The drive was quick, with you both admiring the scenery, the road leading you along the great lakes’ shore line, passing little lakeside camps and docks that you took note of for the future explorations. When you arrived, the GPS took you right through the town’s mainstreet, which you admired the quaint little town with a wistful desire. “I always wanted to live in a little place like this. I don't know, it always just feels like a family kind of place, you know.”

“It’s so much smaller than Duluth.” Curtis admitted as they bypassed what looked like a mom and pop gas station, an old church in the center of town, a town garage with junk cars scattered around it, and lots of homes in various stages. “I wouldn’t mind living in a place like this.” The GPS had the truck turn up some old dirt road outside of the town, requiring them to slow down and really admire the landscape.

You thought about what he said, considering where he was living now. “Would you want to sell your grandparents?”

Curtis was quiet for a moment thinking about your question. “I know the place needs a lot of work and its just outside of the city but no. It was my family home, basically Ella’s. We have all our memories there, I’m not ready to let all that go. Maybe, if I had my own family- wife and kids, I would feel different?” He shrugged a shoulder and then glanced at you with some concern. “God I didn’t freak you out did I?”

Anything but, you found all that sentimental feeling really endearing. “Not at all. I think it’s really nice that you get to live there. As you said, that’s where you grew up, it’s always been your home. One of the few things I still appreciate about going back to New York is that my parents’ house feels like going home.” You admitted and he reached over to take your hand, giving a slight squeeze.

“Was it a big deal for you, coming all the way out here?”

You glanced down at his hand wrapped around yours, it was large, swallowing yours. Callouses were rough against your softer skin, but not in a biting way that made you want to retreat. In the past much softer, but equally strong hands made you pull back all the time. No, you wanted to feel his touch trail against your sensitive parts, making you chase after him with a plea for more. The flutters in your chest made you feel light and airy in the moment. You've had held his hand plenty of times now, but it still made you feel excitement and overall safe. “Yeah, it was. I had never moved this far before. But it was time, I was just kind of drifting in life at that point having just split up and when I was offered the teaching job at Mason’s I took it.” You tilted your head back against the seat, thinking about that time, hard to think of it as less than a year ago now, but it felt like a lifetime. “Jade was so proud of me, been telling me I needed to leave. Kept offering me to come live with her and her boyfriend, Frank, in Florida but they didn’t need me imposing on them.”

Curtis offered another glance at you, a crease in his brow with concern. “Don’t get me wrong Honey, I’m glad you came this way. But how would you be imposing?”

You fought the urge to wipe away that worried line in his brow. His focus going back to manoeuvring the truck along the dirt road. “Jade likes to play mother hen. She feels the need to fix things. It can be overbearing at times.”

“Ahh, okay I get that. Ella feels sometimes she can run my life better than I can. Before meeting you, she was always trying to set me up on dates.”

You smirked in response. “Well good thing I came around then, that just sounds… so awful for you.”

Curtis rolled his eyes, huffing at your cheeky answer. “It was when she basically threatened to put me on a dating app after the last few failed dates she set me up on.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t get me wrong Honey, all the ladies were lovely people. It just wasn’t something I wanted.”

You let that sink in, just as you had suspected, Curtis had no problem finding himself dates. Apparently Ella had basically been setting him up with perfectly nice eligible women. But he bypassed all of them. Until he met you.

He chose you.

The GPS on your phone chimed, making you glance down at it and breaking you out of your thoughts, an excited grin breaking out. “It should be-” You glanced around out the windshield trying to catch some sight of this farm you had seen online. “-around this corner.” You said as he bypassed a barn and sure enough once you turned the corner, there was a stand all set up with fields of orange, white and green pumpkins stretching around it. At the stand it appeared to be loaded with baked goods, jars of canned goods and a hot drink station. You shut off the GPS system to keep it from announcing that you had arrived at your destination.

You had that same expression on your face of pure joy as before. Earlier in the week you said that this is where your “dorkiness” is going to be bad, but Curtis wouldn't have changed a thing about how happy you were. For him it was another part of you he got to enjoy. “So how many pumpkins are we bringing back with us?” Curtis asked you as you two left the truck and started to wander into the field.

“Mmmh, I want at least three. One for my apartment, I'm carving one for your porch because you have the most perfect porch to decorate and it's a shame to let it go to waste.” You weaved your fingers with his and he shook his head at you.

“What am I gonna do with a pumpkin?” he gave your hand a slight squeeze in return.

“You light it up Curtis. It looks nice, Halloween- like.” You paused to check out one particularly orange one. “Then I want a small one for my desk at school.”

“You really do love all this.” He observed, which had you nodding while leaning over to half roll one over, looking it over. To him it looked perfect, which seemed to have no interest for you.

“Absolutely, its my favorite time of year.” Bypassing that one, you two moved onto another. When you rolled it, you deemed it perfectly imperfect with its mishappen body and varying coloring of orange making it look speckled. “I want this one.”

Curtis took out a small blade from a pouch on his belt and flicked it open to cut the stem, gathering it up in his arm to carry back to the front. You kept looking around, picking out a few more of varying sizes. The longer you stayed, the more people came with their families. While you were wandering the field, Curtis having brought a couple more to the front with your first choice, you started helping others pick out the perfect ones for them as well.

Curtis got to see you just enjoying yourself without any inhibitions. You started helping some kids pick some out and talking animatedly with the parents. You seemed to notice Curtis was no longer at your side and paused halfway through the field, turning to look over your shoulder to see where he was, and as soon as you saw him, you smiled. Just for him.

When your eyes locked onto his, it was just like he was once more seeing you get off that bus, a warm energy that made him crave to bask in your presence, wanted to spend all his time wrapped up in you.

So that's exactly what he went to do.

You two finished with a final stop at the stand. Curtis stood behind you with his arms wrapped around you while you chose a few things to bring home as well as the pumpkins you chose- bags of frosted sugar cookies in the shapes of autumn leaves and pumpkins, fresh cider donuts and a couple jars of jam and apple butter. You also got to go cups to make yourselves something hot to drink before heading back home.

Settling with making both of you coffee while Curtis loaded up the back of the truck with the pumpkins you chose, he even relented and got a few extra so you could decorate his porch how you wanted, you two started for home once more. Curtis was grateful for the hot coffee and on the ride home you shared a donut with him, offering him sugared bites from your fingers that he was sure to suck the sugar off your fingertips a time or two, teasing the sugar off your fingertips with the tip of his tongue.

Opting to stop at Paulie’s before going back to your apartment to unwind, you two were able to get seats at the bar where Paul was sure to wave at the two of them, signalling Curtis to come around. “Come make yourself useful Everett.”

“I'm here on a date?” Curtis countered as he yanked off his jacket. “You don't even pay me to do this.”

“I give you plenty of free beers. My help comes in twenty minutes. Just cut me some slack. Y/N doesn't care, do ya?” Paul asked with a desperate note in his tone, like having Curtis on the other side of the bar would save him.

You gave a shake of your head and Curtis glared at you, making you grin at him and nudge him. “Go get me a beer stud.”

“Right away Ma’am.” He huffed and playfully squeezed at your hip before making his way around to the other side of the bar. “What can I get ya?”

“Hmmm, anything you recommend.” You gathered his coat and hat off his old seat and pulled them across your lap to free up the bar since it was getting busier. Curtis turned around to glance at the shelf of stuff Paul had on hand. Picking up a bottle of Jack Daniels, he poured you both a shot. “That’s certainly not a beer Curtis. You trying to get me drunk?” You grabbed yours and held it up, clinking it with his and tipped it back all to once that left you licking your lips afterward, your face scrunching just a bit from the burn.

Curtis saw you take that challenge without any hesitation and damn it was hot how you tilted your head back to shoot the liquor between your sweet tempting lips. He didn't take his eyes off you the whole time he took his own. “Better then beer Honey, hits just right.” He winked while he set the bottle near you. “Keep the bottle, Paul said it was on the house.”

“Not the whole bottle Curtis!” Paul shouted from across the bar and you poured yourself another, not nearly as full but enough to burn still in the best way while it was going down. Curtis winked at you as he moved away, starting to take drink orders.

This was the first time you saw him behind the bar. He had a knack for it, pulling out bottles and unscrewing the tops to flick them into a bucket nearby. Curtis easily chatted with customers, and you started to see him yet another side of him. These were regulars you assumed, he knew their names, asking about theirspouses, how the kids were doing or how work was going for them. Often his eyes would dart from where he was making drinks to check in that you were all okay amongst all that was going on,

You thoughts wandered to how you once thought his eyes were icy blue when you first met? You were so wrong. They were vibrant and made your heart skip a beat whenever he made eye contact.

Not for the first time you were getting turned on just watching him. The longer you did the more you wanted to bring him home and explore what was under that black tee shirt he was wearing and run your hands on his bare chest and feel him fuck you right into your mattress. Or couch, whichever you two ended up making it to first. The thought alone made you squeeze your thighs together as your panties started to stick to you, selfishly wishing for yourself that maybe tonight was the night you both would be ready.

Curtis wandered back down to where you were squirming in your seat, moving to lean on his elbows and hover closer to you. His eyes had a playful look to them, the corner of his mouth uplifted looking at you. “Can’t believe you are all alone down here. Let this lonely fellow buy you a drink?”

You leaned forward, whispering in a conspiracy. “My date will be back any second. He is six’ four and intimidating as hell. You better watch yourself mister.”

Curtis huffed, his chest puffing out slightly. “I can take him, his punk ass aint got nothing on me.”

You let your eyes rake over him suggestively, warmth shooting straight to your core. “You're really confident and that is sexy as fuck. I will let you buy me a drink.”

He didn't know if it was the couple shots of Jacks you took or something else, but the suggestive tug of your bottom lip between your teeth and the sultry glances you have been giving had him on edge. But it was just the start on top of so many other things that made Curtis want more with you. In the time he had known you, you’d become part of his happiness and he wanted to explore what that could mean for him and for you as well. He had seen glimmers of sadness from you in passing, when you seemed to recall something from before and it struck him in a way no one else had ever done so. Overall, he wanted to be the one to replace those memories with better ones. Ones with him.

So he was ready he decided to see where the next step in this relationship would take the two of you. As he picked out a beer for you and you brushed your hands against his, your sweet lips wrapping around that bottle, well a man can only handle so damn much. “Once you finish that, wanna head out?”

You enthusiastically nodded and tilted your head back, the beer going down a lot quicker. “Fuck.” Curtis muttered to himself in awe at the way you were downing that bottle. He looked over at Paul. “A'ight headed out.”

Paul gave him a thumbs up and then Curtis came out from behind the bar and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you beside him. “Wait, wait…” You juggled his coat in your arms and twisted back to your seat, grabbing the bottle of Jack. “Thanks Paul!” You shouted out, waving the mostly full bottle for him to see.

“Hey! I told you guys can’t have the whole bottle!”

“Consider it my payment Paul.” Curtis held the door open and you ducked out with your prize, laughing.

Back at your apartment doorway, Curtis had you pinned against it, hands to your hips, his body flush against yours as he kissed you feverishly, tilting his head to nip at your jaw and you giggled out at the sensation. The door was nice, but tonight you wanted more. And hoped Curtis would too.

“Curtis, wait…” You whimpered out as he was working a particular sensitive spot near your ear that was making you rub against him. Your hand cupped the back of his head as he lifted away from you, pupils blown almost black in his own arousal. “Do you want to stay the night?” Your eyes searched his, hoping for that yes and fearful of the rejection you always were half expecting, even when you knew better that voice still taunted you.

He will never want you Y/N.

Curtis knew his answer, known it basically all damn day he has been with you. He let his hands travel up your body and cup your face, kissing you once more, leaving you breathless. “Yes, I'm not ready for today to end Honey.”

Your hand fell along the door behind you and with a twist of the doorknob, you both fell into your apartment, the door slamming heavily behind the two of you.

Once inside Curtis pulled you in close, backing you into the nearest wall as his mouth went back to flushing kisses up your neck, your jawline to the corner of your mouth. “Bedroom?” He asked and you nodded, pulling on his t shirt that you admired so much earlier to pull it off over his head. You had been daydreaming about his big broad chest since you met in the freight yard, wanting nothing more than to rub your hands against him and explore him. That night at his place when you got to see him in his tank, you caught a glimpse of what was underneath, muscled pecs, a dark scattering of hair leading to his belly when his shirt was ridden up, some tattoos that you desperately want to explore.

What you weren't expecting was how intricate some of these tattoos covering his chest were as you dropped the offending tee on the floor of your living room. Your eyes went wide as you pulled back to see how far down he went with that ink, your hands spanning over his chest, giving a small breathy ‘Oh.’ Intricate designs scattered across him, some of them forming symbols that you had seen in his books that he read. Your fingers splayed over them, sliding up to where his medallion rested against the center of his chest. The chain was long, your fingers curling in the metal as you look up at him wide eyed.

“You like?” He arched a brow curiously, his hands settling on your hips, fingers flexing against your curves like they were all that was keeping him in check right now.

“Very Curtis, I plan on exploring them very thoroughly. Later.” You gave a tug on that chain, dragging him back to you and your tongue licking into his mouth. Curtis groaned into it, shifting his hands to clasp your ass and further down to the back of your thighs. It completely caught you by surprise when he lifted you, your legs being pulled around his waist and you were sure your thick thighs were crushing his slim waist. “Curtis!” He smirked as he pulled you off the wall and you clung to him. “You can’t just carry me!”

“I can, and I will, easily.” He went into your bedroom and lowered you to your bed, crawling over the top of you and continuing once again where he left off with you. Nipping at your neck while pulling your top up and over your head to drop beside the bed, your hands went to his belt to start to unbuckle it. “I don’t wanna be hearing I can’t carry around my girl when I want to.”

Your hands worked his belt and button open before grabbing at the waist of his jeans to push them down, digging your nails into his taunt ass and pressing down to grind him against you. “What did you just call me?”

His fingers skated down your sides almost teasingly while he dragged his beard against your collarbone, the soft moments his lips touched your skin a soothing balm against the burn he left behind. The coolness of his chain dragging against your made you shiver with the anticipation. Curtis spread loving kisses across the tops of your breasts spilling out the top of your bra, fingers dipping into the band of the pants you were wearing. “My girl.” He lifted his head to look at you. Blue eyes imploring.

