#no shade to anybody who writes like this you live your life baby

[nanaminsmoon]

𝙚𝙭-𝙗𝙛!𝙏𝙤𝙟𝙞

A/N: so this is the first time writing something to post so it might not be the best and i’m sorry that it’s mad long lol.

warnings: oral (male receiving + female receiving), toji nuts on readers’ face and licks it off(he nasty asf for that), toji calls reader ‘princess’ and ‘baby, phone sex kinda (you’ll see what i mean), unprotected sex (stay safe y’all), toji is a dick but he loves you really.

wc: 4583:)) + lazily proofread.

ex-bf!Toji who weasels his way back into your life with a ‘Happy birthday!’ text. When he sent it, you hadn't spoken in a little over 6 months, but he had been planning this since that day. That being the time when he showed up at your apartment a few months after you broke up and fucked you senseless. You swore to yourself it would never happen again, but you knew there was a chance that wouldn't be true. You two had broken up because you had said that you wanted space. And ex-bf!Toji agreed to give it to you. But the problem with this man is that he will just come back whenever he thinks you've had enough space. You usually try to ignore him, but the man is very persistent.

ex-bf!Toji who shows up at your apartment the night of your birthday, knocking on it until it opens. You weren’t expecting anybody because you had spent the entire day celebrating with family and friends, and you were hoping to get some time alone at the end of the night. So you dragged your sock-covered feet across the living room to the door, and when you looked through the peephole, your heart almost stopped. You knew what ex-bf!Toji was like, but you hoped he would at least let you have some peace on your birthday of all days. The voice in the back of your mind told you that you really should’ve known better because ex-bf!Toji could be described with many words; irritating, conniving, sexy, cocky. But ‘peaceful’ was not one of them.

“Evenin’, birthday girl”, he smirked, arm leant on the doorframe, as he scanned your frame. He loved you in comfortable clothes; some baggy joggers, a baggy t-shirt, some fluffy socks, and your baby pink bonnet on your head. It ignited something inside him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on—he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to cuddle you, or strip them off your body so he could see the bulge his dick made in your stomach properly.

“Fuck off, Toji”, you said, aiming to close the door but just as it was closing, his hand landed flat on it, opening it back up again.

“Hey, don't be like that.”, ex-bf!Toji feigned a wounded pout, “I missed you, and just wanted to make sure you had a good day. That’s all.”, he took a step forward, and you started to close the door again.

“I know you, Toji, so I know that it’s never that easy with you. I don’t wanna talk to you, and I most certainly don’t wanna fuck you.”, his head tilted at your words, as a smirk began spreading on his face, “Plus, I’m seeing someone now, and he wouldn’t like me speaking to you, so bye”, you hmphed before going to close the door but, like the other two attempts, ex-bf!Toji didn’t let that happen. But, this time, he pushed you further inside, and walked in, kicking the door closed behind him.

“He here?”, he spoke, and his voice was at the lowest it had been in all of the 90 seconds you had been speaking. ex-bf!Toji was looking around your apartment, eyes sweeping the area intently; he wasn’t scared, he just wanted to find the fucker who’d been ‘seeing’ his girl, so he could gauge his eyes out and make sure he wouldn’t be seeing anything ever again.

“No.”, you answered timidly, backing up further into your apartment. You weren’t afraid, you just knew that the only way to keep control over your limbs was to keep them away from his touch—meaning you needed to distance yourself from him.

“Then why should I give a fuck?”, he took another step forward. Once you brought up being involved with someone else, the sly twinkle in ex-bf!Toji‘s eyes had retired, his eyes darkening by two shades. Yet, at the sight of your frail movements, the simulated sympathy from earlier had found its way back onto ex-bf!Toji‘s profile.

“Don’t look so scared of me, beautiful. You know I could never hurt you, baby.”, he walked towards you and, once he saw that you were no longer retreating, his hand lifted to lightly caress your cheek. And you let him. Because this was just how ex-bf!Toji was; he would lure you into a false sense of security, hatching you in the palm of his hand, before closing his fingers around you, crushing you into dust, and sprinkling you onto the floor underneath him. That’s how your relationship had gone; the beginning being full of amazing sex, laughs, and just feeling like you were with a man who would do anything for you. It was great…until it wasn’t. You see, ex-bf!Toji doesn’t have many friends, says they’re a waste of time and that ‘the only person you can really trust is yourself’. But that posed a problem when he would constantly want to hang out with you; he wasn’t clingy, he just had no one else so he was constantly calling, texting, coming over to your place, and expecting you to drop whatever it was that you were doing just to do whatever he wanted to do. Which was usually just fucking. Okay, he was clingy, but he refused to admit it; whether he didn’t realise, or he was just in denial, you didn’t know. But it all got to be too much and you had to leave.

ex-bf!Toji‘s whose hands grew hot at the slightest graze of his fingers on your cheek. Then the glint that had resigned earlier, restored in full force. He knew you couldn’t resist him; at first he wasn’t sure, then you let him into your house with no further protests, and he knew you were his again. You didn’t know it yet, but you were. You always had been, nothing had changed, and now he was going to claim back what was his.

“Take your shoes off”, you spoke quietly, eyes still on his. You didn’t want him here, but you weren’t about to let this man stand on your new rug with his damn shoes on.

“And you said you didn’t want me here”, he chuckled.

“I don’t, but I like this rug. So you either take them off and say what you wanna say, or we have this conversation outside.”, you spat out, and his eyebrow rose as a surprised smile crawled onto his face. One thing you and ex-bf!Toji had in common was your attitude—in other words, you were both stubborn, and very vocal about it. So he was used to it. But you had never been one to give it to him first, you were only ever ‘bratty’ (as he liked to call it), when he provoked you. He had literally invited himself into your home but, in his mind, he hadn’t done to poke at you yet. At least, not enough to make you like this.

“What the fuck does this guy do to you? You never used to speak to me like this”, he chuckled as he reached down to take off his shoes, then he turned around to put them by the door, “I don’t know if I’m turned on, or pissed off”, he said on his walk back to you.

“Nothing”, you crossed your arms.

“Yeah, that’s problem”, his hands rose again, but this time they were further south, as he gripped your jaw with his right hand, “You need some dick, that’s why you’re acting up”. Due to his cocky persona, you had never confessed to ex-bf!Toji that he understood your needs like the back of his hand. You didn’t even want to admit it to yourself, at first, instead you just tried to convince yourself that maybe you’re just very predictable. Because there’s no other reason that explains him being able to know how you’re feeling, and why you’re feeling it.

ex-bf!Toji who pulls your face closer to his, as he leans down to you. Heavy breaths left both of your mouths, the tense silence sucking all of the air out of your living room. Fucking him would mean one of two things: 1) you guys get back together, which you didn’t know if you really wanted again, despite how much you missed him and his dick. Or, 2) you fuck and then never see each other again. ‘Never’ being however many months it takes for him to come back to you again. You weren’t going back to him, you never did. It felt better letting him in when he came to you, then going to him—you felt stronger because you were maintaining the space that you had wanted so bad. But then the needy part of you would always let him back in whenever you needed to be touched by someone who knew what made you feel good.

You didn’t know how it happened but, one second, you were stood in your living room then, next thing you knew, ex-bf!Toji‘s lips were pressed onto yours. His arms wrapping around you to pull you into him by your ass, before his tongue would lightly brush your lower lip, before it was inside of your mouth. Your tongues would move against each other for a few more seconds before ex-bf!Toji would pull back, your bottom lip sandwiched between his teeth as if it were a souvenir commemorating his departure from the inside of your mouth. His hands, however, remained clawing at your ass through your baggy joggers, and he just kept pulling you into himself. After a few seconds, you realised he was doing that so you could feel how hard he was under those jeans of his.

“I told you I’m not fucking you, Toji”, you shook your head lightly at him, and one of his hands rose so he could use his index finger to lift your head up.

“We both know that’s not true”, he smirked at you before he moved down to plant open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting you right on the side of it, “If he asks you who did this, tell him it was a birthday present from a friend”, he hummed against your skin.

And he was right, it wasn’t true. Because not too long after, ex-bf!Toji had you laying on your back on top of your bed, your legs hanging over the foot of it, as he knelt on the floor. One hand on your lower stomach, and another hand wrapped around your thigh so you wouldn’t move, ex-bf!Toji was eating you out like your pussy was his sole life source. He had started with languid licks between your folds, occasionally sucking and blowing on your throbbing clit but he grew impatient and just starting tongue fucking your hole. You had already cum twice, and your legs were covered in dark purple splotches, but ex-bf!Toji wouldn’t stop. He had to take his jeans off because they were starting to hurt him. With how hard he was, he thought his zip would fly off. But, as amazing as it all felt, you wanted him inside of you before you ripped a chunk of his hair out because of how hard you were grabbing it.

“Toji, f-fuck me, p-please”, you mewled out, and his head rose up for a moment so he could look at you. Your eyelashes were dry—usually, by this time, your cheeks would hold shadows of dried tears, but your face was completely barren. And he hated it.

“C’mere”, he stood up, yanking your legs towards him when he felt you were moving to slow. Then, he helped you stabilise yourself on your shaky legs, before he pushed you to the floor so you were on your knees.

“Suck it”, he ordered, and you quickly pulled his boxers down, weirdly surprised by how big he was. You had seen ex-bf!Toji‘s dick too many times for genitalia that didn’t belong to you, but you had forgotten just how big he was. And now you were faced with his dribbling tip, everything just became a bit too daunting. And ex-bf!Toji could feel it emanating off you, and he reached down to your cheek, stroking it again,

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen it before.”, he scoffed, “Don’t just gawk at it, put it in your mouth. You can take it, we both know you can”, you looked up at him, and nodded at his commands before taking him into your hand and as you were about to wrap your lips around his throbbing tip, he tsked down at you.

“None of that teasing shit. Take the whole thing in your throat”, you scoffed at him, but his face remained straight. He was dead serious.

So you took him into your mouth and, as you were slowly putting more of him into your mouth, he pushed your head down so he hit the back of your throat, and you gagged around him. Earning a dark moan from the figure above you, but he pulled you back slowly, the sensation of his length pulling out of your throat causing two fingers to drift to your clit to rub on it.

“Don’t touch it”, he breathed out, “That’s my job”, he threw his head back, and moaned up into the air.

ex-bf!Toji who fucked your throat for a few minutes, before his thighs and lower abdomen started to twitch and he felt himself getting close. So he pulled himself out of your throat. One hand grabbed the back of your hair to hold you in place, and his other hand pumped his dick before he spoke quietly,

“Close your eyes”, he warned, and you just about had enough time to heed his warning before his cum was spurting all over your face.

“Better”, he smiled, happy that your face was no longer pristine. And, before you could even gather your thoughts to understand what he meant, he was picking you up, and throwing you on your bed.

ex-bf!Toji who licks the nut on your chin, before his tongue leads him to your mouth that he kisses sloppily before pulling back from you. A smirk on his face as he takes a moment to admire how unfaltering your beauty is. You hadn’t changed since the last time you two were in this position and he hoped that it stayed that way.

ex-bf!Toji who finally gets the time to analyse your shirt, and realises he’s never seen it before.

“This his?”, he grabs a handful of the ash grey band tee. You didn’t know how you forgot that the shirt you were wearing belonged to the guy you wee seeing, but ex-bf!Toji noticed it first. You nodded up at him, and his jaw clenched. He had originally planned to pull it off you, but now he knew who it belonged to, he just ripped it in half, revealing your bare nipples. He threw the shirt somewhere in your room, before his lips latched around your nipple, nibbling at it gently, causing you to wince.

ex-bf!Toji who occupies your focus by placing wet, lingering kisses on your torso as a means to distract you while he angled himself at your entrance. That pretty much did nothing because your body reacted before you could even comprehend what was going on. Goosebumps cascaded over you as his tip brushed against your folds. And the satisfaction he got from seeing how something as miniscule as that got such a big reaction from you, meant that he would do it again. One hand on your knee to keep your legs open, and the other placed on his dick to rub the tip against your folds over and over again.

“Toji, please just fuck me!”, you whined desperately, your voice louder than you’d want it to be, and he simply laughed at you. It amused him how your demeanour had changed so quickly.

“‘Fuck me, Toji, fuck me’”, he mocked your voice, “I’ll do what I want, sweetheart. Look at you, begging for me after you were saying you didn’t want to fuck me”, he pouted again, before he slammed himself into you, causing you to cry out.

ex-bf!Toji who fucks you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do; one of your legs sat atop his shoulder as he slams into you, over and over again. The sum of his lips leaving wet kisses wherever they can, his tip so deep inside you that it's damn near touching your lungs, and the obscenities he was licking onto your flaming hot skin, was making you go crazy.

ex-bf!Toji whose mind is fixated on fucking you so good that you won't want anyone ever again. He doesn't want to keep doing this stupid back and forth of you two walking away from each other, only to crawl right back into each others arms again. To say he was jealous was an understatement; he was seething. And, in his mind, it was already decided that you would never be seeing that guy again. Whoever the fuck he was.

“What about your boyfriend, huh? He fuck you like this?”, he chuckled, and you shook your head, still whining, “I could tell. You’re still so fucking tight, it’s like you haven’t been fucked in years”, he chuckled, breathing heavily in your ear.

“H-harder, Toji, p-please”, your words were laboured as, with the way he was pounding into you, you couldn’t garner enough air to voice an entire sentence.

“What about all that shit you were talking earlier, huh?”, he teased, “Telling me you’ve changed, but you still take my dick as good as always. Still so desperate, so needy”, his words were punctuated by harsh thrusts. It wasn’t unusual for him to relieve his anger through fucking you with reckless abandon, even if his stomach spun with guilt afterwards. But this time, ex-bf!Toji was mad at a plethora of things, and the most painful, was losing you.

Even though he never said it, you changed ex-bf!Toji’s life. Before you, he never really thought that making emotional connections with people wasn’t worth it because they were unreliable. But you were so good to him, even when he wasn’t the best to you. He lived in the same apartment building as your best friend, and you had met when you held the elevator open for him. He had never thanked you, he just smirked at you and went about his day. Then, when you next saw him, you expected him to do the same. But he didn’t, and you had teased him about it. He shrugged you off, but then he went home and nutted twice just at the thought of you. He asked you on a date, the night after he did that, and he fell in love with you a few months after.

ex-bf!Toji whose senses are overridden by everything you. Your scent, the noises you make when he hits those spots, and the satisfying sting provided by your french tip nails digging into his back. But, alas, nothing lasts forever, and his bliss was cut short by the shrill cries resonating from your phone. When he looked at the screen, he saw a male name he had never heard you mention. That must be him, he thought to himself. His hips didn’t stop, now thrusting even harder somehow, making it harder for you to push the device further on your bedside table.

“Answer it.”, he growled onto your neck. You knew why he wanted you to answer the phone, and you didn’t want to deal with the drama; you wanted to break things off with this guy in a more amicable way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. Or, worse, stroke ex-bf!Toji‘s ego even more.

“N-no, Toji, that’s n-not— fuckfuckfuck. Toji, I’m gonna c-cum—”, your eyes were rolling so far back you could’ve sworn you saw your brain.

“You’re not cumming until you answer that fucking phone”, ex-bf!Toji stopped his movements, causing you to whine in frustration before you leaned up and shakily grabbed your phone.

“Hello?”, you breathed out, “Yeah? Um…not right now, I’m just busy. Nah, nah, I’m good, just…there was a spider and I was running around looking for it. Yeah, I would’ve called you but…I didn’t want to bother you. I, uh…I want to see you too. But, I’m just real busy right now. But…if we can, then maybe”, your eyes were trained on the man on top of you, and he was training his hands to not pick that phone up and throw it at the wall. But, instead, he put both of his hands on your knees and held them apart and pounded himself into you. Over and over and over again; his only concern being making you moan as loud as you possibly could. Naturally, your phone fell out of your hand and landed softly on the pillow, so ex-bf!Toji picked it up.

“Delete her number.”, was all he said before he placed the phone back onto the pillow. You hoped thought that he hung up, but he hadn’t.

ex-bf!Toji who fucked you harder than he ever had, just because he wanted your boyfriend to cry blood. You hadn’t realised that he hadn’t hung up yet, so when he told you to be louder, you were louder. And when he told you to moan his name like it’s the word that would grant your salvation, you complied as quick as your mind would allow you.

“Tell me you’ll never leave me again”, his thrusts grew harsher; the thought of you being ripped from him again made him beyond frustrated. And that frustration was revealing itself in how hard he was fucking you.

“I c-can’t.”, you stuttered out. How was he asking you to say shit to him when you couldn’t even remember your own name with how good he was fucking you??

“You can, and you will. Now tell me that you’re mine now. That you won’t walk away from me again.”, he growled out and, this time, his hand reached to your throat. With his thumb on one side of your neck, and his index and middle finger on the other, ex-bf!Toji squeezed gently. And that, combined with the way his tip was hitting that spot over and over again, was enough to make you dizzy. But you still obeyed.

“I..w-won’t-t. I p-promise, T-Toji, I won’t!”, you shouted out, and that was the moment your, now, ex-boyfriend hung up. And the smirk imminent on ex-bf!Toji‘s face was very telling; he was smug as fuck. Not only had he gotten rid of the fucker trying to steal the love of his life, but he got his girl back. Whether you meant what you said, or you were too fucked to know, he didn’t know nor care. He would take the angelic noises you were making as gospel.

“Damn fucking right you won’t.”, he muttered, fucking you even harder. Because his plan was just to fuck you so hard your legs gave out, and you literally would never walk away from him.

ex-bf!Toji who made you cum five times before he felt his thighs twitch for the second time that night, and he was beginning to think he was going to draw blood with how hard he was biting his bottom lip.

“Who this pussy belong to, baby?”, he grunted, before biting your earlobe. He sucked it into his mouth, and you were so overstimulated you thought you were going to faint.

“Y-you, Toji, it’s-s yours-s. F-fuckkkkfuckfuckfuckfuck”, you could feel your sixth orgasm, and you were about to lose it all. Any other day, you would talk back and give this man shit, but at this point you just needed him to nut so this could be over with. ex-bf!Toji‘s stamina was insane so he could go round after round after round, but if he was overstimulated you could at least get him to slow down for his own wellbeing.

“Imma cum in this pussy, baby, I can’t hold this shit in no more. You want it?”, the aggression in his thrusts had dropped significantly and their rhythm was far more sporadic. He knew he wasn’t pulling out; you felt so good and the wetness from the amount of times you had cum was just too good to part from.

“You still on birth control?”, he asked, his breathy heavy and laboured, and you nodded lazily. You didn’t know where you were, who you were, or what was going on at this point, and you just needed a break. The dick was too good; you wanted to be in that bed all night, but you needed some time to get yourself together or you’d go insane.

“F-fuck, baby, I c-can’t”, were the last words ex-bf!Toji uttered before his hips stilled inside you, and his head fell. The strands of raven hair that sweat hadn’t glued to his forehead were reaching out to kiss the delicate brown skin on your face.

ex-bf!Toji whose nut seems like it’s never-ending. His head is just dropped down, your foreheads attached, as he just moans lowly, his breath hitting your lips. After a few more seconds, his hips start moving again, as whines start leaving his mouth. You had never heard ex-bf!Toji whine because each time it happened, he stifled it or made sure you moaned loud enough to drown him out. But your ears, and pussy, were twitching at the high pitched noises falling from his mouth. It was just pure desperation; he needed you more than he had ever needed anything, and having you back in his arms felt like heaven to him.

“I missed you so much, princess”, his voice was starting to crack, and his fingers were about to rip through the pillow next to your head, as he came for a third time.

ex-bf!Toji who pulls your cheek onto his bare chest once you guys are done, and traces circles onto your bare arm. All the while, his lips are moving slowly, promising you the world and everything in it. As long as you stay with him forever.

© Rights owned by nanaminsmoon. Do not repost without permission.

[pettyprocrastination]

You don’t have to show this but do you think Omera would have gotten more love if she was white? I don’t ship it but her introduction was badass. I’m surprised that Din gets shipped with white bread so much. One he didn’t even speak to. The amount of fics for that compared to him and Omera is insane. I’m hoping they give him a Latina or black women love interest just to see people’s head explode.

I have ZERO issue with posting this publicly cause i wanna say: yes. 

I apologize this isn't very well written and very scattered about but here are my thoughts. 

