#this is weirdly deep its just one of those nights. you know how it is

[circus-k]

sometimes transgenderism is tearing up at the thought of being a middle aged guy with a dadbod and a receding hairline

sometimes transgenderism is seeing people use old age and balding as a way to "scare" transmascs away from going as far as they'd like in their transitions and seeing those as positives. as proof that you're alive and you're here and you made it

i want to be that old trans guy who's hair has thinned out. who's body softened and filled with age.

i want to be happy.

[ahqkas]

♯ARTSY HANDS AND MINDS ( how would the batboys react to you making your own merch of their alter ego ! )

— gn!reader, bruce & dick & jason — separated, fluff, established relationship, not edited, cursing, bases on this req.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

WHEN BRUCE UNLOCKED AND PUSHED the front door of your apartment open, the familiar scent of one of your candles immediately greeted him with warmth and the familiarity of home. he was finally home, with you. it had been a long night, after all, a long night of patrols and late emergency meetings at wayne enterprises. all he wanted was a quiet evening with you, a thing that finally came to him.

the sound of soft humming came from somewhere in the apartment, probably from your living room, much to bruce’s detective skills. he couldn’t help but let a gentle smile grace his face upon the sound as he hung his coat. you always seemed to brighten even the darkest of his days.

but as he rounded the corner to the living space, his smile froze.

there you were, the love of his life, sitting cross-legged on the old, beaten couch ( which bruce insisted on replacing but you didn’t let that happen, something about an emotional bond ) with a black hoodie spread across your lap. a large symbol graced its chest area. the bat-symbol, he realized. smalls jars of fabric paint surrounded your sitting form, and you were holding a delicate brush, adding details to your own craftwork.

bruce was caught of guard.

“bruce!” you gasped his name out when he came into the clear sight, startled. you even nearly dipped the brush in the wrong direction which would mess up with the project you were currently working on. a flush of warmth creeped up your neck. “you’re home early. i thought you’d be at the office for a while.” not that you minded.

“i finished up early,” he hummed and gestured towards the hoodie in your lap. the sight of the symbol, his symbol, stirred something deep within him. “what’s that?”

“oh, this?” your hands awkwardly hovered over the clothing. “it’s nothing, really. just a little project i’m working on.”

your man raised one eyebrow at your dismissal. “that’s quite detailed for ‘nothing’, sweetheart.”

you gave in after a second of thinking, saying to yourself it definitely wasn’t for the petname or the gentle command in his tone. “fine. you caught me. i’m making my own batman hoodie. but before you say anything, let me explain.”

“i’m listening.”

“well, i’ve been a fan of batman for a while now,” you began, eyes watching his face for every kind of a reaction. “not like one of those die-hard fans who camp outside at night trying to take pics of him or anything. just . . . i admire what he does for gotham. he’s a symbol of hope, you know. it’s nice to have someone who actually fights for the city.”

bruce felt a lump form in the back of his throat. you admired both bruce wayne, the gotham’s billionaire darling, and batman, a side of him that came out when the sun went down.

“and,” you continued, “i wanted a hoodie with the bat-symbol because it looks cool, but the official ones are ugly. they’re all this stiff fabric that itches with weirdly placed logos. i wanted something more casual. so, i thought, why not just make one myself?”

his heart skipped a beat once you finished your mini rant, the muscle tightening against the bones of his ribs. you had no idea you were speaking to batman himself, yet your admiration was pure and genuine. it reminded him why he wore the cowl in the first place — to protect people like you, who believed in a better gotham.

“well,” he said after a moment of just looking at you with that special look in the depths of his gaze. “if batman knew how much effort you put into this, he’d flattered.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

THE LINGERING ACHE IN HIS MUSCLES FROM THE ROOFTOP CHASE he had barely managed to win stained his sore body as he returned from a long night of patrol back home to you. his footsteps were silent, practiced from the countless times he’s done this, when he unlocked the front door to the apartment he shared with you. the lights were still on, spilling the warm light from the living room into the hall.

dick smiled to himself. you always waited up for him, no matter how late he came home from “work”, and it never failed to warm his heart.

to find someone who would do such thing as cut their sleep schedule for him was basically rare, but he managed to.

you were sitting cross-legged on the beloved couch dick himself chose, completely absorbed in your task. the couch has lived its fair share already, but it was well loved and had so many good memories, so you kept it. your boyfriend watched from the doorway as your brows created that adorable little v between them, furrowing in concentration. meanwhile, your hands worked carefully with blue and black yarn. your fingers clutched the unmistakable nightwing plush; complete with the signature blue symbol across its little chest.

you don’t actually know about nightwing. well, you know about his existence, about how the vigilante keeps blüdhaven’s streets safe from criminal activities, and you knew about the package beneath the tight spandex of his suit. what you didn’t know was nightwing’s true identity. you didn’t know how he always made sure to come back home to you, and you totally didn’t know that ass belonged to you.

“uhh . . .” he was caught of guard for a second here. “what are you doing?”

jumping slightly at the sound of his voice, you clutched the half-finished plush close to your chest as if protecting it from his praying eyes. “dick!” your face flushed with embarrassment. “you’re home early.”

he arched an eyebrow at your behavior, his gaze averting towards the digital clock of the tv before it shifted back to you. “it’s almost two in the morning. sooo . . . are you going to explain why you’re making a mini nightwing doll this late at night?”

“first of all, it’s not a doll. it’s a plushie.”

“of course, my bad. plushie.”

“and second,” you started to defend your actions more confidently when you noticed the slightest of smirk gracing his face. he looked tired, the strands of his bangs slightly damp with sweat and his eyes nearly dropping down with how the exhaustion pressed on him. yet he still managed to be all cheeky. “it’s not like i’m obsessed or something. i just — the fan-made ones were too expensive, and honestly none of them were cute enough, so i decided to make my own.”

dick stepped closer to your sitting form, fidgeting with his hands to hide his racing heart. “you’re a nightwing fan?”

you shrugged and started picking at a stray thread on the plushie. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s cool, and he’s probably the least terrifying out of all the vigilantes in both gotham and blüdhaven. plus,” you paused in the little rant he’d coaxed out of you. “i think he’s kinda hot.”

a loud cough interrupted you the moment those last words slipped past your lips. dick’s ears took on a pink hint, along with a more pronounced smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. the tired look in his eyes was suddenly long gone, too. “you’re a think he’s hot, baby?”

“yeah. it’s not like he’ll know i said that, though.”

oh, you had no idea.

“it’s not perfect,” you shaked the plush in your hands to make a point, “but i wanted it to look right. and i know it’s probably silly, but it makes me feel safe, in a weird way. like, if i ever needed help, he’d show up, you know?”

dick wanted to tell you the truth then and there — that nightwing would show up for you, every single time, because you were his main priority. nothing else mattered but your safety. but he couldn’t. not yet.

his fingers brushed yours instead, tracing the fabric of the yarn with a gentle touch. “i think it’s perfect. and if nightwing ever saw it, i’m sure he would be flattered.”

“yeah, right,” you laughed, actually laughed, and rolled your eyes in that way he adored. “like he’d care about some random plushie.”

he didn’t argue, though a part of him was already planning on leaving a little thank you! note the next time he patrolled near your apartment. for now, he could settle for leaning against your side and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON HAD BEEN IN A RUSH TO GET HOME. the heels of his boots crunched on the gravel beneath him before he shrugged his leather jacket and unlocked the front door to your apartment. tonight’s patrol had been rough — more bullets than he’d planned for and a few bruises he would have to hide later. all he wanted now was to crash on the couch with you, maybe with a shitty movie and some pizza if you hadn’t eaten yet.

he took a step inside, already feeling the tension and ache erasing from his muscles as the familiar warmth of the living space wrapped around him like a blanket. he was finally home.

but when he crossed the threshold into the living room, jason froze right on the spot.

there you were, curled up on the couch, wearing a black hoodie that looked far too big on your frame with a hand-painted crimson symbol on the chest. not just any symbol though — it was his symbol. the red hood insignia stood out vividly against the dark fabric of the hoodie. he couldn’t miss it even if he was blind.

and that wasn’t all. on the coffee table in front of you was a small knitted plushie. its tiny body was simple, but the details were on spot: a small red helmet and a matching chest symbol that mirrored the one on your own chest.

you weren’t supposed to know about red hood. to certain amount of course. jason couldn’t shield you from the outside no matter how much he would like to, but he could shield you from one of his many personalities — the red hood. you weren’t supposed to know about him being red hood. so, he hoped it was still the truth.

“hey, you’re home!” you must’ve heard him come in because you looked up at him with that sheepish smile he grew to cherish, all while holding up the plush up for inspection.

“yeah . . .” he trained off, scratching the nape of his neck. jason didn’t like lying to you any more than he had to, so making up some shitty excuse about where he was and what was he doing was pretty much pointless. instead, he turned the attention to the creations of your work. the hoodie and plushie. “what’s–uh–what’s this?”

you glanced down at yourself like you’d forgotten what you were wearing. “oh, it’s a red hood merch. well, kind of,” brushing a stray hair off the hoodie, you smiled up at him more confidently. “i made these.”

jason’s brows shot up. “you made them?”

“yeah! the official looked ugly—like who designed that stuff? and the fan-made ones were either way too expensive or just not what i was looking for. so, i figured, why not do it myself? and he’s kind of my favorite vigilante.”

he felt his heart skip a beat. your favorite?

what the fuck. “red hood is your favorite.”

it definitely didn’t sound like a question, it was spoken in way it sounded like a statement, but you answered him with a reason anyway. “mhm. he’s a badass. a little scary, sure, but in a good way. like, you know he’s got a soft spot somewhere under all the armor. i caught him feeding the stray cat on our fire escape the other day. it was cute.”

well, he wasn’t exactly careful with the cat, but he didn’t expect the meowing and hissing would catch your attention. stubborn stray.

jason blinked, more caught of guard than feeling the edge of panic. he should panic, you were practically close to discovering your careless boyfriend was red hood. he was at a loss of words. “cute” wasn’t exactly how he’d describe himself — or his alter ego — but he wasn’t about to argue with you. instead, his fingers moved to trace the oversized sleeves of your hoodie, calloused fingertips brushing under the fabric to intertwine your fingers in one.

you didn’t know the truth, and maybe you never would, but as long as you felt safe and protected in his arms, he was okay with it. you were holding a piece of him he’d never given to you, and yet you loved him the same.

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Characters Headcanon

How the Crew Takes Care of You on Your Period

Captain Curly

Knows your cycle so well that he starts prepping his monthly Captain Curly Period Kit a week before it starts

The kit includes all hygiene products that you need including painkillers, five of your favorite chocolate bars and the best part: candid photos he had secretly taken of you, each with a note underneath

The notes ranged from awful period puns to sweet compliments. This man knows how to keep you happy, physically and emotionally

Whispers comforting words as you sob over a character’s death during movie night

Though once, it was about a cockroach getting pancaked on screen

"Babe, that roach? It’s in a better place now—cockroach heaven. Endless trash buffets, living its best afterlife”

Spoiler: it worked

Checks in on you throughout the day, either with a sweet “How’s my baby feeling?” text or by dropping into the room for a quick chat, always making sure you feel loved and cared for

He understands how hormones can mess up with your mood and always reassures you that he isn't going anywhere

Co-pilot Jimmy

The man has somehow mastered the art of finding all the right spots to massage when you're doubled over with cramps or just feeling downright miserable

What you don’t know is that he once secretly googled “how to massage girlfriend in pain” (in incognito mode cause his ego won't just let him ask outright)

Big mistake. Huge. He was immediately bombarded with nsfw content, all roleplay, mostly rough

Let’s just say it took half a day, several deep breaths, and a burning face before he stumbled onto an actual helpful website

Ever since then, he’s been sneaking off to “practice.” But it got a little weird one day

Every time you passed by, he’d be glued to his phone, staring at it with this weirdly intense look, and his free hand squeezing the air at different angles

“Uh… babe? Are you… hallucinating? Maybe some floating breast action?”