My girl, did you want to be his? His hands felt like he was worshiping you, his mouth exploring the taste of your skin, trying to draw out your moans as his own personal hymn. There was a hopeful look in his eyes, that your next answer could make him a blessed man. Curtis made it so fucking easy to want to be his and it was something you actually desperately wanted. So saying yes…

Well that would be easy.

“I want to be that Curtis.”

He broke in a grin, his whole face lightening up as he surged forward to catch a kiss. You arched up to reach him while his hand dipped against your back and a twist of his fingers had the clasp of your bra releasing. Pulling away from you, he sat back on his heels. Curtis hooked a finger under your bra straps to pull them down, letting your bra fall away. “You're so beautiful Honey.”

You scrunch your nose up at him, heated doubt tickling in the back of your mind, and making you twist your mouth. Although your bedroom was dark, he was able to see you enough still and that made you nervous of exactly how much he really was able to see of you. Your hands suddenly didn't know where to go, or what to do. You suddenly wished your bra was still there, covering you in a way that made you pleasing to look at. Your body was being exposed layer by layer and you didn’t quite have a place to hide your imperfections anymore. Your rolls would show, the flab on your arms would jiggle when you lifted them to reach for Curtis, your thighs cellulite would dimple in a way that you dreaded Curtis even noticing, your breasts not having support wouldn’t stay the perfect round shape that the bras support could give, how your stomach drooped lower then it should. Why did you agree to this? Especially with Curtis looking like a god above you. Even in his small imperfections he looked like some kind of rugged model while you couldn’t even offer him sexy imperfections.

You were soft everywhere and your body carried the scars littering across your skin in stretch marks.

Weakly you covered yourself, shaking your head a bit. You weren’t beautiful, you just weren't and he was going to look at you and see that truth any second now.

Curtis witnessed the way his words just struck you, a whiplash of some kind. He reached for your wrists, circling his fingers around to tug gently. “Y/N, look at me.” He shifted upwards a bit, pressing your hands back to his chest, his arm holding him up while hovering over you. “You are up in your head right now, I need you here with me.”

Imploring eyes made you look at him and you took a breath to help shut the thoughts up. You were so tense under him that when you relaxed, you sunk a little further into the mattress. Your hands started exploring him again, brushing through the thick mat of dark hair sprinkled on his chest to twirl a finger around a pink nipple. Glided over a softer belly that had a line of dark hair leading down into his now loosened pants. “I’m with you Curtis.” You said loud enough for the both of you, an assurance for both of you perhaps.

The ghosting of your fingers was a blessed tease to say the least, but Curtis held himself in check as you loosened back up, just as he thought, you had started thinking too much about unsaid fears when all he wanted was for you to touch him, to start taking what you wanted and not concern yourself with what he was thinking. Your thumb pressed against the lines cutting against his pelvis, leading down till your fingers curled over the bulge at the front of his pants. “Fuck Honey, see what you do to me? Drive a man crazy.”

You squeezed him, all wide eyed wonders gazing up at him as he groaned with a dip of his head back to you to tease your lips all while rocking his hips enough to press his hard on against you. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

“Well I'm never gonna shut up about it.” A hand curved around your hip and slid up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing his palm against you as he pressed his mouth open to the top of it, sucking on the supple flesh, press of teeth leaving a bit of a mark and then a soothing caress of tongue, you let your head fall back with closed eyes to let the feeling of him over take you.

He glanced up from where he had his mouth lay claim to your nipple, quick flicks soon had you hard and sensitive, clutching at his shoulders while your back arched to give him more of you, which fed his greediness. He didn't just want more, he wanted all. A rush of kisses across heated skin left you shivering when the air chilled your now thoroughly loved breasts. Between his hands and his mouth, you never felt so consumed by a man. “I could just love on you all fucking day.” He growled as he pulled back further, his chin dragging down the center of your body, even as his hand still massaged against your breast, rubbing your pebbled nipple to escape between his fingers till he dragged a massive palm back over them, making you whine. “You fit in my hands so good Y/N.”

Here was where you were grateful for the darkness in the room, as much as you would love to see how blown his vibrant expressive eyes were or the swollen bottom lip peeking from the dark beard covering half his face, you weren’t ready to sacrifice him being able to view you to closely. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the stretch marks covering your belly, the overhang of your lower belly or the pudge of your mound that you always felt was unattractive. In the dark of your bedroom you might be able to hide this from to close inspection.

A touch to your hip, a slight squeeze that dragged you out of your thoughts. Causing you to lift your head, you could see enough of Curtis to tell that he was close to you, listening to the catch in your breaths. His fingers curved into the band of your pants and panties to start easing them down, his breaths hot as he got closer to your more intimate areas. “Curtis…” Your voice hitched with uncertainty while he eased your pants off, first one leg, then the other. He pressed his touch in your softer inner thighs, seeming to appreciate the plushness and heat that was there, the way he had to press against them to spread them apart as they quivered in anticipation. You felt your pussy ache, a wet rush making you practically drip your essence because of this man.

He kissed the fleshy part of your hip, humming in question to you. “Do you want me to stop?” He was willing to, if you were not okay with this. But Curtis ached for you, wanted to feel every inch of you in his hold. Curtis was patient, and he kept his touch away from your core till you told him that you were ready.

“No, I'm just… god I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this.” You stammered out. Your hands going to the back of his head and scratching lightly at his scalp.

Curtis wasn't upset by any means, it was understandable to be nervous for your first time together and he lifted himself enough so you could meet his eyes. “Deep breath Honey and you tell me what you like as I do it.” Gripping your chin, he pulled you up enough to kiss you, his tongue stroking yours till you melted into him, going breathless.

“I liked that.” You teased him which made him give a chuckle while he moved to a stand and reaching in his pocket pulled out a couple condoms to place nearby on the bed.

“In case we need them. And that is good to know you like to be kissed. I have to say it makes me feel fucking mindless wanting you when you kiss me.” He shucked his pants down, along with his boxers. You wished you could see his erection, having felt how thick he was through his sweats when you two grinded together on his couch. You could see enough to tell that it was curling up towards his belly as he stroked it a couple of times, settling back on the bed and moving back over you. You let your thighs spread for him to settle in close to you, his thumb now stroking that soft pudgy spot of your mound, dragging the pad of his thumb down to your slit.

Here you gasped, tugging your bottom lip in between your teeth when his fingers found that spot. That bundle of nerves that make your toes curl and your core ache with need. Your slick pooling just for his calloused touch. His thick fingers felt so much better than yours just stroking you. “Keep talkin’ to me Honey.” A voice rumbled against your belly, once more the drag of his beard set you alight.

“Right there Curtis, I need-” Now that you were slick, aching for more, he let a finger press against your opening, pulling him in with a tight clamp. Velvet walls kept tightening around him. You didn’t expect him to be like this, make you this aching for him but here you were squirming on the bed, trying to keep a straight line of thought.

Curtis knew what you needed, driving the words right from your mind as he stretched you, adding another to stroke your velvet walls. “- Oh you are so thick.” You moaned out, grabbing onto his biceps to keep yourself grounded while you started squirming underneath him, building up to your crashing moment.

The cold of his chain bounced off your thighs, deep praises falling from him. “Just like that Sweet Girl, fuck look at you just opening for me.” Fingers buried deep in you started spreading you, scissoring in and out. He wanted to taste, drive his tongue through you but when he bit lightly on your mound, preparing to press his mouth to you, you tensed, your voice going in that panicked choked squeak.

“No wait…” You tugged on his arms till he rose back up, tilting his head in question. “Um- I can’t-” You panted and Curtis slowed his touch, letting the aching sensations dull in your belly.

“We don’t have to do that Y/N.” He assured you. You moved to your elbows and grabbed a condom to peel it open.

“Can we do this instead?” You offered and Curtis sucked his fingers clean once he left your clenching core, making you hear him clearly as he sucked your essence right off his fingers. You couldn't recall ever hearing anything hotter in your life as his drenched fingers slipped into his mouth and he gave a deep hungry sounding groan at the taste of your slick. Another rush escaped you at that moment.

“Fuck, I’m all for that.” He said as you pulled yourself up a bit more to slide the condom on him. He was built, more than you were expecting, but yet you shouldn't be too surprised- this man did just lift you up and carry you, something you were still trying to wrap your mind around.

Right now it was about watching what little you could see of Curtis’s reaction to your touch, the sweep of your hand up and down his shaft, the sudden way he tensed right before your eyes and then rocked into you for the friction your palm made. His hand closed around yours, showing you how he liked to be squeezed around slightly, easing your thumb to circle around his red thick tip and tightening his hold when the thick vein throbbed under your fingers. “Honey, you gotta get that condom on me, I need to be inside of you.” His tone was deep and edging on desperate now. Just maybe you had similar effects on him that he had on you. “I promise you can explore all you want, however you want later.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” You squeaked, having been distracted momentarily in your exploring, Curtis just felt so good in your hands. You pinched the tip of the condom and started to roll and stretch the rubber around him before laying back. He dropped himself over you, reaching between the two of you to slide his thick head between your folds, sure to tap against your clit and make you jolt at the excited anticipation racing through you, spreading your legs wider for him. Once more his necklace bounced against your chest, making you grab it and pull him down to meet your mouth, sliding your tongue to meet his while he started to press himself into you, stretching you to fit.

Your legs pulled up and pressed against his side, Curtis could have blown a load just feeling you pull him into you, squeezing so tightly around him that he actually gave a choked grunt against your lips. He shared air with you, panting slightly as he grunted, flexing his ass and pushing in just a little deeper, just a little more as you rolled your eyes up to flutter a bit, your nails tightening in pleasure against his shoulders at how good just the drag of his cock into your slick core felt to you. “Fuck, you are gripping me so good Honey.” He reached for a hand, weaving his fingers with your and pining it back above your head.

You immediately let go of his shoulders and returned the gesture, this time reaching for his hold. “You feel so good. Curtis you gotta move, I need you.”

It was a slow movement at first, Curtis pulling out and easing back in. But each time, you were slick and fit around him like you were made just for him, and he started to move faster, determined to find your sweet spot to hear one of those moans you were holding inside. Sex, well sex always felt good. But this, it was edging on something more than sex, he wasn’t trying to get the two of you to end for the feel good moment that was satisfying.

With you, he wanted you to just feel good and that possessive part of him got to know he was the one that gave it to you, over and over and over. He didn’t even care at this point if he finished.

It was when Curtis angled slightly that he slid himself just right and you cried out his name in just the way he had been looking for. A cry that was just for him, his name sounded sweet and desperate right now. “There you go Sweetheart, fuck- shit you just keep squeezing me like that.” He assured you when a tremble of ecstasy vibrated you. Your fingers clenched at his hand while legs lifted to cross your ankles at the small of his back to push him back into you.

“Good Girl.” He groaned against your neck as he pushed back into you, pumping faster and harder, aiming for just that spot that made you gasp and repeat his name like a manta. “You're perfect for me.” He nudged at you till you twisted your mouth to meet his, shuddering as you kissed him with an air of desperation that pleaded him to shatter you just so he could drag your frayed pieces back together, maybe someone you desired to be.

“Curtis, I need to, please.” You stuttered out and Curtis felt his balls tighten hearing you plead with him to finish you. He let go of one hand, squeezing a breast and tilting his head to suck on your soft suppleness, dragging a hot tongue to send pleasure through your body when he sucked on your nipple, immediately your free hand went to the back of his neck to keep him pressed close. Tingle of anticipation went up Curtis' spine, you were close and he was too now, but you had to come first.

Dropping his hand to where he fucked into you, a finger twisted against your sensitive swollen bud to have you clamping down hard on him, your thighs quivering in a strain and that release flooded you with so much pleasure that you locked around him, biting on his shoulder to muffle yourself, causing a satisfied hiss to escape him.

Chasing his own ending turned sloppy now that you came for him, tendons popped from his neck and his shoulders bunched together as he hunched over you, gathering you in close to him as he crashed into you several times till he shuddered in your arms He pitched forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck, gasping out the last air in his lungs to a deep groan that seem to come from the very pit of his stomach. You felt it shudder through you as you were still floating in a daze.

Your hand that was still free from his grasp loosened from the back of his neck to scratch lightly at the back of his head and down to the knots in his shoulder from his release, he was still hunched over you, cocooning you to him like he refused to let there be space between the two of you. Refusing to let you go or push away from him. Not that you wanted to, your relished feeling him press you under him, like he couldn’t bear the thought of you pulling away from him just yet. .

But slowly he loosened with a groan, his weight sinking on you to keep you pinned beneath him. You could hear him catching his breath, heated huffs against the shell of your ear. You valued the feeling of him around you, the intimacy of sharing each other left you unwilling to give it up just yet. Curtis sighed as he let his hold on your hand above your head loosen, shifting it down to wrap around you, hugging you tighter to his chest while he burrowed in against your neck, giving another groan. “I wanted to hold out, but fuck you were just too good to be with.” He admitted as he started to shift.

“You don't have to move Curtis.” A small panic rose in your chest at the loss of contact, uncalled for at the moment but you couldn’t stop. It had him shushing you softly while he pulled out, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead.

“I will be back.” He moved away to peel the rubber off, trying to be as quick as possible so you weren’t left alone for long. You heard running water for a few moments in your bathroom down the hallway before he came back to sit on the edge of the bed. “Is this okay?” He let the warm washcloth brush against your thigh, asking permission before he continued to clean you up.

How in the hell was he possibly real and in your bed?

You spread your thighs open in invitation and he was careful in his touch, whispering a sorry whenever he felt you wince slightly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no not at all Curtis.” You assured him as he finished. Sure you might have been a little sore, but all of it had been quite welcome. Your ex, nor your toys quite had what Curtis had.

It wasn’t long before Curtis joined you back in your bed, flopping to his back and patting his belly. “Co’mere.” You shifted over to his side, assuming he wanted to spoon but soon found that wasn't what he meant. Curtis literally wanted you on him, pulling against the curve of your ass and down to your thigh, he easily maneuverered you to straddle him.