PLEASE know I'm not trying to shame any specific writers or readers, I'm just sharing my opinions about the topic. 

(in this I'm also gonna be bringing up Ellaria sand because this isn't something only seen with Din, its seen with just about all his characters)

I think it comes to three things that are very prominent in the pedro fandom specifically: white readers not enjoying content written by/presenting woc because they feel like it doesn't directly project themselves, having an odd animosity/jealousy towards romantic leads of pedro characters and flat-out throwing away the actual characterization of his characters just to thirst for him. 

Now I will say we do have to acknowledge that I know people don't enjoy that he’s shipped with cobb vanth, because they only had a day of interaction but that’s also a mlm ship in the starwars universe so some people would like to see the representation where they can so lets keep that in mind. 

But at the same time I kind of see the mentality of “oh, its not for me? nvm” from fans when the possible romantic character is a person of color because they cant directly relate/project onto them. Which you see a lot with poc writers who make fics that have readers/oc’s that are specifically described as not being white and getting little to no notes. while others making fics that are so specifically for white people with descriptors as such but not acknowledging it when people say “hey you cant really preach inclusivity when this is very clearly written by white women for white women” which you see in moodboards, face claims, and descriptors such as “you blushed bright red” “your pale skin” “your blonde locks” . 

another BIG thing that has a part is this weird ass, juvenile wattpad-esque animosity female fans often have towards female characters who have the possibility of being a romantic lead for characters pedro plays. I know it sounds ridiculous to say, but so many fans do have this weird, almost jealous mentality to female characters who are romantic leads/have romantic tension with his character.

Like we see other female leads in the Mandalorian get lots more love than Omera, because they are mostly depicted as having a platonic relationship with Din. For exmaple, Fennec, cara, and peli, I've seen much more content for them than omera because its almost never in a romantic sense. 

Hell, before gina carano’s shit went public people were always posting about thirsting for cara dune+ how she and din were best buds and loved the relationship between them. 

And lets be real, the amount of fanfiction that the reader is essentially peli (a starky mechanic who befriends mando and becomes a kind figure to the child, who almost always becomes a live-in mechanic on the razor crest) is astronomical. You could literally switch the perspective and slap peli in and it’d make more sense but nobody wants to do that because they want to be with din, not imagine him with another female character cause they get weirdly threatened. 

(no shade to people who write that fanfiction im just SAYING)

Its not just mando either, it happens with a lot of his characters who have distinct relationships already, especially with Oberyn Martell and his lover Ellaria.  He says multiple times she is the love of his live, mother of three (i think) of his children and always accompanies him on his travels, when asked if he gets tired of her during their journeys he says “never. We share too much.”

a good majority of oberyn fanfiction either doesn't involve her at all, or writes her off as a bitch to pose animosity between her and the victim-reader or simply write her off as “she and oberyn don't love each other anymore wah-wah” even though she’s is quite literally his soulmate. 

He’s also often written to become suddenly monogamous upon meeting the reader, which just seems out of character given he is an openly polyamorous, bisexual man that talks about the joys of living life and loving freely quite often. 

Even with Marcus Moreno, when the trailer came out for We Can Be Heroes, I would see people make posts about how they hope he’s a widower instead of a married man cause they want him single.

Now I know a lot of this fandom is straight women so I don't expect them to suddenly enjoy wlw-reader relationships or polyships (even tho they do but only when its two dudes and one girl who is usually the reader but that’s a different issue) It comes down to the simple issues of throwing away the basis of the character just to thirst for pedro. (for oberyn at least)

I know some blogs on here that have gotten anons explaining the reason they dislike Ellaria that are the exact same traits Oberyn has: arrogance, sexual confidence ect. Its hot when he has it but if a female (often of color) has it, shes a bitch for some reason. 

Not even gonna get into Dave York, who was a moderately enjoyable character in the film but his character in fanfiction a good 80% of the time is “i like to cheat on my bitch of a wife with you” so lets leave it at that. 

Now. let me say there aint no shame in writing smut. I do it. I read it. And i enjoy it! But at somepoint you look at it and go “this isn’t even the character anymore” and find it a bit tiring. As well as the lack of attention writers of color get in the fandom where the main muse literally a latino man but whatever. 

This was a very long winded way of saying yes anon, I do think omera wouldve gotten more attention if she was white. But even then people still wouldn’t like her because she would pose a threat to their reader-insets. what are you gonna do I guess lmao

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

[itsallyscorner]

just like magic with marvel cast, the vibe is----- a perfect song for a lil b*tch with a good heart and a sarcastic mouth

just like magic is the song we ALL need for 2020😌 Start manifesting ya’ll🖤 Also thank you sm for the request I am so so sorry this took so freakin’ long😭 Love u, happy reading🖤🖤 Tried to add my own lil twist to your request:)

(A lil different from the request, but I tried to make the reader have a bit sas.)

💌.

just like magic

Growing up within the Marvel Cinematic Universe was probably one of things you were most grateful for. When you first started out you weren’t that social. You were new to the business, you didn’t know anybody and you were intimidated by every single actor you crossed paths with.

At first you didn’t feel like you fit in. You felt as if you were a burden to everyone else. You barely talked to anyone which made the others approach you out of force by the Russos. Everyone around you was talented while you were just some newcomer who had jack shit as experience. The first few years you were insecure of yourself mentally and physically. You weren’t as pretty or fit as the other women in the MCU nor did your skills live up to theirs. Which led to some unhealthy habits. Plus there were haters and movie critics who would say horrible things about you and your acting.

You had a rocky start unlike Tom Holland and even Lexi Rabe. Until one day when you realized that you had to change how you were thinking. It took you a while but all that negative thinking you were doing was only bringing you negative energy. So when you had a break from filming movies, your number one goal was to improve yourself.

Wake up in my bed, I just wanna have a good day (Mmm, ah)

Think it in my head, then it happens how it should, ayy

Twelve o'clock, I got a team meeting, then a meditation at like 1:30

Then I ride to the studio listening to some shit I wrote (Oh)

You woke up with smile on your face in a sense of calmness. The sun shined bright hues into your room as you got up from your bed. Today was the first day back on set. You guys were finally filming Civil War and you were honestly so excited. As you did your morning routine, you went over how the day would go in your head. You’re genuinely excited to see the entire cast. It has been almost half a year since you’ve seen everyone and you couldn’t wait to be back.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror. Compared to the previous year, you looked and felt healthy. Your eyes shined and you looked well relaxed. You know like one of those face cleanser commercials? That’s how you felt. You felt like a breath of fresh air.

The ride to the studio took a good 30 minutes but it felt like seconds. You entered the set with a new sense of confidence and pride. The energy was practically radiating off you.

“(Y/n)?” You hear someone call from behind you. You turn around and see Scarlett looking at you.

“Hey!” You greet her as you approach her. You pulled her into a hug, startling her.

“Oh! Hello to you too, honey.” She laughed as she wrapped her arms around you. “How are you?”

“I’m doing great! Life’s been good.” You answer as a toothy grin graces itself on your face. Scarlett’s eyes are filled with shocked. From the previous times she’s talked to you she’s never seen you so loud or open. You were always shy and closed off from everyone on set.

Good karma, my aesthetic (Aesthetic)

Keep my conscience clear, that's why I'm so magnetic

Manifest it (Yeah), I finessed it (I finessed it)

Take my pen and write some love letters to Heaven

Eventually everyone on set caught on to your new attitude. Though they tried to be discreet about their reactions and shocked expressions, you could still see how they were caught off guard by your sudden change of nature.

Anthony watched as you conversed with Elizabeth and Scarlett on the couch in Robert’s “village” . You were probably the most smiliest person in the room beating Evans, who was eating his lunch.

“She’s like different. But in a good way. It’s like she’s bloomed.” Anthony thought out loud to the men beside him. Chris (E) and Sebastian look in your direction.

“Bloomed?” Chris snorted as he swallowed his food.

“Yeah, like she’s growing into a woman.” Anthony hummed proudly as he went back to his own lunch. Sebastian smiled at you, “I think she’s gained some confidence in herself and finally realized how good of a person she is.”

“If she’s finally realized that, I’m glad she did. She’s like a ball of sunshine, it’s adorable.” Chris smiled proudly at you as your hands move around animatedly while explaining some story to the two women in front of you.

“Y’all think it’s a boy?” Anthony wondered. Sebastian rolled his eyes at his friend. Before he can even respond Anthony is calling you over. You approach the men with a smile and take a seat beside Sebastian.

“What’s up?” You greet them. Chris nods at you as he chews on his sandwich. Sebastian greeting you with a quiet “hey”.

“So who’s the lucky man?” Anthony asks teasingly. Your brows knit together head tilting to the side.

“Man?”

“Yes man, or boy, whatever. Who’s got you feelin’ yourself, (y/n).” Anthony wiggles his brows as he shimmies closer to you. Sebastian, who’s in between you two, cringes at the man to his left.

You didn’t take any offense to the question, knowing that everyone was curious as to why you were so unlike yourself.

You chuckled before smirking at the older man, “Anthony, honey. I don’t need a man to be feelin’ myself. I did this on my own.”

Chris and Sebastian’s mouth drop at your answer. Chris laughed as he pointed out Anthony’s face. Sebastian slung an arm around your shoulder bringing you into a side hug as he laughed with Chris.

“To be fair” Chris began to say but started to laugh, “To be fair, you deserved that.” Anthony’s face went flushed as he nodded to himself. You suddenly felt bad that you put him on the spot.

“Alright, stop laughing at him.” You playfully glare at Chris and Seb. You poke Anthony’s arm, “To answer your question, I’ve just been working on myself. Thinking more positively, I even tried manifestation.”

“You know what, that’s good. You’re taking care of yourself mentally and physically. I’m proud of you for doing this for yourself, we all are.” Anthony tells you as he motions to the two other men.

You look at all three of them, all of them looking at you with pride, “Thanks guys.”

Just like magic (Baby), just like magic (Oh yeah)

Middle finger to my thumb and then I snap it

Just like magic (Yeah), I'm attractive (Oh yeah)

I get everything I want 'cause I attract it (Oh)

As the months passed, the more you evolved into another version of you. You walked with determination, carried yourself with such grace and you’ve gained confidence in your career. You didn’t let your insecurities get to you, instead you faced them and overcame them. You were tired of letting them control you.

Your change in attitude and perspective on life has definitely affected your life in many ways. Manifestation was one of the things that have helped you the most. Writing about your goals and putting that energy out to the world has helped you persevere in your job. You’ve only faced good karma; sending out positive energy and receiving it back from the universe.

So far you’ve been casted in two new projects and have a campaign lined up with Gucci. If you were told a year ago that you’d be working with big time directors and freakin’ Gucci, you wouldn’t have believe them. Life has been unreal ever since you decided to change your life around. But of course you had to thank your Marvel family, without them and their support you probably wouldn’t haven gotten to where you were today.

Looking at my phone, but I'm tryna disconnect it (Oh yeah)

Read a fuckin' book, I be tryna stay connected (Yeah)

Say it's tricky at the top, gotta keep a slim ego for a thick wallet

Losing friends left and right, but I just send 'em love and light (Oh)

As many people recognized your success many people still tried to pull you down. Some fans on social media have noticed your change in behavior and have even praised you for practicing self care. While others still tried to push you off the mountain of success you were currently on and drag you across the ground.

These were the reasons as to why you were barely on your phone anymore. You used to be invested in your phone but after realizing how much negativity it brought you, you’ve decided to slowly disconnect from it. Which led you to becoming more interested into books.

Chris (E) had even brought some of his favorite arts of literature for you to borrow. You were currently on your third book of his, Sapiens A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari. You were sitting outside your trailer in a fold up chair under the shade. Your peacefulness was interrupted by Tom (Holland) who had a worried expression on his face.

“Have you not seen it yet?” He asked you as soon as he was in front of you. Being the two most youngest actors on the current set, you guys were closer to each other than with the adults.

“Seen what, Tommy?” You put a finger in between the pages you were reading to save your spot. Tom pulls his phone out and began to type. He tapped on his screen and turned the screen to you.

“She’s been talking crap about you for days.” You read the article and saw that one of your ��friends”, Sabrina has been speaking out about your success and how it’s changed you as a person.

“She’s going off about how the more money you get in your wallet, the more bratty and arrogant you become.” He grumbled as he turned his phone off.

“I could care less, honestly. I know I haven’t done anything to her and if I did I was unaware of it. Plus, she stopped talking to me after I said I couldn’t get her a part in a movie.” You shrugged as you placed a proper bookmark in the book.

“You’re not upset?”

“I mean it’s sad that she’s acting so two faced. But if that’s how she wants to roll, then be my guest. It’s her loss, not everyone has great taste.” You flicked a piece of hair away from your face with your hand.

“You’re not gonna release a statement against her?”

“No, probably just wish her well with her life and move on with my own.” You answered much to Tom’s dismay.

Redesign your brain, we gon' make some new habits

Just like magic (Just like magic), just like magic

Filming has officially ended a few months ago and now you guys were doing press tour for Civil War. Before you were the new and improved version of yourself, you dreaded press tours. Some interviewers were nice and respectful, but there were those who would ask inappropriate questions and were just rude in general. All you could remember during those past tours was wanting to leave those rooms as soon as possible.

The q&a panel at New York had a packed room. There were many journalist crowded in the room shoulder to shoulder. You were sat in between Elizabeth and Scarlett, two of the women who have been guiding you and teaching you about life as a woman in the business. They were also like your older sisters.

The panel had been going smoothly for the first half hour until a man with a snobby face and cocky demeanor approached the mic.

“Hello, I’m Keith and my question’s for (y/n).” He began. You nodded in his direction, motioning for him to continue.

“I think everyone’s noticed how you’ve changed and developed as a person. Obviously something’s changed in your life. So I want to know if you’ve had any intimate relationships with any of the men in the cast?” You were surprised at the man’s question. First it was bold of him to ask such a question and second it was just disrespectful to you and the others on the cast.

“I mean someone’s gotta be fucking you good to make you crawl out your shell.” The man finished shrugging nonchalantly. Robert was about to interject but your mouth was quicker than his. The men of the cast were disgusted at the man while they sat at the edge of their seats.

“Well last time I checked my contract, my job was to act, not sleep around with the men who are part of these movies.” You spoke into the mic. All the attention was on you while the room was at a standstill.

“It’s also very upsetting that you think a girl needs to be fucked in order to be confident in herself. I hate to break it to you but women are completely capable of turning their lives around without the help of men and that says a lot about you, sir. So if I were you, I’d take myself back to my seat and rethink my life because if one of us has to redesign our brains it’s you.” You finished as you placed your mic on your lap. The room was silent until the cast began to clap. This was your first time standing up for yourself, usually Robert or Scarlett would swoop in and save you but this time, you were saving yourself.

You shook your head as you blushed, shoving your head in your hands. You felt some pats on the backs and cheers from your dysfunctional family. You look up and see Scarlett and Elizabeth smiling at you proudly.

“Isn’t she amazing?” Robert asked the crowd as he hugged you. The crowd cheering you on.

Just like magic, your life felt like a dream come true, knowing that you were worth it and enough for the people around you and for yourself.

[dreamcatcherjiah]

Tight Hearts | JHS Part 12

💞Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

Part 12

A/N: AND SO IT BEGINS! The first of my July updates guys! I hope you guys liked this part as much as I loved writing it! Let me know your thoughts!🥺♥️ If you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask!

Three weeks later.

Sitting in the kitchen island with your laptop open and your work email mocking you from the screen, you pulled your hair and you wondered what, apart from Hyejin, was keeping you working for that company. 

After some nasty negotiations with your boss by BigHit’s lawyers, you had been allowed to work from home while the situation normalised itself and you could be on the oposite side of town away from Hoseok without feeling pain. If you had known the middle aged man who called himself the soul of the company and took advantage of your absence would spam your mailbox with thousands of emails a day, you wouldn’t have had second thoughts about quitting. Damn the company and damn getting paid, you would think about finding a job using the time you were wasting answering all those emails. But no, you were a very headstrong woman and you would be damned if all the efforts you had put into securing that job went down the drain because you had happened upon a patronising asshole of a boss. 

You let your head fall to your hands. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, Hoseok and the boys had to be in three different places throughout the day, filming advertisements, recording for their comeback and getting ready for the different end-of-the-year performances. You would have to tag along, posing as Sejin’s new shadow, manager in training he called it, so people wouldn’t be suspicious of the new addition to BTS’s entourage. According to the head manager, if you just kept a low profile and didn’t stop tapping away in your computer, no one would think to question what your were doing. But for you to be able to calmly tap away in said computer, you needed to get all the phone calls done before you left the apartment. 

Some arrangements had been made so you could stay in they guys apartment the nights when there was an early schedule and Hoseok couldn’t stay with you in his own apartment. Taehyung was now Jimin’s new roommate and he had kindly (not unteasingly) offered his room for you and Hoseok to share when you simply couldn’t waste time commuting to the dorm and then the company. 

You could hear the cheery voices of the boys in the living room, watching some movie about a train full of zombies on its way to Busan. How they had managed to rope Hoseok into watching the movie was beyond you but you guessed that, since you two had been spending huge amounts of time together, it made sense that now that you could stand further apart, Hoseok spent time with his brothers. Your heartbeat accelerated and that was all the warning you needed before a shrill scream that sounded suspiciously between a mixture of Yoongi and your soulmate reached you in the kitchen. Chuckling, you put your phone down and listened while holding your breath for the next round of groans and complaints. What a big bunch of babies. What you did hear were some rapid footsteps approaching you and you didn’t bat an eyelid when two slim arms snaked their way around your waist and the head of your soulmate settled on your shoulder. Hoseok had taken to hugging you from behind when you weren’t paying attention to him, the uncertainty and nerves that you felt through the bond letting you know that he was still uneasy about invading your personal space or distracting you. Every time you noticed how he was about to extract himself from you, you would hold his wrist and tighten his hold around you, nesting against his chest. This time was no different and you let go a small sigh when you relaxed against his frame, your head finding purchase on his shoulder. You let your head roll to the side, ghosting a small feather-like kiss on his ear, making him giggle.

“Why do you leave me alone with all those adrenaline-junkies, horror-movie-lovers when you are just here scowling at your computer?” He asked as he moved your bodies side to side in a playful manner. “How long do you think you still have before you can come to the living room with us?”

You raised your hand to his head and caressed his brown hair out of his eyes.

“I don’t want to be in between you and the boys, I have done that for almost a month already,” you told him, a smile tugging at your lips at how he started shaking his head no the moment the words were out of your mouth, “go back to them, I still have to make some calls.”

He disentangled himself to you and, turning the stool where you were sitting, put his hands on your shoulders. His lips formed a small pout. That was something you had started noticing as the weeks went by. He was reserved most of the time, keeping contact to the minimum and only opening up when the two of you were alone. You guessed that falling asleep one in each side of the bed and waking up in each other’s arms had something to do with his (and your) gradual openness. But when it was late and he was tired, he became clingy and tended to use his cute face to get what he wanted from you. Usually it would be to turn off the lights or to get him a glass of water from the kitchen before you went to bed; but tonight he seemed to have a different plan.

“You are not in anybody’s way, do you hear me?” He sternly chastised, waiting for your nod to continue, “the boys were the ones who asked me where you were and invited you to join us in movie night. Now, what have we told you a million and one times about not isolating yourself?” His chin up and a fake angry look on his face, he was enjoying himself way too much with the whole telling you off thing, but still, you could not just not humour him. Not when his brown hair was tossed in every direction and looked as fluffy as it did right now.

“That I am part of the family now and I have every right to be anywhere with you guys as long as I don’t hide food from you and don’t try to isolate myself…”

His face lighted up like a christmas tree and he proceded to exaggeratedly motion to your work set-up.

“And what are you doing right now?” He question, eyebrow nearly reaching his hairline.

With a cheeky grin you booped his nose and took advantage of that brief moment when his face turned all shades of red and he looked at you open-mouthed to turn back around and answer your phone as it started ringing. I am working, you mouthed to a still malfunctioning Hoseok, with a wicked smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

While you talked on the phone, you could see him look back towards the living room at the same time that a bit of uncertainty reached you through your string; at watching the movie or leaving you alone in the kitchen alone, you wouldn’t know.

