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seiwas · 1 year ago

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₊˚⊹。so this is what it means to be in love | gojo satoru

wc: 8.9k

summary: gojo finds out what it really means to be in love.

contains: f!reader in mind, friends to lovers (prev. slowburn), suggestive scenes, might be mature/mildly explicit? (i only mention ‘butt’ once though…), ‘being in love’ as a journey, almost like a falls in love first (you) vs. falls in love harder (gojo), they fight, they swear, character death/s mentioned, shibuya onwards spoilers, lots and lots and lots of love

a/n: this is better read after the other parts in the collection but can work as a stand alone too!, there’s a jump between this and tell me about love (show me how) so gojo would have developed a lot in the relationship since then!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +02 (extra). look my way, you're what i crave <- you are here + (extended scene) too good to be mine -> 3.5a. this feeling inside of me—

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!)

Gojo catches onto love slowly.

He takes the hand you leave open just for him, and closes the space between your palms, reducing infinity.

Maybe he’s felt it all this time without knowing; after all, love looks a lot less profound as friends in your early 20’s.

But being in it—being in love? That’s uncharted territory.

Gojo’s been to a lot of places, has travelled back and forth from point-to-point endlessly. He’s survived battles, a war, near-death, and cursed spirits reincarnate; he’s got eyes—two bright blue and an extra four hidden, ones that see beyond human comprehension. Unearthing this simple truth shouldn’t shake him, shouldn’t even faze him. If anything, he should have seen it coming—

Except, he doesn’t.

It sneaks up on him, bit by bit, until he finds that being in love means getting to experience you all over again, just differently.

It starts with the little things.

Gojo has known you for so long (a decade and a few years more), but has only recently begun to notice everything: how your baby hairs stick out in the humidity of summer, the way you purse your lips in thought before finally deciding on a drink to order. You play with your fingernails subconsciously, out of habit, the soft taps on your nail beds an accompaniment of anxious conversations you’ve had since you were 23.

He knows you always blink twice before focusing on him, and it’s a mystery whether this is a recent development or something he’s just never noticed, but if you’re trying to enchant him by the flutter of your eyelashes, he wants to let you know that it’s working—except, he knows that you aren’t, because you’re just like that: a daydream without even trying.

These aren’t new things; he’s sure he’s probably encountered them all before, but lately they’ve evolved into cute things, and there’s no hiding the slight curve of his lips every time he spots them.

The sun is beaming brighter this summer, the ocean a faraway blur from the beach towel you set up under the shade. Going to the beach is never your go-to when you think of an extremely hot afternoon, but Yuuji’s been eyeing a weekend getaway since sorcerer work’s lessened significantly.

‘It’s a good effort,’ Gojo convinces you, ‘to get everyone together again.’

And it is—you see it now: Yuuji and Megumi preparing to fling Yuuta into the water while Nobara and Maki race along the shoreline. Toge stays close to Panda but he watches fondly, eyes crinkling every now and then, happy.

When you blink, the image of them softens—a captured memory in the heat haze.

The only older ones here are you and Gojo; Shoko’s always disliked the stickiness of sunblock on her skin, and Ijichi’s new position has made him constantly busy. Somewhere in the distance, you can maybe envision Nanami. He wouldn’t come if you or Gojo asked, but if it were Yuuji—

You rub at your eye, resting your chin on your hand as you will your tear ducts to please, don’t cry.

Yuuji's been smiling a lot more lately, an observation you note from the way his ears are perked up every time you look his way. It’ll never be the same as it used to be but it’s relieving to know that he can exist living as himself now. Just Yuuji.

You hug your knees tighter to your chest, wrapping your arms around it. Your place under the coconut tree provides ample enough shade but your back still burns from Gojo haphazardly slathering sunscreen on it after hearing an ice cream stand from miles away.

The mind is a weird place to be at times like this—split into bittersweet reminiscing and telling yourself to just take this moment and breathe, to live in it. You think about Megumi, and how you hurt for him, always will, for all that he’s lost despite every attempt to avoid it.

You should have been there for Tsumiki, you could have been there for both of them.

Your guilt never leaves you even on days that shine as vividly as this, but perhaps that’s the silver lining—that they’re still with you, always. You can carry pieces of them to these places, and scatter them to the wind, to the sand, to the sea, and maybe to the ice cream stand Gojo’s waiting in line of, surrounded entirely by kids. They all rise to half his size, but if you squint, you think the bounce in his step makes him blend right in.

A chuckle escapes you.

You could sort through your memories and land on one where he looks just like this—freakishly large limbs towering over a tiny, excited Tsumiki. Back then, an ice cream stop after school consisted of your pseudo-family of four, with Megumi on your hand and Tsumiki on his leg, both gripping tightly to combat a chilly 10°C.

Things are different now, evidently. Megumi’s outgrown it, and Tsumiki is no longer here. But Gojo has stayed the same, and it’s comforting to know that he will continue to be this Satoru, your Satoru, even when some things are gone.

You don’t realize you’ve spaced out until he waves the ice cream cone while walking towards you.

Gojo is a sight in trunks the color of his eyes, with seahorses and starfishes in an alternating pattern of peachy-pink against cerulean blue.

You could have sworn you asked for your own cone, but he plops down beside you holding only one. For the both of you. The side-eye you give him is almost criminal, if not deadly, but your lips twitch from the smile you’re hiding (terribly).

He raises an eyebrow and you break character, shaking your head while laughing.

“Did you eat the other one on the way here?” you tease, craning your neck to lick at the bottom scoop (vanilla-strawberry-vanilla, Gojo’s signature order).

Your tongue lands dangerously close to his fingers, and he feels it, but his eyes only land on you—your lips, how they part for your tongue to glide smoothly on his–both of your–dessert. You look every bit of an angel in the soft, pale hues of your bikini, but Gojo’s thoughts are anything but saintly.

He blushes furiously, the tips of his ears and nose bright red as he turns away from you quickly.

“I’m fulfilling your dream of sharing an ice cream cone with me.” he tilts his chin up, proud, smirking slightly. He jokes about it knowing full well that this is his dream come true, just by the look of you.

You stay quiet, rolling your eyes but never meanly, no. You only ever do it fondly—he knows, being on the receiving end of it one too many times.

The beach towel scrunches when you scoot closer, looping your arm around his as you both rest your elbows on your knees. Gojo holds the cone between you two, tipping it towards you when it’s your turn to lick.

He shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t hyperfixate, but it’s so cute how you get the tiniest bit of ice cream on the tip of your nose—as if it belongs there, soft and sweet just like the rest of you.

You look up to find Gojo gazing at you, eyes glimmering like sunlight on the ocean, and a tiny smile that only widens when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, scrunching your nose in an effort to stop yourself from grinning.

When Gojo looks at you this way, as if you are his favorite place rediscovered, your heart thumps furiously against your ribcage.

“What…” you drawl, your smile impossible to hide in the lilt of your voice.

Gojo thinks he can count every eyelash, every speck of sand dotting your face, and stil not be bored of you. He can’t stop beaming.

Is this what it means to be in love with you?

“Nothing.” he replies, almost giggling, a little bashful but with every inch of sincerity. You know that smile, the only one that holds every ounce of Satoru. Gojo smiles big and wide to everyone else, but this small one you know, is reserved just for you.

He leans in, lips coming closer to brush against the tip of your nose. Your eyes fall shut, instinctively, and the pink dot is wiped clean, a hint of strawberry dancing on his palate. He’s done this more times than he can count, has gotten this near to know that close will never be close enough, but you still jolt a bit—PDA has never been your thing.

When he pulls away, you continue to stare at each other, locked in a gaze until the ice cream begins to drip down his fingers and onto the beach towel. It misses his trunks by a hair and you both laugh at how he belatedly tries to escape it even though it’s already there.

It’s indescribable, this moment, seeing you in slow motion, laughing as bright as the sun—the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. It takes every bit of him to look away so he can wipe his hands clean from the dripping dessert.

You hand him a packet of wipes and beckon him to sit in front of you after. Squeezed onto the palm of your hand is a copious amount of sunscreen you plan to slather all over him. A touch-up, if you will.

Gojo has sensitive skin, pale as bond paper and burns just as quickly. The high points of his face are already reddening, warm to the touch when you dab at them with sunscreen.

You’re so near, so close, sitting cross-legged in front of him with your knees touching his. The tip of your tongue sticks out just slightly as you focus on his skin.

Even though he knows, he still wonders what your lips would taste like, SPF chapstick and crumbly bits from the wafer cone. He wonders what your eyelashes would feel like, fluttering over his own.

The light casts a halo around you and he thinks it’s fitting for all that you do. You pamper him like this, slather love all over his chest and back, massage it in so it dissolves into him—and he feels it so deep that he tastes it.

How can your love be so sweet? He thinks, sighing as your fingers work sunscreen up his neck from his collarbone. You always apply his skincare like this: upwards, gently—‘no tugging, please!’—something about keeping his baby face even when he’s old.

“You should join them,” you mumble, rubbing more product onto the nape of his neck. You’re leaning over his shoulder, neck brushed against his cheek.

Gojo hums, watching everyone from a distance. It’s been a while since he’s had a day like this.

“But maybe after 30 minutes, so the sunblock doesn’t wash off. You’re already burning.” you note, coming back to sit.

Of course, he’s already burning. How can he not when the sun is right in front of him?

You join everyone for a game of beach volleyball in the sunset of the afternoon. You’re transported back to high school, the last time you did this—you and Satoru against Shoko and Suguru, with Haibara keeping score.

From the way Gojo’s eyes are glossed over, you can tell he’s thinking about it too, the memory having seared itself into your brains forever, it seems.

Being paired together should feel familiar—the same, but it doesn’t—isn’t, because Gojo can’t concentrate, sneaking glances to notice all the little things about you that he never used to. Your skin shines from the combination of sweat and sunscreen, and when you crash into him it’s both sticky and slippery. He should really ask for a time-out before you blind him completely.

You look unfairly good in your bikini, too good he can barely hear you calling for him; between the ocean and his blood rushing, any other sound is drowned out into nothing.

Maki and Yuuji absolutely demolish the both of you, reaching 15 first in the final set. Gojo blames the loss on you of course, even though he’s missed every pass you’ve sent his way and netted 60% of his spikes.

And maybe it technically is your fault—you and your (very distracting) little things. But it’s entirely on him that he’s fallen for it, fallen for you as much as this.

Gojo thinks of love differently when he sees a picture of himself and all it does is remind him of you.

There’s a photo tucked safely in his wallet (saved and set as his homescreen too). Shoko snorts when she walks in on him printing it, all six-foot-three of him hunched over the small inkjet printer in the faculty room.

“It’s all digital now, Satoru,” she scoffs, taking a puff on her cigarette.

Gojo doesn’t say anything even though he knows it’s true, too focused on watching the printer push out the two-by-three inch image he’s about to cut into.

Print photos aren’t as important anymore when cloud storage spaces are just as–if not more–accessible, but Gojo is admittedly sentimental despite every front he puts up to hide it.

He’s kept every single gift you’ve given him and camouflaged it as decoration in his office, and the family drawing 10-year-old Tsumiki made is still folded between the pages of a self-help book Yaga had given him when he first decided to teach.

When every moment is experienced so vividly, seen through a muddle of infinite energies, there are those he wishes could stay still—ones that take up space to remind him: ‘this is real, it happened, and here is proof that it did’.

He already has one of all of you, fresh-faced and barely pushing the peaks of youth at 16. A tangle of arms wrapped around each other—one of his gripping tightly on Suguru, and the other hanging loosely over you. Utahime is crouched in front, holding the hand you’ve placed on her shoulder while pulling Shoko into a semi-squish-semi-hug (because out of the four of you, Shoko is her favorite—completely valid; if given the choice, she’d be your favorite too). Nanami and Haibara stay close to Suguru, squatting low to balance the photo, and Haibara is smiling, the ever cheery grin Suguru loves to dote on, while Nanami is Nanami—sharp features and a serious gaze that you all know he’ll grow into someday, handsome with age.

For the longest time, Gojo has kept that photo hidden, locked away in the drawer of his bedside table as if keeping it there means the memory will stay guarded forever—untouched, unspoiled, unruined.

It would have stayed there if you didn’t stumble upon it while looking for his painkillers during another one of his skull-crushing migraines.

You approach him with the image hesitantly, eyes damp and glossy. Years have faded the colors ever so slightly, but the corners remain crisp from being stowed away neatly. You say sorry, that you shouldn’t have looked through his things, but you remember the moment it was taken so fondly: a visit to the Kyoto campus on a one-day break to train with other students.

Gojo has many theories about time and the multitude of spaces it takes—like how a person can exist at different points in time, disparate at each instance, and still take up the same big chunk of space. The opposite can be true too, that someone can live finitely (just once) and occupy spaces in every place you look: the face of a passerby down the road, a sign at the corner of the street, or even a photograph that immortalizes people you once knew.

He only shares when you ask, aware that he tends to be a bit of a nerd about it whenever it’s brought up, but you don't mind. You like listening to it all, no matter how insightful or confusing they are for you to make sense—a version of him not many get to witness. His explanations are comprehensible for the most part, except—

When Gojo tells you that he’s kept the image in his drawer, hidden, because exposing it to the space-time that exists now will erase every reminder that it ever happened, you hug him tightly.

Your sniffles are heard from the way his head is tucked into the crook of your neck, your fingers gripping strands of his hair in empathy.

He considers your near-tears as a sign that the memory is long gone, decayed into the brittling tragedy of reality. But you smile, the corners of your lips bittersweet as you express disbelief that he’s kept it all this time.

You tell him delicately that some precious things are meant to be celebrated, put out to be remembered—to be experienced.

And it becomes clearer to him then, by the look in your eyes and remembrance soft-spoken, that what good is a photo unseen?

What good is a love unwitnessed?

When you gift him a frame a year after finding the photo, he hangs it by the wall next to his office door. The image is painful to look at, always has been (even when it was hidden in his drawer)—during Suguru’s defection, and death anniversaries especially.

The recent one for Nanami was heavy; the first time he’s ever been able to process grief fully.

Gojo can argue that it grows more difficult every time he catches a glimpse of it from his desk, but you have a way of honoring pain that doesn’t make it sting as bad—that turns it into a reminder of a love that was once there, of feelings that hurt as evidence that someone cared.

Now, he wants another photo printed, one of just the two of you. Not because it hurts, but because he wants this precious thing to be remembered and seen—for this love to be witnessed too.

It’s self-timered, snapped under the shade of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. The picture is far from perfect: your eyes bright and mouth open mid-fear of his phone falling off the bridge railing.

You may look a teensy bit funny, but Gojo will always find it cute. Anyone can see it, at how he looks at you in that moment—like you are every bit worthy of the distance travelled and seasons waited. He gazes at you fondly, eyes holding clear skies and pink lips curling into a small smile.

It’s cheesy, but if you ask him what he thinks about this year’s flowers, he’ll tell you none of them (not even any of them combined) could compare to you. The cherry blossoms could be gone and he’d still see them everywhere (in the softness of your lips, the fullness of your cheeks, the radiance you emit when you are truly, solely content and happy).

He remembers that afternoon well: the spring breeze that jolts his phone sideways, his hand resting on your lower back, unseen in the image. There’s no real reason for visiting the blossoms on this day of all days, but Gojo doesn’t believe in coincidences, and he’s counted down exactly to a year since you both had your first kiss.

It’s so silly, because he’s never thought of things like this before. He knows you probably don’t think much of it either considering that neither of you have made anything official yet since.

And he feels a little stupid for that, honestly.

You have a drawer of his clothes for the nights he stays over (more often than not), and even though you go on these little trips that are so obviously dates, you both still just tell everyone you’re ‘hanging out’.

He’s not fooling anyone here, not when he looks at you then with the feeling of his chest expanding, stretching to accommodate the overflows of his affection since learning the ways to love you—tenderness caught in little pixels of eternity.

When Gojo goes through all 179 photos from that afternoon, he filters out the ones to delete and picks this one out especially—favorites and resizes it to fit his home screen and his wallet too.

There’s something about the look on his face that reminds him of every time he’s caught the same one on you.

He slides the photo into the little sleeve behind his credit card, catching himself smiling—this must be because of you, he thinks, and the bits and pieces of yourself that have somehow become part of him slowly, sneaking into him unknowingly.

If this is what it means to be in love, with you, then he’s fucked.

Don’t you know that he’s insatiable? These traces of you will only make him want the whole of you.

You find the photo while he rushes to the restaurant restroom. On ‘hang out’s like this, you insist on splitting the bill, but Gojo has always been stubborn and you’ve learned that you can never argue.

He hands you his wallet to pay with his card, and when you slide it out, the photo falls. It’s face down on the floor when you pick it up, fully expecting it to be a photocard of some idol you know Gojo follows.

But it isn’t, and your smile widens.