You did your best to hover over him, reluctant to relax on him. “Y/N, relax. I promise it's okay.” He stroked your hips and pulled you down to rest on him, your hands sliding up and down his chest with a light scrape of your nails, marvelling at the sensation of his muscles under you “Just wasn't ready to let you go just yet.” You eased down to lay yourself on his chest, going to trace what you guessed were wings on his chest, thanks to the dim light he had left on in the bathroom. “Thank you Y/N.”

You lifted your head curiously, tilting your head in question. “For what Curtis?”

“For letting me be with you.” A finger traced the side of your face to gently grasp your chin and pull you back up to him to give a kiss to your lips. “I got the feeling it’s not always easy for you to trust like that.”

You smiled at his words and pulled up to a sit in order to inspect some of the tattoos scattered across his chest. “Not always easy, but I like you Curtis, really like you. You made it so…” You stalled, your mouth twisting in how you wanted to say it. How he pulled you from your doubts and worries, how you never had to guess what he was thinking, just from his touch like he couldn't get enough, his eyes that never wavered or looked away from you, and his constant words saying what he was thinking. “Different. Not like anything I’ve ever experienced before. I felt like you kept me with you in the moment.”

You went fiddling with his chain, lifting it up to look at the small medallion hanging off the end of it. “Yeah well when I got a woman like you giving me such a gift…” He gave a sigh and broke in an almost boyish grin. You rolled your eyes at him as he clicked his tongue at you. “I only say what I mean Honey.”

You rolled the pendant in your fingers. “What's the pendant?”

He dropped his chin to look down towards your fingers. “That is a St Joseph medallion. It belonged to my father, passed down from my grandpa. He is the patron saint of workers, expectant mothers, families, engineers and other things.” You were gentle as you let it rest back against his chest, dropping back down further to start placing kisses on his chest, and biting lightly on his nipples, your eyes lifting enough with suggestion. “Fuck Honey, you keep doing that with your mouth.” His hip rocked upwards, feeling him grow hard again as it pressed against your ass. “I'm going to need you again.”

“That's the plan Curtis.” You ran your tongue over a tattoo that rested along the underside of his pec, rubbing yourself against him. Again in a show of strength that had you squealing in surprise, he flipped you to your back so he could kiss you senseless once again, his entire body hard and hot against yours.

“It’s a pretty good plan, Honey.”

#curtis everett x honey #curtis everett au #curtis everett #curtis evertt x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett and honey #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett and you #curtis everett fanfiction #snowpiercer au #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes #life is short so make it sweet

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yelenasdiary · 2 years ago

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Be Yourself

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Summary: You’re about to meet Flo’s best-friend. You have to make the best impression, but Flo assures you that just being yourself is more than enough.

| Fluff | 0.7K |

AC: I’m using a random name for Flo’s bestie in this btw!

*This is a request from my old blog*

“I’m so excited for you to meet Leigh! She’s going to love you” Florence boosted after hanging up the phone to her best friend. They just set up a coffee date for Flo to introduce you to her childhood friend. Nervous quickly filled your stomach. “I can’t wait” you gave a her a small smile before you returned your attention to the book you were reading. Now not being able to read the words that filled the white pages.

“Wh… what time is coffee?” you asked Florence.

“In 2 hours” she smiled before slumping down beside you on the sofa.

“2… hours? Oh great” you smiled.

“Darling are you nervous already?” she smirked. You shook your head “No” you lied, “what makes you say that?” you smirked.

“You’re stuttering and if you grip that book any tighter it’ll break” she giggled.

“Oh, right, well, I mean, come on! If she doesn’t like me than I will spend forever trying to get her to like me” you explained.

“Babe, just be yourself! It’ll be okay, she’ll love you. She has too” Florence winked before getting up and kissing you softly. “I’m going to have a shower and get ready” she spoke then disappeared upstairs. To help calm your nerves you grabbed Billie’s favourite ball and took her outback.

“You love me don’t you billie girl” you smiled to her before throwing the ball. You basically tired out the poor pup while your mind ran wild with thoughts of what could happen.

“Okay, baby, give me the ball” Florence came up behind you. “Huh? I’m playing with Billie” you looked over your shoulder. “No, you’ve tired her out” Florence chuckled, “have you been out there the whole time with her?” she asked. You nodded. Florence wrapped her arms around your waist and kissed your cheek, her touch giving you comfort instantly. “I just don’t want her to dislike me” you mumbled. “Baby, there is nothing to dislike” Florence whispered before placing another kiss on your cheek. You turned around to face her, your arms wrapping around her neck as she smiled, pulling you closer. “You have nothing to worry about” she assures you before placing her lips on yours. You couldn’t help but smile against her lips, “are you sure?” you asked.

“I promise” she whispered once more.

----

“Leigh, this is Y/n” Florence introduced you. You smiled at the slightly taller woman, “it’s so glad to finally meet you!” She smiled widely. “You too” you returned the smile before you all sat at the café table.

“Florence literally never shuts up about you” Leigh chuckled, you looked at Florence with raised eyebrows, “I can imagine” you smirked.

The little coffee date went better than you thought, Leigh was fantastic, she was funny and clearly cared a lot for Florence. “Did Flo make you watch the new Stranger Things season?!” Leigh asked. You nodded, “oh boy did she” replied.

“Hey, you loved it!” Florence playfully slapped your arm.

“Did she cry?” Leigh looked at the two of you with a soft smile. You nodded once more “She cried for 15 minutes”

“It was not that long!”

“Babe, we ran out of tissues” you laughed which also caused Leigh to laugh.

“You guys are great, really” Leigh said as she sat back and watched the two of you playfully argue over the popular Netflix series.

“You know, this one” Florence’s thumb pointed to you “was so nerves meeting you that poor Billie is never going to want to play fetch again”

“Oh no! Poor Billie!” Leigh chuckled.

“Yeah, poor billie” you playfully shook your head.

“You shouldn’t have been nerves! You’re great, super funny” Leigh smiled. You smiled back, “I will admit, this is going a lot better than I thought” you spoke.

“We should go a girl’s night!” Florence smiled at you and Leigh, loving the fact her favourite people are getting along so well “not tonight of course but next week?” she added.

“I’m in!” Leigh boosted.

“Sounds like a plan baby” you kissed Flo’s cheek.

----

Once you and Florence got home you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around her and pull her close. “Thank you” you whispered.

“For what darling?” she asked.

“For letting me into your world, meeting your friends and family” you explained.

“Of course, baby, you mean a lot to me, and I just want them to see that” she smiled, cupping your face and kissing you passionately.

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #fanfiction

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1kook · 3 years ago

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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edwins-fangirl · 9 days ago

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@netflix

#dear netflix i would like to inform you that you made a 13 year old cry are you happy now?#netflix just get over yourself already and just give us another season #save dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives #new helluva boss episode #helluva boss #ghost fuckers

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

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tuxedo, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your cat turns into a man. No, not, your cat was always a man and turned back into a man. Your actual cat turns into an actual man and neither you or your cat (man? cat-man?) have any idea why he's human now. Also, he's naked, so that’s a problem. Also, he’s kind of attractive. Yikes.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi still thinks he’s a cat; mentions of smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral (choking on a dick, but not in a sexy way), doggy, spanking, wall-fucking, unintentional??? voyeurism); non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook and you being mad horny for him, what’s new; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? you decide

an anon asked for cat hybrid Yoongi, although instead this is some voodoo witch doctor shit, whoops yes, I do reference BT21, Bob Ross, the lady-pointing-to-the-cat-accusingly meme, list goes on... and there is a cameo of 2021 Seasons Greetings Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin XD

Your lungs were being crushed.

You were bundled in your duvet, wrapped like a mint-colored burrito, on your back, head nestled comfortably in your memory foam pillow. Warm, cozy, snuggly. All things considered, a comfortable position. So comfortable that you were blessedly asleep for many hours until your lungs started getting crushed.

You cracked one eye open.

A giant tuxedo fluffball was causing this slow and painful death.

“Get off.”

You glared with slitted eyes, voice cracking from sleep. The fluffball did not move. Velvety, pointed black ears flicked back and forth. The little pink nostrils flared a bit, breathing evenly and contentedly. At least one of you was. You grunted in irritation. The minty-green eyes opened, black slits for pupils.

“I’m going to die.”

Your cat meowed in your face.

“Shut the fuck up. Get off.”

He yawned.

You narrowed your eyes and lips into lines. Stared at your insufferable, not-so-subtle tuxedo cat that was killing his owner. How long had he and his seven-kilogram ass been sitting on your tits? Too long because your sternum was already aching. You rolled over and he gave you a disgruntled meow as he tumbled off. You pulled your arms out and gave him a soft scratch behind his ears before reaching around to his white belly and patting his chest. He started purring, rolling to his side, white sock-like paws sticking up.

“Ugh, my chest hurts, Shooks. You’re a dick.”

Your cat gave zero fucks.

You were still petting him. Sigh.

“I’m getting up,” you announced to no one except your cat.

You tugged yourself out of your comfy, mint-colored duvet and winced, rubbing your breastbone. Did you buy this bedding set because it reminded you of your cat’s eye color? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In your defense, you hadn’t meant to become a crazy cat lady. You were innocently walking on the street when the tuxedo-patterned cat started following you. A large cat with big minty eyes surrounded by black fur like black bangs. White snout and jaw, pink nose, and a raspy meow. The tuxedo pattern was pretty similar to an actual suit, with a white chest and black fur over its back and limbs. White, sock-like paws, on the bigger side. Cute pink toe beans too. At the time, he was skinny and dirty, no collar around his neck, but you could tell he was long-limbed. He had a cut on his right eye, caked with blood.

“You alright, little guy?”

The cat seemed to scoff at you disapprovingly, as if to say, do I seem like a little guy to you?

“I guess you’re not a little guy. You have an owner?”

The cat’s response was headbutting your calf.

You took him back to your apartment and then it was doomed.

Why was his name Shooks? Well, actually, your cat’s name was Shooky, and it was because you tried many names to get him to respond to you – including, but not limited to, “you little shit” – and he responded to none of them except Shooky. For some reason, Shooky made him turn his black-and-white face around and look at you.

Shooky it was.

The first encounter was cute, but after you had fed him and given him a few pats, you gave him a good, hard taste of reality. Shooky was very upset about getting a bath for the first time. There had been a lot of angry meowing, although thankfully he hadn’t swiped at you very much. As soon as you got mostly undressed and sat in the bath with him, he seemed to relent. Maybe it was because you closed the glass door and he couldn’t leave.

“Do you see how dirty you are? You need a bath.”

He gave you a disapproving meow.

“Look, I even bought pet shampoo and you’ll get treats after. Come on, you.”

He was very displeased.

In any case, Shooky was now your primary companion, a large, long-limbed, fluffy tuxedo cat, following you around as you brushed your teeth and made breakfast, his new black collar jingling with a tiny silver bell. Every morning, you handed him his dry food first – he chomped down immediately – and made yourself some breakfast as he ate. Somehow your life now revolved around him, spending time looking up the best cat food (without paying an arm and a leg, you weren’t a sugar momma), making sure he was brushed (his hair got everywhere), telling everyone you needed to get home because you couldn’t miss his dinnertime (if you were a second late opening the door, Shooky would start meowing very exaggeratedly, like he was dying, what a drama queen). Was he annoying? Yes. Was he the best cuddle buddy? Also, yes. Kind of like a boyfriend, but better, because Shooky didn’t talk back.

You arranged your small dishes on the table. Tofu. Eggs. Pickled squash. Just enough for one. You sat down, holding your bowl of steamed rice.

A tuxedo furball jumped onto the table, licking his chops.

“Look here, this isn’t for you. Shoo.”

He settled onto the tabletop and stared at you as you ate.

Sigh.

Live with a cat was pretty similar to life without one.

Except for that weird habit Shooky had of sitting on your bathroom rug when you got out of the shower, scaring the shit out of you the first time. You lived alone, so you didn’t really bother closing doors, but you considered changing that. But it was just a cat. Also, he walked in here of his own volition. Not your fault if his eyes were scarred.

Shooky was a normal cat, but also a weird cat.

He slept a lot. Normal. He bit his paws sometimes. Weird. You figured maybe it was his nails, so you learned to trim them and he seemed better about it, but sometimes when he was stressed, you would notice fur missing from his little white socks. A lot of things could stress a cat. The internet taught you that. You brought him toys and played with him, but mostly he seemed to want you to sit down so he could plant himself in your lap. This make life rather difficult, so you decided it was time to invest in Netflix so you could at least use your time wisely.

This was for your cat, remember.

Yes, binging shows on Netflix was for your cat.

The weirdest thing was…

Shooky was always stressed when you invited a man into your home.

Maybe he didn’t like men. Something in his past, maybe? Could be. Come to think of it, did you even like men? That was a question for another day, but in any case, your cat always gave you this accusing stare when you brought a guy over, no matter how nice the guy was, even if the guy petted him very gently. Shooky never attacked them. He just glared at you like you had betrayed him somehow. How could that be?

What a needy drama queen.

You figured, eh, it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t trying to sabotage your chances of finding true love and all that stuff.

Who are we kidding?

You’d settle for a simple good dicking.

Well, there was that one time.

That time you were in the middle of giving a guy a blowjob. It was going great. You were naked, he was naked, he had a tattooed arm – hot as fuck – and he was very vocally enjoying your tongue technology. Hey, you didn’t have many talents, but you had that going for you. Even if a guy was mildly apprehensive about banging you, once you got your mouth on his dick, it was game over. You mentally patted yourself on the back for doing such a good job.

Positive reinforcement, right?

Annnnnnnd then…

Your cat jumped onto your back and made you choke on his dick.

“Urk!”

“Oh, fu–”

All seven kilos right between your shoulder blades. Oof.

“Are you okay?” He was half-worried, half-laughing, and Shooky was climbing up your back, pressing onto your neck, one paw on the nape, trying to murder you by dick suffocation. It took both of you to lift you off the dick – sad – and Shooky left a few scratches on your neck, as if to communicate his distaste of your infidelity. The guy was really nice about it. Actually, he found it hilarious. You scowled at Shooky and he gave you that deadpan stare that all cats seemed to have. The rest of the night was hot and heavy like you wanted and you even eventually got to complete said blowjob, which brightened your spirits.