Then Hoseok walked towards you, kissed the crown of your head and began cleaning the kitchen. It was a weird feeling, the both of you being in the same room, you working and him organising cabinets full of ramyeon, in companionable silence. It felt domestic. That word would have scared the living daylight out of you a few weeks ago; thinking only of the strong reactions you had when you thought that meeting your soulmate was automatically loosing your independence made your head spin. That had been only three short weeks ago, when you had been so guarded against this sweet man, who would buy four different bottles of shampoo in case he didn’t buy one you liked, the man who would put his life upside down for you, going as far as spending every possible night in his own apartment away from his brothers in case you felt uncomfortable living with seven men. You knew that somewhere deep down, he felt guilty for keeping you from your life as it was before you found him, he sometimes felt violent when some gesture or caress felt more a produce of the bond than natural and genuine. He felt sad when he had to say goodbye to his brothers when the managers dropped them off at night, and felt imposing when you had to follow them around to three or four different schedules in a day. In fact he had been mulling over that last one for the past few days; it wasn’t as if you could read his mind, you had just learned to map his emotions and the second he started looking at you sideways and feeling anxious you knew it was because of the busy schedule they had the next day.

Voices distracted you from your musings and you focused on how two sets of footsteps neared the kitchen accompanied by two hushed voices.

“… but I don’t want to interrupt her, hyung. She is working and that is her first priority…” whispered Yoongi.

“Well, if you had been a bit longer around her instead of being buried under your huge pile of self-imposed work, you would know her boss is an a-hole,” answered Jin. They were not walking anymore, they had stopped near the kitchen entrance, thinking they were whispering low enough for you not to hear them. You couldn’t help but agree with Seokjin. “I am this close to making her quit and hiring her myself, even with our workload she would be less stressed. Now kindly shut up and help me pry those two from the kitchen and take them back to the sweet delights of watching Joon internally scream.”

Pretending not to have heard anything, you swallowed a giggle and, noticing Hoseok hadn’t realised his brothers were coming, you went back to your laptop playing the oblivious victim too.

“Oh the joys of working over-time!” Exclaimed Seokjin as a way of making their presence known and he managed to startle Hoseok into dropping the cup he was rinsing into the sink.

“I promise I tried to stop him Y/N, you can keep working,” said Yoongi, who cleared his throat and, seeing Hoseok’s frantic movements behind your back, added, “But on the other hand, since you have been working very hard these past few weeks, I think it’s time you take a small break.”

His face was a sweet confused picture, torn between his desire to let you know that you could keep working if so you wanted and the one to please Hoseok.

“Come on, you two. Hobi, drop that cup, if you keep cleaning it you’ll turn it transparent. And Y/N stop being an excuse for him to get out of watching the movie,” Jin’s eyes, gleaming with mischief moved from a fumbling Hoseok to you and you rolled your eyes.

“Let’s go, it’s about time I clocked out at…” you looked at your watch, “well, 11pm.”

Hoseok walked up to you, nerves reaching you from his side of the bond, and guided you behind his brothers to the living room where Jimin got closer to Namjoon to open up a spot for you both.

The rest of the boys didn’t even flinch when Hoseok hugged your waist and rested his head against your collarbone; they all knew Hobi needed some sort of support to get through the rest of the movie and while he might have relied in one of the boys to get that emotional help in the past, none of them seemed to care you had now become his buffer. In fact, they all seemed to be smiling happily and content when you joined them.

The movie was in full swing now and, more than once Hoseok had opted to hiding his face against your neck, letting small whimpers linger in his chest. His body was tense and you could feel his lips pouting against your neck.

To try and calm him down, maybe take his mind off the movie, you started caressing his neck with your nails. Any other person would have started giggling at being tickled, but not Hoseok. He told you one morning when you woke up with him wrapped around you with his head on your chest that when he was a child, his mother and sister would caress his arms and his chest to get him to fall asleep. Since that particular piece of information had been incorporated into your knowledge about him you hadn’t been able to use it until now; running your nails in circular motions at the nape of his neck, up behind his ears and down to his shoulders. His body slowly started unwinding and relaxing against yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin and his slowing breath lulling you slowly to sleep. You wouldn’t know who fell asleep first, but soon you were drifting off. 

Hushed voices arose you from your deep sleep but too comfortable now nested under Hoseok’s arm you didn’t stir. The voices were gaining more definition as the seconds passed and becoming easier to understand.

“… and you were out hyung, like a log,” was saying Taehyung.

“I didn’t expect you to be so comfortable with her so quickly, if I am to be honest,” continued Namjoon and you tried not to tense up.

Hoseok took a deep breath and dropped a small kiss to your head.

“It’s not the bond, if that’s what you’re getting at Joons,” he told him firmly, “she is IT, guys. Her personality is brilliant, she can keep up with us, she knows just what to do when I am tired or frustrated… Just the other day she took a look at me, dropped her bag and latched herself to my studio chair with me. I just worked but she was there, steady, dependable, sweet. She doesn’t crave attention, mine or anyone else’s, she’s just happy being there. I can’t put into words what she makes me feel, but the fact that she’s my soulmate is only one more certainty for us. I can see me perfectly falling hard for her when we get to know each other more, that’s how I feel.”

Silence had fallen over the room as his brothers processed what Hoseok had just said, and you were happy enough to repeat your three word confession inside your head, not knowing Hoseok felt and reciprocated the same feelings through the bond. Verbalising is taken for granted, but you two had your own way of showing love.

Tag list: @obsessoverthesmallthings247 @mabel-k3 @tremendousminyoongi @justignoremepleaz @demonic-meatball @hadaises @littlestsweetpea28 @rjsmochii @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @gali-005 @salty-for-suga @indicisive-af @nomimits7@lysjeon @raisatarannum1234 @purplelady85 @threedecadesofawkward @valentynxmgc @acopenhagenarmy @ephyra1230 @minluvly​ @trashandshook @brinascorpio @trixiethebear @hobi-love @geekgirl41402 @annywaa @mirajanefairytailmage​ @alpacaparkaseok​ @bangtan-madi​ @preciouschimine​ @forget-me-notforever​

[downbythegay]

I asked about the trans reader, I guess it was a bit of both? Lol

What's funny is I was already writing one where the reader comes out to Spencer (who he has feelings for) as trans when you asked this. Here's what you asked for, though! I'll post the other one at some point in the next week, hopefully.

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

Content Warnings: Mentions of transphobia, anxiety, talk of bottom surgery

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

“I followed the trail out of the room, invigorated by the possibility of reinventing my own body. The meaning was mine, as long as I was with those who had the vision and vocabulary to understand my creation.” - Nick Krieger

⁙

Y/N took a deep breath. He’d been getting up the courage to do this for weeks, now. He scanned the rest of his team quickly, trying to determine further if his announcement would put any of them in a bad mood. Spencer was flipping through the pages of a very large book with a french title. Morgan was resting with his shades on and his head back. Rossi and Hotch were discussing something quietly, but Hotch had that slight twinkle in his eye that told Y/N that it wasn’t something serious. Prentiss and JJ were also talking amongst each other, occasionally showing the other something on their phone.

Y/N knew that none of them would hate him for who he was. They weren’t transphobic, at least they’d never shown themselves to be. But he was worried that they’d treat him differently. He was worried that they would baby him or accidentally misgender him, things like that. Things that have happened with other people he’s been out to after being stealth, and that he’s seen happen to other trans guys countless times. Y/N was trying to fight off all the anxious thoughts that have been holding him back.

He knew he didn’t owe them his coming out. But, they had always treated him like family, and he wanted to be able to be as vulnerable with them as they had been with him. He knew it took a lot of strength for Morgan to open up about his past sexual abuse, JJ about her miscarraige, Hotch about his abusive childhood and the loss of his wife, and Spencer about his trauma related to… well most of his life. He wanted to show them his strength, too.

Y/N stood up, and Hotch, Spencer, and Prentiss immediately looked up at him. “Um…,” Y/N faltered. “Oh, Garcia!” he exclaimed. He had almost forgotten to call her to include her in the announcement.

“Hey, Y/N what’s up?” she said, smiling. It was as kind and comforting as ever, and Y/N felt his nerve lighten up a little bit seeing it.

“So, um, I have a, uh, thing I wanted to share with you guys,” Y/N said. Everyone was looking at him now, silent and listening intently. The twinkle in Hotch’s eyes wasn’t there anymore, and the nerves returned. “It’s not like, the most important thing, but I wanted you guys to know since I consider you like family. Um,” Y/N looked down and breathed deeply. Oh, this was a mistake, he thought.

“Whatever it is, we love you like family, too,” Spencer said. His voice was soft and slightly shaky, and a huge comfort to Y/N. Y/N looked back up and locked eyes with Hotch. He nodded at him, silently letting him know that it was fine to sit down or go forward. Hotch always had such a kind sentiment behind his stern countenance.

“Okay, well, I um, okay, here it is: I’m trans. I was born with female anatomy and have been transitioning for a while. I don’t want you guys to treat me any differently than you already have, I just wanted you to know,” Y/N said. He couldn’t bring himself to look anybody in the eyes, just because then it would feel like this was even more real.

“Thank you for telling us. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to do so,” Hotch said. Y/N looked at him, and noticed a slight smile. He felt tears starting to well up in his eyes.

“Ooh! I’m so glad you finally came out! I’m so proud of you!” said Garcia, as enthusiastic as ever.

Y/N laughed a little bit. “Thanks- what do you mean ‘finally’?”

Garcia looked like a deer in headlights. “Uh, nothing. Don’t worry about it!”

Morgan chimed in. “Babygirl, what did you do?”

“I may have done a background check on Y/N when he was brought onto the team, and found out during my snooping. But I didn’t say anything to anyone! Well, except this one drag queen that I was talking to at a bar when I got plastered. But that’s it! And she promised not to say anything either!”

Y/N started laughing really hard. Some of the other team members were chuckling too, including Garcia.

“It’s none of my business, but I’ve read some really fascinating reports about a Norweigan practice for phalloplasties, which are the most medically advanced in the world. They have the most anatomically realistic appearance and nerve feeling, with even some surgeons inserting a device which allows the patient to have what functions as an erection. It’s got an incredible success rate for alleviating gender dysphoria, and-”

“Reid, maybe you could talk to him more privately about this? He just came out, we don’t need to bombard him with facts and questions about it,” Prentiss said. She smiled at Y/N. “Thanks for telling us, Y/N.”

Y/N sat down, with a noticeable weight lifted off of his chest. Rossi came over and sat across from him. “Hey, kid. That took a lot of courage. I’m proud of you.”

Y/N smiled. “Thanks, Rossi.”

“I’m just glad you’re living as yourself. Not enough people do that nowadays,” he said before patting your shoulder and walking back over to sit with Hotch.

You got up and sat next to Reid. “What were you saying about the Norweigan surgery?”

⁙

“I love myself. I am becoming myself. I am loved. I am enough.” - Alex Clare-Young

[ally22042000]

Linked by fate

Introduction

Werewolf AU

Fluff, Angst

OT7 x Reader

Pack Alpha: Namjoon

Alpha: Hoseok, Jimin, Jungkook

Beta: Seokjin, Yoongi, Taehyung

Omega: Y/N

Wordcount: 2K

A/N: Hobi’s got kind of long 😊. I hope you like this. I had this idea in my head for a while and would love to write more pieces about them and their journey. Pls tell me what you think about it and you can always leave requests if there are certain things you’d like to read. -Ally

It has always been the eight of you. Since your childhood you were inseparable. A bond was created whose strength and depth was unknown to most. A phase, everybody thought, that was going to fade away the older you would get. The longing for independence was supposed to fill your minds and draw you apart from each other. A prediction that since this day has not occurred.

Namjoon, the born alpha, who one day will take over his mother’s pack and be the leader everyone imagined him to be. He has shown his ability to take care of others, since a young age. Like that time in Taehyung’s first year of elementary school. He never told the others about the bullies at school who made is life a living hell simply because he had a different approach to most tasks. They declared him as weird and treated him like an outsider.

The leader picked up on his change in behaviour quickly, noticing that the six-year-old started speaking less and only answering questions that were specifically direct at him. A one-eighty to his usual happy and chattery personality. He picked the younger boy up from school the next day and walked in on a scene that made his blood run cold. Three boys were standing above Tae, the little wolf covering on the floor, his painting crushed under the tallest foot.

A growl left the alpha and before Namjoon knew what had happened, he had shifted for the first time. Four paws running across the school grounds scaring of the three kids, that knew they didn’t stand a chance against the son of the cities pack alpha. It was the first time Namjoon had to stand up for one of his members and seeing Taehyung on the floor in front of him, tears glistening on his round cheeks and admiration shining in his eyes as he petted the brown wolf in front of him, he knew, he would do anything to keep his pack safe.

Seokjin, as the medic of the group, was an important asset. Always patched up the maknae line when they were rough housing as you were all growing into your hierarchical roles and pheromones were going wild. Or that one time an older she-wolf had pushed you to the ground during Junior High, saying you were too young to play with them. Quickly you had gotten up and pulled on her hair, which resulted in her running her nails over your face and leaving scratches on your cheek and chin. Her teacher broke up the fight and you were both send home. 

After the scolding of your parents, Jin was called over and addressed your wounds. Nothing major had to be done and at the and you and the beta fell asleep watching a movie in your living room. Your faced buried in his neck, in haling the familiar mixture between wood and rice, which had always been able to calm you down.

Yoongi, who always napped in the corner during kindergarten and growled at anyone who annoyed him. But he was always more bark than bit. Unless the situation called for it of course. In elementary he shifted his nap place beneath the tree on the playgrounds. Enjoying the shade as a brise tousled his dark brown fur. Jungkook loved to sneak up on the elder and pull his ears, then quickly escape his nip and giggling while Yoongi chased him around the tree. Seokjin calling from the seesaw that he would not patch up any injuries. A smile bright on his face.

Hoseok, the glue of your group, as the son of your pack’s master of fight he was born with an amount of agility and skill like none of you. Nobody believed that the little sunshine boy could arise to the role assign but whenever the necessity arouse Hobi proved to everyone what a skilled fighter and wolf he was and that he was able to protect his pack.

You remember it clearly, that day Jimin and you went for a run. It had only been a few weeks since the both of you turned for the first time, so walking on for legs was still a hurdle to overcome. You weren’t allowed to leave the grounds of your pack; it was too dangerous considering that you still couldn’t protect yourself in this form. But you didn’t care, choosing to enjoy the freedom you had and testing your limits in this new form.

Unaware of the presence watching you, analysing your movements and swiftly deciding, that you both were an easy match. One second you were pulling on Jimin’s tail, messing with the older and the next a vicious growl came from behind you. Jimin immediately stood between you and the rouge, trying to shield his omega from harms way. One look at the other wolf showed that he was older, probably in his thirties or forties, and as strong as Jimin was or a seventeen-year-old, you both were aware of the fact, that he didn’t stand a chance against the intruder. You needed help. The second your howled, was the second the rouge decided to attack. He new he didn’t have much time and had to get rid of you fast. He crashed into Jimin’s body, their forms rolling around on the ground. The white fur of your pack member a stark contrast to your surroundings and the brown fur of the attacking wolf.

A yelp from Jimin is what caused you to spring into action. Blood was dripping down his left shoulder. You tried to let out a terrifying growl but even to your ears it sounded pathetic. It was enough to get the wanted attention though. The rough turned his attentiveness to you, baring his teeth which were covered in Jimin’s blood. You stood your ground, willing to do whatever it took to protect your pack member. His slow steps rapidly changed into a sprint and you reciprocated the action. But before you could meet, Hoseok jumped out of the bushes surrounding you, catching the wolf mid-air and forcing him to the ground.

It wasn’t much of a fight. Hoseok was clearly stronger and more skilled than the intruder. Quickly he brought the enemy on his back and snaped his neck with his teeth. Letting go of the body, he turned around and scanned the situation. It was clear that Jimin need immediate attention, so he ran over to the younger wolf. You stood frozen in place, staring at the dead animal, whose eyes were open and facing you. You hadn’t noticed when the others arrived and Seokjin tending to Jimin’s wound. Jumping slightly when Hobi pressed his head into your neck, startling you.

You stared into his eyes. Apart of both of you feared that you would be scared of him after having seen him murder someone. Taking a life so easily. But the look in his eyes showed nothing but love and protectiveness. A silent massage, that he always would protect you and the pack, whatever it may cost.

Jimin, beauty and elegance personified in one little being. Form a young age he was always well spoken and able to swoon anybody with his silver tongue and remarkable looks. Especially in Senior high, those looks brough a lot of insecurities with them and put a lot of pressure on Jimin mentally. He would skip out on meals and train whenever he could. Being a part of the dance team with Hoseok, his body was always on display for others to judge. A fact which brought a lot of fear and dark thoughts.

It was Yoongi who realised it first. The both of them were always bickered like an old married couple but cared for each other deeply. When he realised what Jimin was doing he immediately went to Jin and Namjoon. The four of them had a long talk which involved a lot of shouting and accusations. Until Jimin broke down crying. The walls he had built came trembling down and he admitted to the negative thoughts clouding his mind. That night you set up a nest for you and the alpha. Cuddling him all night long, while whispering uplifting words of affection into his hair.

Taehyung, the artist with a smile that could dazzle the sun. His talent for remembering paths and nature facts has helped your group out of a lot of scary situations and gets acknowledge often in your pack. Particularly, when the alphas and betas went out for a hunt, Taeyhung’s attended was often requested alongside Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s to insure the safe and swift return of everyone.

Furthermore, he loved to help out in the nearby day care. Playing with the kids and reading them stories took up a big part of his free time, especially during holidays. He often forced Jimin to go with him, so he could teach them a new choreography. It always ended with Jimin going home more exhausted than he is after dance practise.  

Jungkook, brute strength embodied in a boy with a heart of gold. Always ready to stir up trouble, especially with Tae or Jin, and loves to be babied my everyone. He never fails to be responsible and attentive for the ones he loves though. Like that time, you caught a cold during winter break and only the maknae line was home. The hyungs had to attend a pack meeting with Namjoon’s mother out of town.

Jungkook had cooked you soup everyday and made sure you took your medicine at the right moments. He called Jin multiple times during those four days to make sure he did everything right. Late at night he would crawl into bed with you and provide you with his body heat. His alpha on high alert to make sure his omega was comfortable and protected while she rested.

Y/N, the only omega of the group, but still a force to be reckoned with. As the only girl in the group, you know how to keep the young wolfs in check. Never letting them get out of line. Whacking them over the back of their heads whenever the situations called for it, which was often. Although you are able to stand up for yourself, your omega tendencies shine through whenever you are with the boys. Loving to be pampered and cared for by them. Physical affection playing a huge part in your relationship. A language all of you learn to read and communicate with.

Getting off form a stressful day at school, you would ride the bus past your stop and go over to one of their houses. Laying in Namjoons bed while he reads a book about pack laws and traditions or you would back hug Seokjin while he prepared something to eat for everyone. Calling the others over, so the eight of you could watch a movie or play a board game. You firmly planted on Hoseok’s lap, enjoying the way he played with your hair and getting fed popcorn by Taehyung.

In public you were the strong and independent omega your parents raised you to be, but with them you were able to relax and let them take control. Letting them indulge in their providing nature. Something you were very grateful for. Every day.

This were the eight little troublemakers whose love for each other is unheard of. A weird mixture of personalities. Where one goes the other seven follow. 32 pairs of paws, seven tails and one heartbeat.

[heli0s-writes]

bright whites*

A/N: For Crybaby Anon :’) I’m not sure if I filled this request correctly!! But here is some angsty tender smut anyway. Nomad Steve/Reader again because hmmm. Listen to: Kishi Bashi - Bright Whites

~1k words. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

It goes to his head.

The blue wall. The yellow lamp. Somber shades of orange and grey-green where they touch like a muddy watercolor bloom. Splayed under paper-thin covers, your crown dipping off the edge of the bed, throat laboring with every gulp of air. A stormy midday nap where neither party quite gets any sleep at all.

Kisses to your collar, your breasts, he slides the sheet down with his nose, savors new warmth of exposed skin—your belly, your hip, your softness. Hands find each other, one of his on the flesh of your waist.

Steve’s dizzy on it. Selfish for it. A love he never imagined he’d have—a love he’d stopped yearning for long ago. But here you are, beneath his body, and he’ll never stop feeling star-struck at the sight.