When Gojo comes back, you’re looking up at him affectionately, biting your lips as if to stop yourself from speaking—the same way he always does.

It’s funny because, slotted between your two fingers is the photo he’s kind of flustered you found, but he has no time to be embarrassed when he sees a little bit of himself in the way you’re staring at him right now.

“So, Yuuji asked if we were together.”

You quirk an eyebrow, looking up at Gojo from the pile of laundry you’ve begun folding on your bed. He emerges from the bathroom, ruffling his hair with a towel.

Over the past year, Gojo has spent his weekends off with you, sleeping over and traipsing around your room in his pajama set as if he’s lived here just as long as you.

You snort as you fold, amused that this is even a question to begin with. Yuuji’s always been known for being exceptionally dense, but you didn’t think it was this bad. Gojo was especially touchy with you during that beach trip, and you’re sure Megumi and Nobara have caught up to let him know by now, somehow.

“What made him ask?”

“I think he wants to take you away.” Gojo teases, wiggling his eyebrows as he throws the towel on the chair across your vanity.

You roll your eyes, still sweetly, indulging him, “Sure.”

It’s now a running joke that Gojo’s threatened about Yuuji stealing you; you’ve always had a soft spot for bright eyes and even brighter souls and Yuuji is as close to that as anyone can get.

It’s not like that though, it could never be; Yuuji is just like your Megumi—the two boys you want to protect and care for in hopes of treating them better than their lives have ever.

Gojo feels the same, you know, otherwise he wouldn’t have guided them as much as he has (despite his... questionable ways). Still, your hands have always been gentler, kinder—and though shorter, have always outstretched much farther than his.

You have a way of inching yourself into people’s lives that just fits. He’s experienced it first-hand, can’t even dare to imagine what his life would be like if you didn’t.

He walks across the room to you, bed dipping as he steadies a knee before draping his entire body over your shoulders.

Now that you think about it, it makes sense that Yuuji’s confused, because Gojo has always been extremely touchy to everyone, just never when the feelings mattered, with you. Kiss him once, though, and it snowballs into an avalanche of firsts. And what he’s about to do right now, he thinks, might just trigger another one to form all together.

“As if I’d let him.” he mumbles right by your ear, chin tucked by the crook of your neck. It tickles when he speaks, his nose poking at your cheeks.

“Who put you in charge?” you scoff jokingly, unfazed.

He moves away from you in disbelief, mouth open as he stares at you mindlessly folding.

To be fair, he can’t fault you. You aren’t technically official even though you have kind-of-been for a little over a year. There’s no particular reason, just that you haven’t talked about it—part because you wanted him to approach it whenever he was ready, and also, because it just never seemed like a priority.

You laugh as he stares at you, stunned into silence, the pout on his face borrowed from all the versions of yours.

There’s no point of contention because you’ve only ever loved Gojo since you were 17.

“Kidding,” you kiss his cheek as an apology.

“Don’t even joke about that.” he huffs, you’re starting to take after him a little too much.

“You’re mine.” he murmurs after, arms wrapped around your waist and legs stretched out wide to encase you.

He says it as if it is the simplest truth.

Your heartbeat quickens, too loud and pounding; this is the first time you’ve ever heard this from him, and a part of you thinks this is just another one of those flirty side-comments he makes on a whim.

“You tell him that?” you hope he can’t hear your voice shake as he nuzzles your neck, your fingers trembling on the pair of socks you have yet to roll.

He hums, hugging you tighter. He waits for you to finish folding before letting you lean against him, offering his fingers for you to fiddle with. They’re cold, long and slender, veiny just by a bit, and he always gives them to you like they’re yours, you like to think.

There’s an inhale, a breath of hesitation, before he exhales.

“Something like it.”

You don’t say anything, only nod, and it’s nerve-wracking. He’s so nervous even though he knows he doesn’t have to be because it’s just you. And there’s no need to doubt what you’re feeling. But—

“You are though,” he pauses, “right?”

He has to be sure. This is a testament to you more than himself that he’s learned to ask instead of bulldozing you like he does with everyone else. Who else will he pick that up from but you?

There’s hesitation you hear that you think shouldn’t be there anymore; the fact that you’ve given so much of yourself to this man and he still thinks you’re unsure—

“‘Cause I’m yours.” he speaks, clearly, definitively, before you can even answer. And you know—you’ve known ever since that party years ago. A simple admittance: ‘I’m taken’.

You turn around to face him, eyes shimmering.

Can he see? You’re meant for him only.

All you’ve ever wanted was to love him; everything else he’s done up until this point is already more than you could ever imagine. The labels can only do so much to capture the gravity of what you are to one another: years of history unpacked into a mishmash of feelings overlapping—it’s a lot.

You sit cross legged in front of him, your knees touching his. He’s biting his lips again, an anxious habit you want to kiss away.

Gojo has proven far too much of himself already that he’s serious with you—your kind-of-confession, that confrontation, and the days after, all the ways you’ve both learned to love each other.

You cup his cheeks.

A single word cannot possibly define what he is to you.

“I mean, o-only if you want me to be.” he adds on, blue eyes darting back and forth.

Gojo runs his mouth almost all the time and you’ve never heard him stutter once in his life. Except now.

He’s endearing like this—a version of him you are slowly discovering.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” you finally say, and it’s a relief.

He feels good, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms pull you closer, hugging you tighter as you both smile.

He kisses you once, twice, maybe a million times all over, travelling across your eyelids, the center of your forehead, down to the corners of your mouth before landing a real one right on your lips.

Gojo always looks pretty but he looks prettiest like this, worry-free, with love in his eyes and nothing but pure happiness in the way he holds you.

He won’t tell you that Yuuji asked about your anniversary, not if you were together.

At least now he has an answer.

Gojo stares at you like he wants to say something, a thank you maybe, but he bites his lips instead. No words will ever amount to this feeling, he thinks, of his chest expanding and heart hammering. So he kisses you with all of it, trailing soft smacks of his lips down your neck, tickling. The tips of his hair are still wet from his shower, leaving droplets on your skin as he nips.

You laugh—sprinkled in love.

“S-stop!” you push him away, “Satoru,” giggling, “tickles!”

“We have to consummate it now.” he whispers, grabbing you by the waist to place you on his lap, squeezing your sides while nibbling at your neck playfully.

You roll your eyes at his antics, “It’s not–” you laugh out loud when he pinches your hips, “–marriage, Satoru.”

Oh, if only you knew, he thinks.

The image you’ve planted in his head is dangerous when he’s this drunk on love right now.

More decades, more years spent with you? In another life, or maybe even in this one, if time permits, he wouldn’t mind making that come true.

It’s crazy how much things can change—for all his life, he’s ruled out the possibility of love ever taking root in his ribcage.

You’ve managed to make it feel so easy, so good, even when he was shit-terrified not knowing how to love you like he should.

Now, he thinks, how could he ever miss out on love this way? A love this good, with you?

For all of Gojo’s life, he’s never had to be anyone else—always the strongest, the only one. He’s never had to change anything about himself, because what’s there to improve when you’re already the best?

In a way, this is why it works with you. You’ve taken him as he is, all the good and ugly and never asked for anything more than what he can give.

But being this in love with you—it’s foreign. There are pieces within him shifting, all on their own without him knowing.

How he wants to be better, for you. To be good enough to deserve all of it, and give back more of it too.

Gojo doesn’t realize how much love has changed him until he feels it uprooting every insecurity he never even knew existed, pulling it all up to the surface.

When things are going great, it’s hard to imagine them ever going the other way.

“You don’t mean that.” you mumble, voice trembling.

Gojo stares at you, at your lips quivering and the fists clenched to your sides. There are tears collecting in pools by your eyes, and if there’s anything else he hates in this world, it’s seeing you cry.

So why?

Why couldn’t he just shut up?

“Please tell me you don’t mean that,” you take a step closer, gripping the edge of his jacket, “Satoru.” your voice cracks, begging.

It’s an out-of-body experience when Gojo registers that he’s fucked up, and he sees himself now, bird’s-eye-view, and thinks this is the worst thing he could do to you after all you’ve been through.

“I need some time to think,” he says, finally, the only words coming out of his mouth—but he can’t hear himself speaking.

He should have said sorry, taken it all back, he thinks, not make it worse by leaving.

He heads for the door, heart crunching under each footstep away from you.

Is this what being in love’s supposed to do? Break his heart while yours is bleeding?

You’re too good for Gojo, in every sense of the word—and he knows it.

You are far too kind, far too generous, far too patient with him. You give him more love than he deserves, definitely, and admittedly enough, with how he is, you have been settling for the bare minimum but that’s on him, not on you.

He had no right speaking to you the way he did, hurting you with accusations born from insecurities he’s never before had to deal with.

He knows it.

Who accuses you of ‘meddling’ as if everything out of you doesn’t come from the goodness of your heart? Of provoking you with ‘chasing the bare minimum’ as if he isn’t aware that that’s all he’s given you to work with?

Utahime was right in telling you to be careful with him, and he doesn’t blame her for it. He would have done the same.

He should have told you there was something brewing inside of him already—should have talked to you instead of bursting from all the things people have been saying lately.

Gojo hasn’t spoken to you in three days and the feeling this compares to is worse than anything else he’s ever had to face.

He knocks on your door at night, a little past dinner and too early for bedtime. They echo loudly within the walls of your apartment, and you drag yourself up despite your obvious look of heartbreak.

Gojo hears your footsteps and everything moves entirely too slowly; the lock, taking far too long to turn, the gap between the door and the door frame widening incrementally. Even your face comes into view as if in stop motion, frame-by-frame, gradually.

His hands are in his pockets, lips bitten to bleed. He’s pretty sure he isn’t breathing when he takes you in—puffy eyes and a sweater that belongs to him.

(Is it sick of him to say that he still finds you beautiful this way? Even when you look every bit the part of heartache?)

Gojo didn’t have a plan coming here, didn’t have a list of things to say, just the feeling that he needed to talk to you, see you, even just be around you today.

When your eyes meet, it’s quiet. You stare into him for one–two–three– (Can you tell that they’re watery? Can you see they’re puffed up too?) and then open the door wider to let him in. You head straight to the kitchen, never once looking back while dragging your feet.

He stands outside a few seconds more, waiting for you to take it back—but you don’t, so he walks in and closes the door.

He’s been in your apartment plenty of times before, has practically lived in it by how often he stays over. But this is the first time he’s felt wholly out of place, not knowing where to put himself, just standing in the space between your kitchen counter and the living room awkwardly.

You push a glass of water towards him and he can’t stop staring at it—at you, at your fingers that he wants nothing more now but to hold.

Even with all his faults, all his wrongs, you open your arms for him to walk into, allow him in as if he didn’t just hurt you.

And he wants to cry, at the fact that this place still feels like home, at how it’ll always feel that way wherever you go.

How are you still treating him so kindly? Still taking care of him? A glass of water is one too many for someone like him.

You turn away from him to pour yourself your own then he speaks—

“You should be angry with me.” Gojo says softly, but you hear it.

You pause, tilting the pitcher back upright.

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” he says, a little louder this time, more desperate, more pleading.

Why are you never angry at me? he wants to ask.

You turn around to face him, putting the pitcher down.

Under your kitchen lights, his eyes shine like sunlight on the ocean, waves lapping on the shore. You think it might be a trick of the light, but his lips tremble when he closes them, as if he can’t speak any more.

It’s just as you’ve said, there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it.

You always give Gojo the benefit of the doubt, and though he’s hurt you—though this might be the most painful thing he’s told you yet, you know that he’s been under immense pressure lately. Stressed beyond belief from negotiating with the government on policies for jujutsu society.

It’s not an excuse, you know, but Gojo always has his reasons. He'll tell you eventually, you believe that much.

You give him a sad smile, struggling to stop your tears from spilling. His fists are clenched too tightly, nails digging in hard enough to bleed. He hasn’t moved since coming in, so you push yourself off the kitchen sink towards him.

You take his hands first, unfurl each finger pressed upon his palm and rub gently. He cries quietly for a love so pure that only you would attempt to ease his hurt despite the pain he’s dealt you.

You tiptoe second, pulling the sleeves of your (his) sweater before reaching up to wipe his eyes—beautiful and blue just like you’ve always known, droplets of the ocean at your fingertips.

“Be mad,” he whispers, “please.” squeezing his eyes tightly.

It hurts more when you aren’t, he thinks.

His hand comes up to grip your wrist, bringing it down to cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his skin, soothing, loving, and that’s all it takes for him to pull you in. He hugs you tight, arms wrapped around you, clutching.

He wouldn’t deserve you. In any life.

Gojo’s never cried this much before, head pressed to your neck as you rub circles along his back, shushing him softly. You start sniffling too, small at first until it turns into soft hiccups when you finally cry.

Your grip on him tightens.

“‘M sorry.” he mumbles, lips moving against your neck.

“‘S–” you hiccup, “–okay.”

“Stop saying that when it’s not,” he presses against you, nuzzling your neck, “I hurt you.”

“Then don’t–” another hiccup, “–call yourself–” hic, “–bare minimum.” you cry harder.

Gojo knows your heart and the tears that leak out of your eyes; he knows they hold pain for more than just yourself but every single person in your life. You, crying now, is evidence of that truth—shedding tears for him not just because of him when he thinks he’s the bare minimum.

This must be what it means to be truly, deeply loved, he thinks, to have someone know what you mean without even having to speak it—to know your heart, and all the good and bad parts of it.

“I don’t think I’m good enough to you,” he admits, pulling himself away from you.

When he sees your face, wet, with your nose and eyes puffed up from crying, he decides that he hates it more than anything else. Makes it sick to his stomach, even.

He cradles your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your tears. A whole hand of his could cover your face entirely, but he always, without fail, holds you delicately.

“That’s not–” hic, “–true.” you gather your breathing, holding him by the wrists as he presses his forehead against yours. “Only I get to decide that. Not anyone, not you.”

You kiss his lips, a small peck before nudging his nose with yours. You soothe each other this way—in the quiet, swaying to your own tune.

“You’re good to me plenty, Satoru.” you whisper, once both of you have settled.

He opens his eyes to look at you, smiling sadly as he cradles your face, “I didn’t mean it.”

Whatever he told you that day, taking it all out on you.

“I know.” you mumble, nodding.

You always do.

Gojo has always loved you, in some type of way—as friends, colleagues, a-little-bit-more-but-less-than what you are today.

But how he feels right now? It’s kind of ridiculous, borderline out-of-hand, and it’s driving him insane.

It’s such a simple, ordinary thing for you to do: you rush up to him, phone in hand and scroll to some video you found online. You’re so excited, a bounce in your step as if he’s the first and only person you want to show this to. Your eyes shine bright with a megawatt smile to match, and you’re talking so, so fast, completely lit up like fireworks in the making.

He knows you think that he’s listening but, he couldn’t care less about it honestly. Sorry. Not when the words go in one ear and out the other, because all that registers is how adorable you are, giddy and everything.

He makes a joke—completely unrelated, but you find it so funny. Then you’re laughing, full on smacking his arm, doubled over, arms hugging your stomach, guffawing. Your feet are kicking the air as you sink deeper into your couch. Gojo’s standing in front of you, post-enactment of some impression he made, and he’s frozen in place but warm all over.

Seeing you laugh like this, smile like this, being so pretty when you’re happy, the pounding in his chest goes crazy.

This isn’t the first time he’s made you laugh; he does it all the time. You almost always roll your eyes and chuckle, sometimes giggle with your eyes squinting and laugh lines creasing. But it might be the first time it’s like this: with you so bright, more than the sun and every other star in the sky.

And he thinks, this is all he could ever want—to make you happy for the rest of his life.

There’s too much of this feeling inside of him, clawing at his throat, itching to get out. He’s filled with it, has been filled with it for so long that it’s starting to overflow and if he doesn’t say this now he might just—

“I’m so in love with you.”

Gojo breathes it out, as if finally releasing it after all this time. You don’t think he processes it because he just stands there, in the middle of your living room, staring at you.

Your laughter dies with maybe a little part of you too (in a good way).

He looks so sweet, so sincere, and you see his heart, so big, so honest and pure. You get flashbacks of every Satoru you have ever known, at 15, 17, 23, to now.

It’s not like either of you don’t know; it’s plain as day, how you feel about each other—and you would have been fine going on without ever having to hear him speak of love this way.

But hearing it now, it’s far better than anything you could have imagined.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

He’s shocked too.

You don’t want to embarrass him, especially if he didn’t mean to say it, so you chuckle, moving on to break the quiet.

“I can unhear it if you want,” you offer shyly, genuinely.

Gojo looks at you, confused, before a pout makes its way onto his face. You sit up on your couch, playing with your fingers as you look up at him.

Sure, he practically blurted it out, maybe in the heat of the moment, or something, but it doesn’t make it any less true. And he’s realizing that the only thing he really wants from this—

“Though…” you continue, biting your lips, “I think I’m pretty in love with you too.”