It was a little disorienting that your cat was watching you from his cat tree the entire time.

Creep.

Honestly, you would have kept dating that guy if he didn’t move to a different city. Sigh.

Eventually, you stopped bringing men over.

One, because Shooky. Two, because worldwide pandemic.

Sigh.

The night that changed everything was ordinary.

Too ordinary.

You were passed out on the couch, halfway into season six of American Horror Story, somewhat peeved because you wanted to watch the other seasons, but geez, season five had such a poor story and hard focus on gore that it slightly turned you off. That it was a lot, even for you. Season six was better, but slow. The first four seasons had really hooked you and the idea of them all being connected? Nutty. You wanted to watch all of it.

Idea of season five? Awesome.

Lady Gaga? Yeah, why not, you’d be seduced.

Execution? Eh… could be better.

Shooky hadn’t watched any of it. He just slept in your lap.

Subtitles really helped you out here. You didn’t understand how the English-speaking audience could hear the whispering parts, but maybe that was because your English was garbage. You could read better than listen.

At the moment, you weren’t reading shit.

You were half-tucked in a fuzzy black blanket with a tuxedo cat pattern. Did you see the tuxedo cat pattern and buy it immediately? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In any case, your head was cocked at an awkward angle on the couch cushion and your mouth was open, snoring away. Attractive. You were wearing mint-colored, striped pajamas, one arm hanging off the couch and the other on Shooky’s furry butt, because you had been petting him.

Netflix was doing that annoying thing where it was asking you if you were still watching or not.

You couldn’t respond.

Shooky was awake.

Your cat was staring at your laptop on your coffee table. It was open. An HDMI cable connected it to your television. Not a clean setup, but an effective one. Again, you lived alone. Who was going to judge you? Your tuxedo cat?

Pfft.

Your cat was awake.

He got off your lap and hopped to the coffee table, peering at your laptop. Then he did what any sensible cat would do.

He walked all over your keyboard.

Circling around and around, smashing all the buttons with his cute pink toe beans, looking for a comfortable spot before settling down and planting his fluffy body on top of it. Windows closed, tabs appeared, the volume got muted, your display settings got fucked, the usual.

The unusual part was that your cat was looking at the screen.

Your internet browser was open.

A video was playing on a mysterious website.

A handsome young man with a boxy smile was wearing a sienna floral dress shirt and sunglasses, oddly paired with flared violet pants. He was standing next to another young man with an angelic face who, for some reason, was wearing a pastel floral handkerchief around on his head and a white-and-navy tracksuit with black, red, and green stripes. They were standing in some weird set with a black tablecloth covered round table and a lavender crystal ball, crystal-like beaded curtains glinting in strangely colorful lighting.

There was no volume.

Your cat tilted his head at the screen, curious.

The man with the boxy smile was speaking excitedly, gesturing to the angelic-looking man who seemed to be in awe. A retro, old school graphic popped up, flowers surrounding a blocky orange and green serif font, mildly tacky but somehow endearing in its own way.

COULD WISHES REALLY BE GRANTED?

Your cat tilted his head the other way.

Your cat didn’t know Korean.

… Right?

Well, you did mostly speak to him in Korean. Maybe he was secretly fluent. He definitely knew, don’t fucking do that, because you would witness him doing the very thing you told him not to do right after you said it. Bastard. But you couldn’t bear witness to this now. You were knocked out on the couch.

Zzz.

Boxy-smile guy placed his fingers elegantly on his forehead, mock dismay on his features, acting as if he couldn’t believe the viewer’s skepticism. Angel-looking guy placed his hands in prayer position, the text now reading, I won’t believe you unless you prove it! Boxy-smile guy flourished to the camera, showing off his brilliant pearly-white smile, mouthing words unheard. Text appeared once more.

Make a wish, any wish!

Your cat closed his eyes and appeared to be asleep.

The video turned black and disappeared into purple sparkles.

Your internet browser unexpectedly closed.

You woke up with a painful stitch in your neck and Shooky nowhere to be found.

“Fuck…”

You tried to get up, but underestimated the cramp in your back and fell onto the hardwood floor.

“Fuck!”

You blamed the pandemic for fucking up your sleep schedule. Also, getting old. Fuck getting old and being an adult. Time didn’t stop just because you didn’t go to work. Well, not true. You did go to work; your work was just different now. You were YouTube video editor, which meant you were mostly edited video game montages now instead of travel vlogs. The work was slower now. People were getting discouraged, taking breaks, because, you know.

Pandemic.

Sigh.

Anyway, not the point. You were grateful that your work was mostly internet and computer-based. Not everyone was so lucky. You were also grateful that you didn’t work in an industry that was too negatively affected by the pandemic. It had started off as a hobby, but then the creators you were helping unexpectedly blew up, needing your help more and more. You fell into it by accident, but that’s how life was. Happy little accidents. You couldn’t complain. As long as you had some income to feed your cat and you, that was enough.

Speaking of cat.

“Shooky?”

No meow.

Huh.

He normally would meow or trot over to you when called. He was weirdly affectionate like that.

You were still on the floor, on hands and knees, crick in your neck and back aching. Ah yes, age was just a number until your back pain flared up due to repeated nights of unintentionally falling asleep on the couch. Lovely. You stretched out your back with a groan and yawned, cracking your neck.

“FUCK!”

That hurt. Ugh, you really needed to stop sleeping on the sofa. You untangled yourself from your blanket and headed to the bathroom, rubbing your neck. You still didn’t see your fluffy, seven-kilogram, kind-of-an-ass tuxedo cat, but whatever. He had to be in the apartment. He couldn’t exactly leave. He was a cat. What was he going to do, grow legs and opposable thumbs?

Pfft.

You shoved your toothpaste-covered toothbrush in your mouth and began brushing your teeth. You hummed, trying to remember if you had any deadlines. Eh, they were on your Google calendar. You would check it after washing up. You spat and brushed for a few more minutes, thinking about nothing. This was nice. Sometimes it was nice to think about nothing. No major problems to address, simply a chill and routine morning.

Seemed sufficient.

You reached over to the spit cup and put some lukewarm water in it before taking your toothbrush out and sipping some water to gargle the minty suds out.

You heard a deep, raspy voice call your name.

“Hmm?”

You looked in the mirror.

Wait.

Your mouth was full of dirty toothpaste water, cheeks puffed out.

The voice called your name again, quietly.

Nervously.

Your eyes widened, staring into the mirror in shock.

A pale man was standing behind you, wearing your mint-colored duvet over his shoulders. Messy black hair to his rounded cheeks, dark brown cat-like eyes, small pink pout. His nose was a little red, as if he was cold. There was a black choker on his neck, with a silver bell. He was taller than you, and he looked very confused.

Also.

Pointed, velvety black ears on top of his head, white tufts of fur sticking out, flicking back and forth.

You spat all over your mirror in shock.

“Urk–!”

The man jerked back as you threw your head into the sink, hastily taking another cupful of water to rinse out your mouth because, WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON? Why was there a man in your apartment? With fucking cat ears? That moved? What kind of kinky shit was that? Were you dreaming? What the fuck?! You grabbed the hand towel from its hook and furiously wiped the dirty water off your mirror, completely convinced you were having sensory and auditory hallucinations. Did you drink last night? Accidentally buy groceries laced with LSD? Snorted three kilos of cocaine off a hooker? Who the fuck knows, but there was no fucking way that you let some fucking man in your home, because, one, pandemic and, two, Shooky–

You froze.

The pale man with black hair was still there, standing in the doorway of your bathroom, looking slightly disgusted, but also scared.

He said your name again. A question, almost like a raspy meow.

It was…

Familiar?

You violently wiped your bathroom mirror some more, nearly cracking the glass.

The man was still there, wearing your mint-colored duvet.

Slowly, slowly, you turned around to face this man, your neck cracking loudly, sending searing pain up the back of your head and reminding you that, nope, this is not a dream, and if it was, it was a very shitty dream because at least in a dream you shouldn’t actually feel pain. You looked up at this man, at his fluffy black bangs shading his dark attentive eyes and pale face, chewing on his lip, clutching your duvet around his body like a giant mint cloak.

The cat ears on his head twitched.

“Uh…”

You blinked at him, watching the ears.

“Do… I know you?”

He gave you an eerily recognizable deadpan stare. “I think you do.”

No way.

What?

No.

This wasn’t possible.

You’re drunk, high, or in purgatory.

(You did have sex before marriage.)

“S… Shooky?” you croaked.

The man took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Actually, my name is Min Yoongi.”

You blinked at him. “What? You have a name?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Relief washed over you. “What do you mean, you guess? That means you’re a human being! With a birth certificate! Thank God, I thought you were my fucking cat for some reason, haha, that’s so fucking ridiculous–!” For some reason, the idea of a random stranger being in your home was much more comfortable to you than you damn cat becoming a human being, because for a hot second, you thought… but no, no, that’s stupid. “Speaking of ridiculous, these ears are crazy dude, they look almost real–”

You reached up and yanked on one of the velvety ears.

“Ow, what the fuck!”

Oh.

Oh my God.

OhmyfuckingGodthey’reattachedtohishead.

“What the FUCK?” you bellowed and a large pale hand shot out of the duvet to clamp one of his cat ears down, shrinking away from you.

“Stop yelling, please, I have sensitive hearing,” Yoongi winced, ticking his head, as if he was trying to flatten the other ear too, but couldn’t. His other hand was holding tightly to the mint duvet.

You saw a glimpse of a pale chest.

Your eyes widened into the size of saucepans.

His hand darted back into the duvet and clamped it shut from your bulging eyes, frowning. He quickly bundled himself up and straightened, thinning his mouth into a line. A few seconds passed. You gawked at him, jaw slack. The pale man sighed heavily.

“My name is Min Yoongi. My parents gave me that name. I don’t think I have a human birth certificate because I’m not a human. I am a cat. You used to call me Shooky, but Min Yoongi is my name, so I would appreciate it if you called me by my given name.”

Your jaw went even more slack.

“Cats… have names?” you squeaked.

Yoongi made a face at you. “Of course, we do. We are not savages.”

“B… But…” You frowned, shoulders falling. “You seemed to like the name Shooky…”

Yoongi shrugged his duvet-covered shoulders. “It sounded better than all the other names you suggested.”

You puffed your cheeks, placing your hands on your hips. “What was wrong with Tata? Or Chimmy? Or Cooky?”

Yoongi gave you a disapproving glare. “Well, perhaps in a parallel universe the name Shooky is somehow important to me. In any case, it was the best suggestion.”

You narrowed your eyes, frowning. “You little shit.”

“I especially disliked that one. Seemed a bit discriminating to our size difference…” He paused, looking down at you. “At the time anyway.”

Your hands fell, looking up at your cat. Er. Min Yoongi. “So, uh… Yoongi…?”

He tilted his head, peering curiously at you under his black bangs. “Hm?”

You pointed at him, gesturing up and down. “Why are you, uh… a man?”

He looked down at the duvet covering his body. You stared at your bedding wrapped around him. Why was he wearing it anyway? In fact, all you could see was a black choker with a silver bell. The mental lightning bolt suddenly hit you. Oh. Your neck began to heat. Your ears began to heat. Your whole face began to heat. Oh. Oh? Oh! Shooky – er, Yoongi? – whatever, your cat didn’t wear clothes. He only wore a collar… which meant…

It felt like your whole body was on fire with abrupt realization.

Yoongi looked up at your mint-pajama-wrapped, now tomato self still pointing at him.

“I don’t know why I’m a man.”

One of his eyebrows raised. Then Yoongi smirked.

An open-mouthed, amused smirk.

“And yes, I’m naked. Your clothes don’t fit me. I tried.”

Your cat, er, man? Cat-man? What even... never mind, Min Yoongi was sitting on your bed, still wrapped in your mint duvet like a key lime cake roll, waiting as you rummaged around in your dresser, searching for literally any piece of clothing that might possibly fit him. The problem was, you worked from home, so you didn't exactly own a plethora of different clothing options. Your daily wardrobe consisted of slinky black leggings...

"They're stretchy?" you suggested timidly.

Yoongi had blinked at you. "I don't think so."

"It could work?"

He pursed his lips together. "I think you're forgetting something."

You gave him a blank look. "Huh?"

Yoongi gave you his deadpan stare. "I believe you are well acquainted with human male genitalia."

Oh.

Right.

He had a dick.

You turned red and robotically shoved your leggings back into their place. A sudden thought flitted across your brain and you spun back to face him, blurting it out before filtering yourself.

"Hahaha, good thing I never got you fixed, eh?"

Yoongi blinked very, very slowly. It was hard to tell if he was annoyed, amused, or wanted to murder you. In conclusion, typical cat behavior.

"I'm not fond of the idea of castration, so I suppose so."

Awkward.

Your vet had suggested it, but since he had been an indoor cat and you weren't intending on getting another, you figured you wouldn't put him under the unnecessary surgery and it would help you avoid the cost. A little irresponsible? Maybe. But you were very careful not to leave the front door open and, so far, he hasn't had the chance to get some poor lady cat knocked up.

Unfortunately…

He knew you considered permanently removing his nuts. Yikes.

Sorry, Shooks. Er, Yoongi.

In any case!

The other half of your daily wardrobe was sweatshirts, but Yoongi's shoulders were too broad for them and he was too tall. Why was he so big anyway? Well, he wasn’t exactly big, just long-limbed. You guessed he was actually on the leaner side, judging from the way the duvet wrapped around him and the brief flash of long fingers, slim forearm, and toned chest. He had been a larger cat.

Seven kilos turned into... him?

You suddenly started and yanked open your underwear drawer, shuffling through it to get to the back and pull out a neatly folded dark gray blob.

"I have this–"

"No."

The response was so forceful and dismissive that you froze, the dark gray fabric unfurling in your loose grip. It was a large men's sweatshirt, soft, charcoal, slightly acid-wash, covered with white paint stains. Eggshell white, to be exact. The exact paint color of this very bedroom, because you had worn it to repaint over that original disgusting beige color.