“Baby,” he sighs, kissing-- kissing, kissing-- can’t stop his lips from roaming, can’t stop his tongue from tasting. Left, then right, back over again. Drowsy meandering paths, curving and bending, pleased when you arch into his mouth, forever wanting more.

Steve buries his face between your legs, smothers praises between your thighs.

A featherlight graze and you whimper—chest rising and falling, body humming, eyes glazed over. He does it again—a little longer, a little harder, pressing in, up, where he knows to. He kisses you there like he’s kissing your mouth—tilting his head barely, slotting over the seam. He’s dedicated, takes his time, treasures every shudder, every flavor.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he says, “Gotta keep you all to myself.”

He wants everything from you. He loves everything about you. Your eyes. Your smile. Your light and loyalty. How you wrap yourself around him and all his obstinate virtue, how you don’t mind that it’s taken you to dimly lit places beneath rainclouds. Under itchy blankets in temporary homes.

A tug, fingers still locked tight, and you tell him where you need him.

Steve’s beard is damp when he comes up, bits of wetness shiny on his cheek and chin, but you press your lips to his all the same. He guides himself in, reveling in your warmth and the way you whine—airy and delicate, memorizes your face turned up-side down and blissed out.

He matches the pattern of the rain. Tepid, at first, barely falling into your body, savoring the slow drag and the sparks rolling to the tips of his fingers and toes. But he’s greedy for it—all those pretty sounds you make—how you suck in and cry out when he takes you to the edge and lets you go careening into the stars.

 So he moves faster, hips slamming into yours, releasing your hand to support your head, bracing himself above you.

“I want you looking at me,” he says, “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

So you do, blinking through the darkness and find him like a beacon, as he always has been, as he always will be. His long hair falls to one side, ashy fair, suspended and rocking along.

“’S that good? Like this?”

“Steve—” Choked out punches of sound, pitch rising and falling as your face twists, sweat collecting on your brow.

“That’s it, baby.”

“Steve—"

On the precipice of an incoming storm, thunder rolling outside the bed, above the building, and rising, too, in Steve’s belly, he works into your body, heavy-lidded and transfixed on your beautiful face. Deeper until you’re shaking, pulling your legs up over his shoulders, getting him closer, closer, closer.

His toes curl.

You shatter under a splinter of lightning. It bursts across your skin—a bright halo of purple—before it’s gone, chased by the explosion of swollen clouds.

Gasping, you turn your face toward his forearm, but he nudges you back, getting a better grip on you. And the way you look—struggling to see straight, half-sobbing his name now, helplessly writhing beneath him for more contact, for another summit to fall from—god, all the stars could align and he wouldn’t give a single fuck about anything other than this.

Another crash and the earth trembles. Your open mouth is panting for more. He takes this image—collects it inside his heart. Another. Bright whites like camera flashes and he clings on to this one, too.

He kisses your open mouth, kisses your throat, feels it twisting in his hollowed chest, that covetous guilt.

A pretty smile just for him to see and he drinks it up with dazed and devout eyes.

“I’m yours, Steve,” you say, like reading his mind, “Just yours.”

-

It’s torrential. Spiraling wind and water hitting the windows like gunfire, splattering like shrapnel. He curls around you beneath the blanket—newsprint flimsy—and he hates it, god he hates it. You go quiet but he hears the swallow in your throat. Smells the ache in the air through must and mildew.

“It’s just a little bit of bad weather,” he says, shifting his weight, “It’ll pass.”

You hum a strangled sound of agreeance. His strong girl—won’t let him see you cry-- won’t let him have another thing to burden himself with when all he has are burdens now. When the world is howling outside, astray and gone off its axis from the sun and made an enemy of him, writing him on the wrong side of history but you know the truth.

You rest your forehead against his chin, knuckles trailing through his beard—that necessary disguise you’ve come to love because it’s his, because it’s him. You rearrange suddenly, take a deep breath, and shuffle until you’ve switched places and he’s the one resting on your chest.

He tries to look up, but you turn him away.

“Hey,” Steve says, finding your hand, “Doesn’t matter what happens—outside, tomorrow, with anybody,” he grips your fingers tight. Grips you even tighter. “It’s you and me. Just you and me.” Because he’s selfish. Because he took you from a perfectly domestic life, in a safe and warm home with sturdy walls and cotton blankets, from sugary sunshine and brought you here. Some sad destiny stripped naked to its very skeleton, and who knows when either of you will really live again.

“Just a bit of bad weather,” he says again, cheek on your breast.

“I don’t mind it,” you reply, the sound vibrating through your skin.

He gets to look this time, his brow crinkling a little from this angle, corners of his lips lost in the furs of his beard. You kiss his eyes, his lashes, tell him you love him, and Steve could weep.

You stroke his blonde head, turning golden hairs in gentle spirals, and he listens to the beating of your heart like rainfall on a roof.

[kaylorrehabcenter]

Rating Every Song on Fearless Based on How Gay it is

Hello friends! I still have a few song analyses in the pipeline (and one on Lover the album) but today in honor of Fearless (Taylor’s Edition) being announced and Love Story being released in a few hours I thought I’d do something fun to celebrate!

And you know what? Fuck my usual disclaimer, I am the word of god here. Try and change my mind about any of these. I dare you. (I kid I kid this isn’t that serious and you’re free to disagree <3)

1. Fearless 15/10

Everything about this song is so fucking gay oh my god. This isn’t a fruit, this is a whole ass edible arrangement. As a small rural town Gay (my hometown has a population of less that 4,000 and where I’m living now has a population of 2,500) this uh. Hits.

“And I don't know how it gets better than this/You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless”

Y’ALL

The idea of falling in love with someone who makes you less afraid of your homophobic small town…….it’s getting to me.

“My hands shake, I'm not usually this way but/You pull me in and I'm a little more brave/It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something/It's fearless”

This is making me emotional, I'll be honest. I see so much of my friends and my experience in high school in this song. 

This quote I found on genius is from when the album was released on BMR’s website.

“When I wrote ‘Fearless,’ I wasn’t dating anyone. I wasn’t even in the beginning stages of dating anybody. I really was all by myself out on tour and I got this idea for a song about the best first date. I think sometimes when you’re writing love songs, you don’t write them about what you’re going through at the moment, you write about what you wish you had. So, this song is about the best first date I haven’t had yet.”

This just screams baby Tay writing gay folklore to me, about the gay stories she wish she had. Notice how there are no pronouns in this song??? Fruity I’m telling you.

All that to say. I’m crying because the linear note says “I loved you before I met you” and I want to go listen to Long Story Short and cry now.

2. Fifteen 1/10

Objectively pretty straight as she’s singing about her and Abigail’s dating boys in HS. And Taylor got with a senior guy. Good for her I suppose.

Unless he was one of the shitty ones in which case.

“This is life before you know who you're gonna be”

This however, is a cute line and the whole song makes me warm and nostalgic. You can also hear her crying after the line “and Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind” which makes me emo and I’m sure will take on new depth after Abigail’s divorce and hurt me even more.

Other highlights that make me sob include.

“When all you wanted was to be wanted/Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now/Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday/But I realized some bigger dreams of mine”

Bigger dreams of hers indeed :’)

(Also how can you say she’s a gold star lesbian when this song exists. She was obviously dating boys in high school and even if you think she’s a lesbian. Comp het is a hell of a drug kids.)

3. Love Story 8/10

Tried to change the ending indeed.

This is THE Taylor Swift song, and maybe it’s the nostalgia talking but damn I still love it. Written because she wanted to change the ending of Romeo and Juliet (how anyone likes RandJ enough to want to rewrite I have no clue.) and/or because her parents didn’t approve of a guy she was seeing. (according to genius, it would’ve been too early for Joe J so it could possibly be Boys Like Girls frontman, his image did clash with hers and they did release some cute songs together. However if you want my take it’s probably folklore about Emily, take for what you will)

This song has very oft gay vibes with the ‘They don’t approve of our love angle!’ but uses male pronouns so points redacted for that. HOWEVER this is a very early use of ~the male perspective~ in Taylor’s songs and for that it deserves all the love.

“ So I sneak out to the garden to see you/We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew/So close your eyes/Escape this town for a little while”

More rural town angst!!!

Nothing gets me more than rural town angst.

“Romeo, save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel/This love is difficult, but it's real”

Originally the lyric was “this love is different”. Granted I do not remember the source, i’s just lore implanted into my brain, but make of that what you will.

“"Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone/I love you, and that's all I really know/I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress/It's a love story, baby, just say "Yes"”

Marry me Juliet from the male perspective :)

Also worth noting. This is Karlie’s (and Kim K’s lmao) favorite Taylor song which. While basic as hell. Makes this cover sad as hell to this former Kaylor. (thanks @swiftgron-get-married for the tears <3)

Also not to make this about a man AGAIN but the secret message is “Some day I’ll find this” AND SHE DID IM CRYING.

4. Hey Stephen 1/10

The one thing Camilla Cabello and I have in common is loving this song, so I have to live with that for the rest of my life.

This song is very painfully straight.

How can you think this woman is a gold star lesbian.

The only noteworthy thing is that this is one of the few songs she confirms who it’s about. The secret message is “Love and Theft” which is the name of a country music duo who went on to open her Fearless tour. Which, does make me side eye this song a little bit.

Still a cute song.

“Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing/I don't always have to be alone”

5. White Horse 1/10

Oh look. It’s track five. 

You know maybe this is just me being a bitch but in my ranking of track fives this is. Pretty low. Maybe on the bottom.

Like I don’t have a lot to say about it. 

She’s going through it over a guy. He was a cheating dickweazel. 

“'Cause I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale/I'm gonna find someone someday/Who might actually treat me well”

“Try and catch me now, oh/It's too late/To catch me now”

These lines hit though!!

And she found Joe!! Who treats her well!!!! And she isn’t the princess, she’s the prince who dropped her sword and knocked on her door!!! But this time if they come for them she’s ready!!!

Yes I will make every song about Long Story Short <3

6. You Belong With Me 5/10

Ah yes. The other THE Taylor Swift song.

You know. If I went to a high school with a cheerleading squad. And I had a crush on a cheerleader. I would blast this song. So for that it gets a 5/10. Otherwise. Fairly straight and fairly iconic.

7. Breathe 8/10

Well. We know this one is about a woman. (Emily Poe for those not in the know. Ha. A rhyme!) That alone has an 8/10. And it’s the first time she has a featured artist so bonus points for that!

It was nominated for a Grammy and it fucking lost to Jason Mraz. When’s the last time you thought about Jason Mraz.

I will not have Kaylor feels on a fucking Fearless song but damn is it VERY easy.

“Never a clean break, no one here to save me/You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand”

“It's 2 A.M, feeling like I just lost a friend/Hope you know it's not easy, easy for me”

Also this bridge? Goes off. HIGHLY underrated. 

8. Tell Me Why 3/10

You know. Maybe this album isn’t as gay as I once thought.

This song does bop though, not as good as her other angry songs on this album. But I can vibe with this you know. Why are you being an asshole mysterious man.

“You could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day”

This has to be one of baby Tay’s best burns. Damn. 

“Why do you have to make me feel small/So you can feel whole inside?/Why do you have to put down my dreams/So you're the only thing on my mind?”

Men ain’t shit kids. However, bonus points for the shade. 

9. You’re not Sorry 1/10

Ok, ok. Maybe this was a foolish endeavor.

Because yet again we have a very straight song. A good song. That was on Taylor’s episode of CSI. But oh dear. Very straight. Gets a measly one point. We started this post off so very very gay but damn. We seem to be nearing the end on a very straight note.

10. The Way I Loved You 20/10

Hey Remember what I said about this album being very straight.

WELL THAT WAS A LIE.

Is this a comphet album or am I projecting.

This is one of my favorite baby gay Taylor songs. Her masterful use of pronouns (he is sensible! And so incredible! And all my single friends are jealous! But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, when it was two am and I was cursing your name!) makes the other person she’s singing about completely vague, while we know she isn’t happy with whichever guy she’s dating.

Mayhaps an early reaction to PRomances?

Either way this song is so good, truly an underrated gay gem I mean. Look at it.

“Breaking down and coming undone/It's a roller coaster kind of rush/And I never knew I could feel that much/And that's the way I loved you”

AND THE BRIDGE. Do all of her gay songs just have kickass bridges?

“He can't see the smile I'm faking/And my heart's not breaking/'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all/And you were wild and crazy/Just so frustrating/Intoxicating, complicated/Got away by some mistake and now…”

Damn. I’m imaging this with 2020 vocals and fucking ascending.

Also please watch the live performance of it from the Fearless tour. It’s such a damn shame this got cut from the movie and some woman in the front row is wearing a cowboy hat. Everyone is holding up those cameras everyone had to have before smartphones. Taylor is being endearing. It’s a good time.

11. Forever and Always 6/10

Bonus points for the ~drama~ of it all. Added last minute to the album? The iconic throwing of the chair in live performances?? All of it very dramatique and for that we stan.

Still pretty straight.

Also Joe Jonas responded to the song and why do I find his response so damn funny. “It’s part of being a musician, I guess. You write songs about each other.”

This is another song where the idea of Taylor’s grown up vocals on this is………..whew

12. The Best Day 0/10

This gets zero points because it’s about her literal mom.

Still makes me cry.

God bless Andrea Swift indeed

13. Change 13/10

We start the official tracklist with a gay song. We end it with a gay song.

We will ignore that it was originally written for Scott and BMR and instead induct it into the hall of gay pride anthems, as it should be. 

“We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found/They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared/You can walk away, say we don't need this/But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this”

“This revolution, the time will come/For us to finally win/And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah”

The music video is cringe though lol

14. Jump then Fall 10/10

This song is gay because I choose it to be. <3

Like. Picture baby Taylor writing this song and playing it on her guitar to a girl she has a crush on telling her that she’ll protect her and they’ll be safe and in love and happy together. Gah, maybe I’m ~projecting~ but this sweet ass song always gets me and is EASILY in my top five Taylor songs. Super underrated and hecking cute. 

“We're on the phone and without a warning/I realize your laugh is the best sound/I have ever heard”

Like. Look at this shit.

“I watch you talk, you didn't notice/I hear the words but all I can think is/We should be together”

Tell me this is about the first time you get a crush on a girl and she’s your best friend and she’s amazing and beautiful and you realize you kinda want to kiss her and you hope she wants to kiss you too.

“I had time to think it oh, over/And all I can say is come closer/Take a deep breath and jump then fall into me”

And she’s the Romeo who's going to protect her!!!!! She’s the knight in shining armor in this song and I love that for her??

“The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet/I'll catch you, I'll catch you/When people say things that bring you to your knees/I'll catch you/The time is gonna come when you're so mad you could cry/But I'll hold you through the night until you smile”

I won’t divulge into full on analysis here because. This is what this post is about but PLEASE listen to this song more. It’s such a gay little gem.

15. Untouchable 9/10

How does she make a cover sound gay.

It sounds so gay.

“You got to come on, come on, say that we'll be together/Come on, come on, little taste of heaven”

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay

16. Forever and Always Piano Version 1/10

This song gets 1/10 because I don’t like it. There. I said it.

17. Come in With the Rain 3/10

I can see why this is a bonus track. It doesn’t hit me as much as the other songs on the album.

But damn if I don’t want to scream sing this one driving down a high way.

18. Superstar 7/10

You can’t tell me this song is about a man. I simply won’t entertain the idea.

You cannot prove to me that this song is about a man. There is not a male pronoun in sight. 

>:)

19. The Other Side of the Door 6/10

Is this song about having a fight about being in the closet? Probably not. Will my gay little brain make it about that? Yep!

And that, funky little queer pals, is my gay rating of every Fearless song. Like and subscribe, #t3atmidnight

[bunnyywritings]

Hey!! May I request headcanons for azula and mai (separate) with a female s/o who has a death note that’s basically Ryuk’s death note pwease! Basically I thought that if the death note was a thing in atla it would of been a relic from the spirit world and it would kill anybody except for the avatar (cause they’ll just get reincarnated)

fem!s/o with a death note

[a/n: this is such a rad crossover request, thank you anon! It was incredibly hard to find gifs of mai without zuko in them but anyways, enjoy! -your truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-]

azula

✧ she never believed that the death notes actually existed

✧ Uncle Iroh had told her and Zuko stories of the elusive death note and how they were heavily gate kept by spirit gods of death

✧ she shrugged off the silly ghost stories and went on with her life

✧ that was until she met you

✧ “Ryuk, I’ve already given you more than enough apples for today.” You sighed

✧ “oh come on! Just gimme one more, they’re just so juicy.” the deep and gravelly voice had caught her off guard

✧ “Okay, fine.”

✧ when she rounded the corner, there you were stood all alone...looking up at a floating apple? that was slowly disappearing???

✧ “Now that you’ve got your treat, focus. Zuko said that we needed to write General Zhao’s name in the death note before sunset.” Her eyes widened when a...well when a monster had appeared in front of you and finished off the apple

✧ “Why’re we working with that little twerp anyways?”

✧ “Cause if you want to keep eating those delicious apples, I need money. So come on.”

✧ there was a couple of things running through her mind: you were absolutely gorgeous, death notes were real, she just saw a shinigami creature, and her brother was in town

✧ she had seen you once again a couple of days after General Zhao’s sudden and untimely demise, you were at the market picking out some apples

✧ “Those apples seem like a fine choice.” You jumped at he sudden presence beside you

✧ “O-Oh well yes, they’re quite delicious.” you glanced upwards, just above her head

✧ ‘azula, 85 years’

✧ “Isn’t that the twerps’ sister?” Ryuk asked from besides you

✧ “Well I would assume so, seeing as your friend enjoys them so much.” She smirked when she saw you tense up

✧ “What?! There’s no way she can see me!” The shinigami in question crossed his arms skeptically

✧ she leaned in close to you, “I know you have a death note, I saw your friend the other day too. The ugly looking one.”

✧ “Ugly?!” Both you and Ryuk shouted in unison

✧ “Who are you callin’ ugly?!” he growled

✧ at first, Azula just wanted to use her for her own bidding but as she started to actually get to know you...she fell in love with you

✧ she learned about how the relic had been passed down to you and how you only used it on people that truly deserved it which she respected

✧ she’d always ask if you’d write her brother’s name in it, to which you always declined

✧ “You can see how long I’ll live right? How much time do I’ve got left?”

✧ “Baby, you know I can’t tell you that.” she would always pout when you said that

✧ dating you also meant she was basically dating Ryuk

✧ “Hey Azula?”

✧ “What is it Ryuk?” she didn’t bother looking up from her book

✧ “Would ya’ so me a favor and buy some apples...we ran out.”

✧ “Hmm...no.”

✧ “Oh come on~ I’ll tell ya’ how many years you’ve got~”

✧ she had never gotten up quicker in her life, of course Ryuk never told her though, claiming that he had no idea of any such deal

✧ you know what happened to her when she was younger and the psychological trauma it caused her

✧ you would 1000/10 write her dad’s name in the book and make him die a very slow and painful death

✧ a messenger hawk sent by Zuko had arrived to inform the both of you that Ozai died while in prison

✧ “Oh dear...that sounds horrible.” you patted her back, cue Ryuk chuckling somewhere in the background

✧ “You didn’t have anything to do with this (y/n)...did you?” She had a tiny smirk on her lips

✧ “Hmm? Uhm nope, no I uh-I don’t think so.” She held your face in her hands and smashing her lips against yours in a heated kiss, taking you by surprise

✧ “So, does this mean you’re not mad?” You asked as you both breathlessly pulled away

✧ “Quite the opposite really.” She sat back against the couch and pulled you onto her lap, “Why don’t I show you how I feel about it.” She held the back of your head and pulled you into another kiss

✧ “Really? You have to do that now?”

✧ “RYUK!!”

✧ “Yeah, yeah...I’ll go.”

mai

☸ despite her disinterested attitude, she’s very interested in the notion of the death note

☸ “Where are you taking me Ty Lee?”

☸ “You’ll see.” She rolled her eyes at her bubbly friend but let herself be tugged along to Azula’s meeting room

☸ once inside, her eyes landed on the most beautiful human being she had ever seen

☸ you were lazily leaning back against the seat, feet thrown up on the table and talking to Azula about something

☸ “Oh Mai, there you are! This is (y/n), she’s gonna be apart of our team from here on out.”