The little laugh you make has him, completely.

The grin that breaks on his face is infectious. Gojo, who is normally so pale, is now pink all over—red by his ears and down his neck. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that can be found in yours too.

This moment right here feels like first loves—teens first saying ‘I love you’.

“You think?” he asks incredulously, joking, “So you’re not sure?” he walks closer to you.

You laugh, candy for his cravings, and take his hand to kiss each knuckle before guiding it to your cheek. He runs a thumb across your skin, affection on his fingertips. His index finger hooks itself under your chin, tilting it to rest on his stomach as you look up at him.

A kiss to your forehead, tenderly, gently.

The best part about being in love?

He gets to be in it with you.

Gojo can’t sleep.

It’s not anything new—4 hours on average, maybe 6 on a good night. He doesn’t remember a time when sleep ever came easily.

Sleeping with you, beside you, has helped, but it’s never solved the problem. You’ve gotten him to a full 8 hours before, but never consecutively, and he’s starting to think that if you can’t do it, nothing ever will.

Your sleeping positions change every night, but they always come out as some variation of hugging. Gojo firmly believes that he might as well sleep alone if you aren’t touching.

Tonight, you’re spooning, arm slung over his waist and palm right on his chest, fingers interlaced with his. Your legs stay tangled together with soft puffs of air blowing at the back of his neck.

He opens his eyes and checks the clock by his bedside. 3:24 a.m.

He sighs deeply, carefully maneuvering his body to slip away from you. You used to wake up the first few times this happened, worried about an emergency or some kind of accident. Being a sorcerer trains you for things like that.

You’ve always known Gojo had bad sleep, just not the severity of it.

You don’t wake up to it as much as you used to, having grown accustomed to it after more nights together, but on the off-chance that you do, Gojo always kisses your forehead gently as if to tell you that it’s okay, you can go back to sleep.

You don’t wake up now, thankfully, so he grabs his phone and heads for the kitchen. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest tonight, far heavier than others he’s woken up from. He pours himself a glass of water before hopping on the kitchen counter, ready to sort through the bowl of candy sitting on the island.

The date today is October 31. Halloween. It’s been a few years since Shibuya but he still feels like he’s suffocating.

In the train station. In the box.

In front of Suguru—or Kenjaku, both, whatever.

He’s gone to therapy, just like you wanted, for the both of you, and grieving has been an interesting concept to wrap his head around since.

But no matter how much he trains his mind to deal with it, his body will always remember the feeling.

He snaps out of it when he hears your footsteps padding on the floorboards. Your figure emerges from the hallway, bed hair and eyes still sleepy, squinting.

“Satoru?” you rub at your eyes, his sleep shirt entirely too long as the sleeves extend past your fingertips. The extra fabric swings in the air. “You okay?” you whisper, approaching him.

Waking you up is the last thing he could ever want right now, but it’s hard when you’re also the only one he can talk about this with. When you know what it’s like to grieve everyone too.

He has every intention of brushing it off, of telling you to go to sleep, but one look at you—one look at him and it’s like you just know. He doesn’t even need to explain.

It isn’t hard to piece together, knowing what today is and seeing him choked up the way he is. You tell Gojo it’s your intuition, but he has a tell, and maybe you’re the only one who knows it.

His eyes—they’ve always given him away. There’s the Satoru you know, then a Satoru that’s far removed, gone away. You can spot it though, the moment it loses its sparkle, the moment it turns from blue to gray.

He feels a little selfish sharing this with you; he’s not the only one who’s lost people. You have too.

You stand in front of him and offer a sad smile, outstretching your arms as an invite, as if to tell him: you can stay here for as long as you’d like.

He moves into your space slowly, hopping off the kitchen island to slump against you.

He doesn’t hug you yet, not immediately, hands still shaky at the memory. You rub his back, hooking your chin on his shoulder as he bends down to rest his head by your cheek.

You take his hand delicately, bringing them to your lips so you can kiss every fingertip gently. When you finish, he wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you whisper, like a hushed secret.

And he wants to, but also, there isn’t anything else to say that you don’t know already. You were there the first few times he had therapy, and when he felt comfortable enough to go alone, he told you all about it anyway right after.

If there’s a secret to fighting the Gojo Satoru with guaranteed victory, they’d only have to get to you—he’d be gone, entirely. You know too much of him, own too many parts of him already.

He chuckles dryly, vibrating by your neck. A step back and he’s leaning against the counter, bringing you closer by the hip, thumb stroking. He tucks away strands of your hair behind your ear, flattening down the bird’s nest that it is from your sleep.

“Nothing you haven’t heard before, pretty.”

Gojo’s been more tender lately, especially in the night when his piercing eyes turn soft, gazing.

You pout, the same one since you were 16. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to it, the way he calls you such sweet, honeyed things; you’ve only recently begun to call him ‘baby’ and that alone has been enough to make your head spin.

Still, he wouldn’t be your Satoru if he didn’t surprise you. With how he is now, it’s hard to imagine a time when this was all so difficult for him, when even the slightest bit of your hands touching was challenging.

It’s hard to imagine that both of you are here now, living in the same space, by the kitchen at night, with the contents of your hearts memorized—the sorrow, the pain, the joy, all the love, every single one.

He kisses your nose, and that’s comfort alone.

This is his reality now, with you, and it’s safe.

It’s good.

“Do you want to make waffles?” he hears you mumble, running your hands over his chest, soothing.

The clock reads 3:56 a.m. Early breakfast doesn’t sound so bad, could also be a midnight snack.

(But he knows what you’re doing).

You don’t tell him to try to go back to sleep, never forcing anything you know he can’t do. Instead, you offer yourself to stay up with him, keep him company. Whatever he needs.

(And he loves that about you).

Gojo will forever argue that you might have fallen first, but he’s definitely fallen harder.

He could map out every single location he’s laid his love on—your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your nose, and your lips, the same ones he’s kissed and nipped, bitten until he gets his fill.

Your neck and chest—a canvas for his desires. He glides a finger across your collarbone before lightly tapping on it thrice.

There’s the little dip at the base of your spine, and your thighs—

Oh, he could get lost in them.

He knows.

He has. Many times.

There’s an animal inside of him that only answers to you.

When you kiss his neck and grip his back, soft moans by his ear—short and sweet. He’s a gone man, wholly devoted to you, and you only.

You breathe his name out, “Satoru,” raspily, and he sinks into you—everything, all that he has spilling in the depths of you.

How can he possibly contain all this love?

It’s scary how so much of him already belongs to you, all these years—how you’ve been carrying pieces of him, all versions of him throughout every birthday, every moment you’ve touched his life and have it irrevocably changed.

“Are you happy?” he mumbles by your ear, voice deep and lazy.

It’s the morning, sunlight barely peeking through your curtains. Gojo hugs you from behind, arms caging you as he traces little hearts on your sides.

“Right now?” you whisper back, chuckling, “That’s not fair.”

He nips at your ear, a small bite, before you turn to face him.

He supposes you’re right, it isn’t fair to ask that now; both your bodies are sore, well-exhausted, and littered with conversations on love.

Gojo is pretty in the mornings just like he is all the time, his hair lending well to sunlight as much as it does to the moonlight. And his eyes—they shine a different shade during the day compared to the night.

You though, you’re an entirely different creature of your own: a goddess in bedsheets and pillows, wrapped in immaculate white.

You giggle when you face him, nose-to-nose, and he pulls you in tighter, grips you by the butt to slot you in right where you belong.

Are you happy with me?

He wonders, and you can read it—his eyes his greatest tell. You kiss him tenderly, lips moving gently against his. Then you smile, sincerely, before whispering—

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!) thank you notes: to @stellamancer for being there since the very start!! col wouldn’t even exist without you!! you’re every much part of the creation of this as i am :'), to @crysugu for being so ever supportive, cheering me on all the time!! and for loving col reader as much as i do!! and to you reading this and everyone else who has loved this collection so far!! of course!! a credit to all the writers whose works have inspired the way i view and write gojo: to @seravphs for teen dad!gojo and cruel summer influences, i draw so much of the way i understand these characters and their dynamics from you and your beautiful way of writing them and i hope my interpretation gives justice to that!!, to @augustinewrites for keeping up with the fushigojos, this series and the way you write them, with so much love, has always pushed for me to view gojo that way!! you’ve inspired so much of my understanding that gojo does believe in love and that when he falls in it, he falls in it hard!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #col #algorithm pls love me

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rafecameronsversion · 9 days ago

Text

bright beverly hills || r.c

summary : kooks bully you at a party, and rafe reassures you.

warnings : bullying, discrimination, cursing, use of y/n, feminine descriptions.

i'm unsure if this is any good 🥸 i feel like i rushed it a lot. but hope u likey

rafe and i were two sides of the same coin, opposite but inseparable. he grew up in a silver spoon gated community, everything was served to him in a silver platter. a bubble-wrapped future, footsteps for him ready to follow.

while i was having candle-lit dinners at the cut, he had them in fancy michelin star restaurants. rafe had a cold exterior when it came to other people; to protect himself. however, when it came to me, he was the most caring boy.

clandestine meetings at the age of 12, his father would berate him for hanging out with a "pogue" like me, but he couldn't let him take away the one thing that brought him peace. we were best friends, eventually becoming more with lingering touches and longing glances.

he became a honorable part of my humble family, sometimes being invited over to our most simple of dinners, dancing in the living room late night swims in the beach.

it was friday night in outer banks, a party in full swing. this house belonged to topper. i was clinging to rafe's arm, feeling out of place. the tension in the air was palpable. i had debated that i didn't want to go here, knowing i would feel singled out and small.

this place yelled every single thing that was different between us two. the glistening chandeliers, polished floors, and snobby laughs coming from kooks who have never worked a day in their lives.

rafe smiles, looking at me. "i'll grab us some drinks real quick, alright baby?" he spoke, a gentle tone in his voice that was reserved only for me. i hesitated, not wanting to be left alone in this damned place. but i nodded, i couldn't be the one to hold him back, especially in his world. glamorous, shining, bright beverly hills.

he turned around, getting lost in the crowd of super rich kids. i stood in a less crowded corner, trying to attract the least attention, and it seemed to have worked.

three girls nearby were whispering among the other, yet they were louder than they realized.

"could you believe rafe cameron brought that girl here?" the blonde one scoffed, jealously reeked out of her mouth. the other two agreed, chiming in.

"must be hard living on the cut, always desperate to climb their way out." another one insinuated. i couldn't help but scoff at the idea, my heart was heavy and i couldn't bare being here. the bimbo chimed in, a confused look on her face.

"you really think she slept her way to be his girlfriend? i don't think even cameron would allow that..." she spoke, eyes wide. the blone one rolled her eyes. "well, even the richest men can still think with their dicks, jessica." she was an absolute mean girl, and her tone displayed it perfectly.

i felt like the walls were moving in on me, it was all too much. this place was too much. i quietly turned away, going outside by the porch where no one seemed to stay. i breathed in the fresh air, fidgeting.

soon after, rafe had found where i was. he looked at me fondly, a soft smile on his face. "hey... there you are. i thought i lost you in there." he said, rubbing his hand over my shoulder. i exhaled sharply.

"why am i here, rafe?" i questioned, my voice was low as i stood against the railing of the front porch of toppers' home, that was as big as the living room of my family's house. rafe looked at me confused.

"what do you mean, baby?" he asked, a soft and confused look in his eyes.

i laughed out a scoff, a bitter tone. "i don't belong here, rafe. your world... this mansion, these people." i paused, unsure how to continue. "i grew up on the cut, these people do nothing but look down at us. i can't be here rafe, i can't be in this world."

rafe's jaw tightened, looking away for a second before looking back at me. "you know that's not fair" he spoke, his voice on the edge.

"what's not fair is you pushing to bring me here! i don't have any of the things the girls here have. you'd be better off with someone from your world..." i spoke, my voice breaking a little from frustration.

rafe's eyes softened, he moved closer toward me. "baby..."

"don't you see how different we are? your world is all polished floors and bright chandeliers. mine is messy and chaotic." i spoke softly, afraid my voice will betray me.

he reached out, grabbing both hands and bringing them closer to him. "listen, i didn't bring you here to make you feel small. i don't want these girls, they can all go fuck themselves! i love you, and i love that we're different." he spoke softly, kissing the knuckles of my hands.

"none of this matters to me, baby. it doesn't mean anything if i don't have you." rafe spoke, his blue eyes warm.

i searched his face, looking into his eyes. i want to believe him yet doubt lingered in the back of my head. "you say that now..."

"but what happens when your friends remind you of who i am? when your dad tells you i'm not good enough." my voice was below a whisper, afraid of the possibilities of this relationship we had.

rafe held me by my shoulders, "i don't care. i'm done caring what they think. i want you, and the messy and chaotic world you've shown me." he said, leaning in and kissing my forehead.

"i don't need this world. i want the one where you showed me it's okay to be real, that it's okay to feel." he says softly, looking deeply into my eyes.

the way he looked at me so gently, so genuine. i felt as if i could cry. i attacked him in a hug, my arms wrapped around his torso.

"its just... those girls get under my skin. kept talking about how i slept my way out of the cut." i admitted quietly, my head still against his chest.

rafe shakes his head, hugging me back. "never ever let them get to you. they're just pissed." he pulled back to look at me, smiling. he pressed his lips onto mine, for a short and delicate kiss. "how about we just get out of here?" he said, a cheeky smile on his face.

i laughed, nodding my head yes. "i'd like that so much. please." he grinned, putting my hand in his as he guided us out of this place.

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allophonicmess · 5 months ago

Text

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 3

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine

This is a fluff chapter. Gotta give you guys some candy after all that angst

Word count 4.1 K

Life resumed as normal after that. Or as normal as it could be when you are suddenly placed in the new timeline. Logan kept getting confused by little details that were different to the life he had lived before. Professor X ? Sure he exists but he had hair. Cyclops? Oh yeah. He was just as annoying as he remembered. Who are the fucking Avengers and what sort of rich nerd was Tony Stark? And what about Jean?

“A hot red head with the telekinetic powers?” Wade hummed, pretending to be lost in thought. “Uh, no. UNLESS! Charles used to have a beautiful flowing mane that I don’t know about. He is turning grey, you know… but it suits him. Silver fox”

So Jean was out of the picture. That was good, right?

Logan groaned at Wade's bad joke. He shifted his focus outside, watching the landscape change from looming tall skyscrapers to even fields and trees that started changing colour with the season. It reminded him of home.

“Just to get this straight.” Logan shifted in his seat. The car that Wade had bought from the dealership had been heavily discounted and Logan now understood why. You would think it can’t get worse than the Odyssey? Oh boy, were you wrong. It was too small for 4 people, let alone 2 mutant men. He already felt sorry for whoever might have to sit in the back for whatever reason.

“Y/N has powers?” Logan asked, trying to play it cool. The whole drive had been a big Q&A.

“Yup,” Wade said with a pop. One hand on the steering wheel and the rest of him laid back in his seat.

“They call her Osmium, too?” Logan didn’t like this dependency on the wanna-be hero. But he had to make a good first impression.

“Osmimimum? Uh no. She is called Atom” Wade laughed “Don’t if she actually does stuff with atoms… It's more like…” Wade groaned as he tried to think of an example.

“She manipulates density.” Logan pointed out. They had trained together many times. But Y/n was never allowed to use her full potential with the X-men. They condemned violence and so she was often left out on mission and focused on keeping the school running.

“Ugh- I guess? She once told me in great, boring detail why ‘Atom’ is a bad superhero name for her but they kept it for the marketability. “ He shrugged “Oh! I remember that one time we stopped a child-mutant trafficking and she got mad, like REAL MAD, and then she turned this one guy into goop.” Wade nodded fondly, thinking back at that moment. “And I mean like Nickelodeon kids choice award goop, like slurpable slushy goo, like-“

“Okay, alright! I get it.” Logan groaned in annoyance. Shaking his head at Wade. He was thankful for the man’s support and friendship but god was he annoying. Constantly.

“I wish she would do that to me sometime. It’s on my ways-to-die bingo. But she keeps refusing!” Deadpool hit the wheel dramatically.

“You are disgusting,” Logan stated dryly. “The most disgusting person I ever met.”

“Don’t forget the most annoying!”

...

The decision to go back to teaching was not made out of fun or for the joy of doing it. Maybe partially, even though Logan would not openly confess so. It was made out of necessity. Living with Wade and Al became tiresome after the first few weeks. It was always the same antiques, the lack of schedule as well as a constant state of chaos that made him crave the ordered life at the school once again. He hoped that it would give him a sense of belonging. The X-men might be different here, with a few quips and details that didn’t match with his reality. But living at the school would tie him to a strict schedule and by god, he needed some structure in his life.

But all in all, it meant home.