“Huh? Wha—no! Unless you’re jealous of the air now, darling. Should I be worried?”

It all paid off when you let out those godly noises he loved, his hands were massaging with just the right pressure and on the right places

To top it off, he even got an essential oil in your favorite scent

Not without drama, though—apparently, walking into Bath & Body Works fully hooded and masked with shades doesn't scream 'thoughtful boyfriend'. It screams robber

Mechanic Swansea

The man and his craftsman hands will do anything to make you comfortable

Need a hot compress? Heats up grains, puts it in a sackcloth bag and places it in your lower belly

On days when you feel ugly looking in the mirror? Secretly blurs them slightly with shampoo or soap

Cold hands? Wraps yours in his larger ones

The kids being too loud while you're in a damp mood? He'd play tea parties with them (he was crowned the princess of all dragons)

Before sleeping, he always lay the towel down at your side of the bed whenever you're at the bathroom

Even built you a custom wooden cabinet that dispenses pads and tampons efficiently. Always stocked because he secretly checks it regularly

You have to force him to sit or lay down with you when he would be silently stressing out on what more to do

"Swansea, love, you're all I need right now, just stay here with me"

Nurse Anya

The nurse uses her medical and psychological expertise like a pro, making your period feel a lot less miserable

Meds are always your bestfriend whenever your killer cramps hit and she made sure to always carry all kinds of painkillers and have every dosage for each pain scale you're in

Wincing and doubling down? she's quick to ask

"Scale of 1 to 10?"

Even when she’s busy, she finds little ways to remind you you’re not alone like leaving sticky notes with doodles of you or your favorite characters in places where you’ll find them

After noticing how you loved wrapping your feet in blankets, she got you matching fuzzy socks that you now have to wear whenever she’s around (because she’s wearing hers too)

Lovingly strokes your back and hair while you scream at reality show contestants for choosing the dumbest of choices

Very much amused and nods along every time you asked her if you're both witnessing the same stupidity

Intern Daisuke

The boy is sometimes dense but when it comes to you, he sure isn't incompetent

One day, when the bed was way too soft to escape from, you did the only logical thing: text him

"Hey Dai, can you buy me some tampons? forgot to buy some yesterday"

"Be there in 5 babe! (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ"

And he meant it

He gave the pharmacist a heart attack by storming in and loudly asking for a box of tampons

Proceeded to grill them on what brands were most likely to leak so he'd avoid them (no shame whatsoever)

Never arrived empty-handed. Along with the tampons, he’ll pick up a plushie, a cute keychain, a little hair accessory or literally anything he knows that will let him see your pretty smile

He’ll wrap you both up in comforters, flashdrive loaded with all your comfort movies, from romcoms to horror

The mission? Movie marathon until you're both knocked out

Despite shrieking at every jumpscare, he still kisses your forehead between scenes, like you’re the one who needs reassurance (Spoiler: he needed those forehead kisses more)

a/n: thanks so much for reading! headcanon requests are very much appreciated ʕ•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ

[whiteeyes-is-a-mad-scientist]

The new seawing in the reef

Sunhunter waited silently in the sand. She hated being so… out in the open. Especially now. She jumped hearing a dragon rise from the water.

"Relax. Just me." Snapping turtle shook off a stray piece of seaweed. His spots gave a faint yellow flash in the moonlight. "If your here just to tell me that I'm in danger I know…" sunhunter frowned at the familiar look the seawing held.

"I'm here to offer you a way out actually." He trudged through the sand as it began to clump on his wet talons. He shook the sand off and opened his talon. Within it was an earring, a shiny pearl carved in the shape of a star. "Oh its beautiful… but how is jewelry supposed to help me?" Sunhunter took it into her talon to further examine.

"Argile made it so he could come with me into the deep palace. He doesn't really come into the ocean these days." He glanced toward the deep blue "it's enchanted. It'll turn you into a seawing as long as you wear it."

Sunhunter felt her scales shiver "Snapping turtle… I can't… all my visions... they come in water I don't want to imagine how awful it would be in the water…" she shook her head. "How do you know? You've never been in the ocean." He leaned forward "Sunhunter you don't really have a lot of options here. The skywings are after you… they can't go into the ocean."

Snapping turtle was right. The mercenaries and assassin's were getting more crafty. Even those against the skywings would give longing glances at her. No doubt gaging whether or not the bounty was worth it. "I..I dont know how to be a seawing.." she frowned "I don't know aquatic or how to swim or or-" "I'll teach you." Snapping turtle flashed a rare smile. "What about the talons? I still want to help the peace effort…" she looked at the earring. "Oh for moons sake forget the talons! This is your life in danger!" He exasperated "Sunhunter… please… I dont want to see you become some trophy for the skywings.." His eyes were weirdly desperate.

Sunhunter sighed and slipped the earring on. A deeply cold chill ran through her scales. She shut her eyes tightly as the world spun, she stumbled forward and met Snapping turtles chest. Past the pounding in her head she could hear him "Its alright… Argile struggled a bit as well…"

Her scales stopped tingling and the pounding headache faded. She felt snapping turtles wing on her back, brushing softly. She also felt her new gills, webbed toes, and flashy spots. She opened her eyes to find her new night vision. Also finding herself needing to look up toward snapping turtle "Oh making me shorter than you is unfair." Snapping turtle snorted "Welcome to being the short and stocky tribe."

Sunhunter stumbled steadying herself. She used to be shoulder heavy but now her weight was all over. She felt stronger despite being shorter. Snapping turtle stared and sunhunter rolled her eyes "I know I look stupid don't I.." "No.. I think you look good as a seawing. I like that the earring chose a mix of more saturated green-ish blue scales. Unique in pattern but not out of place for a seawing." He smirked "but I do miss your original look."

Sunhunters face scales felt faintly like her sandwing warm ones but it went away quickly. She smiled "I have a great hunger for fish now." "Beats those awful roasted tarantulas you used to eat." He stuck his tongue out. "You never tried them so don't start." Sunhunter raised her head, her shiny sea ready scales catching the moonlight. Watching the moons for a moment she turned back to snapping turtle "Well what should my new name be? Sunhunter isn't... seawing... like."

He glanced away "hm.. clam?" "Clam?" Sunhunter retracted "Are you saying I have a big mouth?" She glared. "No! I just- ugh ill get something else…" He rubbed his chin "I'm not good at names…"

Sunhunter sighed before flopping into the sand. A faint dizzy feeling hitting her like a wave "So when does the dizzness stop?"

Snapping turtled perked up as she curled into a C "Cove! Your new name should be cove." He smiled as sunhunter titled her head "Hm... I do like it... but it doesnt mean something dumb does it?"

"No no... A cove is just a small bay often secluded. The waters often have a greenish blue look." He nudged her with a wing "I can show you."

"Ok... but dont let me drown..." She steadied herself and headed toward the water

Snapping turtle chuckled "Of course."

[k0r3s-smu1]

​🇦​ ​🇸​​🇹​​🇦​​🇷​​🇷​​🇾​ ​🇳​​🇮​​🇬​​🇭​​🇹

Summary: You and the boy you've been crushing on for years, Muichiro, go stargazing together.

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Reader: Female (But you can block some stuff out and pretend its gn)

A/N: I know this is supposed to be a smut account, but I couldn't help myself. I really like this one, and I hope you Mui simps do too :) Tell me what you think!

I held his hand as he led me through the night.

The air was chilly and I could hear the faint chirping of crickets in the background. 

His grip on me was firm but gentle, and he kept his gaze forward. 

I smiled warmly as I watched him, the way his long, silky black hair glided behind him in the wind.

He took time out of his busy life to stargaze with me, so I couldn’t help the butterflies in my stomach as I pondered why.

I’d been friends with him for such a long time, it wasn’t uncommon for him to do something like this… But I still felt incredibly special.

He never paid attention to other girls, or anyone, actually.

He’s always been so forgetful…

Except when it comes to me.

It’s like he actually listens. He actually cares. 

Sometimes it seems like he zoned out during a conversation, only to later surprise me with the dress I eagerly told him about earlier.

He’s an interesting boy, and I often feel like I, a regular village girl, have no right hanging out with such a high ranking slayer. I don’t know why he’s with me.

I don’t know why… but I’m so grateful.

The grassy hill we stood atop was illuminated with the moonlight. Wild flowers grew everywhere, and they danced with each passing breeze.

But the most beautiful thing of all was the boy in front of me. His blue eyes watched the stars above him in awe.

I really wished it was me instead.

He sat down gracefully and looked at me expectantly. 

I crouched next to him and watched the sky as well.

It was so clear tonight, almost no clouds obscuring the view. I tried to make out some constellations with him, pointing and tracing the sky.

He always had such a calming effect on me. I should’ve been nervous, sitting with the boy I’ve liked for years, but I felt completely at ease.

Completely safe.

I turned my head to look at him, and saw that he was already watching me.

“W-what?”

I asked, heat rising to my cheeks.

He blinked at me before murmuring, 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. How come you don’t have a boyfriend?”

I jumped at his response, backing away a bit.

My face must’ve looked so red at the time.

“H-huh!? Ummm… I-I don’t know… I guess uhhh…”

I searched for words and panicked, confused as to why he would say such a thing.

It wasn’t unlike him to say random stuff right out of his head, not bothering to check whether it was appropriate, but this was a bit different.

His gaze stayed glued to my face before continuing. 

“The boys in your village must be blind if they can’t see what I see.”

I faced him, a blushing mess.

“What do you see…?” He stayed silent a moment before responding, his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

“An artist. Someone who sees beauty in everything. Someone pure, with a smile that radiates warmth. You’re strong and hardworking, cheerful and captivating. You’re understanding and kind, showing respect to everyone… even those who don’t deserve it.”

He ended it in an annoyed tone before continuing.

“Everything about you is so beautiful, your skin, your eyes, your lips,”

He eyed them as he spoke that last word in a way that made me tense up.

“The stars above us can’t compare to you, Y/N.”

He kept almost the same factual expression, the only indication that he was embarrassed was the light pink hue in his cheeks.

I don’t know if time slowed down or if I was just staring at him for a weirdly long amount of time, that he didn’t seem to mind, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

I think a part of me was expecting him to just turn away and act as if nothing just happened, but he didn’t. 

He was serious.

I almost wanted to cry, and I didn’t know why. But the deep happiness in my chest was undeniable, and I didn’t even mean to but it just came out;

“Muichiro… Can I kiss you?”

I asked him, begging with my whole heart that he wasn’t just being friendly and that the speech meant nothing.

I realized what I said but I didn’t take it back.

His eyes widened and his blush darkened, but he simply replied, 

“Yeah.”