"Why not?" you inquired, holding it up by the shoulders. "It'll fit you, for sure. It used to be..."

Yoongi kept his completely neutral expression trained on you as you reached your revelation, his dark eyes observing every detail of your body's reaction to the memory. Your grip on the sweatshirt tightened. You felt your cheeks and ears heat, pulse roaring in your ears.

Oh.

Er, right, so…

That one time that Shooky – no, Yoongi? – jumped on your back and made you choke on a dick? Yeah, that guy. Tattoo guy. Yeah, well, before that incident, tattoo guy was the friend of a friend who offered to help you paint your apartment because he had experience working construction – “helped my dad fix-up a house to resell for a couple months,” he had said with his disgustingly cute, cheeky grin, making you nod like an idiot and your pussy throb with his endearing adorableness – and you had moved all the furniture out so you two could get it done quickly.

You had to put your cat in the bathroom.

You didn’t want him to breathe in the fumes or get paint on his luscious fur. It was for his own good.

Tattoo guy had appeared in said charcoal sweatshirt, black ripped jeans, and the most attractive thighs in the whole damn universe, just out and about, giant holes exposing tan skin and taut muscle. Your eyes widened, frozen at your front door.

Oh yeah, he had paint rollers too. You hadn’t given a shit about those in that moment.

He had noticed you staring and laughed sheepishly. “Sorry, I just wore the ugliest pants I own. It might get messy, you know?”

No, tattoo guy. No one thought your pants were ugly.

You sure as hell didn’t.

“Oh, yeah, that’s why I wore this gross t-shirt,” you said absentmindedly, referring to your four-sizes-too-large, free t-shirt that had been chucked at your head while walking past your university common area. It was a hideous chanteuse with magenta writing, a color combination that absolutely deserved to go to hell, and could not even be saved by the quirky, stylish, thrift-savvy TIkTokers of today. It was the ugliest thing you owned, so you wore it to repaint your bedroom.

Now you regretted it.

Tattoo guy looked you up and down. He smirked under his long black hair.

“Your body still looks great though.”

“… Urk?”

Didn’t really matter that you couldn’t conjure a sexy response, because, clearly, tattoo guy had made his decision leagues before arriving here. Painting a bedroom? Oh, yeah, you did that, and with way too much sexual tension. A man should not be that flirty while holding two paint rollers and speed painting your walls. What were you supposed to do? You barely knew the guy. All you managed to do was make awkward small talk to get to know him better. Then he took off his sweatshirt.

“Wait, that’s illegal.”

He had smirked at you, spinning the paint roller in his hand, white t-shirt molded to his body. “Hm?”

You were being mildly disrespected, but also you were gawking at his tattooed right arm and his blindingly beautiful forearms. Cough, no. You didn’t have a thing for attractive forearms. Wasn’t like staring at this muscular pair was making you weak at the knees or anything. Okay, maybe. But you weren’t going to say it out loud. Tattoo guy ticked his chin below you, to the floor. Your job was to paint the little nooks at the corners, ceiling, and baseboards. You spent a whole lot of your job sneaking glances at him and getting caught.

Shit.

“You missed a spot.”

You whipped your head to the floor, craning your head to look for it. A paint roller appeared beside you, pointing to a small sliver for nasty beige. He had a clear, silvery voice.

“Right here.”

You frowned at it and raised your paintbrush in warning to the offensive beige, ready to strike.

“… Noona.”

You started and fell over.

You sputtered, legs tangled, oversized shirt flipping up, trying not to drop the paintbrush and drawing a fat streak across the unpainted wall. You shook your head roughly, clutching the handle of the brush, cool draft floating up your shirt.

Tattoo guy appeared above you, grinning, his front teeth slightly too large and giving him the appearance of a rambunctious bunny.

“You alright?”

You felt your neck and ears heat. No, you were not alright. Yes, you were older, but that didn’t… that wasn’t the time… You didn’t expect it, that’s all. You tried very hard not to look at his thighs. Or his face. Or his chest. Just didn’t look at him. Also, you were pretty sure you were flashing him and pretty fucking sure you didn’t give a shit.

You coughed awkwardly. “Yup, I’m good.”

Back to copious sexual tension complemented by paint fumes.

Once the first coat was down, you two stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the plastic drop cloth, him banishing a paint roller and you a paintbrush. Challenge complete and it didn’t take you very long. Nice.

“We have to let it dry and then we can paint another coat,” he was explaining.

“It looks fine like this.”

Tattoo guy clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Once it dries, it will look uneven. Trust me.”

You frowned. “Okay. How long should we wait?”

“Couple hours, at least.”

A couple hours? You frowned more. “What are we supposed to do until then?”

He didn’t reply. You turned your head to face him and tattoo guy was staring at you with a smile.

Uh oh.

He was spinning the paint roller with one hand. You felt your ears and neck heat. He switched from his left hand to his right, seamlessly. Incredibly sexy. Were the paint fumes getting to you? You gulped, awkwardly gesturing to the paintbrush.

“Let me just… put this down…”

You turned around and balanced your paintbrush in the paint tray, only to gasp as your felt something foamy roll down your back, covering you with the strong stench of paint. It stopped above the curve of your ass, unable to roll smoothly any longer.

“Hmm, can’t get past your juicy ass, noona,” he teased.

You spun around, cheeks flushed, sputtering.

No, no. You didn’t forget tattoo guy’s name. You remembered it, even now. Remembered saying it in multiple different ways, even.

“Jeon J-Jungkook!”

In surprise, streaks of paint in your hair, him smirking, dropping the paint roller on the other plastic tray and somehow not tipping it over, thank goodness, him walking up to you, taking the bottom of your paint-covered chanteuse university t-shirt, leaning down to whisper hotly against your lips.

“Ah, sorry, it seemed like you didn’t like that shirt very much,” he breathed, sending your brain into overdrive with the heat against your skin, his knuckles brushing your thighs. “You can wear my sweatshirt instead, if you like.”

Your eyes widened, staring at him in shock.

“J… Jungkook…”

In breathlessness, heart pounding in your chest, gaze locked with mischievous dark chocolate orbs, his teeth catching his lower lip, tiny mole underneath revealed.

“Yeah?”

Why was his voice so deep? The tiny tip of his pink tongue darted out, licking his lips enticingly.

“… Noona?”

This man was illegal.

Your hands darted down and gripped his, catching your lower lip in your teeth as well, matching his lip bite, seeing the eagerness growing in his eyes.

Someone should call the police. Or an ambulance.

You grinned, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t want to wear anything around you.”

But not for you.

There was a very loud meow from your bathroom, but before Jungkook could ask, you yanked your shirt up and over your head. He gasped and instantly it was lips on lips, messy kisses and stumbling to the living room were your bed, dresser, nightstands, bookcase, knickknacks, everything scattered everywhere, but Jungkook and you were too busy yanking off clothes and getting frisky to give a shit.

Yikes.

You stared at Yoongi now, red from head to toe, clutching the dark gray sweatshirt. He rolled his eyes and looked away from you.

“I… washed it?” you offered weakly.

Yoongi’s dark brows raised from under his black bangs. “Mmm, you forget that I have quite keen hearing. I’m not deaf like you, human.”

The color drained from your face.

Well.

Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook got you to wear his dark gray sweatshirt, forcing you – respectfully, he called you noona, after all – to get on your hands and knees for him, then make you wait in said embarrassing position with his sweatshirt bunched around your neck – because, er, gravity – while he casually made you watch him roll the condom on, highly amused by your impatient glare, only to move away and slowly shove his dick inside your soaking wet pussy and spank your ass until you backed up into him enough times to make yourself cum on his stiff length without him moving his hips.

Respectfully, of course.

“Fuck, noona, that was so fucking hot…”

“Jungkook,” you gasped breathlessly, ass stinging in glorious pain. “F-Fuck me, please.”

He made you scream.

He fucked your hard, making the bed creak, pounding you so roughly into the mattress that your fingers curled into the mint sheets, and when you gasped that you were close, he fucking stopped, the damn sadist, causing you to slam your fists into the bed and buck back into his crotch, Jungkook chuckling at your desperation. In your haze of begging for Jungkook’s cock, you heard a judgmental meow from your bathroom, but before you could address it, Jungkook seemed to have accepted your pleading and began to thrust into you once more, making you lose your train of thought and all thoughts in general, except your dire need to orgasm.

Jungkook had made you moan for hours.

Right now, however, Yoongi’s sharp look was making you mute. You were so mortified that you swore your soul stood up and walked out of your body, too ashamed to be in Yoongi’s presence any longer.

“Mmm,” the dark-haired man mused absentmindedly, pointed ears flicking.

From spitting onto the mirror to mentioning his possible castration to remembering that you had locked Yoongi in the bathroom for hours to have mind-blowing sex with Jeon Jungkook under the guise of repainting your bedroom walls…

Too bad life doesn’t have an undo button.

You suddenly remembered Jungkook pushing you up against the bathroom door, your leg hooked around his waist, his cock plunging in and out of you, lips on your neck, and your wrists pinned to the door, rattling it as he fucked you, whispering against your skin.

“You sound so fucking sexy, make more sounds for me, I’ll fuck you as much as you want, fuck you until you can’t think, can’t move, just to hear you say my name over and over…”

“Jungkook… f-fuck, you f-feel so fucking good, o-oh, Jungkook…!”

He pulled his lips away from your neck and smirked in your face.

“Yeah… noona?”

Respectfully.

“Fuck!”

Your back arced against the bathroom door as you came, pussy throbbing and spasming, the top of your head touching the wood, gasping Jungkook’s name in ecstasy, slamming your wrists against the door, Jungkook moaning as he came inside you, cock jerking inside the condom and swelling it with his orgasm, lips crashing down on yours and you whining pathetically into his mouth as he sucked on your tongue roughly.

A quiet, disapproving meow below you.

A master yikes.

You deliberately shoved the dark gray blob back into your underwear drawer.

Yoongi pursed his lips.

“Why is it in your underwear drawer, anyway?”

You slowly closed it, the wood snapping as the drawer touched the dresser.

Silence.

A crow cawed in the distance.

“You know what, let me make a trip to the convenience store…” was your hollow reply as you mechanically walked out of your bedroom, followed by a mint duvet.

“Do you know what size I would be?” came the husky, amused chuckle behind you as you pawed around your apartment for your wallet, two masks, hand sanitizer.

“I’ll just… buy a variety…”

“Or you could measure.”

You heard a rustle and you whipped your head around, only to see Yoongi’s cocked eyebrow and a slight bit of his exposed shoulders, collarbones on display, silver bell jingling. He yanked it back up, frowning at you.

“Are you a pervert?”

“N… no!”

You jerked away and hastily hooked the masks on your ears, fumbling with your sneakers before declaring, “I will be right back!” And then you threw yourself out the door.

Yoongi sighed, finally releasing his hold on the duvet.

“Ugh, so stuffy…”

His long black tail whipped about.

The door suddenly jerked back open and you plucked your keys from the side dish.

Only to see Yoongi fully naked, sleek black tail whisking around, blinking at you.

He was naked.

Really naked.

Very, one hundred percent, naked.

The mint duvet was pooled around his legs on the ground and Min Yoongi, who was formerly your cat Shooky, was a fair-skinned, long-limbed, lean-bodied, very attractive tall man, with velvety black cat ears and tail and – urk! – completely intact human male genitalia. Your neck, ears, cheeks, chest, ancestors from generations long ago, all turned red in embarrassment. Once again, you soul completely left your body in pure mortification.

“D… Don’t leave!” you blurted, snapping the door closed.

Yoongi just stood there, sighing as he heard the door lock and a body bolt down the apartment building stairs.

“You didn’t even change out of your pajamas…” he muttered, picking up the duvet.

"I can't wear these."

It was a few hours later. Thankfully, when you arrived home with your purchases, your cat... man was asleep, wrapped like a mint cake roll in your duvet. You tried not to think about his naked body on your bed, therefore ending up thinking about his naked body on your bed.

"You need to wear pants! For..."

Dark eyebrows raised.

"Decency!"

After getting home, you had spent the next thirty minutes hand-washing a black t-shirt, black boxer briefs, and loose black pants that were definitely too short but it was the only size available that could fit that waist, so you had to make do. You put the other shirts and underwear in the washing machine, but you needed to wash at least one outfit and hang it to dry. You tried to use the hottest water your hands could handle to sterilize the clothing, wincing at the blistering heat.

You didn't know if Yoongi could get coronavirus but you weren't going to risk it.

Eventually you placed everything on the drying rack and positioned your space heater on them to dry them off.

Then you passed out on the couch. You deserved it, after working so hard.

Only to be woken up by Yoongi poking your shoulder roughly and telling you he couldn't wear the underwear and pants.

He was still holding the duvet around his body and your neck was still regretting every second of sleeping on the couch. Ow. Too much physical labor. Quarantine had turned you into a formless potato. You sat up halfway, wincing. Ugh, pain. You jabbed your finger at Yoongi, who gave you a displeased narrowing of his eyes.

"Put the pants on, you animal!"

Yoongi swept around the sofa, mint duvet and all, determined glint in his dark orbs, lips pursed in annoyance. You started, cracking your neck by accident, yelping in pain as you fell back against the couch.

Yoongi planted himself on top of you nimbly.

You froze.

Partly because you were shocked, but mostly because your neck seized a bit.

His legs were on either side of you, body still wrapped up, perfectly balanced despite the sudden leap, surveying you with a disapproving and discerning eye. The silver bell on his neck jingled with his movement. You could feel his calves against your knees.

His bare calves.

"Are you dumb?"

"What?" you croaked in response.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "You always forget things."

You blinked at him, confused, neck heating. "What are you talking about?" you snapped impatiently.

"This."

Thump.

You felt something long and furry hit your leg. Your body almost jerked up in surprise, but Yoongi hissed at you, making you lurch back, somewhat stunned at how cat-like it sounded. It was definitely a warning. You were still in your pajamas, slightly thinner material than your usual clothes. It had been cold outside, but your everlasting embarrassment had kept you toasty warm.

Like it was now, because you realized your clothed outer thigh was touching his inner thigh.

His naked inner thigh.

You let out a noise between shock and confusion.