“Okay, peanut. Today is a big day. But I know you’ll do great and meet a lot of new friends.” Wade joked in a motherly tone as they arrived at the Mansion. “And no hair pulling or biting unless they ask for it, okay?”

“I can’t wait to be rid of you” Logan groaned as the car came to a halt. He exited the car with a low groan, stretching to lose stiffed muscles. Not having to constantly ride in Wade's joke of a car was another reason that he preferred living at Xavier’s Institution. Speaking off:

“There you are. Welcome, welcome.” Xavier rolled into the mansions yard.

“A pleasure to have you, Logan. I must say, I was very pleasantly surprised when I received your response to my inquiry.” He moved towards Logan, offering his hand for a handshake.

Logan inspected the man. He was older, in his 40s maybe. But younger than the Charles Xavier he had worked with. He sported shaggy longer hair that was starting to thin out. Soon he would need to get it trimmed to keep his professional exterior. Along with a beard that was rather spotty and seemed too reminisce of his look in the 70s. Xavier looked like a mix of the two versions that Logan got to meet during his time at the school and it made him wonder how time worked here. Events seemed to play out in different order, they didn’t happen at all or much later than seemed correct.

He shook Xavier’s hand, thanking him for the offer. “Of course. I was surprised when you contacted me.” Logan confessed. His gaze shifted towards the grand building in front of him. It was the same old English style build that he knew, with a few modern elements added here and there.

“Is it familiar to you? The school? I assume you have experienced quite a few dejá-vus since arriving here.” Charles observed Logan.

“I do. Some things are the same. Others don’t match what I know or didn’t happen at all.” He confessed. Already feeling the brother connection build, similar to the one he had with the other Charles.

“You will find your answers. I am sure of it.” Charles turned around motioning Logan to follow him inside. “I think it is best if we continue this conversation in my office.” He looked over his shoulder at Wade, who had waited in the car, listening in on the conversation.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be on my way. You call me if you need to get picked up, Pookie!” He waved at Logan in a motherly way.

“You aren’t coming?” He asked, somewhat confused. But then he saw Charle’s face, the intense stare he gave Wade.

“Uhhh, no I technically have a house ban for no apparent reason-“

“You burned down the west wing” Charles answered dryly.

Wade clicked his tongue, “Right, okay. Yeah… But! It’s very modern now.” He chuckled weakly. “You’ll still call me up for a mission, right?” He tried to persuade the professor.

“If the mission takes place outside of my building then yes.” Charles agreed, focusing back on Logan. And leading him inside. Neither of them commented on the cheer that Wade gave as he drove off.

Being back at the school felt surprisingly good to Logan. It was like coming back from a long holiday. Most everything was the same: Students running in the hallways, playing games in the gardens and-

“Fancy seeing you here!”

Logan turned around quickly, looking for whoever addressed him. Some children were buzzing along the halls, none of them too interested in him. Then he spotted her by the stairs. Leaning onto the dark wooden rails of the gallery. The light from the window behind her illuminating her figure.

“Y/n”, he breathed.

“Hi! Charles told me that you wanted to start teaching again.” She made her way downstairs, focus shifting between not falling and keeping her gaze on him. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see him.

He turned more toward her, watching her get closer to ground level. With each step he felt his excitement grow “He contacted me, actually. Asked whether I wanted to work here…”

“Oh really? What a coincidence ”She grinned mischievously, stopping at the end of the stairs and leaning on one of the bannisters. She kept a little space between them. There might be some familiarity between them but she didn’t want to push him too far yet and give him the chance to get closer to her if he felt like it.

But Logan stayed in place: “Do you have anything to do with that?”

She smirked, and he felt some of his charm return to him . He might be rusty but some things were just engraved in him.

“Maybe” She shrugged, smiling softly with a playful sparkle in her eyes “But I’m assuming that you won’t be teaching history, right?” Y/n teased carefully. The multiverse situation was a thing she wanted to be careful about. Wade had told her a little bit about what had happened to Logan before he transferred but she didn’t know any details.

“No, I teach PE and defence classes. You do science, right?” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, hoping to lose the tension in his body. He threw the tidbit of knowledge into the conversation, hoping that he was right and that the two versions of her had that much in common.

“Chemistry and Literature, yeah.” She smiled. She then looked at her watch before pointing towards another corridor with a sigh “I’d love to talk more, but I need to get to class. Maybe we could meet sometime.” She secured the book in her arms.

“Yes.” He answered with a stiff nod, his hands were getting sweaty.

They stood In awkward silence.

“Maybe over a coffee?” She asked, looking up at him, her lip curled upwards. Her look became more expecting as he watched her in silence.

He would catch the bait she just threw, right? Scott had laughed when she asked him about what Logan had been like; What this version might be like.

‘He’s an asshole’ He said ‘a cocky asshole and who thinks he can charm any girl he likes’ she blushed at that comment ‘But he is into the dark, mysterious type if that is what you are after’

“Maybe”, Logan gave cold and curtly.

He regretted his demeanor when he saw her smile slip for just a moment.

Fuck.

Her face slipped for a moment “Oh.. okay.” She huffed softly. “See you around then.” Y/n nodded quickly before running off.

...

A routine established itself after the first weeks back at the school. The work there itself was the same. Teach the children standard curricula, training them in controlling their powers and some extracurricular activities.

He would spend some evenings with the other members of Team X ,as they called themselves here. Sometimes he would meet Y/n in the hallway but he didn’t work up the courage to stop and talk to her beyond a quick ‘hello’.

What is wrong with you? You used to sweep women off their feet. She is offering herself to you at any chance and you still can’t manage to ask her out?

He sighed as he changed back into his regular clothes. The class had just ended. It was Friday, still fairly warm for October and the trees looked beautiful in all shades of red, orange and yellow.

Would be perfect for a romantic walk… A charming, rugged man could ask a woman out for that.

“That guy died a long time ago…” He mumbled to himself. Picking up his bag and closing the locker.

He exited the gym, making his way to his room or rather apartment. Wade managed to burn down the teacher's quarters along with the kitchens and cafeteria in some wicked stunt. No one knew what happened and that was for the best, he guessed.

However, that incident resulted in a modernized reconstruction with more spacious rooms for the teachers and a communal cafeteria that students and members of Team X shared. Great for extroverts but Logan had to pass it every time he went to his rooms, much to his dismay. To make it worse, the communal space was separate from the hall via a glass wall, allowing for a perfect view of everyone who tried to sneak past. Which led to uncomfortable situations such as this.

“Logan!” Piotr called, waving his huge metallic arm to get the other man's attention. Logan's initial reaction was to ignore him as he had done many times with the members of his old team.

No, he wanted to do better. He needed to. It was that kind of behavior that made him spiral in the first place. So he took a deep breath and channeled all jolliness available to him after 6 hours of teaching and a generally low level of it to begin with. He slowly made his way towards the teacher's table.

“Come, eat with us.” Piotr offered him the seat next to him on the thick wooden bench. A seat opposite of… fuck- of fucking course he was in on Wade’s plan to play matchmaker.

“We can’t have you get scrawny, eh?” he joked.

“Not that that would be likely to occur” Y/n joked as Logan sat down. His look snapped towards her and her eyes widened in shock at what had just come out of her mouth.

A knowing, wicked grin spread across Colossus's face. That fucking asshole…

“What are we having?” Logan asked, ignoring the situation that had just occurred. He tried to keep his gaze on Piotr who was busy filling a plate with whatever was in the big metal pot on the side of the table. His eyes shifted to Y/n every so often.

“Pierogi. I am trying out new recipes for a cooking class with my students” He said proudly, placing the plate in front of Logan “Y/n said, they are very good. Right?” He asked her, putting the woman on the spot.

“Oh, uhm…yeah. I like the new… stuffing.” She said, the answer sounding more like a question, carefully looking at Logan when he tried it. She was thankful for Piotr’s brotherly demeanor and gentle nature. Yet sometimes he would tease her as any older brother liked to do. And they sure liked to do it in front of people that the younger sibling might fancy.

Logan nodded in agreement, complimenting the man for his cooking.

“You cook here regularly?” He asked with a mouthful.

“Of course! Cooking is a very important life skill. As well as baking. You should join one of Y/n’s baking classes, she is very talented.” Colossus complimented the woman, making her grin.

“I plan on holding a workshop on the weekend for older students and alumni. You should come.” She offered, a hopeful look in her eyes. Maybe she was too discrete the last time she tried to get Logan to ask her out. So this time she tried to be more direct with her offer.

“I don’t bake,” Logan answered in a backhanded comment as he continued to eat. He didn’t think too much about it. He had planned to ask her out after lunch. He was overly focused on what he would say to her once the others left to notice how he had sounded.

It only occurred to him when he saw how Y/n visibly deflated. “Oh, right” She hummed, swallowing another bite of her food, eyes looking anywhere but towards the man who had once again rejected her so swiftly.

Piotr, just sighed with disappointment, leaning back in his chair. His hard elbow bumped into Logan’s side.

You fucked it up. Again.

...

“Okay, stop. You mean to tell me that she tried to ask you out not once but TWICE and you rejected her?” Wade paced through the living room. Trying to make sense of what his friend had just told him. “You mean to tell me that you now spend 3 months at that school? Being in her proximity 24/7 and actively avoiding her?”

Logan sat on the familiar black couch that looked even more beaten up than the last time he was at the flat. With disgust, he realized that he didn’t even want to know what caused the new damage.

“I don’t avoid her”

“Oh no? And yet the few times she does catch you creeping in the halls you manage to scare her off.” Deadpool said down one of the rotatable bar chairs. Swirling dramatically.

“No wonder the girl’s not interested in a sad drunk fuck like you,” Al commented from the table where she sat, carefully packaging her newest acquisition of sellable goods.

“ No, Al that’s the thing! The girl wants him DESPITE being a sad drunk fuck!” Wade jumped from the chair to pace around some more. He had to come up with a plan to get the two to spend time together, and get to know each other better. Create some closeness to let the sparks fly and catch on.

“That’s even worse.” Al laughed, snoring.

“Thank you for the compliments… Reassuring.” Logan groaned, regretting to even have answered Wade when he asked him about how things were going with Y/n. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be with someone again. He liked her and wanted to get to know her but something was stopping him. The urge to protect her from danger and he still thought of himself as the greatest danger to her and his team.

“On the other hand, she is still interested after being rejected TWICE. So you still have a chance, Pookie.” Wade said, sitting down next to Logan, yet again way too close.

“I’m gonna help you, buddy, Don’t you worry.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing Logan's ears “Act three needs some lovin’ and I make sure you get all the loving you need, baby” He whispered towards Logan. And with dread, and a bit of disgust, Logan accepted that he had no chance of stopping the man.

...

By the time the midterms rolled around, Logan had gotten familiar with the schedule and his profession once again. He slept better, tended to snap less at people and even his drinking tendencies seemed to get better. Being part of a community felt good and it made him angry at his younger self for rejecting the people who loved him out of some ill-placed ideology: that to keep them safe, he had to distance himself from them.

And yet you are doing it again.

He sighed as he trotted into the community kitchen. He broke his coffee maker in a fit of frustration last week and hadn’t found the time or energy to tell Charles to get a new one. He stayed out of the professor's way for the most part, not wanting to be roped into some conversation about ‘needing therapy’. So he sourced his caffeine intake from the machine that sat in the big, homely department kitchen. Another benefit was that there was always a fresh pot ready and waiting for him. Downside, there were almost always people in the kitchen, waiting for others to join in for conversation and breakfast.

This morning he should be safe from conversation. Most students and some staff went home for the fall semester break, leaving the school running on a minimal level to accommodate those who had no home to go to. There were no classes, meaning that the school apparatus calmed to a halt.

In practice that meant that almost everyone slept in with no pressure to get up early. And for Logan, that meant that he could enjoy his drink in peace before people tried to talk to him.

Lost in thought he strolled into the kitchen. It seemed empty, thank god. He sighed in relief, stretching languidly. The air exiting his lungs in a low groan.

Then a soft click sounded through the room.

A fridge being closed.

“Oh hey, you’re up early.” Y/n appeared behind the full-size fridge door that had previously shielded her from his view. She looked a little tired, not yet fully awake and a bit tousled from sleep.

Aww C’mon. Maybe Wade was right about the universe wanting them to come together. But primarily to annoy him and allow for Wade to give him the ‘I told you so’ speech.

“So are you.” He answered, leaving on the door frame and watching her pour some creamer into her cup. Upon closer inspection, she did look younger than her other iteration. Her features were softer looking with fewer wrinkles and scars. He needed to ask her about that at some point.

She leaned onto the counter to reach for another cup, taking it out of the overhead cabinet. Proceeding to pour some coffee in it. “How do you take your coffee?” She asked, turning towards him.

“I’ll take two sugars” He answered, moving towards her with slow even steps. The threat of Wade’s ‘help’ kept looming in the back of his mind, pushing him to be more open towards her and to come out of his shell. Who knows what that maniac had in mind?

Y/n hummed in agreement, dropping in two cubes of sugar and stirring the dark liquid before handing it to Logan.

He thanked her softly, holding the porcelain with his much larger hands. He had moved quite close to her, both leaning against the kitchen counter. The closeness and difference in height between them meant that Y/n had to look up to him, to make eye contact.

With a grin he noticed how she shifted her stand, one hand bunching up the material of her cardigan.

You still got it if you let it happen, man.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying their drinks and watching the sun paint pictures onto the kitchen surfaces, colored by the stained glass windows.

She was the one who broke the silence. “Are you ready for the training session today?” She asked, turning towards him, shifting her position so that her hip was pressed against the counter.

“Training?” He asked confused, setting down his cup to cross his arms over his chest, the muscles shifting visibly under his skin.

That’s right! Show her what you got!

“Yes, staff training? We got the call from Washington about a mutant security threat. Charles wants us to be ready just in case. Do you read your emails?” She teased, watching him over the rim of her mug.

“I don’t know how that stuff works if I’m honest with ya.” He shrugged “Do you go on missions regularly? On Government orders?” He remembered that Xavier had mentioned something along the lines of that. Some complicated struggles between heroes about government regulation and so on.

“Yes, after the blip it was decided that an X-team force should be established to take care of mutant-related threats or endangerments.” She explained.

He had heard of that, too. “Right. What was that blip again?”

The energy in the room shifted suddenly.

Y/n huffed, almost spilling a bit of her drink. “Ha, that’s a bit of a heavy topic for morning coffee talks.” She looked around uncomfortably. Logan seems to have hit upon a heavy subject.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He apologized quickly. Beating himself up for screwing it up once again.

“No, no it’s fine.” She shook her head, setting down her drink to cross her arms as he did. Only that she seemed to do it defensively. “Half of all life stopped existing for five years and… that left a few scars.” She explained somberly, softly nodding to herself.

Logan blinked, his mind moving at high speed to get the conversation on a good topic again. Anything to turn it around and to prevent her from having a bitter aftertaste to their first proper talk.

Yet it was her, once again, that stepped up. She noticed how he got nervous, eyes wandering, shoulders sagging.

“I’ll explain it to you later. When we are not so pressed on time.” She reached out slowly, placing her hand on his arm, squeezing it in reassurance. Y/n smiled at him softly, moving around him to exit the kitchen and prepare for the day ahead.

Without thinking Logan placed a hand over hers, just in time before she pulled hers away. It had her stop in her tracks. Her eyes moved to where his rough callused palm warmed the back of her hand, up to his eyes. He was watching her with intention.

She was nervous. This was either going to be an invitation to finally get to know him or he had enough of her and told her to stop fancying him.

“You can explain it to me on a walk to the lake? Tonight?” He asked, one eyebrow raising in question. His hand squeezed hers gently.

A second of silence followed.

She exhaled, the stress leaving her body but she had to keep her composure. A grin spread across her face “Sounds like a plan.” She held eye contact for a few beats, then let her hand slip out of his hold as she left.

That’s how you do it, Tiger!

Her lips pressed together to keep from smiling too hard as she exited the hallway.

Taglist: @sarahskywalker-amidala @myu3ki @stinastar @zortlort @zeeader @lolurk @eddiesguitarskills @elianamarie-blog @byhuenii @sunfairyy @weallhaveadestiny @catiwinky @halerune@yawnzshit @sseleniaa @starfleetteddybear @ipreferreadingtocope @br1-11 @kalicox @rushin--spy @poplottie @pushingdaisies1 @nikki-says-beautiful-lies @lizlil @matchamidoriya @simonsbluee @beiroviski @spideybv28 @suiien @prompto-is-a-chocobo@landlockedmermaid77@passionfruiticedtea @valorant-v @onlyforyuto @fallen-angels2213 @danicl25 @meowmeowyoongles @qardasngan @savy-luvs-dilfs @i-dont-do-too-much @kittykookies @hooomansstuff

I hope I got everyone on the taglist. Write to me if I missed you.