☸ when you looked up, you pulled your legs off of the table and sat up straight, eyes widening and a pink tint ever so present on your cheeks

☸ both Ty Lee and Azula noticed instantly

☸ well...so did Ryuk

☸ “OOH~ look at you, somebody has a crush~” This made your cheeks a flaming read color

☸ she loved your aesthetic, even if you were in fire nation clothes, you made it look so goth/alt (lowkey Misa vibe) she also really liked Ryuk

☸ it was a mistake ever introducing the two

☸ Azula would put the two of you (again, technically three cause of baby boy Ryuk) on missions together

☸ “I know what you’re trying to Azula and it’s not gonna work, so knock it off!”

☸ “I have no idea what you’re talking about Mai.” She feigned innocence as she called you over.

☸ “Yeah?”

☸ “Oh nothing really, I was just wondering if you could go with Mai to pick up more supplies?”

☸ “Oh, of course. Sounds like fun.” When  you grinned, Mai turned a deep shade of pink

☸ she hated running errands with you because it felt so domestic

☸ she finally had enough

☸ when you were picking up some fruit, mainly apples, and placing them in your basket, she tapped your shoulder

☸ “(y/n)..”

☸ “Yes Mai?” You looked up at her with those doe eyes and she just couldn’t control herself, she gripped your chin between her index finger and thumb to tilt your head upward

☸ you blushed but didn’t make a move to get out of her grip, your eyes giving her the ‘go ahead’ and she timidly leaned down and softly placed her lips against yours

☸ her heart was beating even faster when she felt your velvety lips move against hers

☸ the two of you would be such witchy/cottagecore lesbians(or bisexuals), don’t @ me

☸ once the two of you left that toxic little group, she’d very much enjoy having her own adventures with you

☸ she’s not a very PDA person so don’t expect too much from her in public but she has no problem giving you all the kisses you want while closed doors

☸I think the both of you would have such a chill/fun relationship

☸ she would definitely bring you to the jasmine dragon for no other purpose than to show you off and make Zuko jealous

☸ boy did that backfire

☸ you end up being good buddies with him and Iroh

☸ “You’re not jealous, are you?” You asked, amusement clear in your voice

☸ “Of course not.” She huffed, crossing her arms. “I’m not stupid. Why would I be jealous?”

☸ You saw through it and chuckled softly at her pouty face, leaning forward and placing a sweet kiss on he puffed out lips

☸ “I’ll always love you and always you, Mai. Don’t over forget that.” She blushed and looked away

☸ “God you guys are so mushy, I’m gonna throw up.”

☸ “Shut up Ryuk, go bother Zuko or something.” Mai scoffed as she leaned forward for another kiss

[benji-writes]

The Laundry Room

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3416

Summary: Bucky is soft. He finds love in the laundry room of his apartment building. 

He wasn’t sure what it was like to be in love. He had loved people, sure – his ma, his sister, Steve. But he didn’t really know what it was like to truly love a woman, and to be loved by her in return. He thought it must be beautiful. 

It wasn’t what he’d wanted in the forties. He was so young – handsome. Girls wanted to be around him all the time, looking up at him wide eyed and lashes fluttering. He’d take them dancing, because that’s what they wanted, and he’d walk them home. He’d get a kiss on the cheek from the girls who were looking for a boyfriend, and a kiss on the lips from the girls who were looking for a good time, and he’d walk home alone. 

It was never more than that though. No one ever made it past a few dates, and then came the war, and the dark, and the cold, and suddenly his hair was long. When his hair was short, and his body whole, he was someone else. He didn’t know who that was anymore, angry that he would never get him back. Girls didn’t look at him anymore. No wide eyed women he could call “doll.” No one who’s eyelashes would flutter. And if girls wouldn’t look at him, what did the rest of his life look like? 

Back then, he thought he’d eventually find someone to settle down with. He dreamed about the end of the war, soldiers coming home to the ones they’d left behind. He dreamed he’d meet a girl. One he could write letters to while he was away. One he could come home to. The war would end, and he’d have long since asked her father for his blessing. He’d get down on one knee. In a house of his own, with his wife and a baby. A big backyard where the kids could run around in the grass. If anyone had known how much he thought about it, he never would have lived it down. But the world was different now. He was different now. And how could he let himself dream of a life where all those old wishes came true? He would just be disappointed in the end. 

You met Bucky in the laundry room of your apartment building. You lived in a pretty nice place. Not so nice that you had a doorman or security, but you needed a code to get in the first door, and a special key to get in the second. A nice enough place for there to be a laundry room in your building so the tenants wouldn’t need to block out the hours in a day to go and sit at the laundromat. 

You did your laundry every time your hamper was full, and you had two hampers. One for your clothes, and the other for cloths and towels. This meant that you washed your clothes every Saturday. Every other Wednesday, you did your towels. You liked the regularity that came with this schedule. The routine nature of it comforted you, and so unless there was some terrible emergency, absolutely nothing was going to disrupt your laundry schedule.

You loved your laundry time, in part due to how much you loved the laundry room itself. When you got off the elevator and walked down the hall to the laundry room, you saw the machines lined against the back wall. They stacked one on top of the other, and there were four washer/dryer sets. There was a big soft couch in the laundry room, with a big purple plush chair and a coffee table. There was also the long table in the middle of the room where you could fold your clothes, or put down your detergent or dryer sheets. The walls were a soft green, and it felt like a safe space, and no one was ever there when you went. 

You always did your laundry fairly late at night. For the most part, midnight would roll around, and you’d transfer your clothes from the hamper to the laundry basket and putter your way downstairs. No one in the building ever did their clothes at this hour, and that meant for the hour and forty five minutes while your clothes cycled through the machines, the laundry room was yours. Sometimes you’d just sit on the couch. You’d read romances or watch tv shows on your phone. Sometimes you sang, and sang, and spun around the room to the Tangled soundtrack. When everything was too much, you would sit on top of the long table and watch the laundry spin. 

The night you met him, you’d fallen asleep on the long table. He’d just moved into a new building, enjoying the quiet that came with being slightly farther away from the city. It was a nice enough place, and it felt good to be on his own again. To open the windows as wide as he wanted, or keep the tv on the Food Network channel all day. He never had to wear shoes, and he could take his arm off without worrying about anybody looking. A spider plant he’d bought at the farmers market sat on his window sill. He’d named it Dave. There was a laundry room in the basement, and he could buy the Gain detergent (because it smelled better than the Tide they used at the compound) and the Snuggle dryer sheets and fold his own clothes again. He liked it better this way. On his own where he could choose. 

It was about a week after he’d moved in. His arm was off, and it was time to do his laundry. Unwilling to risk the possibility of running into neighbors in the hallway or the laundry room, he waited till night. After all, who did their laundry after midnight on a Saturday? In a white t-shirt and blue fleece pajama pants he made his way downstairs. Holding the laundry basket against his hip, he walked off the elevator and down the hall to the laundry room. What Bucky had not factored into his night, was a beautiful woman snoring softly on top of the table in the middle of the room. Bucky stood there for a moment, not quite sure if what he was seeing was actually real or not. He walked backwards out of the room, waited a moment, then closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth a few times, as if to erase the image like nothing more than powder in an etch a sketch. He opened his eyes and walked back into the room hoping it would be empty, but there you still were. Sleeping. Your clothes from the wash now done, just waiting for you to wake up and move them to the dryer. 

Bucky didn’t know what to do. Just standing in the doorway, he couldn’t help but stare at you. You’d sprawled out, limbs hanging off the side, with your phone laying on the ground where it had clearly fallen out of your hand. You wore a big shirt with a picture of an alien on the front that said “Humans aren’t real,” and a pair of boxers as pajama shorts. One of your flip flops had fallen off your foot, and he noticed your fingers and toes were painted a matching shade of periwinkle. He couldn’t stop looking at you, which he realized was perhaps kinda creepy, but there was just something about you. He wanted to look at you, and to keep looking at you. He wanted you to wake up, and to look at him too. 

He wasn’t sure what he should do. Should he turn around and come back another time? Should he just put his stuff in the laundry and leave? Should he wake you up? Why were you on the table when there was a couch not five feet away? Should he try and coax you up and gently over to the couch? But if he did that why wouldn’t you just go back to your own apartment? He wasn’t even wearing his prosthetic. Fuck. Okay. Here’s the plan – pick the phone up from the floor, put the phone on the table, quietly put the clothes in the washing machine, and leave. 

With his mind made up, he put his basket down in front of the machine. He picked your phone up and placed it by you on the table. He opened the wash, which made a very loud clicking sound as it opened. He threw his clothes in, filled the machine with detergent, and shut the door to start the cycle. Naturally, echoing through the silence, the door made the same loud clicking as it closed, and an even louder click as the machine locked. Taking a deep breath, and feeling like he’d just run a god damn marathon, he turned to leave only to make eye contact with the woman. Fuck.

You had woken up, probably from the loud click of the machine, and Bucky imagined what he must’ve looked like to you. A one armed man you’d never seen before standing in the laundry room at almost one in the morning. He was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was not wearing shoes, and that his big toe stuck out of the hole in his left sock.

Uncertain of what to do, Bucky just stood there. Looking at you, as you looked at him. Two people frozen at the threshold of something nameless. A liminal moment in time. 

You reached your hand up to wipe the sleep out of your eyes and said, “Good mornin’.”

Rolling with it he said, “Mornin’.”

After a big yawn you said, “You the guy who just moved in 4B?”

He nodded, almost solemnly.

“I’m in 4A.”

He was quiet after that, as if taking in the information. You weren’t sure what else to say, and neither was he really, but he still stood there. 

After a moment you said, “Sorry I was asleep. That was probably pretty weird.” 

He shrugged his shoulders, not particularly worried about it. It took a second, but then he spoke up again and said, “Your laundry is done.” 

You let out a big sigh, and hopped off the table, sliding your shoe back on once your foot hit the ground. Wordlessly you started to change your stuff over. Bucky, uncertain of what to do, simply watched you for a bit. When you turned back to look at him, he was gone. If it weren’t for the laundry basket sat in front of his machine, the clothes inside spinning around, you’d have sworn you dreamt the whole thing. You imagined what you must’ve looked like to him. He looked like a sculpture of Adonis and you’d been drooling, asleep on top of a public table. Thinking too much about it was going to give you a headache. 

When he came back downstairs to move his clothes into the dryer, you were sat on the couch like a normal person. When you glanced over at him, you noticed he’d changed into a long sleeved hoodie, and looked like he had two regular arms. Before common sense or any semblance of decorum could stop you, the words tumbled out, “Was I dreaming or did you only have one arm half an hour ago.”

The second you said it, you smacked you hand over your mouth. He turned to look at you, since he’d just finished moving his things and closed the dryer door. He stared at you, though not unkindly, and as if desperate to make up for asking you rushed out all at once, “I am so sorry you do not have to answer that question. That was so not the right thing to say, I am so sorry. Oh my god, I’m so so sorry. Please don’t hate me forever, I promise I’m not normally this rude.” 

You could see the corner of his mouth turn up, “It’s alright. I put my prosthetic back on.”

You sat there looking at him, and nodded earnestly. You were too embarrassed to say anything else, and suddenly overwhelmed, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. 

“Have a good night, doll.”

You threw your head back and groaned once he was gone. What an embarrassment.

—

The next time you saw him was a week later. Saturday night, laundry time. You were wide awake that night, and playing solitaire on the coffee table when he walked in. “Dancing in the Moonlight” played on your phone in the background, and he gave you a soft smile when he walked in. You wanted him to smile at you again, so you just smiled back. He went about his business, you went about yours, and from there on out, that was how it was. He came back every Saturday after that. Normally you two didn’t say anything, the first few Saturdays especially. In those days, there was no more than passing smiles, glances stolen when the other was looking away. Back then, you only knew what his voice sounded like in a sleepy memory at the back of your mind. 

But the weeks went on, and suddenly he would linger for longer in the laundry room, rather than going upstairs right after he’d put his stuff in the machines. Before you knew it, he took up residence in the faded purple chair, that you’d now come to think of as his, while you sat on the couch, or sometimes on the long table. 

One day, seated criss cross on the table, you finally heard him speak again, “What are you doing when you sit up there?”

You turned back to look at him, and you met those curious blue eyes, looking at you like they could figure you all out if he just looked long enough.

“Well,” you said. “I watch the laundry spin.”

He contemplated that for a moment. Eventually he just said, “Why?”

Not quite sure how to articulate it out loud, you told him, “Why don’t you come try it and figure that out for yourself.”

Physically unable to resist the pull, he got up from his chair, put down his book and walked over to you. You moved over a little bit, and patted the spot next to you, and he sat with his legs hanging off the side. The two of you, in the dim quiet of Saturday night, watched the laundry spin. It hadn’t made sense to him before, but sitting there with you, he felt like he was beginning to understand. It was peaceful. Watching the colors go round, and the water splash against the door. Bubbles of detergent rolled gently, and there was an ease that blanketed across him. He couldn’t describe it, that same nameless thing, but in that moment, Bucky was certain that he would be okay. That everything, in the end, would be alright. He wasn’t sure if it was you, or the laundry, or the way your knee lay lightly against his thigh, but he could feel it. The threshold of something. He looked over at you, only for a moment. Your eyes, trained on the gentle spin of the washer, he thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you. And in that instant he allowed himself to dream the dreams of his youth. Those hopes of a woman who’d love him someday. A girl he’d get down on one knee for. The house, with the backyard big enough for a swing set. A baby he’d rock to sleep. This time, he imagined a laundry room. One with a big warm couch sat right in front of the machines. They could cover themselves in blankets, listen to that easy hum, and watch as bursts of color went by. He imagined one hamper, where both of their clothes went. A washer mixed with his and hers. Right then, Bucky Barnes knew he would marry you, and by God, he still did not even know your name. You looked at him, only to find he was already looking at you. You gave him a thousand watt smile and he couldn’t help but give you one right back. 

Soon enough you were both folding your clothes downstairs rather than taking your baskets up to fold them in your separate apartments, and before you even realized, you were doing towels on Saturday nights too. The time spent downstairs growing longer and longer. You didn’t always talk, but sometimes he’d ask what song you were listening to and you’d spend hours showing him songs you thought he might like, the ones you loved the most. He’d show you the ones he listened to as a kid, and he’d spin you around the laundry room to Vera Lynn. You’d sway back and forth, and he’d place his head gently on top of your. You’d ask if he was down for a game of cards, and suddenly four hours had gone by and you were getting your ass handed to you at gin rummy. He once apologized for taking his prosthetic off in front of you, and you smacked him across the chest and told him not to talk stupid. You saw him without it a lot more after that night. You sat together on the couch. You set up your laptop and watched The Wizard of Oz and the Fast and the Furious movies.You’d bring drinks and snacks and share them freely. Those walls were yours, and Saturday nights together became the most sacred of practices. 

It was early one morning when there was an erratic knocking from the front hall. They were pounding on your door, and it was six am on Sunday morning. You had only left the laundry room an hour and a half before. Rolling out of bed with an angry groan, you opened your door, and there he was. Half dressed, prosthetic off, he looked to be in such distress it woke you right up. Before you could ask what was wrong, he said, “I have something very important I need to ask you, and I keep thinking about it, and I just need you to give me an answer okay?”

“Of course,” you said without a trace of hesitation.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down, “What is your name?”

You blinked at him for a moment, and maybe it was the seriousness on his face, or the lack of sleep, or maybe it was just him, but you burst out laughing. A bottomless belly laugh, that you felt flutter in your chest. Had you not laughed so hard you began coughing, you wonder if you ever would have stopped. He still stood there, deadly serious, and noticing this you breathed deep and settled. 

“Will you tell me, please?” He whispered it so tenderly, that you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up to cup his cheek with your hand. 

“My name is Y/N.”

He closed his eyes, “Y/N.”

He repeated it once, then twice. It sounded like reverence. Fell from his lips like a prayer. And when he opened his eyes you whispered, “Will you tell me yours?”

The corner of his mouth turned up, “My name is James. But, most people call me Bucky.”

You closed your eyes, much like he had, and almost on accident you breathed out, “James.”

Before you could open your eyes, you felt his lips on yours. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as he possibly could. For the first time, he knew what it was like to love a woman, and to be loved by her in return. 

You slept beside him that morning – shared blankets and body heat. You watched him sleep, the sound of the rain hitting the roof and the windows. For just a moment you imagined a ring on your finger. A house, with a laundry room of your own. Walls that kept the two of you safe and warm. You could see the first time you held your baby. You’d look into their little eyes and they’d be his exact shade of blue. You moved closer to him, and on instinct, in his sleep, he adjusted to you. He pulled you to him, and bleary-eyed you snuggled as far into his warmth as you could, closed your eyes, and fell asleep.

[choruscas]

suptober day 11: rock & roll

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!

(based on a true story)

Castiel stared at Dean’s laptop, completely in awe, smiling pridefully at himself. The electronic screen of the computer illuminated on his face, making his eyes grow tired because of the past research he’s been doing in the middle of the night.

Dean would be so happy!

Now all he had to do was wait for him to come back to the bunker.

Trying to figure out how to not be bored — something that has happened to him since he turned human; a very monotonous thing — Castiel looked around the library, searching for some type of book to read.

He found one and sat down in his original seat. He hoped ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ would be a good choice. If not, then maybe he could give it to Dean and hopefully he would like it.

-

Turns out, it was not. Castiel had read it in approximately ten minutes and it was the most weirdest piece of literature the ex-angel thinks he’s ever read.

The imagery of burning it in his head, he stood up to go and do so. However, once he stood up, his Led Zeppelin (curtesy of Dean) t-shirt clung to him with sweat. Although it was late January, it was still hot as fuck in Lebanon.

“Cas!” Dean called out. “I’m back! Are you here?”

Castiel could hear the smile in his voice. Placing down the book, Castiel closed his eyes to zap over to Dean on the indoor balcony.

Oh yeah. No powers.

He awkwardly waited for Dean to walk down the steps, and then he ran to the bottom as Dean jumped in his arms.

“Hey, baby...” he muttered into Castiel’s neck. “Missed me that much?”

Castiel nodded his head up and down. Thumbing Dean’s hipbones, Castiel tried to pick him up but he couldn’t.

Too weak.

Dean noticed that Castiel acutely tried to, but he wasn’t successful, and he noticed the flicker of guilt in his boyfriends eyes.

“Cas...”

“I... I have a surprise for you!” He changed the subject quickly, smiling.

“You do?” Dean replied mischievously, smirking. “What is it, angel?”

Castiel hated when he was called angel. It just wasn’t true. He has been an angel, a seraph, for his whole life and just recently, it was all stripped away from him.

However, Dean, the love of his whole life, has helped him more than anybody or anything has to him. He loved him with his whole being and would go to the ends of the universe for him. He was more beautiful than all the galaxies and supernovas and sunsets and sunrises that Castiel has ever seen.

Although Dean had another thing in mind.

“Come to the table...” Castiel smiled, holding Dean’s hand. Hand holding was Castiel’s comfort when he was stressed out, especially when he hasn’t seen Dean in over twenty-four hours.

Dean saw the book and his eyes widened.

“Cas—“

“Yes?”

“Are you— did—“ His face was probably the shade of a tomato, he was that embarrassed,

“Yes I did!” Castiel smiled at the computer, the website still on.

“I’m not—“ Dean muttered, his hand shaking.

“Huh? You don’t like it?”

Dean hung his head and rubbed a hand through his hair tired, “Angel, ‘m not into that stuff.”

“You’re not into rock and roll? I thought that was something you really liked...”

A switch flicked in Dean’s mind and he looked at the screen of the computer. Two picture of tickets were on the screen and the initials said “CCR” at the top.

For January 24th.

His birthday. Tomorrow.

“Cas— you... you’re fuckin’ with me!” The hunter’s eyes widened to the size of the sun. No way in hell did he get CCR tickets! “You got us tickets to see fuckin’ Creedance Clearwater Revival!?”

He paused. “Yes! Yes I did, Dean!” His eyes wrinkled and Dean’s favorite gummy smile appeared on his face.

Dean wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed Castiel with such force that it toppled him backward onto the table. Humming satisfactorily in his throat, Castiel pushed the book off the table as Dean straddled his lap.

Creedance Clearwater Revival was one of Dean’s favorite bands, and Cas knew that. Fortunate Son was an absolute classic and Dean could not wait to see them in a concert,

The same thing went for Dean to Castiel. He was his everything and would go his limits, life or death, to be with his angel.