"Urk?"

The long, furry thing brushed against your legs as Yoongi watched you reach your slow realization.

"O-oh... Right. You have a tail..."

He grunted, thinning his eyes into slits. "Yes, because I am a cat."

Highly debatable at the moment, but you were too busy remembering your cat also had a human dick and nuts. Well, not also. Only had? Well. Maybe if you had a seco–

No. No, never mind that. Yeah.

Never.

Mind.

You gulped, trying to suppress the rising heat in your ears and failing. "I can sew?"

Yoongi tilted his head, nose wrinkling a bit. Then he got off you, circling around the couch. You sat up, neck still hurting, but the warmth of your embarrassment somehow helping. Yes, great, trading temporary physical pain for lifetime mental embarrassment, only for such moments to be remembered at the most inopportune times to throw you off guard.

Awesome.

You visibly cringed before standing up, seeing Yoongi's hand snake out and nab the boxer briefs, making them disappear into the duvet. You saw the fabric rustle and then the briefs reappeared, chucked at your face.

Your head snapped back at the force, arms flailing.

"Mmphf!"

"Should be about four or five centimeters. Make it quick. It's hot under here."

You yanked the underwear off your face, scowling. "I'm not your maid!"

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, black ears flicking. He was smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes. What was this guy so high and mighty for? If anything, he should be grateful that you even car–

"You're been cleaning up my literal shit for a few years now, so you are practically are my maid."

... Wait a second, he's right.

You growled and hauled yourself up.

An hour later, your cat was dressed.

Cat?

Man?

Whatever.

Min Yoongi was finally wearing clothes and not your duvet and your fingers stung like a bitch.

You ended up snipping a hole and using bias tape to seal off the raw edges. You didn’t own a sewing machine, so this was the next best thing you could think of without destroying your fingers by trying to imitate zig-zag stiches, although you ended up destroying your fingers anyway because you had to sew small, delicate stitches to attach the bias tape. The area was too high traffic to not reinforce.

Sigh.

“Please tell me you know how to use the bathroom by yourself from now on.”

Yoongi had raised an eyebrow.

“Of course. I’ve watched you enough times to know how to expel human excrement.”

Right. Because he was your cat. Don��t think about it too much. You were trying to take everything one thing at a time so you didn’t overwhelm yourself. Those were future-you problems. Why does he talk like that anyway? You didn’t even know how he knew Korean. Was it because you watched too much television? Yikes.

You rubbed your forehead, dismissing the discussion. “Good talk.”

You realized you would have to cut openings for his tail for all the underwear on the drying rack but, again, that was a future-you problem. Instead, you let him change in your bedroom and went to retrieve the laptop on your coffee table. Plugged it in and turned it on.

All your settings were wack.

“The fuck?” you muttered, resetting your display, volume, brightness, sigh, nearly everything. This only happened when a certain someone stepped on the keys when you weren’t looking. You raised your voice, still looking at the screen. “Did you fuck with my computer last night?”

“No. Oh, well, I did sleep on it,” Yoongi was saying as he stepped out of your bedroom. You growled in your chest, annoyed, but setting everything back into its place before opening your Google calendar. Nothing due immediately, thank god. “Er, maybe you shouldn’t…”

You looked up.

Oh.

Oh?

Oh!

Yoongi mussed his black hair, scratching at his velvety black ear. You noticed he didn’t have a set of human ears. Well, duh. That’d be weird. He was still wearing the black choker with the little silver bell on it. The t-shirt was nicely loose on his frame, the black standing out against his fair skin. The sweatpants were a little short on the ankle, the slim fit showing off his leanness. The sleek black tail swished back and forth.

He was… handsome.

Yoongi looked apprehensive, twisting his lips to one side. “Hmm.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “Well, when I woke up as a human, I was cold, except for…” His hand ghosted towards his crotch. He pulled it away, waving it aside. “Mmm, never mind.”

You gave him a confused look and went back to your keyboard, typing away. Yoongi winced but you were too busy replying to an email to think too much about it.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to inform you of the following.

Min Yoongi had woken up on the coffee table, fucking freezing because humans didn’t have fur, and because his nuts and dick were getting roasted by your overheating laptop keyboard.

Upon waking up, he had a mild mental breakdown as you continued snoring loudly and unceremoniously, before scurrying away to the warmest place he knew – your bed, where he claimed the duvet and tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Is this real life?

He had poked at various parts of his new body, trying to figure out if this was a dream or a horrific nightmare.

As we all know.

Life is a horrific nightmare, so indeed, this was real life.

You jumped as Yoongi slumped down on the sofa next to you, sticking his head and ears into your view, blocking the computer screen.

“I’m hungry.”

You gawked at him.

“What a-are you d-doing?” you sputtered.

“I’m hungry,” he repeated. He had a bit of a raspy, almost growly voice at times, reminding you of a cat’s meow. His meow, in fact.

You scooted away, neck heating. Yoongi followed, prodding you.

“Why are you like this?” you grumbled irritably, smacking his hand. Yoongi persisted, as if you did nothing at all.

“This is how I get your attention, because you humans will ignore me if I don’t.”

“You’re a human too!”

“No, I am a cat.”

“Hello?” You grabbed his hand and jabbed at his palm, pointing to his thumb. “Cats don’t have thumbs!”

Yoongi yanked his hand out, shockingly similar to how Shooky used to pull his paw out when you were massaging his little white socks and he was over it. You noticed his cuticles looked a bit dry and torn up. Lately, Shooky’s paws had been a little chewed up too. You frowned at it, tilting your head.

Yoongi stood up and his tail whacked you in the face.

“Ow!”

“Feed me.”

You scowled, rubbing your cheek. Yoongi stared down at you, face expressionless.

Okay, your cat might be a man now, but he was still a borderline asshole, so not much had changed.

“Fine.”

You both stared at the bowl of dry cat food.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“What am I supposed to do with all this cat food then? I just brought it last week!”

“That’s your problem.”

You threw up your hands and cooked you both some lunch.

This was too much.

You know what you did when it was too much?

You took a nap.

You had dishes to clean, underwear to make tail-holes for, a cat that was now a man, an existential crisis to address, but you know what? You took a fucking nap instead. You left Yoongi with your computer and Netflix and told him to do whatever as long as none of it involved him leaving the house.

Yoongi had snorted. “What do I need to go out there for?”

“Awesome. I’m taking a nap.”

And you passed out.

Only to wake up groggily because your lungs were being crushed.

Actually no, it kind of felt like your whole torso was being crushed.

“Urk…!”

You fought with your sleepiness, somehow worse off than you had been before the nap, scrunching up your face ad blinking blearily. Head on memory foam pillow, check. Back on soft mattress, check. Black hair with sleek cat ears and pale face pressed on your chest? Check.

What, wait?

“Gah!”

You lurched and the head grunted, shoulders solidly pinning you down. He was under the mint-colored duvet. Yoongi, your cat that was now a man, was under the duvet.

UNDER THE DUVET.

“Stop yelling. Is that all you humans do? Yell?”

“Why are you – what are you doing here?” you hissed shrilly, trying to wiggle out from under him, but it was impossible. Yoongi was far too big now for you to throw him off.

“Sleeping, obviously,” he grumbled. “Or I was, until you started shouting.”

“Yes, but this is my bed,” you emphasized, realizing you could move your hands so you grabbed him by the waist, fingers grasping the black jersey fabric. You pressed inwards, hands molding to his sides.

Yoongi raised his head, squinting down at you.

You froze.

An oddly familiar gaze of accusation and uncaring. His eyes were dark brown, not the recognizable mint, but the effect was the same. Pink lips upturned, slightly annoyed.

And.

You suddenly remembered he was a man.

A man who was pressed down against you, long legs around your legs, broad chest to your chest, and shockingly attractive for someone who used to be a cat.

“I sleep in your bed all the time. What’s the difference?” Yoongi muttered.

What’s the difference?

The difference???

You’re a man!

A HOT MAN!!!

You struggled to find words, completely entranced by how close Yoongi’s face was to yours, watching his ears adjust slightly to pick up all the small sounds around him. You opened your mouth and it only made a tiny squeak. The pressure on your chest was becoming unbearable. You were so shocked that you completely forgot that you were still dying. You cleared your throat as Yoongi looked increasingly displeased.

“You… You used to be over the duvet…”

Yoongi yawned, nodding a little. “Yes, but it’s colder now. No more fur. I don’t know how you humans survive. Must be why you buy these warm things.”

Your hands were still on his waist. You pulled them away quickly and Yoongi frowned.

“Y-Yeah, but… you weigh a lot more now…” you croaked. “Can’t… breathe…”

Yoongi sighed heavily, as if this was a great disappointment. He slid off you.

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true.”

He nestled close to you and you still stunned, pin-straight body.

“Guess it’ll have to be like this instead from now on.”

Like this?

From now on?

Oh. Oh no.

Yoongi’s velvety, pointed ear flicked against your cheek, a low hum resounding in his chest.

part ii

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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hmspogue · 3 years ago

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Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that.

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me.

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused.

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions?

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught.

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you.

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike.

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong.

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what?

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting.

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time.

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah.

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident).

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft.

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug.

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first.

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me.

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

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carpisuns · 3 years ago

Note

New anon, but I saw the last one and I have some thoughts. Specifically, I have been obsessing over ml for the last month or so, and I’ve only seen three episodes, and they were the three released before crocoduel. And you know what? I wasn’t that into it, it wasn’t bad it just wasn’t half as engaging as fanon and fanworks have been for me.

I’ve also done this with the Magicians, Supernatural, and a couple others. I think the reason that this works, for some people, is because it is a more familiar and in many ways, easier way to discover and become attached to new material and new characters. Fan writers and artists are coming from a place of love for their source material (no matter what issues they may have with it) and that bleeds out into their work. Time is spent developing the characters and their feelings, their relationships, in ways that canon so often can’t or isn’t allowed to, and reading that, it’s very easy to fall in love with new characters very quickly. There’s also common AUs and dynamics that make it much easier to start something new.

And also: comfort characters. So many fans find common ground with characters and further project onto them, particularly in fanfic. And because of that it’s often easier to identify with a fan’s interpretation of a character than it is to identify with the canon’s, since you have these more deeply explored feelings and relationships based on a combination of canon and the personal experiences of the fan writer. Also, with these kinds of fics it’s extremely emotionally affirming since for someone who doesn’t have much of any connection with the source material, it feels like the original, even if you’re reading a large body of work by a lot of different people. And I’m so used to fanfic as a substitute for the emotional work and character development that shows/movies/books don’t have room for or aren’t willing to get into, that approaching a fandom as it’s own original piece of media in a way, feels very comforting.

That’s my perspective on it anyways, and why I do this. I do think it is a good thing to engage with the canon to an extent, even if it’s just watching a few clips (how I found ml) but I also don’t think you need any real connection or knowledge of it to be deeply invested in the fandom. Sorry, this got very long.

you know, i totally get being on, like, the fringe of fandoms and interacting with fanon to an extent without a proper investment in canon (I have a couple fandoms like that), but i honestly just can't imagine becoming super invested in a fandom when I am not invested in the source material...maybe that's just a difference between you and me, idk.

but also, i gotta admit that i'm struggling a bit to understand the reason. you yourself pointed out that fan work is enjoyable because the creator's love for canon bleeds into it. and isn't that the reason that you would want to give canon a real chance? obviously there is fan content made out of spite lol (and sadly a fair amount in this fandom), but to me most fan content is like a love letter to canon. like, "i adore this thing so much that it inspired me to create and share with other people who adore it." and what better recommendation is there than that?? i would think people would wanna familiarize themselves with canon in order to better enjoy fanon(?)

i completely understand your point about fan content delving further into characterization and relationships where canon hasn't/can't, and that is such a big appeal of fanfic/fanart. but i don't feel like that's a reason to not engage with canon? on the contrary, i feel like you are missing something important in your understanding and appreciation of that wonderful exploration if you haven't experienced firsthand the foundation that canon set. and maybe that missing thing is just your personal interpretation of a character/dynamic.

for example, i could say, "adrien agreste is this, this, and this and he would do this but not this." and of course i will think im right because my characterization is always perfect 😌sakjdfaldjks but someone else might have a slightly different interpretation, and someone else will have another interpretation, and when you mush all those individual takes on a character together, you will get a good sense of who they are, but you still don't have the Original™️ to draw your own interpretation from. idk, to me it sounds like basing your opinion of chocolate ice cream on what other people are saying about it without ever trying it yourself? ajsldakljf maybe that's an oversimplification but i do think that without experiencing it for yourself, your understanding will always be kind of incomplete.

idk, i big agree with everything you said about why fan content is special, but everything that is a point in fanon's favor is not a knock on canon. to me fan content feels pretty inseparable from canon, so it just doesn't compute to me to take canon out of the equation? then we would have nothing.

i feel like it's almost kinda trendy nowadays to be like, "oh this show actually sucks lmao but the fanon and AUs are good." like it's shameful to actually...enjoy source material? 😭 i mean i completely understand that miraculous ladybug is not gonna be everyone's cup of tea and that's fine! but if you truly enjoy the fan content that much i encourage you to give canon a real shot. it's not that surprising to me that you watched 3 recent episodes and didn't vibe that much, since you haven't seen the 3 seasons of buildup that lead to them. miraculous has a neat way of tying a bunch of things together so if you aren't familiar with all of it, you're probably missing out.

personally my love for miraculous was kind of a slowburn at first. i only started watching the show because my sister and i made a deal that forced me to watch the first few eps lol. and i didn't really vibe either. but there must have been enough of a spark there for me to keep watching bc for some reason i did and the more i watched the more i fell in love with it until it became the thing that occupies my brain more than anything else. i started with canon and then got into fanon, but it could easily go the other way too. and if you're already invested in the story and characters, i have to imagine it would be much easier to push past the initial cringe of "this is a show about a couple of teen furries rated TV-Y7 on netflix" lol and give anything you don't vibe with the benefit of the doubt.

again, to be clear, i'm not trying to judge or gatekeep here! i'm just saying this because i genuinely LOVE miraculous. it's my favorite show. that's why i make things for it. that's why i have this blog. i want people to watch it. so maybe, pwetty pwease, try watching the show you like so much? 🥺👉👈

(source bc i was too lazy to make my own so i stole this from twitter)

#anon #ask #fandom #long post

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entertainment · 4 years ago

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Entertainment Spotlight: Tongayi Chirisa, Palm Springs

Originally from Zimbabwe, Tongayi Chirisa made a name for himself in the South African film scene before crossing into the US entertainment industry. This summer, he appears opposite Andy Samberg and Cristin Milioti in the romantic comedy Palm Springs. He will also star opposite Janelle Monáe in Lionsgate’s upcoming thriller Antebellum, in which a successful author (Monáe) finds herself trapped in a horrifying reality and must uncover a mind-bending mystery before it’s too late. In TV, Tongayi recently joined season two of Netflix’s sci-fi action series Another Life. Other roles for tv include starring as Friday in NBC’s Crusoe opposite Philip Winchester and Sam Neill, as well as roles in The Jim Gaffigan Show, American Horror Story, N.C.I.S., Hawaii 5-0, The Guest List, and iZombie.