New requets for being added to the list via comments on the Masterlist post, please. That helps me to keep things organized :)

But please leave a comment on this post to provide me with serotonin 😍

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #deadpool wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #x men #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #angst #fluff #deadpool & wolverine

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icarusredwings · 2 months ago

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Do you guys ever think about dementia Charles seeing Pietro and getting sad or becoming really happy because his poor mind connects the dots that he's Erik? It dosn't compute that this wouldn't be Erik because hes too young to be Erik rather assuming that he is young Erik and not exactly having the logic to understand that they are so differently aged.

"Oh! My old friend, you've gotten a haircut. Quite bold of you. It makes you look much younger."

".. yeah, yeah, old man.." he mutters, trying to avoid him best he can, but sometimes, when the others are busy, he can't stand to leave him alone. Coming to sit with him just to litsen to him gab about random nonsense, talking so fondly about his X-men and memories dear to him.

"Do you remember?"

"Do I remember what?"

"When Jean got her first bad grade and she cried to you about how cruel I was to her." He chuckles softly. "And all she got was a B-"

Pietro stares at him like he's crazy. Jean cried to his father? But why? He had his own children to take care of. So why would he treat her like that? It makes him a bit angry. "No.. I don't. What else?"

"Hm?"

"What else happened? With jean and my da- erm. Me."

"I believe it's Jean and I." He corrects his grammer, making the younger man roll his eyes in annoyance. Once a professor always a professor I guess.

"Sure. Jean and I.."

"You acussed me of being too hard on her, but when I explained it, you laughed... I haven't seen you laugh like that in so long.." It's sort of now that Charles remembers what's going on. Who he's talking to.

"..Im sorry. Who are you again?"

"Well you like to call me speedster."

"Pft. No I do not. Mr. Maximoff.. you've grown so big since the last time ive seen you."

'You just saw me yesterday' he thinks but makes that awkward smile and nods. "Yup.."

"Youll have to forgive me. Im not always.... here."

"I know.. are you alright?"

He shrugs in his chair. "About as alright as anyone could be in my situation." Ah yes. The paralyzed old bald man who was losing his mind still had jokes. Funny. But sad. He remembered him being so similar and yet.. so different.

It's not long before Jean comes to give him his medicine again, convincing him that it was for the kid's saftey. "You don't want to hurt them. Do you, Charles?"

"No... but I'm not that gone yet. I can decide when it's best to take my medication."

She smiles so sweetly at him. "Professor, you made this time schedule yourself. Im just doing what you told me. You always knew best for us."

"Oh.. well, alright then."

Before Jean can walk away, He stares at her.

"....Why did my father like you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Charles... he said.." He trails off, not sure how to say it without talking too quickly.

"He said you cried to my father. And.. he defended you."

Jean tilts her head. "I wouldn't say defended. I was just a child having a fit." She admits then shifts, looking at the walls as if remembering.

".. He was here a lot.. and then he just.. stopped coming. Im sorry. I don't know why. Like I said I was just-"

"Didyoureadhismind?"

"Uhm.. just a couple times."

"Jean used to con you into getting her ice cream." Charles smiles, closing his eyes, reminiscing.

"He.. got you ice cream?"

Jean's not dumb. She understands his frustrations, glancing at the old man and then to Pietro again. "Like I said.. I was just a kid.. I was just excited to be able to use my powers. I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't even know he had other children."

"...He never got us ice cream.. he didn't even bother sign my birth certificate.."

"Im sorry, Peter... Professor? Tonights dinner is potatoes gravy turkey with apple sauce. Remys making it so it might be a little spicy."

"Oh, that's alright. He means well. Erm.. thats the blue one right?"

Jean snorts. "No Professor. He's the card one."

"Oooh yes. Reeemmyy... right." He says his name slowly as if trying to connect 'the card one' to 'Remy' in his brain.

"...Bye Peter." She says, now awkwardly leaving.

"Remys that rat from the cooking movie" Pietro whispers and Charles' eyebrows raise. "Ahhh! Remy! That's right."

He might be an x-men. But he could still pull a little evil here and there.

#pietro maximoff #quicksilver #charles xavier #professor x #jean gray #erik lehnsherr #magneto #cherik #charles has dementia #x men #x men days of future past #x men first class #dadneto #remy lebeau #gambit #remy ratatouille #what if #peter maximoff

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mntozakii · 1 year ago

Text

sugar — lee haechan

pairing: haechan x female reader

tags: stepcest, age gap (6 years), unprotected sex, haechan is a little bit insane but it's fine ☹️

note: been having haechan brainrot so plz enjoy this

minors do not interact and all characters are in legal age

[unedited]

before your first encounter with the boy, his father has warned you that his son can be very mischievous. it turned out to be wrong because the haechan that you met was silent, you didn't have to know that he was actually angry. he believed that a pretty girl like you shouldn't be around men like his father, he knew that his workaholics father will neglect you in the future.

much to your delight, haechan warmed up and became closer to you since his father is always on a business trip. haechan just absolutely adore the way his father's young trophy wife showed up to his soccer games, coding competition, and took care of him like a good mommy. in return, he gave you a lot of affection and love. your sweet boy haechan who never disrespect you, listened to you more than his father, and indulged into your silly little hobbies. he didn't mind to follow around the store like a kicked puppy as you spend his father's black card.

haechan who can't be mean with you. at first, he wanted to make your life miserable but you were so kind and lovely to him. you think of him so fondly that it never crossed on your mind that he's taking advantage of you.

haechan who whines about his sore back so you will massage him and he finds it amusing that you laugh whenever he moans, if only you knew that haechan creamed his pants.

haechan who loves to share his food and feels his pupils dilate whenever your mouth opens nicely as he feeds you.

haechan who offers to do the laundry so he can steal your panties, he secretly touches himself with the flimsy silk.

to be honest, you weren't bothered with haechan's behaviour since you've seen how the boy acted around his relatives and friends. you assumed that it was only natural for him to be so attached with you, after all you're his new mother.

haechan has to thank his parents for making baby as his nickname because now he gets to hear you call him baby everyday.

"baby, don't forget to eat your breakfast"

"haechan baby, can you help me with the grocery?"

"good job baby, you're so smart"

four years went by and your sweet sunshine is no longer a pretty boy, he stood taller than you and looked intimidating than ever. however, he was still the same cheeky boy you've know. haechan attended law school, following his father's path. to be frank, it wasn't his first option but you had beg so prettily for him to listen to his father.

even though haechan was hundred miles away from you, he will still occasionally visit you. besides, he texted you everyday and updated you with everything. you knew the names of the professors that he hated, his pretentious classmates, and his roomate jeno.

"i want to see your face" haechan sent a selfie of him on bed with his messy brown hair.

"i'm on a date" you sent a selfie with his father which he replied with an eye roll emoji. you probably laugh at his choice of emoji but he genuinely felt pissed off. all he wanted was to see your face and he got a picture of the old man kissing your cheek.

"i miss having meals with you" haechan sent a picture of his pathetic dinner that consisted of ramen, few packs of sandwiches, and milk.

"my baby, please eat a proper meal" you sighed as you looked at his simple dinner, you'll remind your husband to pay extra attention to his allowance.

when haechan had few days off from school, he decided to suprise you by taking a flight home. upon his arrival, he was flustered to hear choked cries coming from your room. he knows that his father was home so he opted to peek from behind the door, his face turned into a soft frown when he saw your naked body on his father's lap.

"honey, please, i want to have a child with you" his heart burned with jealousy watching you hold his father's face as you cried, he never get to see your vulnerability before.

"i feel alone, the house seems so empty without haechan. it is a perfect timing for us to raise a child together, right?" his heart broke seeing your attempt to convince his father, haechan felt your frustration by the strong grip on the older man's shirt. he never know that you felt alone while he was away, he felt even worse when the accompany that you now wanted was in a form of a child.

"my sweetheart, i understand how you feel but can you wait for a few more months? once everything is settled at the firm, we will talk about this again" haechan had to physically control himself from letting a scoff, he knew that his father's promise meant nothing. the younger man headed to his room while he waited for his father to return to his office.

as soon as he heard the car left, he went outside to find you. his lips turned into a smirk when he saw you eating a pint of ice-cream, he was quick to attack you with a tight hug. you let out a shriek before hitting his chest when you realised it was haechan.

"haechan, you didn't tell me that you were coming home!" you reciprocated his hug and chuckled when the brunet pecked you on the cheek.

"i wanted to surprise you" he mumbled as he wiped the cream at the corner of your lips, he pulled you to the couch and kept you close to him. he wrapped his hand around your shoulder as he listened to you while the movie play mindlessly in the background.

"baby, have some" haechan smiled when you fed him the ice-cream. he found it very cute when you call him baby because he liked to take advantage of it, it almost felt like you will always forgive him for his mistakes.

haechan loved whenever you wear polo shirt especially if it was paired with a mini skirt. today, you were wearing his favourite white shirt paired with a midi skirt. you looked so beautiful, he can't help but to stare at your thighs through the slit of the skirt.

"why are you so pretty today? i want to play with you" his hand slid inside the skirt before he softly rubbed your inner thigh while maintaining eye contact with you. it wasn't unusual for haechan to be clingy but he should never touch you in that way.

"haechan, what are you doing?" your heart pounded heavily when his hand dangerously headed north.

"baby, your hand—" you tried to push it away but it was no use, his grip only tighten on your body. haechan leaned closer to leave wet kisses on your neck, he missed you so much.

"no— haechan, we cannot do this" your second attempt to shove him away failed since he was so much stronger than you, he didn't even budge at all.

"hmm, why can't we do this?" his mellifluous voice whined before he pulled you to his lap, his hands rested on your side as he eyefucked you.

"my father doesn't want to put a baby into you and i want to do the opposite of that, isn't that good?" his voice made the question sounded so innocent meanwhile in reality, he was talking about making you pregnant with his child. he must've overheard your talk with your husband, you wanted to believe that haechan was just confused with his feelings towards you.

"haechan, your father will get very mad at you" you mumbled as you reached for his hands, holding them tightly so he won't touch you again. haechan admired your effort to put him in his place, it was an adorable attempt. he easily pulled his hands away from you before carrying you to his room, he made sure to lock the door before cornering you to his bed.

"baby, baby, baby" he mocked the way your small voice always call for his name, he took off his shirt and sat on the bed. you can't help but to notice how different he looked now, his body was becoming lean and his features has developed into a handsome man. haechan held your hand as you stood still with guilt written all over your face.

was it your fault for spoiling haechan rotten until he thinks that he can get whatever he wants?

was it your fault for not creating a clear boundaries with your step son?

was it your fault for getting a little aroused with his little antics today?

"mommy, give me a chance to please you" haechan begged with the prettiest doe eyes ever, you are aware that you can say no, leave his room, and pretend that nothing happened but something inside you was thrilled to see more of him.

haechan grew impatient waiting for your reply, he decided to have you on his lap again before a brilliant idea popped out.

"you can tell me to stop and i will" haechan promised before he unbuttoned your shirt, he tried to read your expression but failed to do so. haechan chuckled seeing purple bruises all over your chest, you must had a steamy night yesterday.

"my father is a greedy bastard, isn't he?" he muttered before doing the exact thing that his father did to you last night, except haechan was aiming for your neck.

"baby, not on the neck, he will notice it" you pulled on his hair to take a look at his face, he seemed to be disappointed when he failed to mark you.

his hands gently groped on your tits and nipples, he alternated in between sucking, biting, and pulling on your hard buds. haechan felt his ego skyrocketed when you started to whimper and begged for more.

haechan positioned you to lay down comfortably on his bed before he took off your panties, he kept the skirt on because it looked lovely on you. haechan couldn't believe that he was finally staring at your naked body, he had been fantasizing this for years.

"such a pretty pussy" haechan praised you and chuckled when he noticed your hole clenched at nothing, he didn't know that you were already leaking wet.

"hmm, it's so tight, does he not fuck you at all?" haechan queried as he stuffed your hole with his middle finger, he moaned seeing you tighten around his digit. since he was eager to satisfy you, he added another finger and played with your clit using his other hand.

instead of making you reach your high, haechan kept on edging until you became so frustrated. he will rub your clit in the most delicious circles and stopped whenever you're almost close. the moment when he noticed your legs started to twitch, he will take his hand off your pussy and let you cry for more.

"haechan, don't be mean to me" you had to hold back a sob because you've been denied for so many times and it felt so painful. you tried to touch yourself but he gently smacked your clit as a warning, he wanted to see you come on his cock instead of his fingers. he got on top of you and let your legs rest on his shoulders, he gave a few kisses on your calf before pulling out his dick.

"i prepped you so well, you should be able to take it like a good girl, right?" he rubbed the tip on your entrance and slightly pushed the tip to elicit another moan from you.

one thing that haechan had always dreamt off was kissing you, he had various imagination to kept him on edge whenever he jerked off. he used to imagine fucking you on the mattress that you share with his father, he also fantasized about fucking you in the kitchen too. today, he will do everything that he wanted for so many years.

haechan bit his lip as he slowly pushed himself inside your warm cunt, it felt so fucking good that he wanted to cry. haechan leaned closer to kiss your lips and giggled when he tasted the lip gloss, you had put it on him for fun before but it tasted so much sweeter on your lips.

"baby, what's so funny?" you asked then laughed when he shrugged it off and hid his face on your chest as his hips kept on thrusting into your poor hole.

"this is better than everything i used to dream off" haechan admitted before pulling you into another kiss, you realised that the brown haired boy liked to be messy when kissing. he was so desperate and wanted to swallow you whole if he could, he slowly trailed down to your neck and started to suck and bite on it.

"baby, be gentle with it" you reminded him as you caressed his hair, you admitted that he was doing so well and it scared you. the younger boy decorated your neck with fresh red marks before he intertwined your hands together.

"i'm going to fill you up with my seed, get you pregnant with my child, that'll make you a real mommy" haechan whispered before he continued to fuck you real hard, every each of his thrust hits your cervix and drove you to madness.

"baby, no— haechan, you have to pull out" your hands weakly push him away but it only fueled him to pound your hole mercilessly, he knew that you were close and he wanted to come together. a few more penetration and haechan felt your walls contracted tightly around his veiny cock, he shot ropes of warm semen inside your pussy.

you can't help but to whine at the warm feelings inside you, haechan panted softly as pulled you into a tight hug. he caressed your messy hair and adored the marks he left on your body.

"did i do a good job, mommy?"

#nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct #nct imagines #nct smut #nct x reader #haechan #haechan imagines #haechan smut #haechan x reader

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leclarifies · 2 months ago

Text

mon ange (CL16)

✰ charles leclerc x !childhoodbestfriend !raceengineer reader ✰

summary: you've been there for charles since day one, even when you think he doesn't notice it, you're always there. supporting him from the sidelines.

wc: 1.6k

genre: lots of angst, drabble

aria's note: short but angsty draft i've had since last year. only gotten around to editing and posting now. not sure if i'll ever extend this or do a part 2, HAHAH. this is also written in third person bc it was from so long ago. no mentions of y/n either. enjoy the angst masochists <3 (also mon ange means my angel)

“are you ready?”

she stopped staring out into the open and finally looked at her colleague, head was elsewhere.

she gave a brief smile, and a nod and the race commenced.

race engineer, not a bad title right?

her mind wanders off a tiny bit to the past as the cars raced off into the distance.

“when i’m old enough, i’m going to race for the top teams in the world!” she could hear charles’ big laugh as she was sitting on the grass.

transported back in time, they were spending time with each other, just the two of them. it was a normal occasion for them to just sit in the dark, together sharing laughs and stories after a karting race.

she just looked over fondly at charles as he zoomed around, pretending he was in his kart, “did you see me, mon ange? i was zooming like this— and WHOOSH, i was like this!”

she cocked an eyebrow, “are you sure? i thought you crashed into a wall,” she joked, pretending she wasn’t there but she was there for every moment of the race. not wanting to miss her best friend’s races.

she was his biggest supporter and he knew it.

time flashes again as you two have your first big argument.

“you don’t get it!” charles yelled as he turned his back to her, “you will never get the pressure of any of this! you just tell me what’s good for me and you never understand! you’re not my anything! you don’t mean anything to me!” as those words left his lips, he instantly regretted it.

he turned around to face her.

the look of hurt on her as she began to turn around and walk off without a singular word, “i didn’t mean it! i didn’t mean it!” charles follows her, tears start streaming down her face. she only wanted what was good for him, racing was taking a toll on him and he didn’t realize it but the more she cared, the more she felt like he pushed her away.“i swear, i didn’t mean it. please-!” he begged as he grabbed her wrist, finally turning her around to see her tear-streaked face, flushed with hurt and anger, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he repeated again and again as he took her into his arms, patting her head as they embraced each other.

“racing has changed you, charles…” she mumbles, sniffling.