The next morning was Dean’s birthday and Castiel had woken up with grogginess. He hardly got any sleep (for many reasons) but he was determined to make Dean breakfast.

Dean, last night, had told Castiel that to start with he thought the surprise was fucking ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ and Castiel heartily laughed to that. No way in hell. However, placing a chaste kiss on his favorite pair of lips, Castiel told him otherwise.

Breakfast was burnt but Dean still ate it with a smile on his face and butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

-

Later, was the concert and Dean was telling Castiel all the facts he knew about CCR.

“CCR is an absolute fuckin’ classic, baby. You’re gonna love it. John Fogerty’s been doin’ rock ‘n roll since he was eight years old!”

Dean rambled on about the band with one hand on the wheel and the other hand in Castiel’s. The concert was about an hour away and Dean had downloaded the virtual tickets on his phone (Sam had to show him how to) so they couldn’t get lost like paper tickets could.

Fortunate Son played on one of Dean’s mixtapes and he began jamming out as he prompted Castiel to dance along too.

Singing the lyrics while Castiel guessed them, they laughed until tears came into their eyes.

Not only were they the love of each other’s lives, they were also each other’s best friends. Nothing else mattered but each other.

Dean, wearing a CCR shirt that he had quickly bought at the store since he didn’t have one, he hopped out of the car and opened Castiel’s door just so he could swoop down and steal a kiss. They loved to call those types bandit kisses.

“Hey! Now I need one.” Castiel complained and stepped out. Dean almost drooled.

He was wearing black jeans that may or may not have fitted too tight (on purpose, thanks Dean) and an over-large AC/DC shirt with a pair of sunglasses. People flooded in the outside mosh pit, and Dean warned him about the dangers of moshing, and how to avoid being punched in the face. Noticing the angel’s nervous smile, Dean smiled bigger.

Listening intently to his boyfriend, Castiel nervously nodded. However, Dean knew his angel’s worried face and placed a heart-melting kiss on his lips. Smiling together, they went into the crowd.

Dean looked around and saw that in the middle of the stage, the logo of Cross Canadian Ragweed was placed on top of it.

Oh.

“Cas...”

He peered around and saw multiple people dressed up for a country rock band, not rock and roll. Upon further inspection, Dean and Castiel stuck out like sore thumbs.

Suddenly, the lights on the concert stage turned on and people cheered and clapped, and even Castiel did.

“Baby, no—“ Dean chuckled, grabbing a tiny fistful of the hem of Castiel’s shirt, tugging at it to get his attention.

Blue simmering in Castiel’s eyes like diamonds, he turned around and had the biggest smile on his face. “Aren’t you excited?!”

“Babe, this is Cross Canadian Ragweed! Not CCR!” He had to scream over the crowd who started to rile up.

“You mean I didn’t get you the right ones?!” Castiel painfully yelled back. He looked as if somebody had kicked his little puppy.

“No! But it’s okay!” Dean pulled his waist toward him, their noses touching and their lips ghosting against each other.

“You’re so beautiful, angel.”

“I’m not an angel, Dean.”

“But you’re still mine. Clipped wings or not...”

Their lips met.

Although Castiel wasn’t perfect, the night was and so was his birthday.

Cross Canadian Ragweed pretty much sucked ass, but holding Castiel’s hands and kissing him whenever possible was his favorite thing to do.

However, he was perfect in Dean’s eyes no matter what he did. Or didn’t do.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

[nojaemblog]

A little bit of love/Lee Donghyuck/Haechan

Warnings: insecurity, self-hate, cliché, smut, oral (receiving), fingering, basically just soft morning sex

Genre: mature

Requested: yes

Summary: You have been feeling down lately, you viewed yourself as a disappointment, but your lovely boyfriend was there for you to make it all better.

Notes: The beginning is sad, but it becomes fluffy. And the ending is just straight out smut (my first ever written smut, so please tell me your opinion about it and please be nice to me since this is my first time writing something like this). You can skip the ending if you feel uncomfortable reading smut.

Word count: 3.2k

You sobbed into your knees, trying your best to keep quiet. You felt like a disappointment. Not only to yourself but to Hyuck.

He’d done so many great things not only for himself but for you. For his friends. For his and your family. Hell, he always manages to spend time with you, no matter how busy his schedule is. If he wasn’t the definition of perfection, then you didn’t know who would fill that spot.

Point being, you felt awful. You’d just been sitting in your shared bedroom for some time watching Netflix and napping, and then it hit you. You’d been sitting there the whole day, while your boyfriend was probably working his ass off. He probably needed your help, but was too afraid to ask for it. You didn't know his side of the story. He might seem all right all the time, but that didn't mean he was not facing hardships too.

Yet you still sat there, and only began to think more.

Your heart felt heavy like there was a hole in your chest. You’d been crying for an hour, and didn’t show signs of stopping. You started over and over again the same vicious cycle: cry your eyes out, think that there is nothing to worry about, stop crying, remember why you were crying in the first place and repeat. Without your boyfriend, what would you be? Yes, you study a lot and yes, you are working your ass off too. But would you be able to live by yourself without his help? If you wouldn't have dated him, would anybody else have been interested in you? You’d be nobody. A dumb, worthless-

“Babe?” a soft voice interrupted your thoughts. Oh. He had come home. You let out a quiet hum to alert him that you are home. He came to your bedroom and sat softly next to you. His warm palm was slowly caressing your back. You didn’t bother to look up at him, he’d only become worried if he saw your swollen eyes. “Babe, what’s wrong?” He spoke again, so soft as if he was scared to make you uncomfortable in any way.

You simply couldn't let any words come out of your mouth, so you just sat silently. What were you supposed to tell him? You didn’t want him to worry about you. Maybe you could just tell him an excuse, maybe- A soft kiss to your exposed neck snapped you out of your thoughts before he wrapped his arms around you. You heard Netflix start up again, but the volume was so low it practically became just background noise. Donghyuck knew you would need time before you talked to him. He knew you better than anyone. But he wasn’t going to leave alone. Never. And that’s one of the millions of reasons you loved him.

Sighing, you leaned back against his embrace, his chest firmly pressing your back... You stared at the TV screen for a bit, ever so often turning your head to steal glances at your boyfriend. His eyes were closed, but you could tell that he didn't fall asleep.

A thought crossed your mind for what felt the hundredth time today, "Am I a disappointment?” Haechan's eyes grew so big, you thought they were going to pop out. And that's when you knew that you have spoken your thoughts out loud.

”What? Of course, you're not, baby” he frowned, before running his hands up and down your arms. You sat silently for a minute, then spoke again.

” It’s just...you’re a great guy. And I’m-“

“W-wait, Are you going to break up with me? I-I mean it’s totally okay if you want to, I love you so much, I just-“

Was he serious? How could you be the one breaking up with him? “What? No, Hyuck.” You turned around, now facing him with your whole body 

”I could never do that to you.” You whispered, before giving him a quick peck on his soft lips.

He nodded shyly, his face turning red,” Right, right. I knew that, sorry.” You laughed before you remember what you intended to tell him in the first place, you spoke once more.

 ”What I meant is that you’re a great guy. The greatest actually! You always take care of me… You are there for me whenever I need you… Whenever I’m having trouble with anything, you always jump into action to help me however you can. Hell, you even know me better than I know myself!” You smiled.

“Err-not entirely. If I am being honest, you do a much better job of taking care of the ones around you. You make me so happy, baby. Believe me. I don’t know how you do it. Honestly, I might be one of the most annoying people I have ever met.” He laughed, trying to cheer you up. “Oh, I agree one hundred percent! You are really annoying”, you chuckled and he gently poked you “My point is, you’ve done so many amazing things for me. And for everyone around you... You have a successful career, a bunch of loving friends, you have traveled around the world... And what have I done? Nothing.” You sighed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” He tilted his head. You shook your head, frowning.

“Baby, are you serious? Not every strikingly handsome boy out there gets to come home to an even more strikingly beautiful girlfriend, y’know... I feel so blessed by your simple presence every single day. I am grateful for all that I have, but what I treasure the most is you.”

You blushed, smiling at your boyfriend ”There’s no actual way I’m more striking than ‘Mr. viewer rating of 37.5%”, you attempted to joke.

He shook his head,”There is a way, baby...” he sighed, bringing one hand up to gently cup your cheek, ”...You make me the happiest man alive. Did you know that? Probably even after I die I’ll be extremely happy for meeting you in my life” You felt yourself blush even more, yet had no words to say. You could only stare back at him and smile.

“Without you, I’d be a train wreck right now. Dealing with long practice sessions, stressful schedules, and crazy fans, it puts me in such a bad mood. But when I come home? All my worries wash away. I have my very own cuddle buddy~“ he smiled, before wrapping his arms around you tightly,”—who makes me feel as happy as I could be.”

You pulled backward, smiling ”...I guess. I just feel like you’ve done way more than me.” He sighed, before bringing his face closer to yours. “Baby, it’s not about who does more, what you do for me is more than enough” He spoke softly, before giving you a warm, soft kiss.

You could only kiss back and wrap your arms around him. It was impossible for you to ever say no to one of his kisses. This is why you loved him so much. Sure, he was a dork, a really annoying, overly excited, bubbly dork. But he was your dork, and yours only. He made you happy, and there was nothing more you could’ve asked for.

You ran one hand through his hair, gently tugging on his soft brown locks, gentle moans escaping his mouth into yours. You were the one to pull back, your eyes scanning his face.

“Thanks, choco ball” you smiled at him.

“I-I told you to stop calling me that...There are hundreds of other ways you could call me” he whined.

“But it’s so cute! And it fits you, too. You’re just as sweet as the candy” you smiled.

His face flushed a beautiful shade of pink,”What a charmer” he laughed. “Only for you.” You smiled.

“I know.”

He wrapped his arms around you once again and pulled you under the covers with him. Laying against his chest was really comfortable while watching Netflix, well you couldn’t really pay attention to the movie playing, since you found Haechan’s heartbeats more entertaining.

You two lay there for a while, both of you trying to pay attention to the TV screen, Hyuck’s fingers running through your hair, and your hands wrapped around his torso.

“Hyuck?” You whispered, half asleep. It took him a moment to answer, meaning he was close to falling asleep too. “Yeah?” He whispered. “...I love you,” “I love you too, baby...” Those words, and his fingers gently running through your hair were all you remembered before dozing off into a deep sleep.

The next morning

It’s not the kisses that woke you up in the morning, or the gentle patter of rain against the large windows of your bedroom. It’s the memories of all the mornings you spent with your boyfriend. The late mornings spent lazily in bed with your lover. The quiet giggles and soft kisses exchanged in the morning glow. The kisses from your boyfriend are becoming more and more persistent. And with them come soft-soft touches. 

A brush of fingertips against the base of your spine, lingering kisses along your shoulder. They’re slow displays of affection, and also-impatience . Haechan’s awake, and he knows you are too.

You indulge him, rolling onto your back to face him, and are greeted with a kiss that pulls the last remaining traces of sleep from your body. “Good morning,” you whisper. A small smile spreads across his lips. “Morning, babe.” He leans in, soft lips meeting yours again briefly. These are the moments you love the most, stolen kisses and sleepy smiles. “Today we’re going on a date” he whispers, pulling away. “Really? I don’t remember scheduling any dates today”, you looked at him smiling. “I texted you before arriving home yesterday. What would you do without me reminding you of all of our dates?” he kisses you again. 

This time his lips part yours, and his hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your head as he deepens the kiss. You wrap your fingers in his hoodie, pulling him on top of you. His brown locks tickle your cheek, and you laugh quietly, tucking the strands behind his ears. 

Haechan leans his forehead against yours, soft chuckles falling from his lips. “I miss this,” you break the short silence. “Spending the mornings with you,” you clarify upon his confused look. His fingers rub your hips. “I know what you mean... The past week I’ve been leaving for practice before you woke up. I’m sorry, babe” He looked at you. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you don’t leave without a reason. But I still miss you...” you play with the hem of his hoodie “But this is definitely my favorite way of waking up” Donghyuck grins widely. “Mine too,” he says quietly, and the loving look is back once again. 

You initiate the kiss, lifting your head until your lips are pressed lightly against his own. He makes a small noise of contentment, nudging your nose slightly with his own as he pressed you down into the mattress. His hands skim your sides, fingers twisting the material of the top you wore to bed.  

You sigh against his lips as his actions raise goosebumps along your skin. His lips travel across your jaw and down your throat, leaving sloppy kisses. He takes your shirt off in a swift motion, throwing it away far from you two. He teases your nipple with his teeth. You suck in a deep breath, tangling your fingers into his messy hair. 

He’s always known exactly what to do to get you turned on in an instant. Even if you haven’t been together for that long, a single touch from him can ignite a fire deep inside of you. And you really hope this feeling lasts forever. Haechan starts trailing kisses down your stomach. His hands roam your body, grabbing and caressing every curve. You moan as his fingers find the waistband of your panties, tugging them down ever-so-slightly so his lips can brush against your hip bone. 

His kisses to your inner thighs are a bit rougher. His teeth nip the skin in a hurting yet enjoyable manner. The pain and pleasure of it all make you dizzy, and your hands grip his shoulders. 

You’re hardly aware of him removing your panties, or the low growl in his chest when he sees your folds, dripping with your arousal. You’re only painfully aware that this is not enough, that you want him, need him, in every way possible.   “ Hyuck” His name is a whine on your lips. 

“Please”.He makes another mark on your thigh, closer to your aching core, and this time his name comes out of your mouth in a needy whimper. 

“Don’t ever doubt yourself, baby” Haechan mumbled, dragging his lips closer and closer to where you need him the most. 

Even if you noticed his sweet remark from your last talk, you know he is still his annoying self. He’s teasing you. You can almost feel the smirk on his lips, see the playful glint in his eyes. His mouth brushes against your folds, and you jump, the small touch sending a thousand volts of electricity through your body. 

He smiles, pulling you closer to him, throwing your leg over his shoulders. You’re squirming now, hips bucking upwards hoping for a fleeting touch of his lips on you. The sight of you like this makes him lick his lips; he’s always loved when you were so desperate for him. 

He flicks the tip of his tongue against you experimentally, getting only the faintest taste of your sweetness. It’s not enough, he decides, licking a broad stripe up your folds. You moan, loud and reedy, thighs closing around his head. “Shh,” he shushes teasingly, but how foolish of him to actually think you could stay quiet with his head buried between your legs. “Don’t want the neighbors complaining, now do we?” 

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip so harshly, you might have worried about drawing blood if you were in your right mind. Donghyuck parts your folds with his fingers, and presses his lips there in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Your hips buck up against his lips instinctively, searching for the sensation again. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait long, as his lips are on you once again making obscene noises as he drinks up all you have to offer. 

You’re a moaning mess, one hand over your mouth muffling your cries, the other tangled in Hyuck’s hair, tugging him almost impossibly closer. He places a hand on your heaving breast, massaging the soft skin, his thumb brushing over your nipple. Your breath hitches when he pinches it, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. 

Your orgasm is swiftly approaching. Haechan can tell from your fast breathing, and how desperately you’re grinding your cunt onto his chin. Your thighs, tense and shaking, tighten around his head. His name is now a soft, repetitive plea. He sucks your clit harshly- a mix of teeth and tongue culminating in a gentle assault on the already throbbing bundle of nerves. It almost makes you scream, forgetting about your nosy neighbors, and you would have, if your orgasm hadn’t shocked you into silence.

Your back arches as the waves of pleasure hit you, mouth opening in a silent scream. Hyuck’s tongue continues to lash against you throughout your orgasm. It’s too much, the sensation of falling over the edge, coupled with Harechan’s relentless thoroughness. You fall limp against the mattress, air rushing into your lungs with a gasp. You somehow find the strength to pull your boyfriend from the hallowed space between your thighs.

He comes away with a pop. A final reminder of just the effect he had on your body. You taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you. It’s raw and tangy, filling up your senses one by one, and you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t turn you on. 

You’re impatient again, hungry for him to fill you up. He can feel it in the way you yank at the bottom of his hoodie, uncoordinated tugs in an attempt to get it over his head. He breaks the kiss and pulls the intruding fabric over his head. He tugs his boxers off, kicking them off of his legs. 

He’s as needy as you are. 

Both of you moan as he fills you in a slow thrust. A low moan of satisfaction as he sheaths himself in your warmth. His head falls against your chest, breath coming out hot and embarrassingly shallow against your breast. 

“Fuck,” Haechan mumbles, fingers tightening on your hips in a death grip.   You hold him against you, the heels of your feet digging into the back of his thighs. You want him as deep as he can possibly get, until you can’t remember where you end and he begins.

Hyuck moves, a slow rhythm at first, that picks up in speed and roughness as he absolutely loses himself inside of you. His lips are all over you, searching for soft patches of skin. 

Your nails drag against his back, leaving red lines. Haechan loves them, wishing you could mark him up the way he does to you. The scratching has the desired effect, he thrusts into you harder. The bed squeaks loudly, the headboard hits the wall, you’re both too pent up to care about any complaints that might come from your neighbors. 

It’s fast, quicker than either of you would have liked. But hot, so genuinely hot that the steaminess almost makes up for the speed. He catches your lips in a messy kiss as he plunges into you again and again. You can tell from the sloppiness that he’s close, and you’re not far behind. Your lips travel along his jaw, looking for the one spot by his ear that always makes him unravel. He tenses as you find it, and curses in your ear. You know every one of his weak spots. 

His hips stutter, as he fills you with deep thrusts. A cracked whisper of your name is all the warning he gives before flying over the edge, and dragging you down with him. 

“Hyuck” you whisper, and it’s all over in a shudder. You have him in a strong grip, legs tangled in his own, arms still secure around his shoulders. He’s still rocking against you shallowly as you milk him till the last drop. He falls against you, arms catching himself before his body weight can crush you. “Oh my God, babe” he whispers in your ear, completely blissed out. “I love you” he says right after. 

You smile, fingertips dancing along his shoulder. “I love you too” There’s an unspoken agreement to bask in the stillness of the morning together. Though it doesn’t last long, for soon the quiet morning is broken by the growling of his stomach.

“Someone’s hungry” Haechan chuckles lifting himself off of you and searching for his hoodie. “I thought I was enough of a meal for you”, you laugh. “Sweets make me hungry, and you were really sweet, baby. You should get ready, we are eating out”, he winked at you.

You couldn’t believe how much you loved your boyfriends, he made you feel so appreciated, so loved. It was impossible for you to doubt his love.

[outroshooky]

whatever in heaven | knj

⇢ genre: series; part three (mafia!au) (angst, fluff, smut)

⇢ pairing: kim namjoon x reader

⇢ word count: 5.8k

⇢ warnings: smut (soft d/s dynamics. grinding, oral [m receiving], brief use of the word daddy, marking, gentler dirty talk [praise]) angst (implied usage and mention of knives, nightmare), some fluff. this fic is a bit of a mind-fuck; there are darker themes here, so please read with caution.

⇢ a/n: i’m so excited for you guys to read the next installment of verses & vibes! a huge, huge thank you to my beta readers @sunkoos​ (go check out nas’s work!) and @hobiswitch​; an even bigger thank you to @guksheart​ for not only beta reading this fic but posting this for me because of laptop difficulties!

...which leads me into, unfortunately, some bad news. my laptop crashed permanently over the weekend and i may have lost all of my files. i’m working to get them back, but this also means i have to buy a new laptop. thus, verses and vibes (and my writing in general) may go on hiatus until i can figure out a way to keep writing and posting new content. more updates forthcoming— for now, enjoy whatever in heaven!

“i know not if i could have borne

 to see thy beauties fade;

 the night that follow’d such a morn

 had worn a deeper shade:

 thy day without a cloud hath pass’d,

 and thou wert lovely to the last,

 extinguish’d, not decay’d;

 as stars that shoot along the sky

 shine brightest as they fall from high.”

⤷ and thou art dead, as young and fair; lord byron (george gordon)

It is always the same in the beginning.

He is kneeling on a concrete floor that goes on as far as he can see, cold and callous against the skin that peeks from the stringy rips in his pajama pants. A single light flickers above his head, murky cream, faded with age. His arms are bound behind his back with braided rope, biting vengeance into his tender wrists. His exhalations wisp pale smoke, rushing from his lips to touch the folded legs of a woman sitting just out of the ring of wired lamplight.