Palm Springs adds to the well-established genre of films that use a time loop as a dramatic and comedic device. If you were stuck in the same situation day in, day out, what would you do?

I think I would do everything possible on earth, literally everything!! Think about it... all I have to do is sleep and bam! I’m back at the same place?!

Both Antebellum and Palm Springs are innovative contributions to well-known genres. What film genre would you save if all others were to disappear, never to return again? And why?

I would save the Sci-Fi genre because it’s the only genre where you can merge all other genres, and we see that in many of the films produced in recent years.

What drew you to your role in Antebellum?

What drew me to the project was the material, and the message it was sending. I am an advocate for female empowerment, so learning Janelle Monáe was on board just made the project that much better—we all know how much of a powerhouse she is. Also working with Gerard Bush and Christopher Renz, these two dynamic visionaries. Over the course of production, I got to see why they are called film activists. They really know how to draw you into what they are saying with the mediums of sound, color, and moving picture in a way that evokes your very soul.

When you hear Black Excellence, what or who comes to mind?

Black Excellence is man/woman reaching their fullest potential and succeeding in maintaining that excellence, but also mentoring and showing the next person how it is done. You are not excellent until someone else benefits from your knowledge and experiences, i.e. mentorship. Knowledge is meant to be passed on.

You’ve been a professional actor in both South Africa and America. Can you talk a little bit about the differences between the industries, productions, audiences, and type of work you have encountered?

From a production and work ethic standpoint, nothing much varies on the day-to-day running of production. However, as an actor, I will say this: Living in Los Angeles when the work has been slow, many times, those coveted residual checks have truly been lifesavers. That is not the case in South Africa. They have a system where once they pay you, that’s all the money you are ever going to get, which puts many of the actors who are between jobs in very difficult positions. Hopefully, we can find a solution where the artist also benefits from the excessive profits producers and studios make.

Do you have any advice for young actors who are just starting out and would like to work in both countries?

Follow your heart. Only you know what it is telling you, and if you are a person of faith, believe in Yeshua, he will order your steps—I am a living testimony of that. Work hard and if this is the career you have chosen, immerse yourself in it. I would love to work in both countries continually as I have already been doing so. There is a need for my countrymen and the film industry to see one of their own in local homemade productions as well as the international blockbusters, to give them a true sense that dreams are truly possible, that you can make it from Harare to Hollywood.

Mopani Junction, a serial radio drama you were in, was taken off the air at the height of political turmoil in Zimbabwe. What role do you think film/tv/radio have and should have regarding political and social realities?

Entertainment/film/music are all reflections of society. Someone will always resonate with what you say. So with that in mind, creatives play a very significant role in shaping people’s mindsets. We have an obligation to allow everyone's voice to be heard without prejudice or discrimination. We are only as strong as the weakest among us. To disregard creatives in any nation is to disregard the true lens of society.

How do you embody the mission of #BlackExcellence365 in your everyday work?

In my preparation, in my execution and in my presentation of the character. In my decorum on and off the set, and in my desire to see every person on set win, by giving them what they need to do that.

What would be next for you if you could choose any role, any project?

Ooh…haven't really thought about that..! No, I’m lying, I dream about it all the time. I think I'd look good in a spandex superhero costume! I love the world of Sci-fi and hi-tech concept films. So anything that really pushes the narrative; I want to be a part of that, for sure.

Use one word to describe each of the following:

Who you are: beloved

what you value the most: prayer time

What you’d be if you were a food item: cantaloupe—I don’t know but I really love that fruit!

Thanks for taking the time, Tongayi! Palm Springs is now streaming on Hulu.

#entertainment spotlight #tongayi chirisa #palm springs #antebellum

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fukurodaze · 4 years ago

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some days

pairing: post-timeskip! oikawa tooru x fem!reader genre: angst wc: 2.4k warnings: cursing, stress, anxiety, homesickness, insecurity requested by @dasighosamu <3: “oikawa video chatting regularly with his girlfriend that somehow convinced him they’re okay [...]”

a/n: i.. am.. so so so sorry this took so long... many of the negative feelings here are taken from my own personal experiences as well, so i’m very sorry if this seems a bit impersonal for some people, but i tried to make it feel as y/n-able as possible! enjoy!

special thanks to nat @natszoo for beta reading! love u :(

LISTEN TO: blue - taeyeon; through the night - iu

you feel it in your bones. you feel it rumble and twist and turn. some days you feel it more. some days you feel it less. you know what it is today.

it’s so empty, you think, movements like a crack of sound in silence. you had woken up in the afternoon today, the room still dark yet covers already warm. oh, you feel disgusting.

the least you do is open the curtains, hoping to squeeze in some sunlight for the day you had almost missed. you remember, though, to wake up for today, because it’s saturday. you look forward to saturdays, actually, because it has in store one constant that you hold onto - facetiming your boyfriend, oikawa tooru, at 7pm.

it used to be everyday that you facetimed him, until careers advanced and work took up more and more space in lives. still, you would always watch his matches when they were televised (it was a hassle sometimes, though, to get through to argentinian television channels, but it was worth it) and he would text you good morning and goodnight in your timezone most days (it slips his mind sometimes, but you could never blame him; you like the texts anyways). and it’s okay, really, it’s okay that you don’t get to see him that often. it’s just that work gets a bit harsh sometimes and you live alone and most of your friends live quite a bit far from you and you feel like you’ve cried to them about tooru way too many times and-

okay, you are not okay. but you hold on. you try to hold on.

you get yourself an instant meal in the fridge, feeling well into the shitty weekend when you see the stack of dirty dishes in the sink. you wash them anyways, thinking that it might be a way for you to feel a little bit better. you don’t want to be irritable when you’re with tooru, because then he’ll just worry. he already worries enough about himself - the least you could do is smile. right?

it’s what you tell yourself as you slap on some skincare, hoping that the various products containing tea tree essence and papaya are enough to mask the layer of sleepless nights and early mornings on your face. it’s not like you’re afraid of him seeing you in your dejected state; it’s more like you wouldn’t want the only time you spend with him this week be a negative memory.

now, you settle on the carpeted floor of the living room, laptop placed on the coffee table between the couch and the tv you never really use anymore. you remember when tooru had bought you this apartment right before an off-season with promises of him visiting in the summer. he even insisted on that nice tv screen for netflix nights.

but alone, you prefer a laptop; so you’re thinking of selling it, yet you don’t want to pass up on the chance that tooru might come back one summer.

eventually, the facetime on your laptop sounds its ringtone, and a smile grows on your face as quickly as you pick up the video call.

"wait- can- can you hear me well?”

you purse your lips, your tired eyes seemingly so much more eager to stay open. you say, “yeah, i can hear you well. can you?”

he hums, and there’s a loving silence that ensues. you don’t really know what to do with your insides feeling all warm again, so you fold your legs to your chest and let out a light laugh. it’s him.

“wow,” you mumble through chuckles, “hi, tooru.”

“i missed you, pretty girl,” he coos. you see how tooru has his back against his headboard, one arm folded behind his head and the other holding his phone up. it’s seven in the morning there, you reckon, and he looks like he’d just showered.

“i missed you too. just showered?”

your boyfriend nods, “woke up later than usual today, but it’s, like, hot outside even at six in the morning. or maybe i just sweat too much.”

you giggle, “here, it’s so cold already. i can’t even go anywhere without a sweater - i even sleep with socks these days.”

“are you sure your heater’s doing fine?”

“my heater’s almost on its highest setting. i’ve just been getting so cold lately? maybe i just hate winter...” you trail off as you hear your own stomach grumble. still hungry...? you mutter to yourself, standing up to get a little snack for yourself, “tooru, i’m getting a snack. just keep talking, though, i can hear you.”

tooru’s smile falters a bit when he hears of you getting cold. he knows you’ve never really minded winter, using the season as an opportunity to stack up on cozy clothing and coats. hell, he had heard you say once, during one autumn, that you were so excited for winter because “you could finally wear the hoodies and sweaters since you felt too warm for them even during autumn and spring.” back then, tooru had told you that you were just too warm of a person.

but maybe he’s just thinking too much into it. he hasn’t been to japan in a long time, anyways. maybe it really is that cold.

you come back with some toast and a glass of water. a crisp, warm bite into the food makes you feel relieved. you tuck your hair behind your ears, putting your focus back on tooru. “so, how’s everything?”

“everything... is... a lot.” tooru makes his way off of the bed, telling you, “seeing you eat just makes me hungry, too. lemme get some food.” he brings his phone with him to the kitchen, propping it against a vase on his dining table, giving you a perfect view of the kitchen.

“welcome to my cooking show!” he exclaims as he lets go of the phone. it falls immediately, of course, but he takes care in propping it against some more items. it works somehow.

“i just recently perfected my egg poaching technique,” tooru smirks as he takes two eggs from the fridge, “it’s kind of flawless, not gonna lie.”

“can i see?”

he sets the eggs down on the countertop, making his way to his phone before pausing, “erm, due to camera placement issues and a shortage of hands, i am unable to give you a full view of my absolute skill. is that okay, baby?”

you nod, your lip protruding slightly in a quiet pout. tooru’s pointed it out before, but it seems like every time he calls you baby your body automatically responds with a little pout. he looks at you with calm eyes, “cute.”

as he makes his eggs, you let him go on about the people around his neighbourhood, the results of the ca san juan tryouts from last week, his new team members, and one restaurant he’s found around town. he tells you, “their food is just so good. i’ll take you there someday.”

your cheeks raise slightly at his last statement, “really? tell me more about it.”

“well, it’s a bit expensive, but so worth it. they sell japanese stuff, actually, and i seriously kid you not, it tastes exactly like food from home.”

home, huh?

“maybe when i visit one day i can bring you some food from home, too.”

somehow, the mention of home stings a little bit tonight.

it’s an off-day, off-night, off-week, you’ve told yourself, and now that the week is ending with a call from your boyfriend, you were positive that it was going to end on a high. here, you stand corrected, with your throat getting all tied up threatening hot tears from the corners of your eyes. you’ve made it this far in the week, why must you cry in front of tooru, of all people?

you take a long gulp from your glass of water in an attempt to blink back your tears. you’re glad that tooru’s back is facing the camera as he takes out a plate to put his eggs on.

you quiet down intensely, afraid that any word out of your mouth will come out as a choked sob. of course, tooru notices, whipping his head around with a faltering smile.

“y/n, are you alright-”

“um, tooru, i think my laptop’s running out of battery, so i’ll reconnect the call from my phone instead, yeah?”

tooru nods, and you hastily stand up, clicking blindly at what you thought was the red hang-up button. your legs carry you to the kitchen, a place where tooru can still hear you even after the both of you thought you had hung up, to get another glass of water.

but your arms don’t go so far as to reach for the tap, and instead, they only hold onto the edge of the countertop, trembling lightly against the cold marble.

“shit,” you curse, head hanging as tears flow down your cheeks in warm waterfalls with your breath unsteady, your neck heating up. you see how some teardrops make little puddles on the shiny countertop, and some are swept away when your hand flies over to rid them, swiping in quick motions, angry that your body betrayed you by crying.

“stop crying, goddamnit.” you mutter, “it’s going to be so obvious, and tooru’s just going to worry, and he’ll just find it a hassle to stay with you, and-” you can’t even continue your spoken train of thought when you choke on your own words, your legs not even enough to support you up.

“what a shitty week...” you slide down to the floor, trying to steady your breath. you tell yourself to hurry up with this damned cry, as you told him you were going to call him again on your phone. maybe you could say it was the wifi.

you look up, wondering why, why do i feel like this?

is it because you just miss him? is work just getting hectic? should you be going out more? but it’s cold... nothing’s been working out lately. it’s just become doubts on top of doubts and you don’t know where to stop.

on the other hand, tooru’s freezing up. he can still hear your sniffles from afar, and as he stares at the warm plate of poached eggs on toast, he wonders if it would be okay to call out to you.

it’s not like this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry, because you two have seen each other in more ways than one. still, tooru feels his heart crumble at the fact that he had had absolutely no clue as to what you had been feeling all this time, whether it be just a week, a few days, or a few hours. he wants to call out to you, hug you tight, wipe your tears, do something to make you feel better.

but tooru doesn’t really know how to make his way through this, seeing as the distance is too far for any physical comfort. he’s learned he’s not as good with comforting words as he is with flirting, but now that he doesn’t flirt with anyone other than you, he doesn’t know if he even is good with words at all. he thinks, if you were to be okay with him reaching out to you, why were you choking back your tears? why were you so quick to hide what you felt? why do you not want him to worry about you the same way you worry about him?

tooru likes to think things through, especially when he’s never felt so unprepared with you before, as he’d been used to resorting to physical comfort in the past. but in this moment, through all the doubts and negative thoughts, his mouth moves faster than his brain.

“y/n, i’m still here.”

in this moment, your breath hitches and you make the dreaded way back to your laptop, your eyes swollen and cheeks glossy.

“y-you heard everything?”

your boyfriend nods, “do... do you want to talk about it?”

you shrug, swallowing slowly. “i don’t know how to talk about it, really,” a shallow laugh falls from your lips, “some days- this week- it’s just not... it’s been low, for me.”

tooru’s chin leans patiently against his forearms, eyes focused on you.