“ever since ferrari took you under their wing…”

“i-i haven’t changed… it’s just the stress from all these people and all these investors wanting to see me win-“

“and it’s changed you,” she had said, eyes still red from the crying, speaking the term of endearment softly, “you are no longer the soft and kind-hearted charles i knew before all of this happened.”

“maybe it’s best if i stayed away.”

and as her flashback ended, she heard charles speak on the radio, “radio check,” he mutters, trying to focus on his race but still wanting to hear her voice after what happened earlier between the two of them.

“loud and clear,” she replied back as she monitored the first few laps of his race, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander off again towards their childhood.

after their big argument, she did distance herself away from charles but never missing his races. always there, even though she didn’t make it obvious or even told him that she was coming.

she was still his #1 biggest supporter, he just didn’t know it anymore.

podium after podium turned into win after win and she was there to witness it all.

she distanced herself from charles and he didn’t even try to stop it. it was like he meant what he said when they last spoke to each other.

she didn’t mean anything to him.

but god, did he mean something to her.

her mom had told her countless of times to just go up and talk to him after his race win but she knew to keep her distance. it had been a few months since she had last talked to him, it’d be useless to come up to him now but she made it her life’s mission to continue supporting him from the sidelines. she had dedicated her life to become a ferrari race engineer, one day be his race engineer.

she didn’t notice it either, but charles knew. he knew she was always there to support him, he knew she cared.

he would give anything to just come up to her and just hug her, apologizing a million times but he didn’t want to force her to talk to him when she wasn’t ready.

“hello? is everything alright there?” charles’ voice comes through the radio, she snaps out of it before replying, “yeah sorry…” she silently cursed herself before paying attention to the monitor, realizing what he had asked, for positions and plans, “sainz is behind you. try to keep pace and defend each other,” she had spoke softly as charles listened closely.

following her orders, and finally focusing on the rest of the race, she helped them win a double podium.

she was so proud of the two drivers, she watched from the garage as they celebrated at the stage with the rest of the ferrari crew.

her mind wandered off to their earlier argument.

“all i’m saying is that you have to take care of yourself, get yourself a new hobby,” she had started, “circulating your whole life around racing isn’t healthy—“

“i am nothing without racing!”

“yes, you are a beautiful person without racing, you just have to realize that.”

“no one will love me without racing!”

“i have always loved you even before racing…”

“you know nothing! you have always been like this! since we were kids,” charles threw words at her, eyes sharp, unforgiving, “you always tell me what’s best for me like you know me so well— we haven’t talked to each other in years! what do you know what’s good for me???” he growled as she stayed silent, she shouldn’t have opened her mouth in the first place.

she felt defeated and just sighed and muttered out, “i’m sorry, okay? it won’t happen again,” quietly as she left the hotheaded charles, he always regretted what he said when he was mad to her, ever since he started racing, the anger was uncontrollable. the amount of hurtful words he’s thrown at her was unforgivable at that point.

she was snapped back into reality as she realized that the interview session was over and everyone was retreating for the night, the event was finally over.

her brain was on autopilot the entire day, not being able to focus properly and she wanted to be the first one out of there, she packed her things as she saw the others coming over from their celebration as they talked about going to the party being held by ferrari in a club reserved just for them.

she she was grabbing her things to go, she felt a hand on her shoulder, charles.

“hey,” charles smiled apologetically at her as she packed her stuff, she only glanced at him for a little bit before continuing to gather her stuff, “do you want to come to the celebration with me?”

she shakes her head, “i’m quite tired,” she says simply before finally having all of her stuff and walking away, but charles caught up towards her, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, i forgive you,” she says quietly as she continues walking, she was used to it at this point, charles getting mad at her because she said something that he didn't like and she just took it, but he didn’t want her to go away.

he wanted to talk to her.

“stop walking away, let’s talk, please,” he pleaded as she stopped walking, back still facing towards him, she just couldn’t when it came to him, “what is there to talk about, leclerc?” she asked as she turned around, “you said sorry, and i said i forgive you. there’s nothing to talk about.”

charles felt guilty, she just looked so defeated. so different to the person he knew before shit happened between them.

“i’m sorry for everything, i’m sorry,” he breathes out, he was holding his breath? was he nervous?

“it’s okay, leclerc,” she nods as she tries to walk away again before being held back again by the wrist from a clearly emotional charles.

“it hurts when you do that,” he had a hurt tone to his voice, tears threatening to fall from his pretty green eyes, “when you call me by my last name.”

“everyone calls you that.”

“you’re not just anyone.”

“i feel like just everyone.”

“what happened to nounours?”

“we’re not kids anymore.”

“but you are still mon ange.”

she couldn’t reply back, she hasn’t heard that nickname in so long.

“i love you.”

he choked up, he let his tears out. she didn’t say a peep.

“please say something.”

“what is there to say?” she looked at the ground, away from his eyes. she knew she loved him, more than anything ever since they were kids.

she just didn’t know if she could forgive him even though she had said it earlier.

“tell me you love me,” charles was almost begging, holding onto her hands, “even if you’re lying, just say it back.”

“i love you too,” she knew better than anyone that it wasn’t a lie, it was the furthest thing from a lie, but she didn’t want to appear weak, “is that all? can i go now?”

with those four last words, charles’ heart broke into tiny little pieces.

#charlec leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #leclarifies fic #leclarifies fics

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bunnwich · 7 months ago

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It's Supposed to Be Fun

(a letter to my friends in the twst fandom)

I've been wanting to make this post for a while and these thoughts may seem scattered but I’m gonna try to express them.

Lately, I have seen many friends and moots that either are leaving the fandom or feel guilty over not having posted in a while or losing interest in twst. On the other side, I also have friends being harassed.

This a reminder to remember why you joined this community to begin with. I know that keeping up with the fast-moving pace of fandom and comparing ourselves to others, can skew our perspective on these things.

It’s supposed to be fun.

Why do we post art or write? Sure, partly for recognition, there's no denying that. But, why do we create, I mean really? For enjoyment. Not for others, not to be “popular” FOR JOY.

So, whether you’re dealing with people critiquing you or feeling guilty about not creating. My question is this: Why waste so much of your time on something that makes you miserable?

Did it stop being fun? Why? Haters? Loss of interest?

To my friends who feel guilty for not creating and not sure if they lost interest in twst:

Don’t feel guilty. At one time, the creation of your twst content was natural. It's what you did for fun with friends or for yourself. Revisit that mindset and think - if creating twst content now will bring that same joy it did before.

If the answer is no, then maybe it’s time to pivot. It’s okay for interests to fade. It doesn’t mean that time, memories, or the friends you made are lost. Connect with your friends, we will understand! We still love you! It's not a race there's no time limit, just pick up were you want to. Draw fanart of old events or OCs.

To my friends who have been harassed:

I say this with sincerity…. People who harass others over fictional characters are fucking losers.

Like… There’s no other eloquent way to encapsulate it. I’m starting to not care for the reason anymore - If you harass or be shady to others over a ship or fictional character. CONGRATS! YOU ARE A LOSER.

We all join fandoms as a hobby, for fun. We’re all just kids in the sandbox playing pretend again… and if you are the type of person to go up just to “kick the doll out of someone’s hand" or make commentary on how “their way of playing is wrong." You’re a loser. I have a life outside of twst, we all do. Someone saying my ship is wrong or cringe is just so laughable to me. We have to make fun of these people more for being so goddamn lame.

Imagine being so unhappy that when you see someone having fun you HAVE to comment on it. By all means, if it gets you through the day...talk shit to close friends or even post about it on your own blog. (THAT WAS ALWAYS ALLOWED.) Don't bother creators directly. Don't be a loser. I sure see tolerance leave people’s bodies when they see a fandom opinion they don't like. (And this is coming from someone who has lots of opinions on these things! But that's why I always put the disclaimers that, hey this is just MY opinion.)

Discussion is one thing, unhelpful comments are another. We shouldn’t give these people the time of day. Curate your online space. Yes, when you post things online you are subjecting yourself to scrutiny. But, we as creators need to stop letting these people have power over us. Period. We do this for free!! FOR FUN. The best thing you can do is create shamelessly.

Delete weird replies, block whoever you need to do to rid yourself of these people who have nothing better to do. Keep your peace. It’s supposed to be for fun. You don’t owe anyone a response.

The twst fandom is like a little family to me and I guess I feel protective over the people in it? I have made many friends and memories because I joined it. And even dispite a handful of the negative experiences (AKA: A couple of “losers" that I’ve had to deal with.) I’ll always look fondly back on this time.

The key for me has always been to just…create for myself. I originally made bunnwich for me and one friend to make fun little arts about our Yuu’s and now I get to have lots of friends to share it with! I’ve transitioned from an OC blog to probably more of an Oc x Canon blog…but I don’t care tbh. I just…draw what I feel like. I know there are people who probably dislike me for that or feel strange about my content and that’s fine. I’m still gonna keep drawing it, loser.

And I just want you guys to do the same, twst or not.

I can’t forget that all my followers and friends are a bonus, if I had never joined tumblr I’d still be drawing the silly shit I draw in peace. And while yes, I do want to grow as an artist and sell more merch and keep growing... I can’t forget my initial excitement for this silly little game. I like to talk about it. I like to write about it. It inspires me.

It’s supposed to be fun. Please remember that. I know it can be discouraging to have others being shitty to you. Or going through a creative drought. But, try not to let this stop you from creating what you love.

#Anyways just had to get this out #feel free to ignore #I love you guys alot and idk if this is helpful but I hate to see you guys upset #ren speaks🌱#twst

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ddodol · 14 days ago

Text

rush — o.sr

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, bf's friend!taro, fem!reader, pet names, cheating as plot device oops, overstimulation, creampie, edging, oral (f.), cum eating?, unprotected sex. word count⭑.ᐟ 1.4k+

a/n; christmas is in a day or whatever and i need shotaro so bad

✩🎧⭑.ᐟ [ acquainted — the weeknd ]

shotaro was always the one guy your boyfriend trusted the most, mainly because shotaro is his best friend.

even when you and your boyfriend fought, he knows he'll find you at shotaro's place, seeking comfort, and he never once suspected anything.

the first few times were pretty innocent, with shotaro giving you advice or just offering you sympathy like a good friend would. shotaro slipping up and accidentally hinting that he might have feelings for you was surprising to say the least, but that didn't mean you hated it. in fact, you found comfort in shotaro's affection, making your relationship more complicated than you would've expected.

his embraces turned into kisses, something you initiated. it didn't take too long until shotaro began to pull you in even more, leaving you gasping and wanting for more. you were greedy; you needed to keep shotaro in your grasp, someone to fall back on when your boyfriend disregards you.

luckily, shotaro didn't mind being used— he loved it, a lot. as long as it meant that he gets to have you for himself.

lately, you always wondered what your boyfriend's face would look like once he picks you up at shotaro's place only to catch you on top of him, riding shotaro like your life depended on it and looking like a hot mess— watching the best friend he trusted his girlfriend with pleasure you like he never could.

"stay with me, baby." shotaro's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, hands gripping tightly on your hips. he leaned in, pressing kisses on your flushed chest as his eyes stared up at you. "i'm right here, remember? don't let your mind wander," he whispered, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

you wanted to laugh, rolling your hips against his. "my bad, i was just thinking," you mumbled.

you stilled your hips, cupping his face in your hand. you wiped off the beads of sweat on the side of his face, smiling fondly when he took your hand in his, kissing the palm of your hand.

"taro," he hums in response, "i want to lie down now." shotaro grins knowingly, lifting you up in a second before laying you down gently on his bed. the sheet felt cold against your flushed skin, chest heaving in anticipation as you watched shotaro strip down any remaining clothing he had left.

you've seen his body before, but today felt different. as he leaned in to position himself in between your legs, you ran your hands up and down his chest, in awe at how sturdy he was. it was baffling to think that these were the same shoulders you used to cry on all the time.

shotaro smiles at you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "try not to let your mind wander again this time, okay? need you to focus on me and how i make you feel." you nod obediently, sighing softly as he slipped inside your slick walls so easily, picking up where you left off.

you felt the familiar heat pooling in your lower stomach, face contorting in pleasure as shotaro continued to thrust deep inside. "taro," you whine, gently clawing on his chest. your walls clamped down on him, eliciting low groans from shotaro. he began to increase his pace even more, mumbling curses from how tight you felt around his throbbing length.

"that's it, baby. fuck, i don't think i can hold back," shotaro mumbles against your neck, letting out ragged breaths as he pounded into you. his bed creaked underneath, shaking wildly in tune with shotaro's deep and quick thrusts— he was close, real close.

"it's okay. please, give it to me."

his hands dug into your waist, leaving a print from how hard he was gripping on you. he let out a soft groan, hips stuttering against yours as he shot his cum deep inside you. shotaro rolled his hips, resting his cheek in the crook of your neck before stilling.

you closed your eyes, holding him against you as your body shuddered from the warmth that coated your slick walls. shotaro pressed kisses on your shoulder before pulling away, a small whine escaping your glossy lips.

you could faintly hear knocks at the front door, tensing up at the thought that it was your boyfriend. shotaro bit his lip, too intoxicated with the sight of you to just stop.

you've already gone this far after all, why stop now?

when the knocks subsided, shotaro slipped his hand in between your thigh, caressing it softly. you whimpered, brows furrowing from how badly you needed a release, to the point where it was all you could think about.

your phone started ringing but you ignored it, spreading your thighs apart to welcome shotaro's hand. he smiled at your desperation, leaning in to kiss your lips as he pushed two fingers inside you.

"fuck!" you cried out, lifting your hips up. you rolled your hips against his fingers, throwing your head back as you chased after your own pleasure. your ringtone echoed in shotaro's room, accompanied by the wet sounds you were making.

you felt a sudden rush, desperate to cum before your boyfriend barges in and ruins all the tension you and shotaro built. you moaned shotaro's name softly, face contorting when you felt your orgasm starting to bubble over.

the ringing stopped, prompting shotaro to pull out. you let out an unsatisfied whine, hips falling back down onto the bed. he chuckled, knowing that you were far from satisfied. "i got you, princess," he whispered, a wide grin on his adorable face. shotaro went down, positioning himself in between your trembling thighs.

shotaro left a trail of kisses on your inner thigh, thumbs teasing your wet folds. he let out a soft sigh, hot breath hitting your sensitive core as he watched a mix of his cum and your slick spill out of you.

"painted my baby so good," he mumbled, lips dangerously getting closer. he darted his tongue out, licking up the cum that pooled out of you and pushing it back inside. you moaned softly, reaching down to grip on his hair, tugging at it as he curled his tongue up against your sensitive spots.

he eagerly swallowed a mix of your slick and his cum, satisfied moans escaping his mouth as he continued to eat you out. shotaro nuzzled his nose against your clit, making you cry out sensitively.

"taro! fuck, taro!" you whimpered, throwing your arms up and gripping tightly on the sheets. you felt dizzy, body heating up as your orgasm began to build up quickly.

shotaro pulled his tongue out of your walls, quickly replacing it with his fingers. you cried out at how well his fingers filled you up, curling up perfectly against your sweet spot, as his tongue swirled around your swollen clit.

he glanced up at you, nibbling gently on your slick folds, his fingers pumping in and out of you in a deep but steady rhythm. your body began to flush up, thighs tensing up, and your voice getting higher and higher as your orgasm approached. shotaro wanted nothing more than to have you make a mess on his mouth, for you to claim him as yours.

"cum for me, princess," he whispered sweetly. his words were enough for you to reach your high, hips jerking sensitively as you made a huge mess on his fingers and tongue.

you cried sensitively, covering your face with your arms as you trembled from your orgasm. shotaro gently moved his fingers inside you, drawing out your orgasm even more. your walls kept fluttering around his fingers, pulling him back in every time he pulled out. he smiled in satisfaction, cooing at you as he pressed kisses on your inner thigh.

his fingers slipped out of your slick walls once the spasms subsided, massaging your thighs before getting up on his knees. shotaro trailed kisses up your stomach to your chest, mumbling praises at you.

"all good, princess?" he asked sweetly, smiling when you met his eyes.

you chuckled weakly, rolling your eyes at him. your chest heaved, still reeling from the intense pleasure you felt minutes earlier. you couldn't help but think how shotaro was so different from him— a sigh escaping your lips when you thought about your boyfriend again.

shotaro seems to have caught onto your train of thought, finding your indifference towards him a bit odd. "want me to drive you back?" you glanced at him, seeing the same sweet smile on his face.

you nodded, a small smile on your lips, "yeah, please do."

#૮ > ⤙ < ྀིა #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize smut #shotaro imagines #shotaro scenarios #shotaro x reader #shotaro smut #ddollemons #ddlz: osr #✧₊⁺ kinktober24

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

Text

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 13

WC: 1040, Masterpost

"Up to meeting my friends?” Wally asked, brushing a hand through Danny’s hair.

Danny leaned into the touch with a happy noise. How tactile Wally could be was still one of Danny’s favorite things. “Some space first? The meeting went well, but it was a lot. I could just… use a few minutes.”