It was my first kiss. I didn’t know how exactly to go about this, but I awkwardly scooted nearer until I was right in front of him.

I gathered my courage to lean forward, insecurities suddenly popping up.

What if my breath smells bad?

Did I wear lip balm today?

What do I do if it's not a simple peck?

what if… what if…

what if….

Before I could think further, Mui moved forward and captured my lips with his.

It was gentle, and soft, and I closed my eyes and immediately melted into it.

He held my hands and tilted his head a bit.

My mind was blank. I wasn’t worrying about anything.

The sensation of his lips, and his hands grounding me into the moment was all I could comprehend.

I wanted this moment to last forever, but alas, he pulled away.

A cheeky grin spread across his face.

“You were too slow, so I had to take the lead.”

He told me playfully.

I blushed realizing what just happened.

I turned away bashfully.

“So…does that mean you’re… My boyfriend now…?”

He smiled at me warmly.

“Obviously.”

I laughed and hugged him, breathing in his fresh scent.

We cuddled on the hill that night, watching the night sky and the twinkling stars, just the two of us.

[makoredeyes]

Hello, I hope you're doing well! This is probably an odd question, feel free to ignore it. I wanted to ask you as a fellow writer I admire, who is mostly focused on unpopular/dead/deep lore characters. Do you also sometimes feel like what you're writing is irrelevant and unexciting for everyone, except yourself? If so, how do you deal with this? For me sometimes this sudden realization is so crushing, that I cannot bring myself to finish a single work.

Hello! That’s not an odd question at all in fact it feels pretty relevant tbh. (Omg sorry long reply you got me going 💙)

I think I have several kind of interrelated answers for you so let me lay them out.

1- I am powered by autism and a MIGHTY hyperfixation. I have no choice I am compelled. I am blinded to all other things and so while the little bit of feedback that I do get is AMAZING and so extra sparkly motivating it is not entirely what compels me (but BOY does it help)

2- I joked with a friend just last night that, “this season is, as usual, does not have NEARLY enough Felwinter content and so I must therefore create my own.” - as she pointed out, there have been exactly TWO seasons with ANY Felwinter content at all and I wasn’t playing destiny yet for one of them. My point being, sometimes you gotta create what you want to see yourself. I’ve always found myself in some really niche corner of whatever fandom I’m in and have to do this a lot. Probably how I got to writing and drawing etc. fun thing is tho you find a really special group of people who think and love like you that way, and if it’s a smaller crowd, it’s all the more intimate for it Imo. I’ve made some super special friends in the last 9 months or so in my weird little corner here and it’s magical and I think that quality over quantity filter is awesome. (But yeah i know the validation machine is SO good too)

3- the BEST magic of borrowing from obscure content, generally unknown or undeveloped characters or lore is the creative freedom. The headcannon swapping the worldbuilding the background gathering… the RESEARCH! Gleaning what little bit I can from what we DO have. Who the fuck is timur?! We don’t know. I borrowed the beautiful designs for his face and general personality that Sylenth has developed because she’s done such an amazing job and was kind enough to allow me to play with him as she made him, and took that as jump off point for my writing etc but I have all the wiggle room in the world with but a few widely dispersed canon signposts to lead my direction and that is just so fucking fun for me.

(And that doesn’t mean more mainstream characters like Osiris don’t have their creative appeal to me either. I will deep dive on lore and character analysis for YEARS but living in the peripherals is comfy for me)

Those are all the positives to my work, but yeah, sometimes I do feel a little dejected. I have definitely felt a drop off in reader response weirdly in converse to the effort I put into my writing. Housefire has evolved into much more of a cohesive Plot(tm) that is going somewhere very specific from its origin of a few interlinked fluffy anecdotes and funnily enough about the time I started really digging my heels in and plotting and planning and putting in twists I was REALLY excited about, people started responding less. Some of my favorite fics are the least popular. Some of my art I am most proud of gets the least attention but that damn doodle of poor Felwinter getting splattered by a warsat has 200+ more notes than my next most popular art. (The shitposts always win Damnit! 😩🤣😅)

I get frustrated and yeah sometimes a bit discouraged sometimes and I spend Way Too Much time sitting here refreshing my notes because I am a sad lonely person chronically online just way too thirsty for a little validation or a conversation with someone but like. Every piece gets better. Every piece SOMEONE appreciates. Every piece **I** enjoy and is also a chance for all of that when I share it with the world and that’s exciting and good, and like I said the people in this community as niche and little as it is, are really something special, and some of the people that have come into my circle because of it make it SO worth it.

**I was done but then I read your ask one more time and I’ll add this since it popped into my head last-second:

If we are creating works for dead characters we love, we are keeping them alive.

How magical is that??

[starredeclipse]

The first nightguard shift: the story continues

(Previous chapter linked here )

Spring and Foxy talked a little bit more about Madison before Chica came running back, Atom running after her as she turned and hid behind Spring, trash already lost during the chase “CHICA!” The gold brown rabbit looked at the man “Calm down will ya?” He said crossing his arms already finding this to be ridiculous “Calm down!?” Are you serious?? She’s running around eating trash! How can I be calm about that??” Atom squawked already feeling a migraine coming on “I don’t know, have you tried breathing through your mouth and out your nose?” The owner just looked at him absolutely dumbfounded with hints of disbelief that this rabbit didn’t seem to see the problem here “What’s that got to do with anything??” Foxy looked at Atom while Chica remained hidden as much as possible “You know, its what some people do to calm down” Spring said tilting his head since this guy didn’t seem to understand what he was saying. Atom let out a deep sigh “You know what, screw it, this is a waste of my time” the man pitched the bridge of his nose for a second before he turned his back to the bots “Just! Come on Spring, I’ll show you what you need to do, once I leave Chica is Your problem for the night” he walked off and eventually Spring did follow him when he looked at Foxy and then Chica.

“So, in this really weirdly located sort of….office I guess?? You have many monitors, this is the surveillance, use this old clunky tablet to flip through the camera’s that are not on the monitors, those are the outside camera’s. If somebody breaks in it is up to you to scare them off or if there’s too many people that don’t scare off easily you’ll have to alert the other animatronics to get into a secure room before you close yourself in using these doors and funny buttons next to the doors, one button opens the door and the other closes it. Once everyone is secure you have to open that clear case right there thats located under the desk, once its cover is removed just click the button and it will alert the police. Also the tablet has audio functions with a few prerecorded audio’s on it like barking dogs, men shouting, glass breaking, police sirens, alarm system and gun shots. You can play these audio’s over the available speakers that are in a lot of rooms if you would like to try to scare them off that way. Note any audio played from this tablet will be VERY loud because I haven’t had time to fix its volume levels when it comes to playing these audio’s……actually can you even use a tablet??” Atom asked looking at Springs hands, a tablet was touch screen so whether the animatronic could actually use it was unknown currently “I should be able to” Spring picked up the tablet and indeed it seemed pretty old but functional as it booted up and the bot was greeted with a few camera’s and audio icons that showed which speaker was in which room. Spring touched the flat screen flipping through a few camera’s just to see if it would react to his touch and funny enough it did without a problem “Well at least that works” the man said before he went on “As for taking on people who refuse to leave but are alone, in theory you should be fine to man handle them but try not to injure them, I’ve heard of people suing the people they tried to rob just because they got hurt on that persons property” Spring looked confused upon hearing that statement “Huh? That makes no sense and breaking in and robbing is against the law so how can one sue when themselves broke the law?? They would get charged upon even admitting that to any person of the law” Atom just shrugged “I don’t know man, I just know it happened once and part of me isn’t sure that wasn’t fake news, I’m pretty sure that got made up because the news channel it played on was going to get the plug from lack of views until they ran that story.” Atom went on “Fake or not though, I’m not taking any chances. Now that you know what to do I’m going to leaving you a spare key so you can lock up come morning, your hours should make it so you can head back home before the kid has to wake up to go to school” he said this as he wrote down the bots hours on a piece of paper “As for pay, you will get paid at the end of each week or if preferred at the end of each month, that can be discussed later” the man put the keys on the desk before he turned and said “with all that info given to you, your on your own” Spring didn’t stop the man from leaving, actually he just relaxed a little bit as all the humans left the pizzeria and it was just the bots domain now.

Spring Cookie went to walking around, patrolling and checking on the other bots “Chica, no, don’t eat that” he said gently as she tried eating something he didn’t approve of, he took it from the bot before she looked him up and down “is that what your going to be wearing during your night shift?” He looked down at his clothes upon her question before looking back at her “yeah? What else would I wear?” Chica thought for a moment before she took his hand and led him into a room with more junk, he looked confused but once she let go she went around rummaging through things before she popped back up with a variety of sized uniforms “There old but it’ll make you look professional, I think these might be your size?” Spring very much doubted any of these would fit him “I….don’t know if I’ll actually need a uniform…..” he looked at her and she had a look in her eyes like ‘pretty please?’ “Aw come on sugarplum, it might not be needed but its tradition for every night guard to wear there uniform, do it for the tradition” she looked at him and he looked at her, they locked gazes for several minutes before Chica won this stare off, he sighed “alright but I can’t guarantee these will actually fit” he heard her go YEEEE! With excitement “I’ll leave you to change then!” She seemed oddly happy by this, so when she left he looked at these sizes and with doubt he took off his current outfit and changed into this uniform, he was very very surprised when they clothes actually fit “What did Fazbear back in the day just order one uniform in every size possible?” He mumbled to himself before he stored his other clothes away to come back to later. When he came out of the room Chica was waiting for him “OH MY GOSH! You look great!” She said with excitement clapping her hands gently, quick and closely together “Thanks” the bot said as she walked completely around him getting a full view of his uniform “We should show the others!” Before Spring could even say anything Chica took him by the hand and forced him to walk with her in a quick fashion until they reached the others.

“Oh guuuyyyssss!” Chive called to them practically skipping a little bit as she led the way. The moment Foxy took a look at Spring he busted out laughing “What is he wearing?!” The fox asked cackling “Foxy! Stop laughing!” The chicken demanded but the fox didn’t seem to listen “Whaaaat? He looks ridiculous!” The fox insisted as his laughing started to quiet down a little bit “No! He looks handsome! And as the official nightguard he is wearing it out of tradition!” Chica said defending this type of fashion statement “Oh please, whose tradition is he doing this for? It’s not like we’re owned by fazbear anymore” the fox snarked which resulted in Chica huffily getting close to his face “It’s not a fazbear tradition! It’s a night guard tradition! You would know that if you paid attention all these years” her eyes half closed as she crossed her arms “Oh yeah? Then what does Bonnie think about all of this?” The fox said making them both look at the rabbit on the stage “Huh? Oh I think he looks good” Bonnie shrugged putting his guitar on its stand “See? He gets it!” Chica said looking back at the fox “All he said was that Spring looked good! That didn’t confirm nothing!” While the Fox and the Chicken bickered back and forth Spring went back to the surveillance office to look at the monitors and outside camera’s.