The supports of the chair are metal; he momentarily ponders how her skin isn’t dotted with gooseflesh through the thin fabric of her dress, but her cherry-red heels catch the light in a way that has his breath hitching. Something in him presses to reach out to her but he can’t, straining against his bonds like a feral cat caged. He snarls, a gritting sound in the silence of the warehouse, and she hums something seductive in return.

It is a dark heat that kindles in the pit of Namjoon’s stomach when he realizes he is staring at temptation herself, clothed in cherry pumps and scarlet lipstick. She is the antithesis of everything he should have and yet, yet—

He craves her more and more with every second that goes past. He doesn’t need to see her face to know that she is hauntingly beautiful, a devil crafted from memory, sent from hell to tempt him in all the ways she knew how. The blooming lust in his veins climbs with viney fingers straight to his brain, his head spinning, flying high; he barely knows what to believe. Somehow, she’s pulling on the strings of his thoughts, a marionette and his master dancing on the brink. One wrong string and the puppet collapses in a heap of cloth and kindling.

He groans, the sound of frustration and need echoing on and on in the dim room. She laughs velvet rich, sickeningly sweet. He wishes he could rend the binds from his arms, crawl to her, worship her the way she deserves; he shuffles forward an inch, two—

A plain black combat knife skitters to a stop in front of him, twirling once before coming to rest, just grazing his left kneecap. Resting potential against the crook of his leg, and he sucks in a breath when he feels the chilled edge level against the puckered scar on his knee.

She doesn’t speak, but Namjoon knows exactly what she means to say.

Thoughts clamor at the base of his skull, hissing seduction like a writhing mass of coiled snakes snapping for attention. They strike at one another, seeking dominion, and he’s nearly consumed by the din. A choice, cut out for him by the hands of fate, burned in the ashes of every decision he’s ever made. It boils down to this, to him and her and everything in between.

At one pellucid flicker of insanity, his hands are freed.

The ropes fall frayed to the floor and he straightens, rubbing at the burn in his forearms, rolling his neck to loosen the strain. His eyes flicker to her mass in the darkness, the shape of her just touched by the faintest tendrils of light. She is just out of reach, but so close, so far when her head tilts, a hint of fascination. He is mortal, she is eternal— a man reduced at the end of the day, stripped of money and power and the demons that lick at his heels. Greed is his master, but she is his, coveted in the secrecy of this cushioned nightmare.

He knows though, in the deepest reaches of his twisted soul, that only one of them will leave the warehouse alive.

In this horrible, shattered husk of reality, only one of them is destined to live.

And somehow, the choice has fallen to him.

Pick up the knife. Pick it up, feel it in your hands, smooth and weighted, perfectly balanced. Everything you’ve ever wanted is in the palm of your hands. Make the right choice. Do it for me, baby. For me.

Namjoon is pitted against his own self-preservation, warped desires clamoring for attention, needy yet sick. Needy, he is so fucking needy, but for what? Anticipation itches the back of his neck; he can barely think when the handle melds into the curve of his palm with such a sinful fit. The metal glints promise of things yet to come, but when he tilts the blade towards himself, he sees only the industrial struts that crosshatch the ceiling, the dust that hovers thick in the clogged, choking air. Emptiness and fulfillment, hand in hand, only a breath away.

You know what the answer is, Kim Namjoon. Do it. Do it for me.

Does he know? He must know, deep in the recesses of his bones. Deep inside the fucked-up mind of his, playing tricks on him; a trickster, what trickster? The last of his sanity is threatening to drip, melting like liquid wax onto the cool, callous cement. It’s bubbling in his hands, pouring through the gaps between his fingers, but when he shakes his head, a mad dog, it solidifies molten silver, black titanium.

Do it for me.

Do it for her.

He must.

Namjoon’s eyes flicker to her calf, following the silk of her skin to the hem of her saccharine dress; it flutters scarlet just out of reach. He’s on his knees now; there’s something pulling at him, some indeterminable force dragging him through the floor. The blade slips; the knife twists in his hands as he falls forward, and—

The air rushes out of Namjoon’s lungs as he writhes himself awake, mouth agape in an silent scream. He’s wheezing with the first rush of oxygen into his lungs, his lips swollen with gnashing of teeth as he twists away from the warmth settled next to him in the sea of rippling sheets, curling in on himself.

“Namjoon, are you alright?”

The broken man lifts his head, taking in the naked form upright in bed beside him, hair awry, concern bleeding every word.

It’s you.

He’s safe.

Indeed, Namjoon has had many dreams, but none quite like this one.

It is as if the very breath was sucked from Namjoon’s lungs when he first wrested himself awake in a cold sweat. Control is something he craves, something he owns save the late night hours when it is ripped from his hands by the sick desires of his own brain, playing tricks on him. He exercises his grip on every minutiae of his life, but when his eyes flutter shut and his conscience takes hold, it wraps a silken tie around his thoughts and begs him to pay attention.

You’re calling his name in a voice burdened by drowsiness. He knows you were awoken because of him but he can’t seem to think, to do anything else but sit here in this bed, in these rippling creamy sheets, and feel his lungs fill, empty. Fill, empty.

“Namjoon, love, breathe with me, okay?”

Breathing. Breathing is all he has been reduced to, a creature of the night with oxygen in his lungs and demons in his head.

You take his hand in your own, feels the slim digits trembling against your skin. You rub gentle circles into his knuckles and it somehow grounds him in the midst of the chaos, the overwhelming flood conjured from his worst nightmares. He watches as you carefully trace every crooked angle of his fingers with your own.

It is this simple motion that produces new thoughts, a mental clamor not of his own demise but for his own safety, the protection that he seeks. You are so much more than the sum of your parts: you are safety in the midst of a den of ruby-eyed cobras simply begging for a chance to strike. He’s never thought of anybody the way he thinks of you; there is no one else who comes close to you, and that’s saying a lot when it comes to his line of work.

“Namjoon, you’re safe, okay? You’re safe with me. We’re in our bedroom. You’re still the head of the most feared crime ring in the country. Nothing has changed. Yoongi is just outside the door; I’m right here. Nothing has changed, baby. You’re safe.”

Your words are warm against his skin, dotted with the press of lips to his temple, his cheek. You’re burning up against him, sweat beading at the roots of his hair, the silver strands falling low into his eyes. Somehow, the heat only serves to make him cooler, and he’s nestling into your arms before his mind catches up to his body. He’s safe. Somehow, in the roaring din of his mind, he is safe. His demons won’t follow him here, locked outside the door, palms scrabbling at the windows. The windows. Namjoon’s eyes flick to the glass and find the shades drawn, blocking out the ambient light that hovers thick on the other side. Bulletproof, he insisted, and for good reason. But Yoongi would have called if there was a problem, and he’s got Seokjin at the front gate, and it begins to seep in, sweet relief, that he truly is safe.

He is cradled to you like a child, a position compromising for a man of his stature, but he knows you won’t judge. Your hand trails from his thigh to his hip, his ribs to his shoulders, and your fingers nest in his hair, gently scratching his scalp. Lord knows he won’t be able to close his eyes until daylight breaks over the dark oak floor of your shared bedroom, but he hums and noses at your neck. You smell like sage and lavender with a touch of his own cologne, a memory of last night, and he inhales deeply, tries to savor the muskiness.

“You’re okay baby, I promise.” A kiss to his temple, another grounding touch. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you; you’re safe right here with me. Just let me love you, okay baby?”

Love. Love, a concept Namjoon knew better by verbal parry than by any real, tangible memory. It was wielded by a father he barely knew, an absent mother who preferred the company of socialites to the company of her own son. It was really a wonder he found it in him to love at all, really; he’d assumed he’d leave such an emotion to those who built a life out of a 9-5 day and mediocre sex. He’d been proven wrong, however, when you came along— you, once a high-profile escort in the dirty underworld he’d built for himself, proved yourself a worthy companion when you stayed beyond his guttural moans and dirty secrets. It was in fact, a moment like this when he realized he quite enjoyed your company, and there was something more to it than just a good fuck, an easy pussy.

You were the closest thing to real love he’d ever experienced, a home to come back to that wasn’t a prowling security team and a clean gun barrel. He’d exposed the grittiest parts of himself to you, the most private secrets and still you came back for more. You were just as fucked up as he was, really, and that was his favorite thing about you. You’d killed for him and he knew you’d kill again, and that was, very plainly, the matter of things.

Plus, that mouth made him see the stars more times than he’d willingly brag about at the poker table.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, exposed through the lip of your shirt (his shirt, actually). It’s a careful kiss, chaste for him. Your fingers rub comfort into the base of his skull and he swears he could purr, an alley cat sleek and pleasured.

“You doing okay, Joonie?” Your eyes tell him everything he needs to know and he nods, unsure if he trusts himself to speak. Fear still gnaws at his bones, muted terror of a red-heeled succubus and a silver blade that gleams in the lamplight. Somehow though, you know, scraping the blunt of your fingernails against his roots. “You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. I’m here regardless of that, you know me.”

Namjoon noses the column of your neck in reply, folding his sizeable frame until it molds against yours. Some things he’d never let the boys know about, but some things, he thinks, they knew about already. He is hard and cold and calculated yet soft and warm and comforting, a living contradiction unto himself; you’d never believe it if you hadn’t seen it yourself. A complexity of men who prefers to live by the simplest of rules, but you’d learned long ago not to try to understand something that was fucked-up from the start. Some things in this world were just fucked up, and that was the way they were meant to be.

Neither of you know how long you sit there, adrift in messy sheets, dry eyes gritty with the lateness of the hour. Your hand weaves through Namjoon’s hair as the vines around his heart flex, their thorny stems unraveling. He stopped shaking minutes before, but if you know anything about him, the internal tremors never cease, not outside of the safety of this bedroom, impossible with the life he lives.

He stirs a little, murmurs your name against your neck, his lips brushing bare skin and the small freckle that dots just above your collarbone. There’s something so intimate, so human about it, screaming vulnerability that hangs open and aching in the silence. His hands slide smooth across the breadth of your back, your waist, palms settling atop your thighs as he draws back slowly, slowly.

There’s a question in his eyes, one you meet with your own.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He hesitates.

“Namjoon…”

He swallows, tilts his head, steals a kiss. “I’m sorry.” Then another.

With the third you’re pulling away, chest steady, finger to his lips. “Namjoon, you’re not thinking clearly. We can’t do this right now—”

“Says who?” He is breathless with the thought. “I wanna make you feel good, baby. You deserve that.”

The sweetest words wrap themselves around the breadth of your bones, melting between the gaps. He’s always been so good with his tongue.

“Namjoon, I wanna make you feel good too, but not when you’re like this.” You shake your head. “Not when you’re waking up screaming about death and knives and all sorts of horrible things.”

His hands brush your curves. “If this bed is an ocean, I wanna drown in you.”

“Joonie…”

It’s so easy to work at you, the sharper edges that he can dissect piece by piece. He knows exactly how far to push, what little to say to reel you in hook, line, and sinker. “Just go with it baby, alright? Just trust me.”

It’s easy to fall into Namjoon, collapsing every time as he folds around you. His head tilts to the side as he leans in, his nose brushing your own. He tastes like mint toothpaste and something uniquely him, an element you can never place but when he’s exposing the most vulnerable parts of himself to you like this. His mouth moves easy against yours, just tender lips, warm kisses. His hand smoothes up your spine to cradle your neck, thumb brushing at the nape, the soft hairs that tickle the back of his hand. “Just relax baby, relax.”

Once more. “Joonie, are you sure you’re okay with this?”

He nods. “I want this.”

He’s never been one for kissing but tonight he craves it, the simplicity of two mouths and hands that fit themselves perfectly against the curves and the edges. Musk curls under your nose as your eyelids flutter shut, dusting the apples of your cheeks a pinkish hue. Your hands meet his chest, burning with heat through the oversized Grateful Dead shirt he wears to bed with you, and they slide to his shoulders when he slips an arm underneath you to tug you closer.

You settle atop the apexes of his thighs, legs folding around him as he gazes up at you. The utmost adoration he has for you, written in the stars and in two hearts that beat as one, rattling against their cages with a need for closer, closer, closer. Fear melts underneath practiced fingertips and patience; he’ll be damned if he doesn’t return the favor. His eyes, usually tawny and mellow, burn blacker than charcoal but sweeter than syrup, running with emotion. It’s evident in every brush of his hands against your bare skin when his fingertips edge under the hem of your shorts, the gleam in his eye that warns of everything that is about to come. One hand supports your back as the other squeezes your thigh, and you can’t help but smirk down at him with the easy smile that tugs at his own kiss-bitten lips.

You aren’t smirking, however, when he leans in and nips a bite at your neck, teasing with his teeth, making you whimper and whine atop him. His tongue pokes between his lips, assuaging the pain, and your own mouth falls open as your fingers clench at his shoulders, nails sliding a lazy path along his spine. He licks once at the bite, then once more until he’s satisfied with the petaled violet that blossoms across the breadth of your throat. He nibbles a matching purple rose on the other side; you can feel the smile on his lips when your mouth shamelessly tips open and you stutter out his name.

“Hm, what is it?” When he draws back, you moan a singular complaint. “What do you want, love? I’ll give you anything you want.”

“W-Wanna make you feel good,” you pant, eyes fluttering. “Wanna make you feel so good.”

“I wanna make you feel good too, baby. Let’s just focus on the now, yeah?” Namjoon’s hand squeezes your thigh but you’re already pressing your body flush to his, kneeling over him. You cup his face and he strokes your wrist lightly, the most tentative of touches, thanking god that somehow, in the midst of the lion’s den, you’d found him. He had you and he knew he could trust you, trust the smell of your shampoo and the heat of your skin. “Focus on me.”

You lean down to kiss him, brushing his cheekbones, tangling your hands in his hair, but apparently, Namjoon had other plans. His lips graze your own, trailing the edge of your jaw to pepper the lightest kisses at your ear and move lower, lower. When his mouth lavishes the column of your neck with the utmost pleasure, you can’t help but feel your core ache, the purest whines permeating the thick air as you beg. He’s definitely hard now, weight against the inside of your thigh, and the temptation— no, the need to grind down on him sparked the fuzziest pleasures in your mind, the most sinful ideas.

“Please Joonie, please feels so good, please, w-wanna—”

When Namjoon mouths wet at the shell of your ear you writhe, losing control with each second that slips between your fingers like sand. His lips burn fire against your already heated skin, sizzling and crackling like a live wire under his touch. You hiss and he growls deep in the back of his throat, continues his ministrations.

“I forgot how much you liked that,” he breathes shakily.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you gasp, releasing your iron grasp on his roots. Luckily he’s unfazed; damn lucky you to be with someone who actually enjoyed their fair share of kinkiness. “So fucking hot and you’re so thick, I can feel it—”

When you grind down on him, pressing yourself onto the growing bulge in his slacks and swiveling your hips with practiced ease, he groans feverishly. With every brush of the head of his cock, he’s harder than before, memory weighty in the palm of his hand. He chokes on the breath in his lungs, his nails blunt on your back, and he moans once in content. Feels so fucking good.

“God, baby, you’re gonna ruin me like this,” Namjoon chuckles.

“Maybe that’s the intention,” you trill.

“Fuck.” The word lies heavy in the air, heavy on his bated breath.

You smirk, sinful seduction in his ear. “And what if I did this?”

As his eyebrows furrow, you ease yourself onto his thighs, so strong and sinewy. Your fingertips slip down his shoulders, trace every muscle that strains under his loose sleep shirt. Beneath the fabric is the coiled power of a lethal creature, a tiger poised to devour his prey. And he is utterly wrapped around your finger, letting his head tip back against the headboard with a  sigh. He’s lost in your touches, an angel fallen from heaven, no idea which way is up or down.

You rub circles into his hip bones; he twists under you. Practically begging with his gasps, knowing what awaits him. Your fingers toy with the hem of his boxers and he’s hissing between his teeth. “Baby…”

You hum a response, press a kiss to the shell of his ear.

“Please…”

“Oh Namjoon,” you coo. “You’re a mess, baby.”

He is. Hair sticking to his forehead, sweat gleaming at his temple; he’s a model for destruction, the dirtiest of kinds. Hips arching underneath you, and there’s a wet spot that stains the fabric. He smiles somehow, teeth flashing in the low light. “All for you.”

You withdraw, spit into your palm. “Then you get all of me.”

Your hand slips beneath the waistband of his boxers, finds his cock, thick and hard. At the first stroke, lazy and full, he can’t stop the raspy grunt that leaves his throat. “Shit, baby. Feels so good.” When you lower your head to mouth at him over his sweats he practically writhes, begging, needy. So unlike him, but a welcome change to see him falling apart, falling apart over you. The fabric is soaked with saliva and dotted with a pearl of cum, a carnal work of art.

You rub slowly down his length, thumbing the swollen head leaking his seed. It’s messy and wet and he’s moaning and it’s all worth it, worth it to see him wrecked like this. His balls are heavy in your palm; when your eyes flutter up to meet his, wide and expectant, Namjoon hisses. That sound enough jolts burning heat between your thighs, twisting devilishly in your stomach. “B-Babygirl?”

There’s question in the word, question that makes you pause. You moan against his clothed cock; he chokes on his words.

“Can I make you feel good too?”

A sloppy kiss pressed to his member. “Later, okay? I wanna focus on you right now, Joonie.”

His hand strokes through your hair, flyaway, disheveled. “You’re so good to me. So fucking good—” He chokes on the downstroke, fingers tightening out of reflex. “Want you so bad.”

You press. “How bad? Bad enough to want my mouth?”

“Shit, your mouth,” he whines. “Want your mouth, want you—”

“Joonie,” you murmur.

His heartbeat resounds like gunfire in the ringing silence.

“Lift.”

He lifts his hips as you tug, pulling his sweats down to his thighs, the fabric ridged underneath your perch. His cock falls free, standing slightly crooked against his still-clothed abdomen, rippling with tension. It twitches under the heat of your gaze, steadily seeping liquid bliss, and your mouth waters at the thought. It’s been so long since you took him like this; when it’ll happen again, who’s to say.

You pepper kisses along his thighs just to hear him whimper, feel the predator writhe in his own constraints. His hands burn their own trails along the curves of your body, spreading heat in their wake as you cave to your own desire, slipping a hand between your thighs when you take him in your mouth with practiced ease. He’s firm under your fingertips, lithe and sleek and powerful in all the right ways, but he falls apart when it comes to you, crumbles like rock under the breath of the tidal wave. He grunts sin from between gritted teeth but whines complaint when you pull back to tease, to draw things out. He’s gentle in his touches but firm in his demands, even through the cottony billows of his neediness.

“I-I’m close,” Namjoon stutters, skin crimson from lavished attention. There’s saliva smeared down your chin and tears twinkle liquid starlight on your lashes, but you’ve never felt more electrified, burning up at the seams for him. From the heated confines of your throat you withdraw his cock with a firm touch at the base, his fingers running through your mussed locks.

“Where do you want to cum, baby?”

He squirms. “Fuck. Wherever you’ll take m-me—” He shudders, ribs heaving. Your fallen angel, shattering under your touch. “Oh shit, I’m gonna cum for you, babygirl.”

“Cum for me, angel. Cum for me...” you murmur, gaze level with his own as you wrap your lips around his member.

“Gonna cum for you, fuck—”

“Daddy.”

The cavernous heat of your mouth is a slick warmth, so wet and warm and utterly divine. He loses himself in it, lets himself go, pushing towards that edge of no return, riding the crest of the wave as it rolls faster, harder, heavier. “‘M gonna fucking cum. Oh god, fuck, shit, babygirl, I’m cumming, I’m—”

A drawn out groan fills the air, raspy and thick and throaty as he thrusts into your mouth once, twice, spills over. He’s bitter on your tongue, acrid but you take it, swallow it all. It’s worth it to see the pleasure overtake him, to see him let go of every capacity and capability to fall drowning, dizzy. Whatever in heaven, above or below, he’s tumbling headlong into it, collapsing into himself like a burning star falling from the cosmos.

He’s the first to break the silence that falls, withdrawing himself and tucking his softening cock back in his sweats with a remarkable amount of composition for a man who’d just seen the very sparks of the universe behind closed eyelids. He chuckles breathless, bated. “Fucking hell, angel.”

You try to speak but merely croak at first, throat grating dry. He hushes you soothingly, easing you back on the pillows now soaked with sweat. “Let me get you some water, yeah? Just stay here for now.”