“Some space first,” Wally said indulgently.

He lead Danny to an actual room this time. It seemed to be a sort of lounge, but with the expanse of windows it could have easily been called an observation room. Danny happily settled on the couch facing the window, sinking down a little as he burrowed himself into Wally’s side. Wally draped his arm over Danny’s shoulder and tucked him close.

“You look at it so differently,” Wally said after a few minutes.

“Hum?”

“Space, you look at it like I don’t see you look at anything else.”

“Oh. It’s just… I’ve always loved space. And after my accident it was a dream out of reach. Being up here is something amazing.” It almost felt like flying again. He missed flying so much that some days he almost risked it

“Yeah? What made you love it?”

“The unknown,” Danny said without hesitation. “There’s so much about it that we just don’t know. Even now with literal Martians and space travel there’s just so much we don’t understand and never will. Someone could travel it for a thousand life times and still have new things to discover. There’s something just… I don’t know. That’s just always called to me.”

Wally gave a considering hum, fingers idly rubbing at Danny’s shoulder. “Okay. When you put it like that, I can get it. I wish you could have seen it the way you dreamed of as a kid.”

“No wishing,” Danny said reflexively. “Besides, this is a pretty great way to get to see it now.”

Wally looked back out at the view. “Yeah, it’s pretty great.”

Danny watched Wally for a moment, then the view, and then took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go meet your friends.”

“Okay,” Wally said, grinning widely. “So Nightwing will be there and I think Cyborg if he got done with updates? Darkstar will also be there, the original Wonder Girl.”

“Oh, I see, she was smart and chose a name that was different than her mentor,” Danny teased, mostly to see Wally blush red.

Which he did.

“Oh shut up.”

“I’m just saying, do you know how much I learned about race horses and race car drivers and greyhounds and runners to make up things to tell you two apart?”

“You could always just keep calling him Kid Flash, it’s what a lot of heroes do,” someone piped up from inside the room they had entered.

“You can shut up too, Darkstar,” Wally said cheerfully and went forward to hug her.

Danny had a moment of not exactly jealously but more appreciation of how pretty she was. He would kill for his hair to look half as good as hers… or Nightwing’s. Ancients were all of Wally’s friends so pretty?

“Everyone, Danny, my boyfriend. Danny, some of the Titans. Nightwing and Darkstar.”

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Nightwing said, stepping forward to offer his hand., which Danny shook. “Flash—”

“Kid Flash.” Darkstar coughed.

“—has has a lot to say about you. You wouldn’t believe how much he went on before you two even started to date. Nightwing, he’s so cute! But he won’t say yes, will he? Okay, about about this idea for a date?” Nightwing cut off laughing as Wally sped over and tried to put him in a headlock.

“Boys,” Darkside said, rolling her eyes fondly.

Danny chuckled. “At least they’re pretty to look at?”

“I suppose that’s at least something,” she agreed with a solemn nod before she laughed. “It is good to meet you. Flash really has had a lot to say. He was very nervous asking you out and then again the second date and then revealing his identity… everything, mostly.”

“I don’t mean to make him nervous.”

“It isn’t a bad thing. He cares about you a great deal and wants things to work is all. And Nightwing is always there to listen to him and offer advice, not that Flash should always take it.

“Hey!” Nightwing protested from where he now had Wally pinned to the sofa. “My advice is amazing!”

Wally snorted.

Nightwing pouted. “I’ll have you know I’m a huge mentor to the new generation of superheroes.”

“The word is doomed,” Darkstar in the driest tone imaginable.

Danny couldn’t help but wonder if he had had a hero mentor would things have been different. It was a useless thought, so he pushed it aside. What hero would have been able to help him with ghosts, anyways? They would have only gotten hurt.

“I’m sure some of your advice is good,” Danny said, making sure to sound extra soothing.

Nightwing squinted at him. “Sure you are.”

Danny smiled innocently.

Darkstar barked out a laugh. “I can see how you work with our Kid Flash. You two fill Danny in on the house rules, I’m going to go drag Cyborg away from his computers.”

“House rules?” Danny asked curiously.

“Uno,” Nightwing and Wally said at the same time with matching terrifying grins.

“You have house rules for Uno?” Danny repeated, incredulously.

“Yep,” Nightwing said as he pulled a box out from under the coffee table and tossed it to Wally. “See, it wouldn’t be fair to do the whole get to know you thing when you can’t know our names, so I figured we’d play a game and just chat! But we can’t just play regular Uno.”

“Superheroes cheat,” Flash said cheerfully as he shuffled the cards in a blur.

“So we have to have a lot of house rules about cheating.”

“And extra decks against counting cards.”

Danny tilted his head. “Some of those aren’t even Uno cards.”

“And that’s the other part of the house rules,” Nightwing said with a grin that Danny didn’t quite trust.

But it was just Uno, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

He would come to regret that thought in three hours when they were still on the same game.

---

AN: And we introduce a few more characters! Luckily they're already fond of Danny with how Flash has been about him!

Stay delightful, darlings.

#dp x dc #abson #quick death #danny fenton/wally west

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viperbunnies · 6 days ago

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It's officially New years for me here! I am not the best at words, but I'm thankful for the support that I've received for the short amount of time that I've started posting art more often.

What started off as me wanting to just Archive some art I'm proud of snowballed to so many memories that I'll look back fondly to, so many silly ideas that breached containment that I remember seeing people do (Like the draw your oc reacting to their fave card that me and addie just talked about as a joke, and the Shroompocalypse that was just meant to be an Jade stealing people's yume joke)

I'm glad that I met so many amazing people and discovered new artists on this site! With that said I want to drop a few words of thanks to some of the amazing people that I've met here <3

Firstly, thank you to @oya-oya-okay being my first ever follower and mutual! If it weren't for you sharing my art I wouldn't be able to meet so many of my moots, your words of encouragement means a lot to me (and to other people that you also support!) I wish you well in life!

Thank you to @natsukishinomiyaswife ! If it weren't for you reaching out to me back then I probably would've continued lurking. You're a dear friend to me and I enjoy our random talks! May it be about life, or our own interests 💕 I hope the new year treats you kindly.

Thank you to @justm3di0cr3 ! For giving me so many ideas (some I've yet to finish...) and for listening to me whatever the topic maybe. I'm thankful that I met you! You're such a considerate person, always checking in on me whenever I feel down. If something's bugging you, I'm always all ears!

Thank you to @scint1llat3 , your overwhelming support has helped me so much. It's always fun seeing your currynoodles, and just your art in general. But it's just as fun just reading your thoughts! Your comments/tags are always so fun to read 😭 I hope you never get tired doing what you love! Labyu lodicakes (/p) kain ka ng madaming pansit sa new years for long life

Thank you to @jovieinramshackle ! I remember feeling so scared due to some inevitable changes, but seeing your general words of encouragement during that time helped me so much. Wishing you the best on your journey as well!

Thank you to @fell-e ! Your keysmashes and memes are so fun to see 😭 Genuinely need to know how you make them so quickly. Thank you as well for being my earliest supporters, I probably would've been burnt out so quickly if you didn't show genuine interest in my arts.

Thank you to @part-sadist ! For the laughs that you give me from your silly sketches, and for acknowledging some of my ideas. You've contributed so much ideas to my to do list as well, to the point that I don't think I'm gonna run out of any drawing prompts any time soon (They just need to give me the time already...)

Thank you to @taruruchi ! for being one of my earliest supporters, it's just so nice to see someone with similar interests as me! I still have so many Oz and Taru interactions that I want to make, so I hope you look forward to them hehe.

Thank you to @jadelover69 (i miss your old name /j) Thank you as well for your overwhelming support! I love seeing the things you rb on my tl, may it be twst or different fandoms you're interested in. They help lighten up my mood whenever I need it!

Thank you to @the-travelling-witch ! We haven't been mutuals for long, but you've always been so supportive of me! Thank you for showing genuine interests in my ocs! And for sharing me rambles about yours as well! If you ever get any new ideas, I'd love to hear them :> (Probably not asap due to Timezones and schedules, but of course I'll get to you soon!)

Thank you to my friend (alias Melone) If you see this I hope you know that I'm thankful that you pushed me to draw more. You'll always be my no. 1 hypeman, and I wish we can spend more time together soon. 2024 really is cursed-- our annual meetup didn't happen 😔 I hope we can meet soon! I still need to give you my gifts from your birthday.

If I could add everyone I've met here I genuinely would 😭 I love all of my moots/supporters /p.

Honestly I feel like I'm more cynical qnd negative irl... due to many reasons, but perhaps it's due to the people that I've met here that I'e had such a positive influence, which I'm honestly so thankful for. It's helped a lot with my personal struggles.

If you've made it this far, I hope you know that life gets better. A struggle today, doesn't determine the wind's path tomorrow. Wishing you all Happy new years! I hope that this coming year will be kind to us as all ^^

#taters yap #genuinely thankful for all of my moots #i still cant believe that im moots with so many of ya'll...#id love to mention more people here but qwq i don't know if some people are comfy with that...#but just you know i cherish ya'll just as much!#queue #time to sleep and skedaddle #sorry for being sappy on main... it will happen again

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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New Girlfriend II

Lucy Bronze x Teen!Reader

Ona Batlle x Teen!Reader

Summary: Ona's tipsy

It's hard to hate Ona.

You kind of wish you could regardless of the truce you have going on with her.

She's over all the time. She's always in your house and your face and you hate that she asks about school.

It was always Keira's job to help you with your homework. You miss Keira a lot which is probably why you stick heavily to her side when your Mum hosts a bonding night for the team.

You sit next to her and let her give you a hug that you sag happily into. You used to see Keira all the time but it's Ona that you see more often now.

It's strange but you're working on it because you think your Mum is really in love with Ona and she's so happy so you're sucking it up.

It doesn't mean that you don't stick to Keira whenever you can.

Originally, you thought it would get you some respite from Ona but it seemed that even Keira had a good relationship with her so, as you sat at the kitchen table, leaning against Keira as she helped you with your homework, Ona appeared out of seemingly thin air.

Her cheeks have a red kind of sheen that you know comes from the alcohol in her glass. She's a little tipsy, just like most of the girls in the house.

"You're so smart," She giggles as you scrawl down the equation Keira explains to you," Both of you. So smart." She breaks off into a fit of giggles and Keira leaves your side to guide Ona into a chair.

"How about we sit down?" Keira says as she takes the drink from Ona," And have some water."

Ona's giggling again and it's a little unnerving. She reaches across the table and holds the hand you're not using to write. Another wave of giggles. "You're so smart. Is it hard? Being smart all the time?"

"It must be," You mutter," Because this is my birthday party and I'm stuck doing homework."

You hadn't really wanted to do anything for your birthday. You didn't have any friends at your new school (the accent of your spoken Spanish tended to put people off) but your Mum took any excuse to get a bit tipsy without consequences and the team had ended up around your place to 'celebrate' which really acted as a dual celebration of the big one they just had over Real Madrid.

"That's sad," Ona says," I wasn't good at school. You're doing it in a different language."

You sigh softly, shaking your head in amusement as she continues to talk earnestly to you, making sure to keep eye contact so she's sure that you're understanding her.

"Lucy's so proud of you, she tells me all the time."

That shocks you a little bit. You hadn't really considered what your Mum and Ona talked about when you weren't there. Truly, you had imagined that their time was taken up by kissing.

"I want you to like me," Ona continues, still giggling and completely flushed in the face," How can I make you like me more? Arcade? Food? Food! Let's order food!"

"Let's not order food," Mum says as she approaches. She's not as tipsy as Ona is but there's a little flush to her skin. "Because then we've got to pay for everyone's."

"No!" Ona says with that dopey smile that she always gets when your Mum is holding her. "Just for the birthday girl." She looks at you again. "Ooh! Let's get cake!"

Mum laughs, leaning down to whisper in Ona's ear about something.

Keira, who you thought would be fairly awkward around the couple, just shakes her head fondly. "You two are gross," She declares with a laugh, confiscating both of their drinks. She's the most sober person in the house. "You're already lovey-dovey at practice."

Mum laughs. "This is my house, Kei. I can be lovey-dovey if I want."

"You're scarring her!" She says," Look at her!"

You've got your nose all wrinkled up in disgust and Mum leans over to pinch at her cheek.

"Don't lie, Kei! She loves this!"

You push her away in annoyance and try to throw your pen at her but you're caught off guard by Ona hugging you tight. You didn't realise she was such a sentimental drunk.

"You're so smart."

Oh, she's back on that.

"Lucy, tell her she's smart!"

"Very smart," Mum says. You're trapped by Ona so can't escape when Mum places a big, wet kiss on your cheek and then grabs you in a headlock. "My smart little girl!"

"Mum!" You cry out," Let go! Come on, let go!"

"No!" Mum laughs," You're a proper teenager now! My little birthday girl!"

"It's your birthday!" Ona exclaims like it's the first time she's heard the news," I got you a gift!" She pats wildly at her pockets before coming up empty. "Lucy, where's my gift?"

Mum's only half paying attention as she rubs her knuckles against your hair as you fight to get away, tears of laughter streaming down your cheeks. "Er...I don't know? I think you called it an experience?"

"Ah! Ah!" You had to admit (begrudgingly), Ona jumping up and down in triumph was kind of cute. "We will go to the beach! There is an arcade there! A big one! Bigger than the one here!"

It stumped you for a moment. Your love for arcades wasn't something that you talked a lot about but clearly, Ona remembered. She's smiling at you now and you tear your gaze away to look at your Mum.

"Really? And you're okay with going?"

"I'm going to the beach," Mum says," You and Ona can waste all the money you want but I'm working on my tan."

Ona sticks her tongue out. "Buzzkill."

#woso x reader #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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pascaloverx · 5 months ago

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NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

TWO FOUR

THREE

You're sitting on the floor of your living room, waiting for Barnes to finish scanning your apartment for any signs that someone might be watching you. The most ironic part of this is that he's doing it just minutes after discreetly placing a camera above your door. The message this sends to you is that only he can watch your every move.

"What can you tell me about your life?" you ask while serving a glass of wine to each of you. You're certainly nervous about drinking wine near the expensive rug you received as a gift from a bakery customer, but it seems worth the risk when you think that drinking wine while sitting on the floor seems romantic.

"Well… non-confidential details. For example, my middle name, which is Buchanan, by the way. I was born on March 10th, a beautiful spring day. My mother used to say I was the most patient baby she ever knew. On the other hand, during my teenage years, I became a troublemaker. And I only started to behave better when I met my best friend. Steve was definitely the best person in the universe. Always thoughtful, trying to be cheerful even when there was no reason to be. The rare times he lost his temper, I knew the other person was in the wrong." Barnes sits down next to you. He smiles sweetly, as if he's fondly remembering the past. Then he takes a sip of the wine and looks at you, as if he's expecting something. You don't realize that you've been staring at him or making the atmosphere a bit awkward until he clears his throat, as if prompting you to say something.

"Your best friend must have had to put up with a lot to keep you in line… considering you're still getting into trouble even today. By the way, do you guys still keep in touch?" you ask, as if returning to reality after losing your train of thought while staring at Barnes. But how can you avoid getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen?

"He wouldn't be proud of what I've become. But we lost contact after, let's say, we went our separate ways. In my mind, he's living a peaceful life, maybe with a house near some lake where he can fish. Maybe he's married, with at least one dog. But part of my job was saying goodbye to what was valuable to me before, well... before I accepted the job. A sacrifice I was willing to make." Barnes says, this time between sips of wine, seeming to get emotional. It's probably the wine taking effect, or maybe it's the longing for those he had to leave behind.

"And do you regret it? Giving up being with those you loved most for a job that obviously puts your life at risk? I don't mean to criticize you, but it's not too late to have regrets. We could have died when that guy attacked the bakery." You end up judging Barnes' life a bit, without intending to, but you know you've crossed a line when he looks at you with a certain anger, saying nothing.

"I didn't realize I was here to be judged. What else do you want to criticize about my life? The first time I fell in love with someone? Or maybe something more spicy, like like the time I fucked my partner while we were on a plane? Do you want to know if I managed to make her cum or would you like to criticize me because sex in a public place is wrong?" He takes another sip of wine, emptying his glass. You feel a mix of emotions as you listen to him speak. He wanted to humiliate you, that's obvious. So you don't think twice before throw the rest of the wine in your glass in his face.

"I would have apologized for intruding on your life in an untimely manner. But you can't talk to me like that. Now, I'd like you to get out of my apartment." You say angrily, getting up off the floor and hoping your expensive carpet stayed intact after you throw your wine at Barnes. You assume he can leave on his own, so you head to your bathroom to wash your hand. It's stained with wine, so you clean it off. Your thoughts are in turmoil, wondering how something that was supposed to be romantic lost its meaning. Maybe Barnes was better in theory than in practice; maybe your hypothetical Barnes was just an illusion. You only refocus when you catch a glimpse of Barnes standing near the bathroom door out of the corner of your eye.