So far there was nothing abnormal on the bad quality camera feed when suddenly Chica appeared in the office with something in her hands “Oh! Your uniform is missing the missing piece!” He turned to her as she came close and buttoned a white plastic name tag onto his uniform “There! Now you’re perfect” she said with a cheerfulness that they all needed, to get happy about the little things instead of focusing always on ones own problems “Thanks Chica” Spring said to her easily “Oh of course hung, just let me know if you need anything throughout the night, if you need to charge at all then I can take over looking at the camera’s for a bit” she offered since she really didn’t have anything better to do “I think I’ll be fine but I’ll take you up on that offer if I need that” after that Chica and Spring talked for a bit before the rabbit heard a noise and checked the camera to only see somebody just lock picked the front door and entered the building “Looks like we got one human, I can handle this” Chica looked surprised as she heard those words, Spring left the office and with ominous background lighting to aid him he met this intruder at a very specific location, the other bots had gone elsewhere to the point this person ended up near one of the staff only doors. Spring waved as he was finally noticed by the intruder, the dim lighting illuminated him from behind “Now your not supposed to be in here” Spring said staring this person down.

[dreamersbcll]

“You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding”

- whumptober, prompt no. 27

(hey. let me see. show me)

——————————————————————————-

There wasn’t a word for this feeling.

Doubt, maybe. Fear worked as well. Terror mostly.

But nothing quite like the word desperation would sum up this feeling.

Sam wasn’t an idiot. She knew that getting clean wouldn’t be a linear journey. Fuck, she had gone through this process at least four times, but she thought that it would be easier knowing that she was five years clean now.

Naturally, she was dead wrong.

It started slowly, like most things did. She would find herself staring at the liquor aisles in the grocery store just a little too long. It became increasingly more difficult to ignore the smell of alcohol at the restaurant she worked at, and her mouth watered more frequently. The itching started within a week of the first liquor aisle stare down, and it didn’t stop.

She couldn’t stop scratching. It was a consistent itch all over her body, and her nails couldn’t dig deep enough into her skin. Long scratches stretched across her skin, open cuts ripping each time she flexed her muscles. Weirdly, it felt good to bleed, and the pain kept her alert and aware of her surroundings.

Sobriety was a fickle thing. Just because Sam was years sober, it still was an untamed beast slumbering in the pit of her stomach. When it was ready to wake, it clawed up her body and sat in her throat, begging her to give in.

Nothing would taste better than a drink. She didn’t care if it was cold or lukewarm, fuck; she would even drink a hot swallow of alcohol. Anything to numb the terror that sat in her body.

Once it got to the point that she couldn’t stand the smell of cleaning products anymore, she knew she was fucked. It wasn’t long ago that she was taking swallows of Lysol just to tamp down the desperation tearing her apart. She wasn’t proud of it, not by a long shot, but at least everything went silent.

That’s what alcohol was, anyway. It's a way to turn down the volume and make everything tolerable. She could think clearly and make (what she felt were) rational decisions.

But she knew better now. She knows that drinking was only the start of a tumultuous period that would ultimately end with her death.

(Sam had promised herself that if she ever drank again, she would ensure it was her last time on earth. She couldn’t risk breaking her sobriety and living on to try again. She didn’t want to try again. She was so tired).

Instead, Sam stood in the mirror, letting the dim lights in the bathroom light up her reflection. She stared deep into those dark eyes, noticing how gaunt and desperate they looked.

Just give us a taste, Sam. One sip. One swallow. Give us a chance. We’re starving. Please.

“You can’t, You can’t,” she shakily whispered, her hands shaking against the porcelain sink.

Her reflection stared back, the person in the mirror cocking her head. Sam knows that person well. She knows what they’re capable of, and she knows what they want. Death and destruction were sewn into her bloodline, always there, always begging. All she wanted to do was to give in and dig up the bottle she had hidden in the back of the pantry.

Tara didn’t know about that bottle. Tequila. Sam’s vice. She had bought it on a stormy night and stayed up all night staring at the bottle. She watched the glass glisten in the moonlight, afraid to move. If she moved before daylight, she indeed would’ve succumbed to its silent pleas.

That was two months ago. She should’ve known the downfall was coming. She has an addiction, for Christ's sake. It never ended. The battle was continuous, and she couldn’t lay her armor down. For if she did, she would make sure that she died in battle, leaving Tara to pick up the sword and too-big armor to fight her own demons.

Sam couldn’t have that.

So she fought.

Breathing deeply, Sam swallowed, her mouth dry. She could feel a wave of nausea rolling through her stomach, the monster in her throat cackling at her weakness.

She looked into the mirror, pleading to the reflection. “You don’t need this. You don’t. Stop, just, please. Stop.”

Her reflection didn’t care. It took what it pleased and offered nothing in return. It wanted to destroy every single achievement and chip she had ever earned, all for the sake of a drink.

Pathetic. A servant to the drink. Absolutely pathetic.

“Stop, stop, please. Please stop. I’m good. I’ve been good. Please,” she begged, her nails scratching against the smooth porcelain.

She closed her eyes tightly, shakily breathing out. “Please,” she whimpered, her voice cracking.

Before her reflection could answer, the door slowly swung open, creaking on its hinges. Sam didn’t dare to turn around, afraid that if she left her reflection alone, she would end up with a bottle in her hand and swaying on the top of a bridge.

“Sam?” the voice whispered. Tara.

Sam screwed her eyes shut tight and tried to loosen her grip on the sink. It didn’t matter what she did, as she still looked insane, staring at the bathroom mirror in the middle of the night.

“Hey, Tara. Go back to bed, baby. I’ll be there at some point.”

Instead of turning around and leaving, Tara stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowed, and her eyebrows furrowed—her thinking face.

“Are you having… a moment?” Tara said slowly, carefully, as if Sam was diffusing a bomb.

In a way, she was.

Chuckling, Sam flexed her fingers, wincing at the stiffness. “Yeah, something like that. It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s all good,” she said nonchalantly.

Naturally, Tara saw right through her. “Are you seeing him again? Do you need your medications?”

Sam flinched at the mention of her father, noticeable enough for Tara to cock her head at the action. It had been a while since Sam had seen Billy. It seemed like her demons took a turn torturing her into submission, as right now, she was fighting the urge to break her clean streak. Delightful.

Breathing out, Sam opened her eyes, staring at her reflection. “Uh, no. Not him. It’s something else.”

Tara hummed in response and slowly walked behind Sam, her steps purposeful and loud enough not to spook her big sister. She got behind Sam, her reflection peeking out beside Sam’s. Unlike Sam’s shell-shocked face, Tara looked puzzled, her eyes tinged with somber emotion. Sam shook her head slightly, knowing she was caught.

She might as well come clean now. “I'm afraid, Tara,” she forced out, the words foreign on her tongue.

Her little sister cocked her head, her mouth downturned in a frown. “What are you afraid of, Sam? I'm here,” she paused, thinking over her words. “Show me, Sam. Show me.”

Sam bit down on her tongue hard enough to draw blood. “It’s in the pantry downstairs behind the rice and beans. It’s in that silver bag, the one I told you was a gift for Danny,” she whispered.

Without a second thought, Tara breezed out of the bathroom and went downstairs. Sam’s arms ached as she held onto the sink, but she didn’t move. She watched her reflection as she listened to Tara’s footsteps. The downstairs light flickered on, and the pantry door swung open.

Tears started to stream down Sam’s face, hot, embarrassed tears. She could hear Tara rummage through the dry food, and the bag's crinkling signified the end of her hunt. Sam bit down on her tongue, letting blood pool in her mouth, the metallic tang keeping her steady. Her tears of shame dripped onto her hands, making her grip slippery. It didn’t matter. Tara knew now.

She listened as her little sister made her way up the stairs, the silver bag crinkling as she walked. Sam closed her eyes tightly as Tara walked back into the bathroom, holding the one thing that would take Sam away from her.

Tara sighed at the state of her sister’s tear-stained face, her heart breaking in two as she saw the blood-stained corners of her mouth downturned. “Oh, Sam. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sam laughed a bit, opening her eyes and watching the reflection of Tara taking the bottle out of the bag, her little sister’s face falling. Despite the anguish on Tara's face, Sam licked her lips, letting the blood paint her skin. Her mouth watered as the bottle gleamed in the light, and her heart raced. It was so close, within arm’s length. She could snatch it and down it within a couple of minutes.

Not taking her eyes off Tara’s grip on the bottle, Sam spoke carefully. “It’s not what I do, Tara. I suffer in silence. If I do it loudly, I’ll lose control. I can’t—fuck. I need it,” she whimpered, her hands slipping on the sink.

She loosened her grip, ready to turn around and snatch the bottle from her sister. If she did it quickly, she could lock herself in the spare room and let herself disappear.

But Tara was always a few steps ahead of her.

Before Sam could turn around, Tara had already unscrewed the bottle and poured it into the sink. Wide-eyed and bordering on a massive panic attack, Sam watched as her sister poured all her desires down the toilet, flushing it until the room stopped smelling like death.

“I— what the hell? Why, Tara? Why?” she cried, watching Tara cap the bottle and set it on the bathroom tile.

In a swift motion, Tara crossed the floor and pried Sam’s hands off the sink. Her little sister took Sam’s hands, firmly holding on as if Sam was about to bolt. She looked into her sister’s eyes deeply, digging her nails into Sam’s skin.

The pain felt so damn good, and it kept her awake. Sam matched Tara's breathing, following as her sister breathed in and out, her eyes never wavering from Sam’s.

Once she caught her breath, Tara loosened her grip and cupped Sam’s face with her hands. There, Tara searched Sam’s eyes, watching Sam’s every move. Still full of slight rage and overwhelming confusion, Sam stayed silent.

“I can’t have you leaving me again. I won’t allow it. I know you’re struggling; I’ve seen it for days. That-” she said, pointing towards the empty bottle. “That is just a way to torture yourself. Not anymore.”

Tara pulled her big sister into a tight hug. Sam sank into her embrace, tears of embarrassment soaking into Tara’s t-shirt. Her little sister hummed, swaying the two back and forth. Once she felt Sam limp like a rag doll in her arms, Tara spoke again.

“I’m here. It’s time for you to get your shit together. You’re five years clean. I’m not letting you throw that away for a drink. I’m here. Let's get through this together, yeah?” she soothed, rocking the two back and forth.

Sam nodded against her embrace, kissing her sister’s shoulder.

She didn’t take her eyes off the bottle until Tara dragged her out of the room.

They smashed it on the sidewalk the very next day. As they watched the glass explode across the pavement, Sam could feel herself breathe again.

[valeriley]

Arthur used to believe his destiny was written in the stars. More specifically, he believed the stars were his destiny, ever since he first learned about them and fell in love.

He was just a little boy when his father first took him stargazing, showing him the constellations and telling him the stories behind them. That night Arthur learned about a brilliant star named Arcturus, and maybe it was just how similar their names were but he felt a connection. He thought it was a sign.

The memory comes back to Arthur now, as he’s tucked safely against Eames’ side (finally, finally) in the aftermath of inception, with Eames’ fingers gently tracing the outline of his tattoo.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the tattoo type, darling.” Eames breaks the blissful silence between them.

“I'm not really.” Arthur shrugs non-committally. “There's just the one.” 

“Oh yes, I’m well aware of that, pet, rest assured. What does it mean?”

And Arthur feels suddenly uncharacteristically shy, which seems incongruous at this point, with Eames. Eames, who is inarguably the person who knows him best now, but maybe that’s the point. For all he knows about him, Eames doesn’t know this part of Arthur, the bright-eyed little boy who fell in love with the stars. It’s a part of him that feels so distant and yet so intimate, and Arthur feels weirdly protective of that boy that was him, that still is him in some way. So he deflects. He shifts his head a little and raises an eyebrow, trying for nonchalance. “It’s just a constellation.”