You whine a complaint— shouldn’t you be taking care of him?— but he’s insistent and already on his feet, legs shaky as he heads towards the bathroom. There’s a pang in your chest watching him go, the reality of the situation settling in, and vulnerability flowers in your heart.

The tap squeaks; the faucet runs. Room temperature water, not too hot but not too cold to soothe the burn in your esophagus. He knows you better than anyone, knows how to take care of you when you fail to take care of yourself, life spent always on the run. You’re the one holding him when his nightmares consume him, the steel that he draws from his belt to wield before him, the ultimate weapon. Yin and yang, black and white, blooming nebula and neutron star. The water turns off, a grating complaint.

It’s been too long; you’ve delayed too much. Play to his fantasy; he has no idea what’s coming.

“If the water’s not enough, I can send Yoongi for some tea— oh.”

Oh.

You are no longer prostrate, the limp rag doll exhausted from her play. No, you are stretched out on the bed, ass up on your hands and knees, silver glinting between your teeth as a pair of handcuffs dangles in the air. You are looking at him with fire smouldering deep in your eyes, blazing a burning glare straight through him.

The predator has become the prey.

“Daddy,” you purr, right on cue. “Come here.”

It’s automatic, the way Namjoon moves towards you, glass forgotten on the nearby dresser. He’s completely transfixed, fascinated by the possibilities, and when he reaches the end of the bed, you stop him with one outstretched foot, bare with the lateness of the hour. “Turn around.”

He’s so submissive, so compliant simply by the force of his own surprise. It’s hard to keep going, hard to push through the adrenaline thrumming through your blood, the underlying current that threatens to sweep you away, too. But you mustn’t listen, mustn’t feel.

“Hands behind your back, Joonie, baby.”

He’s perfect, perfectly whole in the way he follows each command that falls from your lips like silk spun thread. He surrenders himself so willingly to you, it stings raw.

You rise to your feet, level with the back of him. Your fingers make quick work of the cuffs and with a firm click, the deed is done.

With a tender motion that surprises even you considering the brevity of the situation, you wrap your arms around your torso, bury your face in his skin, inhale his scent. Amber and citrus. Musk and spice. Whole contradictions that somehow manage to summarize him perfectly. You whisper against his spine like it’s a secret. “I’m so sorry.”

“What, baby?”

You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, thudding rapid with excitement, wonder at what lies ahead of him. Guilt roars its ugly head and you beat it back with double the force.

You stiffen, step away from him. Four years you’d waited to formulate these words, to hear them drop from your lips, plummeting on high. Four years and now the moment is here, and you swallow past the lump in your sore throat.

“Kim Namjoon, you are under arrest for charges of extortion, murder, murder-for-hire, drug possession, and arms trafficking. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you…”

“...Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

You’re sitting in the open door of a police cruiser, more specifically a SWAT cruiser, an aluminum blanket wrapped around your bare shoulders. The air is warm, but you can’t stop shivering.

Seokjin paces fifteen feet away from you, ever more handsome in his suit and tie. Hoseok is finishing his interview of the conclusion, anticlimactic for the better. Yoongi’s legs dangle from the open doors of one of the ambulances called when your colleagues expected the worst. Thankfully, no casualties had occurred but a sprained ankle, a fight between one of your fellow law enforcement officers and that guy that manned the back gate. Everyone can go home, rest easy.

After Seokjin’s interview is yours, and you realize by the time Hoseok is asking the last question that you don’t remember a single word of what you’ve said. Elite agents taking down the biggest crime boss in the country are not supposed to feel so empathetic, so broken. Guilty. Regretful.

Four years, the longest and most dramatic chase of your career. Justice fell, a swift hammer; you’d saved the day once again, added another face to the chalkboard in your sterile office a thousand miles away. You’d won. Hadn’t you?

There’s a faraway look in your eyes that Hoseok somehow understands, a glimmer of something more than success. He straddles the age gap between the members of the team, incorporating Jeongguk’s youthfulness with his elders’ experience, the glue of it all handed the most important task. He calls your name. “You’ve been out of it the entire time I’ve been interviewing you. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

But there’s no bite to the words, no whet of passion. They fall flat below the crackle of radios, the mist that reflects red and blue through the evergreen trees scraping the stars winking high above.

Hoseok puts his pen and clipboard aside. “Hey,” he says. The kindness in his tone pierces daggers through your heart. You somehow would’ve been more comfortable if he had yelled at you. “You did the right thing. He hurt a lot of people. Killed many more, and did so without remorse.”

That’s what you think, you want to scream. Because to you, he is some foreign criminal, far removed from any last dregs of humanity. He is a monster and a crook and a fiend, twisted into something unrecognizable, but you didn’t see what I saw. Did you see the warmth in his eyes when he rolled over and buried himself in my arms all those mornings in bed? Did you see the way he saved those dogs about to be euthanized in a shelter, because those pups reminded him of how he used to feel, staring death in the eyes every day? Did you see the way he loved me?

Hoseok pats your shoulder. “I’ll put in a month and a half of vacation time for you when we get home. Lord knows you’ve earned it. And we can rest tonight, rest for the first time in a while. We’ve got a nice hotel an hour away from here, top floor. We’re not done flushing out the rest of his boys, but that can wait for now. We can handle that on our own; they’re scattered all over the continent anyways. It’ll take time.” He picks up his supplies, turns to move on to Yoongi. The look in the elder man’s eyes, the special ops agent thinks, is exactly the same as your own. What had you two seen in that hellhole?

You tuck the blanket tighter around yourself and nod once. It’s the most you can do.

Hoseok smiles, but it’s not quite the beaming, sunshine-filled glow he usually carries about himself. “You did good work and I’m proud of you. Get some sleep, agent.”

Sleep does not come for a long, long time.

When it does, it eats away behind your eyelids, filling your mind with visions of a man adrift in an ocean of bedsheets, rocking on the waves of an endless concrete floor that goes for miles and miles, whispering promises of things to come that never would be.

Kim Namjoon is sentenced to life in prison for six counts of murder, fifteen counts of extortion, three counts of murder-for-hire, six counts of drug trafficking, three counts of arms trafficking, and two counts of drug possession.

He never makes it to see his twenty-sixth birthday.

[moneymingyu]

[cw: in this chapter, there will be mentions of death. if you cannot read these kinds of content then please refrain from doing so.]

Mingyu stares at the old oak tree ahead of him. It’s dark out and with the November weather quickly settling in, he can feel the tips of his ears prickling in angry red tips. Even then, he just can’t seem to move from his spot on the bench. People slowly start to filter out, all of them having somebody to go home to, while Mingyu sits in the dark and stares out at the park he learned how to play catch in.

He replays the memory over and over again. He remembers the sun smothering his skin in kisses until he was doused in her liquid gold. He remembers his dark hair fading into a lighter shade and how the strands would dance in the wind at the slightest breeze. He remembers the old lady who would sell watermelon not too far from where he was sitting and how she would always give Mingyu the biggest piece she had. He remembers hearing the sound of laughter and dogs barking. He remembers the babies squealing and the group of teenage boys playing soccer in the corner of the park.

But most importantly, he remembers his father.

He was a tall man with eyes that seemed to shine whenever they laid on Mingyu. He was a man with a hearty laugh and a firm handshake. He had the warmest hugs, the softest touches and the biggest heart. Mingyu remembers wanting to grow up and be just like his dad.

They used to play catch by the old oak tree in the corner of this Anyang-si park. Every Friday after school, Mingyu’s little legs would carry him home and race to his front door where he would find his dad, who was rarely ever off from his days at the fire station, sitting on the recliner in front of the television. Sometimes, he’d be awake but most of the time, Mingyu would have to jump on him with the loud cry of “APA!” before the man was smothering him with hugs and kisses all over again. Then, they would travel down to the park and play catch. They used to spend hours out here until Mingyu was too tired to even walk. Most times, his father would carry him on his back and recount tales of his life as Mingyu buried his head into his shoulder, the smell of aftershave and home filling the little boy’s nose. Mingyu remembers that when they’d get back, his father would draw him a bath then make him a homemade dinner. They’d share their meal before Mingyu would climb into his father’s bed and fall asleep next to him, his favorite movie slowly lulling him to sleep.

He smiles at the memory, faintly remembers the smell of aftershave and home lingering on the sheets. Mingyu doesn’t remember a time where he had ever felt more at home than when he was a young boy laying next to his father on nights like those.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t even sense that he’s loosing track of time until a soft voice mutters “Hey” beside him.

He’s suddenly aware of the biting cold that surrounds him, the nipping air and emptiness of the park.

Mingyu isn’t surprised that Minghao had found him. Honestly, Mingyu thought that maybe he’d find him sooner. But then again, the boy never seemed to prod into the deep depths of Mingyu’s heart that he closed off and accepted the Mingyu that the world got to see in handfuls of over the top laughter and trips around the world.

He’s sitting at the other end of the bench, still and silent, afraid that if he comes even closer, he might cross another boundary that he was already teetering on.

Mingyu doesn’t reply to him and instead, lets his head lull back. It’s hard to see the night sky from here with the park lamps brightly shining into his eyes but he barley make out a constellation that Wonwoo and Pumpkin taught him about back when they were kids. He shakes the thought of the Jeon kids before their smiling faces can turn his eyes red and sighs.

“Did you find who you were looking for?” Minghao asks, voice still light.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mingyu can see him fiddling with a ring on his middle finger. The cat faced boy that goes by the name of Jun flashes in his head and he wonders how Minghao could be sitting on this cold park bench with him when he could be surrounded by the warmth of love of the promise he wants to make to Jun back in Seoul.

The thought of Jun is what brings him to talk for the first time in days. “No. Somebody was already there when I went so...maybe next week,” he shrugs. Minghao nods, leaving the conversation at that and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.

Mingyu continues to stare upwards until his neck is incredibly sore and the clattering of Minghao’s teeth is all that he can hear.

“Let’s go,” the older simply says.

Minghao doesn’t question it and hands Mingyu the keys. The car roars to life and Mingyu drives back to his motel.

“You know Seungkwan is here,” the younger says, eyeing the building in front of him. There’s a deeper meaning to these words, a chance to stay with him just a bit longer, but Mingyu chooses to take them at face value instead.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want him to know I’m here just yet,” he replies.

“But...Seungkwan is your closest friend from here. Don’t you feel bad for him?” The question is out before Minghao can stop the words from spewing out of his mouth. He bites his lip nervously and slides into the driver’s seat.

“Get home safe,” Mingyu tells him.

“You too,” Minghao replies.

And once again, Mingyu takes his words at face value and goes inside of his lonely motel room.

Seungkwan is the last person I want to visit in Anyang, he thinks to himself as he lays beneath the snow white covers.

A part of him does feel bad for his current friend group that are loyal to somebody as secretive as him. He doesn’t mean to be this way towards them but he couldn’t handle another sad face.

He rolls over in bed and for a second, thinks of the Jeon kids once again. He wonders how they could continue to live here after all of these years. After all, they had nothing here.

When Wonwoo turned 18, their parents left him to work in the states and haven’t called him since. He remembers how Wonwoo didn’t blame them either. He never blamed anybody for wanting to leave this town.

Mingyu remembers how hard it was for Wonwoo in that one year. He ended up dropping out of college to find a way to support him and his little sister as she finished off her last years of high school. At least Mingyu had a local grandmother take him in when he lost his dad. Wonwoo had nobody and more days than not, Pumpkin would be with her best friend Seungkwan to avoid having to come home to the defeated look on Wonwoo’s face.

He thinks back to earlier in the week, when he was strolling through the old shops. He doesn’t even remember what he was looking at before he heard a familiar voice squeal “Jeonghan!” and peers over to see the girl that he had spent years growing up beside trying her best to release the grips of the boy who held her so tightly at her waist.

He smiles and stares as a fond memory starts to replay in the back of his head of all the times they’d walk back home from school together, picking on each other while Wonwoo quickly hussled away from the embarrassment.

That’s when it happens.

A flash of recognition as their eyes meet that his hat and mask can’t even cover. He watches the girl calm and the boy say “Pumpkin? Did I hurt you?” before pulling away to check for injuries.

Mingyu books it before she could even open her mouth to talk to him.

As another star glimmers, Mingyu realizes that it’s almost four in the morning.

If he spends dusk counting the specs of white splattered across the black canvas of forever, nobody has to know except for the moon.

——

Chapter Six: Here Goes Nothing...

Summary: If home is where the heart is, then the hearts of Kim Mingyu and the Jeon siblings must lie within the stars. Maybe that’s why the always feel so out of place. Maybe that’s why Mingyu left town and never turned back. Maybe that’s why the Jeon siblings can’t leave this town. Maybe this time, the stars will align and things might start actually making sense.

previous (chapter five) | next (chapter seven)

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a/n: i know i should’ve done this earlier in the story but i’m kind of winging this even though krys gave me super great advice on how not to wing this lol. but anyways, hopefully this will help make a little bit of sense on the past between mingyu and the jeon kids! i plan to write out a couple of more chapters so hopefully, we’ll understand more soon!

[mcustorm]

Thoughts on Love, Victor Season 1

PSA: If you think that you might be gay, don’t get a girl emotionally invested! Please!

Ya know, at first when I thought about what I was going to write about this show, I thought that I should split the writings into the first half/last half of the show. Now I’m thinking “screw it”, if only because if I was going to go that route I should have stopped, parsed through my feelings about the first 5 episodes, and written those thoughts before proceeding with the next half. That, of course, did not happen, so to prevent the back half of the season’s events from miring the first half, I’ll just write about the whole shebang. There’s probably a joke about that word somewhere, I’ll try not to make it.

Anyways, let’s start by saying that on the whole, I really liked this show. It was not as good as Sex Education season 1, yet in my opinion waaaay better than HSMTMTS season 1. Most of the characters were likable and felt developed enough, it moved at a nice pace, and you can tell that a lot of heart went into this. Perhaps because we all watched this in a day, it felt like a 5 hour movie rather than a 10 episode tv show.

Additionally, I of course like the Latinx representation. The intersectionality of the Latinx community and the LGBTQ+ community has been presented on at least five TV shows to my knowledge: Ugly Betty, One Day at a Time, Diary of a Future President, The Baker and the Beauty, and now Love, Victor. Let’s keep it up!

As for the premise of the show itself, I *love* that this show acknowledges that Simon’s journey, at least at his house, was leaps and bounds easier than many other people’s. Victor’s parents are more conservative and religious, and they don’t have their shit together, so this is not the best environment to drop that bombshell in (which is why it was so incredible when Victor decides to do it anyway). Simon and Victor’s DM’s being a framing device for the show was a great way to tie the universe together.

The hook of Love, Simon was that you know all those cheesy and cliche rom-coms that straight people have gotten since the dawn of time? Well LGBT people deserve those stories too! Love, Victor is sort of presented with that same thesis in mind, which is why watching these episodes felt like different things I’ve seen before all over. The whole season ironically feels like Alex Strangelove: The TV Show, right down to the often cringy relationship with the girl, the openly gay love interest who conflicts our protagonist, and the goofball friend who chases after a girl who is seemingly out of his league.

Mia’s character felt a lot like Laila from All-American, being a black girl who is ordained as the hottest girl at school (which I feel like is a title only given in fictional schools), who also has a missing mother and problems with her rich dad. Pilar, on the other hand, feels like Casey from Atypical, in that she is openly rebellious in large part because of her mother’s infidelity.

Victor’s story this season sure was something to watch. The biggest question for me was, just how much sympathy should he be given? The world is inherently unfair to Victor. None of us should have to go through the agony and anxiety that so often comes with being in the closet and coming out. But for Victor to have visited those problems on Mia, who is going through things herself? That makes him pretty morally gray.

But he was still finding himself! But he loves Mia, just not like that! I get it, which is why he should have cut things off as soon as he got back from New York, no he should have cut things off when she asked him if there was “anything else” in her bedroom, no he should have cut things off when he literally felt like he and Benji were the only two people in the room at the concert, no he really shouldn’t have done this to begin with.

The line between Victor finding himself and him deceiving Mia is the conflict of the show, but the moment for me when I was like “Damn, Victor” was after he intentionally derailed Mia’s shebang-ing that she planned, he found the gall to lie to Benji and plan a seduction! That is why the season finale was so glorious. Because yes, while the world is unfair to Victor, he’s being unfair to the people around him.

I have made it a point not to read other people’s opinions extensively so as not to bias my own thoughts, but is Felix everybody else’s favorite? Felix’s character and arc was great. He was a supportive friend yet still felt like he had a story and stakes of his own, something which some TV shows get right (Sex Ed) and some TV shows get various shades of wrong (Jamie Johnson, Andi Mack). I like that he knew his worth and cut things off with Lake, and I like that she realized that her happiness with him should take priority over what others think of her.

I was soooo sympathetic to Mia. Her world is being turned upside down at home. Clearly, she has not even processed her mother being out of her life, and now her Dad is “replacing” her Mom while the baby is also “replacing” her! In Mia’s eyes, at least. Mia just needs to know that she is loved and appreciated. Which she *thought* of all people she’d be able to get from her boyfriend. Shucks.

As for the rest of Victor’s family, I also thought the parents’ storyline was pretty interesting yet unfortunate. Armando just can’t come around to trusting Isabel, which I actually kind of understand. Isabel, meanwhile, is being prevented from doing the thing she loves to do, which sucks especially because she’s in a radically new environment. Adrian is of course great, protect him at all costs. Pilar’s seemingly permanent mode of “angsty” is completely justified, as her friends back in TX are moving on just fine without her, she’s having trouble opening up and fitting in, and her family is WYLIN.

Some things that didn’t go so well for me was Andrew’s character, who feels like he’s just there to obstruct at any given moment. Y'all knew that when Victor and Benji were having that convo in the bathroom, someone was in the stall and someone was Andrew. Also, my guy, how are you not even somewhat aware that you are a total douchecanoe? I liked Benji, but Venji didn’t quite work for me because of all of the cheatation that it took to get there. Benji was pissed and ready to stay away from Victor permanently after the [attempted seduction], but once his relationship was over he was completely fine with putting his tongue down Mia’s boyfriend’s throat.

Overall, I really enjoyed this show. Some of these teen dramas I’m admittedly only watching for the LGBT content, so to have that be at the forefront of a show for once was amazing. The conflict was realistic if frustrating, and to me most of the characters seemed fully realized. Thankfully, the show didn’t even feel too “spin-offy” even with Nick Robinson being all over it.

In any given multi-season serialized show, the trajectory of the show goes one of two ways: the first season puts your feet on the ground of the series, and then later seasons go above and beyond with the storytelling (The Office, Breaking Bad, Bojack Horseman, Jamie Johnson) OR the first season is pretty great TV, and the following seasons fail to live up to its glory (The Good Place, Dear White People, really most every Netflix show ever). Which category Love, Victor ends up in is something to look forward to. Where do we go from here now that Victor is taking his first steps out of the closet?

Stray thoughts from the episodes:

The soundtrack on the whole, was not my cup of tea. I still liked a couple of songs, so that means somebody out there liked more of them.

I completely forgot Natasha Rothwell was in Love, Simon. More of her! More of Ali Wong! More of Beth Littleford! They were all great.

So Roger got his ass beat by Armando, and he still wants to get back with her?? Roger is reckless, man.

Speaking of reckless, Victor’s closet skills completely fell apart towards the end there. Assume somebody’s always watching!

Lake’s mother is a trip.

Good for the family for standing up to the grandparents.

Oh my god, Simon and Bram. Those guys are mine, and now they’re growing up and moving to the Big Gay City. They’ve come a long way.

Speaking of the Big Gay City, we were in Atlanta for a season and got *0* acknowledgement of the vibrant gay community there. More things to look forward to.

Was anybody else singing Selena along with Isabel? That is my favorite Selena song!

By rule of Felix being a male and Pilar being a female close in age, I immediately thought they were going to be a thing. The writers didn’t pull that thread too much...

That moment at the end there when we all thought Victor was going to hold off on his announcement only for him to go “fuck it” and say it anyways? And then he got to exhale? Perfect. chef’s kiss

What with June being Pride month, the SCOTUS ruling a couple of days ago, this entire show premiering today, and Delliot things going down in less than 24 hours, this will likely be the gayest week of the year. I suggest we all enjoy it.

Stay Peachy!