“oh god. i haven’t cried in months,” you exhale, “and it just happened to be in front of you. i probably look ugly, or something.”

your boyfriend shakes his head, “you and ugly are words that simply do not go together.”

“you can keep crying, if you want. i’ll be here for you.” he affirms, “we take care of each other at our lows, remember? no matter the distance.”

you sniffle a bit more, your sweater sleeve damp from your tears. his words are new, but it makes you feel much less alone.

the call fades into you attempting to steady your breathing once more, and tooru reassuring you left and right. maybe it does feel nice, you begin to think, to have someone there with you. to know that they’ll care for you as much as you’ll care for them.

in the midst of your thoughts, tooru calls out, “y/n?”

you hum in response, and he continues, “i wasn’t supposed to tell you this, since it’s not final, but there’s a possibility that i’ve been selected to play for the argentinian national team in the olympics next year. in tokyo.”

you do a double take at him. “wait, you... in japan...?”

he loves seeing you smile like that. “i was called in a meeting yesterday. they were pretty positive about me being a starting setter, but, again, it’s not final.”

your shoulders drop a bit, “but there’s always a chance, right?”

“well, ‘not final’ is just their way of saying ‘don’t tell anyone yet’. and how could i not tell you?”

you giggle a little, “maybe if you come over i might have some use for this big ass tv you bought for me.”

tooru laughs, “i’m coming home, y/n.”

here comes your second wave of tears.

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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The Perfect Night | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by anon: Can you please write a fanfic with Charlie Gillespie x reader where you're taking him with you as a plus one to your high school reunion because you don't have anyone to go with but then they realise they really like each other

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Female!Reader

Warnings: a few curse words like bitch, fluff

Words: 2,622

High school wasn’t your favorite. All the bullies and the stress to fit in. Everyone laughing at you because you were the nerd with all the stories piled up on your computer and the fantasy of a child in your head. You’d thought you left all of that behind. But then came the reunion. You’ve only graduated five years ago from high school and only last year from college. Though you had an amazing job as screenwriter and some really great friends, you didn’t have a date to bring to that reunion, and you knew all those people would pick on you for old time’s sake because you didn’t have a date. “Hey, you okay? You seem stressed,” Charlie’s voice shakes you awake from your anxious thoughts about the reunion. You look up at him and offer him a nervous smile. Charlie Gillespie is your co-worker, and along with the rest of the Julie and The Phantoms team, one of your newest friends. Yes, you were on the writing team for Julie and The Phantoms, and you had just finished a table read for season 2. “Yeah, I just—there’s this high school reunion tonight and I really don’t want to go.” “Not a fan of high school?” he asks as he falls into step with you, the two of you walking out of the building. “Not at all…” he gives you a curious look, “Eh, they used to bully me because I was a writer and spent my time writing books instead of going out to parties or spending time with friends,” you give him the synopsis. Charlie doesn’t need to know about the nights you spend crying in your room or going to your therapist. You were close, just not that close. Besides, you’d rather forget about your past. “And now you’re a part of the writers’ team on a popular Netflix show?” he tries with a smile, but you just give him an unimpressed look. “Come on, Y/N! This is an opportunity to show them what you made of yourself! Brag a bit about how amazing a job you have!” You shrug, still not convinced. “I just don’t want to face them alone…” you mumble, staring at your moving feet when suddenly a thought pops into your head and you stop in your tracks, looking up at him. “Do you want to be my plus one?” He halts too, raising his eyebrows at you. “Nope, you’re right, that’s stupid!” You start walking again, Charlie following your example. “No. No, it’s not stupid. I just didn’t think you’d ask me?” “You’re one of my best friends here, Charlie. It’s just logical.” He smiles at that. He really has become your best friend since meeting him a couple months ago. “Okay! So, am I playing your boyfriend? Husband? Just a best friend?” You furrow your eyebrows at him, glaring at him questionably. “We could make something fun out of this, Y/N!” He’s almost bouncing off the walls with excitement. That’s the Charlie you know and love. “Okay… Uhm, let’s pretend you’re my boyfriend. I bet they wouldn’t expect the antisocial nerd to have a boyfriend.” The giggle that comes out of his mouth is too adorable to handle. “How did we meet?” he asks, making sure you got the story straight. “Uhm, here?” you suggest. He rolls his eyes at the obvious answer but goes with it. “Okay! Uhm, let’s – let’s say I fell for you when you bossily told me how I should say a line in the dialogue you wrote?” You nod your head slowly. That sounds kind of cute. “What was our first date?” “Uhm, I don’t know? Movie and dinner?” He scrunches his nose, shaking his head. “No, girl… Charlie Gillespie doesn’t do basic dates!” You chuckle at this, stopping in the hallway of the building to check out. “You like hiking, right?” You nod your head, signing your name on the paper at the front desk. “I took you on a hike on the Eagle Bluffs trail in Vancouver and we had a romantic picnic on the mountain with a gorgeous view over the Cabin Lake.” You nearly melt away at the thought of him taking you on a date like that. “That’s a cute date,” you tell him, impressed, and trying not to show what it’s really doing to you. “And I kissed you on that mountain top.” He raises an eyebrow as an amused smirk pulls at his lips. “No one at my school would ever think I’d be the one to take that step.” “And our first ‘I love you’s were accidental slip ups at work!” He sounds way too excited and he’s getting way too into this. “Like, I’d accidentally completely mess up the punch-line of the joke you wrote, and you’d get annoyed and angry, and then I accidentally said “Okay, sorry, thank you, I love you”.” You giggle at his ideas as the both of you exit the building together. “Anything else we need to discuss?” you ask, grabbing your car key. “Don’t think so…” he trails off, really mulling it over. “Oh! Is there a dress code?” “Yes! It’s formal,” you reply, hoping that wouldn’t be too much of trouble so last minute. He thinks about it for a moment, going through his own wardrobe in his mind. “What are you wearing?” he questions. “Not sure, a red dress, I think…” “You think?” “Yeah, I might change my mind if I don’t like it.” He nods his head understandingly. “What time does it start?” “Seven. It’s about fifteen minutes from my place.” “I’ll pick you up at twenty minutes before then,” he suggests. You nod your head in agreement, then say your goodbyes and go your separate ways. That night, Charlie’s eyes widen when you open the door in your red, tight-fitting bodycon dress with spaghetti straps. He’s not used to seeing you out of your comfy mom-jeans and T-shirts or sweaters. “Uh… Okay… First of all,” he gestures to your body, “Wow!” You laugh at him, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Second of all… WOW!” “It’s not too much?” you ask, shyly. “No! No! Not at all! I’m very glad I get to play the boyfriend of a goddess like you.” “Oh, shut it, Charlie!” you slap his chest playfully before grabbing your clutch and leaving your apartment. “You look pretty wow yourself, by the way,” you say, approving of the suit he’s wearing. He bashfully smiles as you exit the building. He opens every door for you, like a true gentleman. You’re pretty sure no one has ever done that for you before. You always thought it would be so cliché, but it’s actually really nice. “Hey, how far are we going to go with PDA?” he asks when he gets in behind the wheel. “You know, holding hands and stuff…” You blush a little at the thought alone. Being single for so long almost made you forget that was a part of it too. “Uhm… Just improvise,” you shrug. “You’re the actor after all.” You go over the story again with Charlie, making sure neither of you will forget and give everything away. “You ready?” he asks as you’re standing in front of your high school. Terrible memories flood back inside your mind, sending shivers down your spine. As if on automatic, you grab Charlie’s bicep for support – both moral and physical. “Let’s do this.” The two of you walk inside the school and find the gym where they’re holding the five-year reunion. The music’s blasting, lights are flickering, and people are mingling, reminiscing over their high school memories. You already spot a few people you know, but much rather not talk to. “If you ever feel overwhelmed and want to leave, just tell me, and we’re out of here,” he whispers in your ear. You can’t help but smile at his words. A true gentleman. “Thanks, Charlie,” you whisper back. He takes you straight to the bar where he gets you your favorite beverage. “How’d you know?” you ask when he hands it over. “You always order a G&T at the crew parties,” he tells you nonchalantly. “How attentive of you,” you compliment with an endeared smile plastered on your face. This man keeps surprising you with the smallest thing, and it’s the cutest thing you’d ever witnessed. It gives you the feeling of being seen and appreciated and respected. For the first time in your life. “Oh my God! Y/N!” you hear the shrill voice of Ella, one of your classmates from back in the day. One of the biggest bullies from your senior year. “You look amazing! How are you doing?!” she grabs the hand your not holding your drink with and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Hi, Ella…” you greet, putting the fakest smile you can muster on your face. “I’m good! How are you?” Charlie watches you to find any sign of uncomfortableness. “I’m good! You know, recently engaged.” She shows you her hand, which is decorated with the shiniest, biggest diamond ring you’d ever seen. “Oh, wow!” you glance at Charlie, “Look, babe, she’s engaged!” If he’s surprised by the sudden pet name, he doesn’t show it. “Congratulations, Bella!” You know he’s butchering that name on purpose, and you have to try your hardest to stifle a laugh. “You have a boyfriend?” Ella asks, clearly bitter over either him butchering her name or you, having such an attractive boyfriend. “There’s nothing on Facebook about that?” she chuckles awkwardly. Charlie wraps a protective arm around your waist, pulling you closer towards him. “Uhm… Yeah… We’re keeping it lowkey, you know?” you reply as convincingly as possible. “He’s an actor, so…” you trail off, hoping that would impress her. Ella’s demeanor changes all of a sudden. She goes from total bitch to flirty bitch. “Really?” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “Y/N?” Another voice chimes in, this one belongs to Addison, Ella’s bestie. “Hey, Addie…” you greet, clutching your glass really hard. Charlie can feel you tensing up beside him and starts rubbing circles on your hip. “Y/N has an actor boyfriend,” Ella informs her. Addison’s eyes widen as they dart from you to Charlie and back. “How’d you meet?” Addison questions, intrigued by this entire story. The two of you glance at each other, trying to determine who’s going to tell the story. “At work, actually,” you start. “I’m on the writers team of the show he plays in.” “Yeah! She bossily told me how to deliver the line she wrote, and I’ve been in love with her ever since.” He looks down at you with the most endeared smile on his face that makes you melt like ice cream in the sun. “Aw! That’s adorable!” Addison clutches her heart as if it’s about to burst out of her chest. “When did you fall in love with him, Y/N?” You glance at Charlie for some assistance or some inspiration. “When he suggested that instead of a boring movie and dinner date, we’d go hiking together. I just knew he was the one for me at that moment.” You’re not going to lie, Charlie taking you on a hiking date would totally make you fall in love with him. Ella’s and Addison’s noses scrunch up in disgust. “Also…” she adds, then leans in closer to the girls to whisper, “His arms! The boy has guns, I tell you!” The two girls gasp, scanning Charlie entirely from head-to-toe. He snickers, then pulls you closer again. “You did not fall in love with me for my arms,” he tells you, shaking his head with an amused look on his face. You look up at him, eyebrow raised. “I do see you every day with those muscle tees, babe. You really think I wouldn’t swoon for that?” You couldn’t lie. Charlie’s arms were killer. But obviously not the only thing that made him attractive. “If you don’t mind, ladies. I’m going to take my lady for some food,” he nods towards the other side of the gym where food is stalled out into a banquet. Addison and Ella bid their goodbyes, and the two of you make your way to the catering. “I hate them with a passion,” you grumble as you take a plate to fill with canapes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as fake as them, and I’m an actor.” You giggle at his comment and reach for the mini-pizzas at the same time he does, your hands touch, making both of you freeze. “Sorry,” you both mumble, pulling away, flustered. “Hey, Y/N!” A voice you really didn’t want to hear sounds from behind me. “Kill me now,” you mumble, earning a worried look from Charlie. “Ex-boyfriend.” Charlie takes your plate from you and places it onto the table, leaving you a little confused. “Do you trust me?” he asks, hushed. “Yeah, wh—?” before you can finish your question, Charlie presses his lips to yours, pushing you gently against the wall behind you. You’re startled, at first, but then melt into the kiss as your stomach starts to do flips and turns. You didn’t realize until now that this is what you’ve wanted all along. You always wondered why your eyes always automatically darted to his lips. Now you know why. “Ooh! Get it, Y/N!” you hear your ex’s best friend shout. Nothing about high school has changed. Except now Charlie’s here. He pulls away and stares at you for a moment, equally as overwhelmed as you. “You want to get out of here?” he whispers. You simply nod your head, running your tongue across your bottom lip as though the taste of his lips is still there. Charlie grabs your hand and pulls you to the door of the gym. As you pass your ex and his friends, you offer them a wave of your slender fingers. For the first time in years, you feel powerful in this gym, like you can conquer the world. Charlie takes you into the hallway, and pushes you against the wall of lockers, kissing you again. You can’t help the smile tugging at your lips as your hands tug at his suit jacket. “I wanted to do that for so long,” he whispers when he pulls away for a second, pressing his forehead against yours and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “What do you mean?” you ask, keeping your voice down too. “You really think I made all of that up in there?” he chuckles. “I really did fall for you when you told me off about delivering that line wrong.” Your mouth drops open before your lips turn up into a surprised smile. “It was incredibly hot.” “And I do swoon every time I see you, by the way,” you admit for the first time to yourself. “And I would really love that first date you imagined for us.” “Good,” he replies, “Because I was going to ask you to go this weekend.” Your eyes widen, and Charlie notices a sparkle in them that he’s never seen before. “Thank you for tonight, Charlie,” you whisper, pushing a strand of hair from his forehead. He has that Patrick Swayze hair he had a couple of times in Season 1 of Julie and The Phantoms, the hairstyle you find way too attractive. “No, thank you.” He smiles down at you before connecting his lips to yours again in a deep, passionate kiss. Tonight, you not only conquered your dreadful past, but you also found the love of your life in your best friend. And you couldn’t possibly ask for more. This was a perfect night.

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#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #Julie molina #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fic #luke patterson #reggie jatp #jeremy shada #alex jatp #owen joyner #madison reyes #requests #anonymous

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