But of course, he knows that Eames would never be fooled, his reluctance in full display for the forger’s sharp eyes to catch. If anything, it’s only going to fuel his interest, turning a passing curiosity into an intriguing mystery. 

“Yeah, I can see that, thank you very much.” Eames states somewhat sarcastically. “But why? Knowing you, you didn’t just get it for the heck of it. Unless you were just young and stupid.” A shit-eating smirk spreads on Eames’ face. “Oh, it's that, innit? Darling, you sho- Ow!” 

A well-aimed swat to the stomach cuts him off. “Shut up Eames!”

“I'm just saying, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. I have a couple of those myself.”

Arthur snorts. “Why am I not surprised? But no, I was just young. Impulsive maybe. But I don't regret it. It’s a good token.”

“Ah, so there is a reason behind it.” Eames smiles, still with a teasing lilt in his tone, satisfied. But then he must read something on Arthur’s face, because he turns serious, tightening his arm around his shoulders a bit, as if to ease the tension seeping in, his voice softer. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, you know?”

Arthur knows it. He knows that if he says he doesn’t want to talk about it Eames would respect it and back down, for now at least. And part of him wants to go along with it, they’ve just gotten together, it’s too soon to reveal so much about themselves, no matter how harmless it is, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for that kind of vulnerability yet. On the other hand, this here is just the culmination of years of getting to know each other, flirting and dancing around each other, and after everything they went through together there’s no one he trusts more, in or out of dreamshare. And, he thinks, if he wants something more to come out of this, maybe he should take a little leap of faith.

He takes a deep breath and smiles slightly. “No, it’s okay. It’s a bit silly really. This is a constellation named Bootes.” At Eames’ low inquiring sound he huffs a short laugh. “I suppose it may not be one of the best known in itself, but it has a star…” Arthur shifts to point at a spot in his tattoo. “See this big star here? Its name is Arcturus and it's the fourth brightest star in the sky.”

“Arcturus? Oh. Oh, darling, are you telling me you have your own star in the sky?”

Arthur can’t help the light blush spreading on his face, that was actually kind of the point. “No. No, it's not like that. It just- it speaks to me. I got the tattoo just before the Army. I wanted something to remind myself that it was just temporary, that there was more to the world and I shouldn't stop dreaming. And, name or not, Arcturus is my favourite star.” He shakes his head wistfully. “It’s ironic in retrospect.”

“Maybe a little bit. But I think it worked splendidly, don't you? Look at you now, dreaming for work. Your younger self would be proud.” Eames muses while running his hand through Arthur’s wild hair. 

“Mm, perhaps.” Arthur concedes, slowly but surely melting to Eames’ touch. “I just like astronomy, really. Enough to entertain the idea of making a career out of it at a point. But then life happened. The war happened, and Project Somnacin happened. And here we are.”

“Here we are. And what a bloody good place is here.” Eames grins.

Arthur gives a contented sigh. “It really is.” 

“So, while we’re in the mood, care to tell me more about your star?”

Arthur hesitates just a fraction of a moment, but Eames just keeps looking at him as if really interested and petting his hair, and so he relaxes fully. While still a little self-conscious at first, he grows more excited as he loses himself in the story. He tells Eames everything he knows about it and its myths; that Arcturus means ‘Guardian of the Bear’, the Ursa Major; that Bootes is the Herdsman driving that same constellation around the North Pole. 

Eames is utterly fascinated by this adorably nerdy side of Arthur, always so practical and in control but finally letting himself loose with him. It feels precious, and Eames feels a surge of fondness as Arthur tries and mostly fails to explain his bond with those stars. He knows though.

“You may deny it, but I believe it really is your star, you know. It fits who and what you are perfectly. You’re naturally protective, and as a pointman it's practically in your job prescription to plan and guide and direct and take care of your team, like Bootes and Arcturus do for the Bear.”

Arthur freezes in surprise, but then a slow smile lights up his face as all the dots connect, and he kisses Eames. 

“Does this mean you’ll take me see the real Arcturus soon?” Eames asks with a laugh after breaking the kiss.

Arthur beams as he answers. “It’s a date.”

Bootes, the Herdsman. Arcturus the Guardian. Arthur the Pointman. Arthur’s destiny was always written in the stars.

[fshoulders]

Just saw someone on here say the Baz Luhrmann Romeo & Juliet is “considered the most faithful movie version of Romeo and Juliet” and had to stop myself from chasing them down the internet like the meme goose going “BY WHO?! BY WHO!?????” Don’t start internet beef over this, self! They didn’t say THEY liked it best! They might be an innocent bystander! Also you are weirdly aggressive about Shakespeare!

Okay, deep breath, short post. Short post! We can do this!

Romeo and Juliet has an oddly small cinematic footprint, compared to its cultural impact. That’s probably why Luhrmann’s version can still hold any primacy. (Gods, are there English teachers showing this in class? Because they don’t have to fast-forward through the Zefferelli nudity? What a thought. Stay on target.) I can only theorize that other Shakespeare plays get more adaptations because they’re centered on a huge male role, so they can be a Serious Showpiece for a single male actor. R&J doesn’t operate that way.

And in my experience (having seen four or five live productions, off the top of my head) it’s a play that really lives in the theater. Stupid as it sounds, every time I see Romeo and Juliet live, some part of me feels like this time, it might end happy. The letter might not go astray: the messenger won’t get caught in a quarantine, Romeo will know Juliet isn’t dead, and everything will turn out fine. It’s so often noted that the play isn’t structured as a tragedy, but as a New Comedy (like Midsummer Night’s Dream, et c. — a story about young people defying their parents for love) that goes wrong: somehow this works on me, in person, such that I really think maybe we’ll pull it off! The kids will be all right, the parents will be chastened, and all will end well. It breaks my heart, every time, when it doesn’t.

I have small quibbles with the Luhrmann R&J, but I won’t enumerate them here. I simply want to point out that Luhrmann makes the most appalling directorial choice he possibly could. And he’s not the only one! This choice was in vogue during the 19th century in England (which is also when Bowdler took the naughty bits out of Shakespeare, so…yeah. Not very concerned with being faithful to the text.) Luhrmann, and the rest of the 19th century text-criminals, have Juliet wake up while Romeo is still dying.

I suppose some of you are now going, “why is that such a terrible thing? It allows for more acting!” Well, yeah, that’s why the hams of the London stage liked to do it in Romantic and Victorian times. Everything for more melodrama!

But it’s a sin against the text, and I’ll tell you why. That breathless stupid hope I talked about above, that the entire play’s structure induces? The hope that everything will turn out right? It builds up in you like a flood, and everything goes wrong again, and the entire weight of your hope is penned up in your heart, and they came so close! It was so close to being all right, but Romeo kills himself, and nothing will be all right.

And Juliet wakes up, still a citizen of the Country of Hope where this trick is so clever and Romeo’s going to save her, and she finds him there. And nothing makes sense to her. He was supposed to be here, but he was supposed to be alive. It’s a cruel inversion of her hopes, it’s her love made Death at last, it’s her whole world collapsing. We know how close it came to being all right, but she doesn’t know. She despairs. She sees he poisoned himself. And then she kisses him. And she says,

“Thy lips are warm.”

Now she knows as clearly as we do how nearly they were together, how close they came to a happy ending. Total understanding crashes over her, and crashes out of us. It’s the perfectly weighted moment of catharsis for the entire play. No lie: just typing her words above, I started crying with no warning. It’s the sharpened point of the play in Juliet’s heart, and ours. Those four words are the most devastating, understated thing. They are the cold, uncaring touch of Death.

And if she saw him die, they don’t work. They make no sense. She sounds like a fool saying them. And the whole weight of the play lands wrong, because some director thought he knew better than William Shakespeare how to wring the salt tears from human hearts.

[normaltothemax]

@therebetterbepie from here

The nightmares weren’t anything new. Sure, sometimes they mixed things up a bit—he’d dream of one terrible memory one night, and another the next—but it was all more of the same. The worst nights, like tonight, were when memories bled into each other.

Opening his eyes to a pitch black wooden box, screaming and shouting and banging on the lid for someone, anyone to let him out. Clawing his way up, trying desperately to reach the surface, choking on dirt and worms, feeling the earth pressing in on him. Only to manage a single breath of graveyard air before green water was flooding his mouth, pushing its way into his lungs. He struggled frantically, but he didn’t know which way was up. He swam and swam and swam, lungs burning, burning, burning, all the while that voice, that laugh echoed in his ears.

Which hurts more? A or B? Forehand or backhand?

A little louder, lamb chop. I think you may have a collapsed lung, that always impedes the oratory.

Just as his vision started going dark, he gasped himself awake, sitting ramrod straight, clawing off the blanket covering him, tangling in his legs. He was shaking and sweating, dragging in deep gulps of air, like he hadn’t breathed in days. It certainly felt like he hadn’t. It took several minutes for him to calm himself down enough to remember he wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t there.

Looking around the dark room, he shuddered, shook his head. Yeah, no way was he staying in there. He wasn’t getting anymore sleep tonight.

Quietly, he made his way into the living room and turned on the TV, turning the volume down in the hopes that he wouldn’t wake up Dean. He made himself some popcorn (something to do that wasn’t associated with any of those terrible memories), grabbed a beer from the fridge (because fuck you, Dean, he wasn’t a little kid and he damn well deserved one), and plopped himself down on the couch, letting the voices on the television wash over him.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there before Dean joined him. The bowl of popcorn was set between them before Jason grabbed a handful of his own. “Not sure. Some sort of shopping network. They’re selling weirdly specific shit. I’m half tempted to call in and order something.”

Whatever tension had been remaining in his shoulders eased out with the hunter’s presence. Holding his beer bottle between his knees, he plucked a couple pieces of popcorn from his hand and popped them into his mouth. “You know you can buy a shotgun rack for your mattress?”

[thepaperpanda]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 5 - An Aggressive Gentleness || Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Everyone knows Hangman is good, but you'll have a chance to discover that he simultaneously has a bit of a persuasive streak as well.

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v, spanking)

Word count: 2325

Author: Rouge

A/N: the the prompt for today is: Spanking

Jake "Hangman" Seresin was one of the world's greatest and most successful pilots. He was a known womanizer, and he had as many downed planes as broken hearts among all the women he dated.

Yet, ever since you joined his team, he couldn't take his gaze away from you; you were not only a beautiful, young woman, but you also had a strong personality.

"I know there's a big age gap between you and me, Y/N," he said as the two of you finished the bottle of red wine that night, sitting together on the pier over the ocean. "But I really want to take you out. Would you be interested in having dinner with me one evening?" 

As a result, you both agreed to meet for dinner a few days later.

Despite your expectations, the dinner ended up being much more enjoyable than you expected. It sounded too good to be true. You teased, playing with your glass, "Maybe Hangman isn't such an asshole as everyone thinks."

You could feel his knee against yours under the table as you sat there staring and smiling at each other, your hand in his.

Of course, it could have been an accident at first, but when it returned, went away, and then returned again, all doubt was removed. It was done on purpose as a signal, a kind of request, to emphasize the request for a date. Again, perhaps a little old-fashioned, but extremely intimate and alluring.

Jake let out a little sigh, observing your face carefully as he said, "Don't judge a book by its cover."

"If I didn't interact with you on a daily basis and while on duty, I'd say you're an asshole," you concluded, scrunching your face. "You are charming, but you are a total asshole. However, I don't regret our dinner together."

Jake was certain he knew the game because he'd played it before; he was obviously used to dealing with stroppy little bitches like you. He was well aware of what you were doing and what you were up to. He seemed to be able to read you, understand what you were thinking.

He kept gently rubbing your palm and pressing his knee firmly against yours as he looked you in the eyes. "You have the most enticing eyes, Y/N," he murmured as he gazed deep into them.

A cocky smile spread across your face as you made a small yhym sound and rested your chin on your palm. "Just like the last girl, I'm sure." 

Since it wasn't the first time you heard those sweet words, you already knew what they meant. This was a popular saying among guys as if it were a kind of spell.

"I can see through your eyes that you are a passionate, intense woman. A woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. I notice a lot about you." As he accelerated, his foot landed on yours and ran up the side of your calf. You were his type, there was no doubt. This became especially apparent when his knee pressed firmly against your closed knees at first, then even more so after a moment or two.

You sighed heavily and decided to stop him. "I have to be honest with you - sweet nothings don't appeal to me at all. I've heard these things too many times to believe them."

Jake drew your hand to his lips. "Come to my flat, Y/N, and let me love you there," he said as he licked the back of your hand and looked you in the eyes.

“If you stop acting so weirdly sweet, I'll go with you."

Jake gave you a brief nod in response.

You took a cab to his apartment. It was a second-floor walk-up flat in a fairly large town house, nicely furnished in that fading elegant style that appeals to the well-to-do and aristocracy.

Hangman turned on one lamp but not the others. The street lights cast a nice, dim, romantic glow on the large lounge. He made no pretense that this was anything other than a sexual encounter. He didn't make small talk, offer you a drink, or request that you sit. None of that was necessary; he and you both knew it. You were there for one and only one reason - to have sex.

As Jake kissed you passionately, he took you in his arms. There was no preamble or asking permission; it was a wonderful kiss. As he held you tight, he moulded your bodies together and his lips found yours. While your lips touched, your mouths were closed, but as you pressed them together they slowly opened. As he licked your lips, he ran his tongue along your gums, over your teeth and into your mouth. Unlike the Hangman everyone used to know, he was patient, slow, methodical, and amazingly erotic. You could feel Hangman's hands running up and down your back.His hands fiddled with your bra strap, the waistband of your short denim skirt, which was just a whisker below your pubis line and the top of your bum crease, and the hem of the white, loose, short-sleeved top. 

Jake took your hand and led you to his bedroom.

The room was quite small, but it had a double bed. Although it was dim, you could still see each other. Standing beside the bed, Jake held your hand as you faced each other. Bringing your palm up to his mouth, he kissed its top; he took one of your fingers and softly sucked it, earning a moan from you.

You didn't speak, you'd gone beyond words, they simply weren't needed.

It wasn't long before Jake let go of your hand and stepped back a few feet. With his eyes glistening in the dim light flowing in the room from a streetlamp, he began undoing the button of his heavy, cotton, khaki shirt. Having fully undone his shirt, his fingers were now undoing his leather pleated belt. He was so confident and so assured, which you found very sexy and enchanting. Still, he didn't take his eyes off of you. “You’re so fucking pretty, Y/N.”

Reaching downwards, you grasped the hem of your top. You saw approval in his eyes as his belt came undone and he slowly pushed his zip down. Between the opened edges of his shirt, you could see that his chest was toned and muscular.

You both dropped your tops as if on cue. Jake's eyes wandered over your chest, focusing more and more on your round breasts, almost making you squirm with desire. Through Jake's masterful gaze, you became more receptive to his unspoken persuasions.

The silence was broken by Jake. His erection was evident and clear and gave him absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever. As you dropped your bra, he sighed, "You're so fucking hot, Y/N. What are you waiting for? Go on."

Undoing the brass button on the skirt, you slid the short zip down. The skirt slid down your legs as you wriggled it over your bum and hips. A surge of high-octane arousal surged through you when you looked into Hangman's hungry eyes. You soon pushed your panties down your legs as well.

As Jake took off his boxer shorts, his hardened erection rested proudly against his well-built abdomen.

Seresin reached for your hand, the one holding your panties, as you stood completely naked in front of him. He gently pulled them away from you. His eyes bore deep into yours as he rubbed his nose on the gusset, taking deep breaths as he did so, making animalistic noises at the same time. After that, he used your panties in a rather extravagant manner, rubbing them around his balls and up and down his erection without any embarrassment at all. As if to say don't you dare complain, he stared intently into your eyes before cupping his balls in your panties and rolling them around before pushing the silky underwear back across his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him, pressing himself against you, moulding your bodies into one. As he cupped your round bum in his strong hands, his cock squirmed against you. Jake squeezed and kneaded your buttocks all the while kissing you hungrily; he stroked your bum, pinched it, rubbed it, and caressed it.

As you got your hand between your bodies, your fingers tingled with desire as they ran up and down his erection. It was everything an erection should be; hard, warm, smooth and slightly throbbing. 

You then went to bed.

Jake carefully positioned you on your front and laid beside you. The hand that wasn't tugging your hair had slipped down your back and reached your bum. He stroked it and squeezed it. Jake whispered, "You have the most glorious arse I've ever seen," as he stroked it softly. All he had done when you were standing beside the bed was repeated, but he now focused more on your cheeks. After easing your legs apart, he parted your bottom's cheeks. He spent ages running his fingers up and down that sensual groove, on, over and past your extra sensitive entrance to your anus, on the base of your spine in one direction and into your fully soaked pussy in the other.

All hell broke loose within your body and mind. You could not help but notice as your body shook with the various sensations that you were cumming without any form of penetration, without your sensitive clit being rubbed or your pussy's lips being stroked. “Jake!” You managed to whimper loudly, nuzzling your face into one of his pillows.

Jake smacked your bottom several times. Not that hard and not that much, but enough to make your bum sting and for you to recognise what he was doing. Nevertheless, the combination of the pain from him pulling your hair, the stinging from where he'd spanked your bottom and the pleasure he was giving you with his fingers made you cum, very heavily indeed.

You hadn't even finished your orgasm fully when Hangman turned you over. After what he'd just done to you, your pussy was still tender, and your breasts and nipples were still pulsating. As he moved up and held his cock against your lips, you willingly opened your arms and wrapped them around his hips. 

The moment he bucked his hips, forcing his dick completely into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around his rock-hard erection, gagging yourself.

Jake's hand hit your bottom quite hard, so much so that it jerked your head from his cock as Hangman turned you to your side a little, to gain better access to your bum. In a matter of seconds, he hit you twice. 

Putting his cock back in your mouth, you grunted. Each thwack and smack was probably harder than the last. He spread them over both cheeks. Pumping his girth in and out of your mouth, you gagged, reaching out to massage his balls.

Jake grunted lowly as he hardened. Seresin hit you several more times after he realized you weren't opposed to what he had been doing. Now he was doing it harder, and it was stinging, but not too painful. It was amazing to see that each time he smacked your ass, and since he'd found a sort of rhythm, his cock began to jerk inside your mouth. His hardening and growth increased with each smack. “Fuck, look what you’re doing to me,” he grunted, taking a fistful of Y/H/C hair, tugging on it a little. He was now spanking you with a steady series of blows that covered every inch of each cheek and occasionally drifted down to your thighs. Between each blow, his hand gently fondled your asscheek. 

With that gentleness combined with the aggression of the spanking, you experienced sensations you hadn't felt before. While Hangman grunted and groaned and mumbled how wonderful you were and what a magnificent bottom you had, you sighed and moaned at the pleasure you were receiving, taking his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop sound.

Jake then fucked you. Straightforward, you on your back, him on top, your legs wide open and wrapped around him. Jake’s thrusts were fast and strong; his bed was swinging with each of them. It was quite quick and hard. Like the expert he was turning out to be, he didn't offer or ask for more foreplay. After what Jake had gone on so far there was no need for more and he seemed to be acutely aware of that. He didn't need to get you wet and you didn't need to get him hard, what you'd been doing for the past half hour or so had done both of those necessities. 

“Fuck!” You screamed, digging your nails into his back, rolling your head back on his pillow. “Fuck you, Hangman! You’re so fucking good!”

“I’m good, Y/N,” Jake grunted into your ear, instantly turning his head to suck hardly on your exposed neck. “I’m very fucking good.” You were obviously soaked and your lips were bloated from the blood that rushed to them during the previous orgasms. No complaints, just a straightforward hard and fast fuck and that, to be honest, was what you truly wanted. 

After cumming together, Jake laid on top of you, pinning you to the mattress with his weight, then rubbed your cheeks and neck with his kisses. “Do you want to stay for the night?” He asked simply, rubbing his nose against yours.

Nodding to him, you slipped your hands into his hair and massaged his scalp. "Yes."

Despite his nakedness, Jake kissed you one last time before getting up from the bed. "I'll bring a pillow and towel for you."

As his thick, sticky cum ran down your inner thighs, you rubbed them together and bit your lower lip. You definitely had the best fuck of your life.

[jasiemint]

Scaramouche Imagine~

when you suddenly fell asleep that he comes into your consciousness

theme: fluff (?), very cute and heartwarming, warning might make you cry, may contain sensitive topics, not proofread

on a serious note, this is crack LMFAO you have been warned.

It was very late at night. You can't fall asleep and there are two reasons for such: the stampede of thoughts in your head and the cruel stomachache. You opened your eyes, giving up on trying to fall asleep. Right arm making its way out of the blankets, reaching out for the top of your wooden bedside cabinet as you get your phone. You turned it on and saw the time. 3:27am. You have been laying down, tossing and turning, ever since it was 11. The situation looked deem, hopeless, yet confusing.

Suddenly, you again felt a sharp pain in your stomach. This has happened multiple times this night. In your head, sleep would have made it disappear, but it seems that sleep is nowhere near. You recalled what your great yet Lesser Lord Kusanali once quoted - "use the bathroom and flush your anxiety dookie away~". As you cannot help it anymore, you stood up and walked towards the bathroom.

You took a shit, and oh boy was it hard to push it out. It was like you had to muster all your strength and courage for this very hour, for this divine event. Oh? But all of a sudden, pitch black filled your vision. One second, your eyelids felt so heavy and now, you are finally in deep slumber. Who would have thought that perhaps changing your bed to a toilet can help.

Supposedly you are in a deep sleep where your mind is at peace and you do not have to think or do anything. But what is this strange feeling? As if your soul had been transported back to reality but far away from it as well. It cannot be explained, but you just felt it. Is this what happens when you become in touch with your own consciousness? Slowly coming to your senses, your once bowing head turned upwards. Shocked, you saw the face of The Balladeer staring at you. What are those in his eyes? That purple electrifying look. no. There is more to it. You looked deeper and you saw something you did not expect - mercy. Pity.

He then held your hand, and as if your consciousness is in fact connecting with reality in some way, you were finally able to release that one last tiny hard piece of poopoo you have been struggling to get out. You cried tears of joy and worshipped the one who had held your hand. Scaramouche, satisfied with his help, laughed with a sprinkle of both genuine relief and degradation. "Mortals... A very simple task yet you still need me to succeed. How laughable."

You completely woke up from your consciousness. Now unable to see Scaramouche, you felt sad. But no matter. It was a pleasure and honor already to see him, and hell, even held your hand. You don't know if he can hear you, but you wanted to express gratitude. You cried and screamed plenty of thanks and continuously did this as you wash and wipe your business away.

The neighbors, who were sleeping tight, woke up to your screams. They filed a complaint to the village owner of where you are residing. When they came to talk to you, you preached of how great Lord Scaramouche is. They all looked at you weirdly - "Do we need medical help?". They kept trying to know into your sense that Scaramouche is but a fictional character and that you need to touch grass. Yet you refused. You feel and know that you are in the right. Just like any follower, you defended your new god with all your might. You also know that no, you do not need to touch grass.

Unless you spent precious time reading all of this. Then maybe you do. Don't you have something to do in life? Are you okay? Touch grass, please.

Fear not, however, for I will come with you. After all, I spent 30 minutes writing all this down. Maybe, just maybe, we all need to seek help.

Oh, and to summarize all of this... You know what you just read?

A story about you taking a shit at 3am and being so tired that you fell asleep. But then Scaramouche went in your consciousness. You were crying deep inside so he pitied you and helped you release that one tiny hard last piece of poopoo then you woke up and thanked him in a very loud manner that the neighbors, cops, and doctors had to be involved. Did you get the therapy you need? Idk man, you tell me

[creepychan08]

Yandere Oikawa x reader

It was a known fact that Oikawa always get what he wants. Be it in sports,  academics,  or girls he always come out at the top and he relishes in the attention that he gets. With his smooth words and gestures,  he managed to get the hearts of everyone he met- teachers, classmates, the trust of his teammates and even the principal himself.

Oh and did I mention?

Oikawa Tooru is the great Alpha of Aoba Johsai.

In this world,  werewolves exist and the population is divided into three class- alphas, betas, and the omegas.

There is also a predestined mate for each one of them. Usually, werewolves find their mate during their high school days where there bodies started releasing pheromones that catch the attention of their specific mates.

Despite of this however,  unmated werewolves can still flirt with anyone as long as they were still not taken to just generally waste their youth.

You were one of the people who are against that. You believed that since everyone has their own mates,  they must remain pure and untouched until they meet the one destined for them. That way even before meeting them,  it shows their loyalty in waiting for their partner.

Yes, and that's why you kind of despise Oikawa Tooru. Unfortunately,  he is your classmate so you have to suffer everyday in just being near his presence. His huge ego doesn't help as well.

"Omg,  look,  look!! He's sitting over there! I wanna talk to him!"

"Oikawa-senpai looks so hot today!!"

"Gosh,  I wonder if he will accept this lunch I prepared for him!"

"Notice me, Oikawa!!!"

The shrieks of girl flocking outside your classroom caused another headache in your already throbbing head. Closing your eyes in distressed,  you buried your head in your desk trying to drown out the sounds. Some of your classmates surrounded Oikawa and were eagerly shoving letters and foods on his desk as he laughed and winked flirtatiously at them.

You sighed and took out your bento,  figuring that it would be better to eat somewhere quiet. Standing up,  you didn't notice the gaze that followed your form as you exit your classroom.

Timeskip

It was the end of the last period and you walked out of the school when you forgot your textbook underneath your desk. Heaving a sigh of irritation,  you turned around and went back only to see two people talking in your classroom.

With the light from the sunset coating the room in a soft orange glow, you squint your eyes to see Oikawa with his hand tilting the chin of another girl as he moved his face forward and from where you can see, softly press his lips to the pair of awaiting ones. Feeling your face burn in embarassment from the scene, you gasped and quickly hide when you saw him turn towards you.

Disgusting.  Fucking disgusting.

Is the thought going in your head. You know he's a playboy but you couldn't help the shivers of disgust that runs in your body as you saw his display. How could he do that??  And the girl as well??  Yes,  they were unmated but still!  Haven't they ever thought how their mates would feel when they discover how their mates acted before meeting them? First kiss,  first hug,  first date. Wouldn't it be better to reserve that for your mate when you finally meet them?

Shaking your head in defeat you kind of pitied whoever ends up as Oikawa's mate. Oh well none of your business.

As you decided to forego your earlier plan of picking up your book, you turned to walk back down again when you feel a cold hand tightly gripping your arm.

"Yn-chan~" an eerie voice sounded loud in your ears as you shuddered in response. Turning around you saw Oikawa with the usual grin on his face but there was something dangerous in his eyes.

"Its bad to watch a confession,  you know?"

"I-" you felt the words stuck in your throat but you took a deep breath and faced him properly.

"I apologized for that Oikawa-san. I didn't meant to watch. I was just getting my book- I left it behind but seeing as you two were busy, I decided to just leave it there." You explained.

"Oh and please don't call me by my given name. We are not close. It's Ln-san to you."

Oh? One of Oikawa's eyebrows raised at your statement before he dramatically bowed at you as he pulled the door to the classroom open.

"By all means, please take what you need, Ln-san." It wasn't much but you feel uncomfortable in his presence so you quickly entered the room to find the girl crying where she stood. Trying to get out of the place at once,  you took your book and immediately flee the scene only to hear Oikawa giggling at you from behind.

"Don't worry Ln-san,  I didn't kiss her~ Take care!"

You scoffed in return. Who the fuck cares about that? That egoistic bastard!

A week has passed after that and you'd gladly say that everything return to normal but unfortunately it did not. After that encounter,  Oikawa started acting different around you. He seems to bother you at any chance he could. Like suddenly talking to you in class and asking to be partners for activities. Occasionally asking to have lunch with you as well.

Needless to say, you gather a lot of hatred from his fangirls who started harassing you. You heaved another sigh. Well.. there goes your plan for a quiet school year. Inwardly you curse him in your mind as you trudge towards your club activity. Hopefully, seeing your friends in the club can help dampen your negative mood.

It was night time when you finish in the school. Your friends waved goodbye to you and you return the notion as you slowly walked behind them. You took the time and just admire your surroundings. You always love watching the stars and moon. It makes you feel peaceful and relaxed.

Weirdly though,  you felt something unusual in your body. There was a tingling sensation and you felt light headed. Fortunately there was a bench near the gates of the school so you decided to rest there for a couple of minutes.

Breathing in the clean air around you,you try to relax when you suddenly pick up the scent of the most wonderful aroma you've ever smell. A group of footsteps soon followed and you watch a small crowd of volleyball players come out of the gym and towards the exit of the school.

You froze as you realized that wonderful smell is coming from their direction.

You feel your heart stopped. Is your mate a part of the Aoba Johsai volleyball club!?? Who is it??

Your answer soon came when you saw a lone pair of shoes stopped a distance before you. His friends unknowingly leaving him behind.

"Yeah,  don't you agree,  Shittykawa?" you heard a guy said before realizing they left their friend behind.

"Oi,  what are you standing there for?  Hurry up Oikawa!"

Your eyes twitched as it slowly goes up to see the owner of the pair of shoes that stop a distance from you and the group.

Oikawa Tooru.

He's your fucking mate!!?? 

Your mind couldn't grasp the info as you stared dumbly at him. At his awestruck look as well. His teammates seems to piece the picture and they immediately left,  bidding him farewell.

"You're my mate..." Oikawa whispers,  and you saw how he look at you as if you're the most precious thing in the world. You wish you could say the same. But its not because he's fucking Oikawa!  The one who played around and break a lot of girl's hearts. The one who probably had sex with a lot of girls before you.

And it broke your heart.

"Why is it you?" you asked, seeing him walk nearer towards you.

He stopped and looked at you like you shot him.

"What?"

"I've been waiting for this moment all my life and now... " You turn to hide your tears, ashamed to let him see your appearance.

"Don't!" Oikawa shouted, grasping your face with both of his face as he turn your face towards him.

"I always wondered why am I drawn to you in the past days.. what is it with you? And why have you caught my interest. I thought its because of what happened back then in that afternoon when you saw me with her." Then he shook his head,  "But I guess its not so. You see Yn-chan even before I knew you were my mate, it seems my body already knows its you. You're mine!" And with a strong force he pulled you towards him in a crushing embrace.

You stiffened. The words he uttered must be romantic to others but it only made shivers run down your spine. You don't know why but when he pulled back to look at you and you stared at those golden eyes of his, both pupils dilated, a rush of fight and flight kick in. He is dangerous. Your mind screamed at you. Get away from him!

You pushed him back and started running down past the school gates towards the empty street. You looked back to see his astonished face before it morph to a feral look and he smiled widely at you.

"Oh Yn-chan, don't run away~"

A set of footsteps soon followed and you gasped as you hear it coming nearer and nearer you.

"No!  Please stop!  Don't follow me!!!" You screamed as you continued running,  panting for breath. You knew there was something dangerous about him and with him acting like that it only proves your point.

"No!!  Can't you see you're mine and mine alone!! I'm your alpha!! " He yelled and with one lunge he pounced at you, grabbing you as you fall to the cement floor. Twisting his body so he take the blunt fall, you both finally skidded to stop. With you on top of him.

Opening your eyes,  you breath heavily as you realized you were lying on top of someone breathing as hard as you. That and you felt arms tightly wrapped around your waist was enough to jolt you back to reality.

Eh?

From below,  you saw Oikawa grin madly at you.

"I catched you now babe~ So don't try to escape me, your one and only alpha~"

Fin

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

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[luimagines]

Hi! I have a request, but first i wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! The length + amount of time you put into these prompts is insanely good. Now! Onto the request, how would the boys react to a reader from a more modern era? Maybe a more modernized hyrule or our current point in time?

Masterlist

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm happy to see the response even if this blog is still relatively new.

I hope I do your prompt justice.

I probably could have done a headcanon list but I was hit with inspiration.

I also might have given Reader some backstory.

Scenario below the cut! It’s long, take caution.

It was a cool night, but you didn't mind. Your bed was warm, the WiFi was fast and even if it was three AM on a school night, you managed to keep yourself giggling with cat videos and blursed memes until the words and colors merged.

A night well spent.

But it led to questionable decisions.

Even if the shredded cheese in the fridge was beginning to seem a more and more enticing snack, your body was tempted to succumb to slumber.

Until a large purple light encompassed the entirety of your window.

Something was in your backyard.

Aliens. Your tired brain supplies and you sprint to the glass and push away the curtains. Is this it? Is this where I'm kidnapped and never seen or heard from again?

You pull out your phone and open up the camera.

"Pics or it didn't happen." You remind yourself and snap a few before showing your face.

What you see isn't what you're expecting. Instead of a flying saucer in the sky beaming down a laser or a weird pear shaped space craft on top of the grass, there's a single panel of glowing light, swirling with black accents that creeps in a circular motion.

"Cheese and crackers...." You gasp and begin to blatantly stare at it with no regard to whether something may be coming out of it.

You wait and nothing happens.

You wait some more and nothing happens.

You spend an hour watching this portal that has appeared out of nowhere, waiting for something to happen, willing for something to happen. But you get nothing.

The unknown stares right back at you, unblinking and unchanged.

Go through it. A voice tells you. What if there's something on the other side?

"I'm going to die." You gulp and take a deep breath.

Who else gets a chance like this? The voice talks again. This could be a grand step towards a more modern society. A whole new world could be on the other side, waiting, reaching out, calling to humanity!

You think you a see a shadow move behind the portal and out of sight but it’s gone before you can even process it.

"Should I call the police?" You step away from the window, ignoring the thoughts, the voice- you're too tired to know if it's your own any more. What's the plan? How does one go about something like this?

Where’s your sense of adventure? Pack a bag and go! What if it goes away?

That last thought seems to get through to your tired brain and for a reason beyond your understanding, it latches onto it.

Now you’re excited.

You run to the closet and take out your old backpack. It used to be for school but it was fancier since it was the only one you could get. The bag had a replaceable water bag with a plastic straw connected through the back of it and the straps have just worn down enough to where they’re actually comfortable. It doubled as a hiking backpack and came with its own insulated lunch box that clasped on the back of it.

It’ll finally serve its purpose.

You quickly roll up your favorite blanket and strap it in tightly beneath the lunch box. You’re quick to take out two extra outfits and pack them as well as change out of your pajamas.

Ok. What would you need? You don’t know where you’d be going so this has to a catch all kind of deal.

You pack away your swiss army knife first for good measure. A solar powered charger for your phone and an extra pair of socks follow suit even after you’ve picked out the extra clothes.

You take out the water bag and run to fill it all the way to max capacity as you think of any other necessities.

You’d need food. You have a small jar of peanut butter and granola bars that can fit in the lunch box. You can bring your extra water bottle and put in the side pockets of the backpack, and maybe bring some of those powered flavor packets your brother loves so much. You think he has lemonade and some green tea ones.

Those would be great. He won’t mind, hopefully.

You let the bag overfill momentarily before running back to shove it in your bag. with the lid screwed tight.

Next you run to the kitchen, grabbing the first things that you thought of already and begin to look around for more.

You grab an unopened pack of beef jerky, a bag of veggie sticks and a half eaten bag of dried mangos.

During your search you grab the water bottle and fill that too.

You return to your room with your bounty and begin to carefully put everything in the box. With some more deliberation, you run back to the kitchen and make yourself a quick sandwich, eat it, make another one and pack that as well.

You look out side the window and the portal is still there.

The sun is beginning to rise now so you’re trying to go as fast as you can, unless you want to neighbors to think something is going on.

Even if it is.

You’re about to leave but in a stroke of brilliance, you run to pack sunscreen and bug spray as well. You see a small first aid pack that was bought recently for when you would take your family vacation but you reason that it might one of the most important things you’d have if you got hurt.

Into the bag it goes.

You grab your hoodie before you leave the door, wrap it around your waist and pocket your phone, your headphones and your wallet.

You feel immediately under packed when you step outside and see the portal up close.

It’s weirdly triangle shaped, you think and step closer.

You reach your hand out and try to touch it. It feels as if you put your hand through a humidifier but it’s not wet. It’s misty and cold but not necessarily unpleasant.

An idea hits you right before you take your first step through.

You pull up one of the earlier photo’s you took and send it to your friend’s group chat. It showed up in my backyard. I decided to make a bad late night decision and I’m going through. If you never hear from me again, I want you all to fight over my electronics. Winner takes all. Godspeed.

And you step through.

You had first assumed that it would merely take you tot he other side but very quickly realize that you have to walk through it.

The first part still had a little light but with time, it got darker. So dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

You kept walking.

As fast as the light disappeared, it came back and you stepped into the light of an open field, right in front of one, two, three, four, nine males that had appeared to be traveling towards you or rather, towards the portal.

The portal disappears in the process.

“Oh so we didn’t have to go through it! We had to gain another member!” One of them yells. “Would have been nice to know before we packed everything up!”

“Ho boy, where am I?” You ask and tighten your grip on your backpack. Why didn’t I bring a weapon?

They all had long tunics and swords on their backs. Old fashioned leather boots and hand bracers were the norm in this group and you realized very quickly that your jeans and t-shirt had wildly missed the memo.

“Dang, I didn’t think I’d walk into a LARP group. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smile. “I had no idea where the portal was going to take me. But if you would be so kind-”

“Wait, what’s LARP?” One of them speaks up. He was a dirty blond and somewhere in the middle of the group height wise. He wore a white cape like thing with blue designs on the back but you didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Live Action Role Play?” You tilt your head. “It’s why you’re all dressed like that? Right?”

“This is just our clothes.” What appears to be the youngest bounces up to you. “What are you wearing?”

“First I could grab in my closet.” You admit and look down on it. It’s one of your comfiest shirts and best looking pants. You’re a little proud of yourself for finding those in the dark.

“Weird.”

“We’re heroes. We’re all named Link.” Cape guy speaks up again. “Is it safe to assume that you’re in the same boat?”

“Heroes?” Your eyebrows furrow together. “I’m not a hero and my name’s not Link.”

You’re quick to tell them your name and you watch as the confusion covers their faces. “My brother’s name is Link though if that helps anything.”

“Oh we needed him!” The youngest groans and it instantly irks you.

“What would you need with a five year old?” You deadpan and cross your arms. 

The information stuns the group.

“The portal showed up in the middle of the night and I’m the one that went through it. I’m pretty sure I was the only awake to even see it. Are you telling me that it was for my little brother?” You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little pissed. “My baby brother was supposed to go through it? He was asleep! He’s five. What kind of logic is that?!”

“Well...” The biggest and oldest of them runs a hand over his face. You think he has some cool tattoos and sick scar going across his eye but he looks about as angry as you feel, so you don’t say anything. “It appears the gods truly do not care for the hero’s maturity, only his existence.”

“Ok...What’s with all this hero talk?” You bite back. “What did... Where am I?”

“Hyrule.” The second with cool face tattoos speaks up. He’s got a large fur pelt around his shoulders and you have to tighten your grip against your backpack again to keep from reaching out to touch it.

Even so you feel yourself deadpan even more. “Hyrule? Like the ancient empire? The one that collapsed more than two thousand years ago? That Hyrule?”

You’re inclined to not believe them and write all of them off as crazy... but you also walked through a portal. And your grandma did say that magic existed in the strangest forms.

They all share looks of concern and some begin to murmur quietly amongst themselves but you’re too far gone to even notice.

“Did I time travel?” The idea hits you like a bus and you feel your eyes widen as you stare beyond the group. You quickly take our your phone and unlock it.

No signal.

“Is that a type of Sheikah slate?” Someone asks you.

“I don’t know what that is.” You reply automatically. “Wait, hold on, what year is it?”

“Why don’t you tell us what year you’re from and we can start from there?” The darkest brunette of the group speaks up.

“202x PC” You say robotically, not really processing the world around you anymore.

“That’s...” The blond with a long blue scarf speaks up with a slight hiss. “...Beyond any of our timelines. You see, we all come from different worlds and eras of Hyrule’s history.”

“I don’t think you’re the farthest down anymore, Wild.”

“This would then make them my successor, right?”

“It would make their brother your successor.” Someone amends. “I think they just jumped in his place.”

“Leave my brother alone.” You snap back into the present, pocketing your [hone again. “Ok, you know what, screw it. I don’t know what you’d want my brother for but I’m here now. I’d gladly take his place if it means he gets to stay home!”

“Hey.” A boy with pink hair stalks up to you looking a little more serious than you’d like.

“Nice hair dude, way to defy the gender norms.” You smirk a little before genuinely grinning, hoping to quell the tension. “What product do you use? It looks like Artic Fox but not every place sells their brand.”

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about but what happened to Ganon in your world? How have you been handling it?” He snaps and places his hands on his hips.

“Ganon? Like my old principle? That’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.” You’re confused again. “Last I heard he joined the police force only to be reassigned out of state. I don’t know what’s happening with him. Kinda hope he gets fired though. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not someone you’d want in that kind of position of power, you know.”

“Police force?”

You blinked and look them all over. They look very medieval. “Oh... You don’t have that...”

You begin to think about your history lessons and what they might be familiar with if they’re telling the truth about being from Hyrule.

“Ya’ll got knights?”

Many, almost all of them nod, a few with face of despair already on them before you finish speaking.

“It’s kind of like that. Mixed with a towns guard position... kinda. They enforce laws... at least they’re supposed to but the whole system is flawed and racist and really needs to be dismantled for the abuse of power that they have-”

“Abuse? Of power?” You have their attention again.

“It’s stupid and it won’t really make any sense if I try to explain because I doubt you have anything similar but it’s basically a group of people given the right to treat the public in anyway they like for their own benefit because they have no one telling them that they can’t.” You groan and slowly begin to feel your lack of sleep catch up to you. 

You slowly reach to behind you and sit down on the dirt, looking at all of them. “Mr. Dragmire wasn’t like...Demise or anything but he was a huge jerk. No one liked him. He liked me though. I remember that. I was the envy of the whole school because I somehow got on his good side while everyone else wants to strangle him. I think he was transferred for some misdemeanor or something like that... like he might have been throwing hands with someone he wasn’t supposed to. I never heard all the details. I didn’t really care for it when it happened either. I’m pretty sure he lost that fight though. The dude looked like a blast of wind could have knocked him over let alone someone’s knuckle sandwich.”

“I would love to hear more about this.” The youngest sits next to you with a large grin on his face. His eyes are bright and his body language reminds you of your cousin Zelda. You instantly think they’d get along like a house on fire. “What are your monsters like?”

“Monsters?” You tilt your head. “Be a little more specific bud, it depends on where you’re from.”

“You have that many?!”

“It depends on if you believe they’re real or not.”

“Speaking of monsters, can you fight?” The shortest walks up to you. You like that his tunic is stitched up with multiple colors and designs. It gives it personality, you think. “Do you have a weapon you’re more comfortable with?”

The question throws you off your rhythm and you don’t fight your wince. “What would happen if I say that I do not, in fact, have any sort of weapon on me?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” Pink guy speaks up again. “That pack is huge, there has to be something in there.”

“It’s food, water and extra clothes my guy.” You lean back against said backpack since it won’t let you lay down with it still on. “Not a lot of space for anything else. I’m pretty good at hand to hand combat though. Karate’s a good way to fight out stress.” 

“Your bag’s not magic?”

“Why the hell would it be magic? ...Are you trying to tell me magic actually exists?” You raise an eyebrow as your eyes begin to close against your will. “I know my grandma said it does but I thought she meant like fairies and shadow demons.. and bigfoot. Can’t forget him, he’s the real MVP... You know...Children’s bedtime stories and stuff like that, it’s not real. But like magic magic? Magic items and the like? Find me Tinkerbell and I’ll show you Neverland, that’s what I say.”

“Are you serious?”

“Second star to the right, straight on till morning.” You respond.

There’s a moment of silence as the group in front of you processes your words. It’s hard to tell their reaction since you’re not looking at them but you no longer have the energy to do anything else.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” It’s the one they called Wild.

“I...” You try to open your eyes. They don’t budge. “I haven’t slept in nearly 20 hours... I think. I might have past 24 hours a while ago actually. Portal showed up at like four in the morning... I had to get up at six and I didn’t sleep at all before then.”

More silence.

“Great another one.” Someone scoffs.

You snort.

“Why did we pack up camp again?”

“No one kill me.” You say right before you lose consciousness. “Please and thank you.”

“They’re doomed.”

“Have some faith Vet. They stepped in for their little brother. That has to mean something?”

“They’re in for a rude awakening, and that’s all I have to say about it.”