"I overreacted. You didn't mean to be disrespectful, and I was out of line. It wasn’t my finest moment." Barnes says as he approaches you, and you watch him through the reflection in the mirror. He quickly moves to stand behind you, not close enough to touch, but close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your back. You get goosebumps, unsure if it’s because of his proximity or the huskiness in his voice as he speaks.

"I should have guessed it would be like this. You clearly have no intention of letting me get close to you. And you know what? Right now, it seems to me that you're doing just fine on your own." you say cynically, which seems like the right thing to do at the moment. Barnes gives a crooked smile and then moves closer. You turn to face him, as if you don’t want to make this moment more dramatic than it needs to be.

"Want to know something about me? I push away most of the good people I know because, most of the time, I have no idea if I deserve to have them around. But somehow, I don't push you away as easily. I eat your bread every day even though I don't like bread that much, just because I noticed you like to test new recipes when I stop by your bakery. Your coffee isn’t your strong suit, but I drink it almost religiously. Not everything I know about you comes from the fact that I put you at risk. I just took an interest in the lovely baker who smiles at me every morning as if I were the most important person in the world." Barnes says, looking into your eyes, and you’re surprised. All this time, you thought you were the only one noticing him. But he was noticing you too.

You have no immediate reaction, processing what he just said. Then, a surge of confidence takes over you; you place your hand gently on Barnes' face and caress him. But something awakens in Barnes. He places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer, and in moments, he brings his lips to yours. The initial contact is delicate as he explores every part of your mouth. It takes you a moment to believe that you're kissing James Barnes, but once you realize it, you pull his neck closer, deepening the kiss. It's as if your mouth is waging a war with his, as you both savor the taste of each other. You let out a soft moan as he presses you against the sink, but you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. He runs his hands down your back until he reaches your ass and holds it tightly. Urging you to climb onto your sink, you feel his hands release you onto the sink and then touch your thighs and leg. You are however interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Apparently she was worried about the lack of news. He takes a breath while you watch him text Natasha, probably reassuring her. Then he looks at you, but this time with a hint of regret. It’s obvious it was too good to be true.

"Let me guess? You need to leave, and it’s better if we don’t talk about what just happened because you shouldn’t have done that?" you say as if you already know what he’s going to say, which you probably do, because he doesn’t make any move to deny it.

"It seems that, in the end, you know more about me than you realize," Barnes says awkwardly before quickly leaving your apartment, leaving only a lingering tension in the air. Soon after, you decide to take a shower and go to bed. Tomorrow is a new day, and thinking about Barnes won’t do any good right now. The next day, you head to work earlier than usual, wanting to make some muffins and éclairs to sell at the bakery. Your first customers compliment your coffee and muffins, and you can’t help but wonder if your coffee is as bad as Barnes made it seem.

"What would you recommend to a new customer?" A man with a kind look, blue eyes, and blonde hair approaches your counter while you’re pulling a batch of fresh bread from the oven. He is muscular, well-built, and has a wonderful scent.

"I’d recommend almost everything here except the coffee; I’ve heard it’s not that great. And welcome to Y/L/N Bakery. My name is Y/N; I’m the owner and also the baker. If you want my honest recommendation, this new bread recipe turned out great, and I’ve made some éclairs if you’re interested in sweetening your day." you say subtly as you watch the man place his backpack on the floor of the bakery. It looks like he’s just arrived from a trip.

"My name is Steve. Steve Rogers. I heard that an old friend of mine used to frequent your bakery, and I came here hoping to find out where he might be. Have you by any chance seen Bucky?" Steve asks gently as he approaches the counter. You look at him thoughtfully.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" you ask, not quite understanding who he’s talking about. You’ve had many customers, but none named Bucky. Steve then pulls a photo of his friend from his pocket. Immediately, you recognize him. It’s Barnes, in military attire, in a photo that looks like it was taken a few years ago. And then you realize that Steve must be the best friend Barnes was talking about last night.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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arcane-vagabond · 1 year ago

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Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of death, Talk of losing a loved one, Mentions of drinking, Talk of Magic, Character Deaths, Graphic description of a dead body. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This...was a doozy lol Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The restaurant wasn’t as crowded as the other night, and you supposed that was due to the fact that it was the middle of the week. Penny was stationed behind the bar, cleaning out the glasses in between drink orders. You were cushioned between Jake and Natasha at the round table, picking at the fries left on Jake’s plate as he looked at you fondly. His arm rested on the back of the booth behind you, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as you joked with the group.

“And then Bob over here decided that it would be a good idea to climb on top of this guy’s roof!” You grinned, earning a groan from the man in question.

“I hate this damn story,” he pouted, leaning back and running a hand over his face as the others peered over at him.

“Sweet, innocent Bobby climbed on top of some guy’s roof?” Bradley asked, leaning forward to look down the table at the blushing man.

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Bob grumbled.

“That was the drunkest I’ve ever seen him,” you told the group. “He kept saying something about being able to fly and something else about the cannonball to end all cannonballs, but I was just so focused on getting him down that I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Oh yeah?” Bob smirked, giving you a devious look that made the smile drop from your face. “And what about the time I had to haul your ass back to your apartment because you almost went skinny dipping with the sharks?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he grinned, leaning towards you. “You were crying your eyes out for twenty minutes because you thought we were hurting their feelings by going home.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as the group broke out into fits of giggles, scowling at your best friend and his smug expression. You felt Jake shift next to you, placing a soft kiss to your temple before leaning back.

“Don’t worry, Angelfish,” he winked as you looked at him. “I’m sure you didn’t hurt their feelings.”

“I’m sure they were more upset they didn’t get an easy meal,” Bradley joked. “Although, they say that humans taste like plastic.”

“They?” You questioned. “You mean the sharks?”

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, I asked them once. Said that humans taste icky.”

“I’m sorry,” you blinked, “are you trying to tell me that you can talk to sharks?”

“I wouldn’t really call it talking,” Javy amended, casting a pointed look at Bradley who shrugged. “It’s more like, we can sense the intentions.”

“Like telepathy?” You asked.

“Sort of,” Reuben nodded. “It’s kind of hard to explain. It has a lot to do with the magic.”

“Huh,” you murmured thoughtfully, glancing at Bradley. “And they told you that people taste…icky?”

“That was the general vibe, yeah,” he shrugged. “I asked them one day after I ran into a group of them and they kept avoiding me.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just because it was you?” Nat asked with a raise of her eyebrow. “Maybe it’s just you who tastes icky.”

The rest of you burst into a fit of laughter as Bradley scowled, the noise dying down as a figure approached your table.

“Hey guys,” Cole grinned as he stopped in front of the table.

“Hey, Cole!” Mickey greeted, “what brings you by?”

“Did you wanna join us?” Reuben offered, Mickey and Javy already scootching in to make room on either side of the booth. Cole shook his head, raising his hand to stop them.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he smiled, eyes darting to you. “I was just coming by to pick up some lunch for me and my aunt when I saw you guys, and I figured I’d say hi.”

“Saw you chatting up some of the girls at the dance the other night,” Bradley said with a wolfish grin. “See anybody that caught your eye?”

“Maybe,” Cole smirked, looking at him. “Did you guys have a good time?”

“I thought all the costumes were really amazing,” you hummed, “but I didn’t get to see much of it, unfortunately.”

“That’s a shame,” Cole murmured with a frown. “Well, hopefully you’ll get to see more of the next one here in a couple of weeks.”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“The Moonlight Masquerade,” Bob supplied with a roll of his eyes. “It’s another costume party. Everybody gathers downtown to check out the local vendors, but the actual dancing is at city hall.”

“A perfect excuse to take you dress shopping again,” Natasha grinned as you wrinkled your nose.

“Are you going to let me pay for my own dress this time?” You asked, earning a short laugh from the brunette.

“Nope!” She grinned, popping the “P.” You rolled your eyes but smiled fondly at her, turning your attention back to Cole.

“I don’t suppose your aunt will have more jewelry for me to wear?” You questioned, fingers curled around the pendant holding the black pearl that hung around your neck. You felt Jake press closer into your side, his arm moving down to encase you as Cole gave you a smirk.

“I’m sure she will.” he hummed, eyes shifting to look behind you at Jake with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “She just got a new shipment of masks in that we’re working on putting out today. Stop by soon before they’re all gone. I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.”

“That sounds great!” You chirped, turning to give Nat an excited look. She flashed you a quick smile in return, eyes quickly looking back up at Cole in curiosity.

“I didn’t know you had that discount,” she murmured, arching a brow. Cole shrugged good-naturedly.

“We don’t, but what my aunt doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“We’ll be sure to stop by soon,” you assured him.

“It was good to see you all,” he smiled, giving a small wave before turning to collect his food from Penny. You all waved at him as he exited, turning back to your conversation.

“He’s always so nice,” you commented, earning a disgruntled hum from beside you.

“Maybe a little too nice,” Jake muttered with a frown. You raised an eyebrow at him in amusement.

“Are you jealous, crooner?” You teased, fighting the smile that threatened to overtake you. Jake scoffed, pressing his lips into a thin line as he looked at you.

“You gonna go and run off with him?”

You pretended to think about it, earning a less than amused look from the blond man sitting next to you. Finally, you shook your head, shooting him a wink. “Nah, I’ve already got great company right here.”

Jake let out a please hum this time, leaning in to place a gentle kiss to your temple, earning a gag from across the table.

“You two are gross,” Bradley frowned, wrinkling his nose at the two of you. “Let’s go before I lose my lunch.”

You sat on the blanket that did little to shield you from the sand underneath, the sun casting a golden glow over the beach as it crept towards the horizon. It was just you on the blanket, the others running around with a football in some game they had made up years ago. You grinned as you watched them, laughing when Jake’s team scored and he yelled out in victory, the whoops and hollers from his teammates joining him. You reached for a bottle of water when you noticed Bradley trotting towards you, his skin slick with sweat as he collapsed beside you. Wordlessly, you handed him the water, turning your attention back towards the game as he took a long sip, catching his breath as he did so.

“Having fun?” He grinned up at you, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

“Oh, most definitely,” you grinned down at him, wiggling your eyebrows. He barked out a laugh as he laid down, resting his hands on his stomach. You turned your attention back to the game as the two of you sat in silence for a few moments.

“How are you feeling about everything?” He asked, turning his head to look at you.

“About what?” You countered, arching a brow.

“You know,” he prodded, propping himself up on an elbow to get a better look at you. “The true mate stuff.”

“Oh,” you breathed, glancing back at where the others were still heavily engrossed in their game. “I’m okay with it.”

“Oh yeah?” Bradley challenged, sitting up fully now. “Somehow I don’t think you’ve really thought about it like you should.”

“And you’re suddenly an expert?” You huffed, earning a half-hearted shrug.

“It’s serious shit, Skipper. None of us want to see either of you get hurt. True mates is nothing to shrug off.”

“Look,” you sighed, “I get that it’s a big deal, okay? But why do you care so much? How could we possibly get hurt?”

Bradley was quiet for a moment, a frown tugging on his lips as he stared off into the ocean. You were about to say something when he broke the silence.

“Did you know that the house Jake and I live in used to belong to my mom and dad?”

That grabbed your attention. You had met everyone else’s parents over the course of the past few weeks, but you had yet to meet Bradley’s. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you couldn’t recall a time when he had talked about them either.

“I didn’t know that,” you said carefully, eyeing him wearily. He gave you a tight-lipped smile before continuing.

“Yeah, it’s the house I grew up in. My dad was a sea person, you know? He, Mav, and Ice used to be best friends growing up, and he actually grew up in the house himself. He and my mom knew each other since they were babies.”

“Were they true mates?” You asked him, bringing your knees up to your chin as you listened to him.

“They were,” he nodded, and there was a profound sense of sadness rolling off of him as he spoke. “My dad used to say that he knew she was his even before he knew he was a sea person. Said everyone around them knew they were in love before they knew what that meant.”

“That sounds like a fairytale,” you murmured, and Bradley let out a humorless chuckle.

“It was, I guess. My mom was the happiest person you’d ever meet, actually,” he rasped, a sad smile tugging at the edge of his lips at whatever memories played through his head. “She always had a smile and joke for someone, and my dad always called her ‘sunshine.’ He was a great guy too, you know. He’d always help out when he could, and I remember that he was really funny.”

“Oh, Bradley,” you whispered, tears kissing at your lashes. “Can I ask what happened?”

He was quiet for another moment.

“It was a hurricane,” he breathed, emotion thick in his voice. “I was fifteen at the time, and I remember Mav and Ice coming by the house to ask for his help down at the marina. My mom told him not to go, that she had a bad feeling, but my dad could never say no when someone needed his help.”

He took a shuddering breath, a hand coming up to wipe at his eyes, pushing his sunglasses up against his forehead before taking them off and letting them drop down onto the sand.

“I stayed up with my mom that night, sitting with her as she sat on the couch, just waiting for him to come home. But then, she got up and just started pacing, clawing at her throat like she couldn’t breathe, and I tried to get her to calm down, I really did,” he sniffed, and for a moment, he was transformed back into the fifteen year old boy he was when this happened. You reached out a hand, placing it gently on one of his as he continued on. “And then she just stopped, and it was like a light went out in her eyes. Then she let out this scream. I’ll never forget the sound of it, Skipper. Not for as long as I live. It was like someone reached inside her chest and ripped her heart out. It wasn’t until Ice and Mav showed up on our doorstep that I found out what happened.”

He looked at you then, a haunted look in his honey-colored eyes.

“Turns out,” he muttered, “that my dad had been trying to help some fishermen make it to shore, but the current got away from all of them. The boat smashed up against the rocks, pinning my dad and crushing him, and because of their bond, my mom felt every second of it. She felt it when he-”

He cut himself off, pressing his lips firmly together as if afraid to speak the word aloud. You squeezed his hand gently.

“When did your mom pass?” You asked quietly. Bradley stared at you for a second before letting out a bitter sounding laugh.

“She’s not dead, Skipper,” he murmured, causing you to blink in shock.

“What?”

“No, she’s very much alive,” he sighed, drawing patterns in the sand by his feet. “But she’s never been the same, and she might as well have died for how little she’s been present since it happened.”

You balked at the bitterness in his voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he spat, “that when my dad died, the part of her that made her her did too. She hasn’t been able to utter a single word since it happened, and from that day, I was on my own. I took care of her for years because she was just this empty shell. She didn’t laugh, or smile, or love anymore. Then my grandparents, her parents, made plans to move to Florida, and they made the arrangements to take her with them. I got to keep the house and everything and invited Jake to move in with me because I couldn’t stand the thought of being there by myself. I wouldn’t.”

You didn’t even notice that you had started crying until Bradley looked up at you, grimacing as he reached up to wipe your tears away.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Skipper,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, honest. I just wanted you to know what you were getting yourself into. I want you to think about what you’re risking if you agree to all of this.”

“I know,” you sniffled, “and I appreciate you telling me all that, Bradley, I do.”

Bradley nodded silently, and you reached over to wrap him up in a hug, squeezing him tightly.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you told him. “It sounds like they really loved each other.”

He gave you a short squeeze back. “They did.”

The sound of your friends growing closer had you shifting your focus forward just as Jake dropped down at your other side, pulling you close to place a smacking kiss to your forehead.

“Gross!” You giggled, pushing him away. “You’re all sweaty, get away from me!”

He feigned hurt as his green eyes twinkled with mischief. He reached out for you, pulling you closer and rubbing his forehead against your shoulder.

“Ah, but Angelfish,” he smirked, “I thought you’d miss me!”

“Not when you’re gross!” You shrieked, trying in vain to pull away from him. He let out a laugh as you made a disgusted face at him, the two of you dissolving into a mess of giggles.

“Is he fucking giggling?” Mickey asked Nat, giving Jake an incredulous look. “Since when does golden boy giggle?”

“Since he fell in love!” Nat sing-songed in a teasing voice, laughing as Jake flipped both of them off. You chanced a glance at Bradley only to find that he was back to his usual happy self, not a trace of the sadness that had just surrounded him. You shifted your focus back to Jake who was looking at you quizzically.

“Everything alright, Angel?”

“Just peachy, Crooner,” you smiled, pecking his cheek. He chased after you as you pulled away, placing a firm, sweet kiss to your lips. You hummed happily against him, hearing a gagging sound from off to the side.

“You two are disgusting,” Javy remarked, rolling his eyes. You pulled away from Jake to give him a knowing look.

“You’re one to talk,” you told him, smirking. The others looked back and forth between the two of you as Nat shifted nervously.

“What are you talking about?” Reuben asked, earning a half hearted shrug from you.

“Oh, nothing,” you giggled, a saccharine smile on your face as you batted your eyes innocently. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

You walked alongside Bob down the cool sands of the beach towards his home, the last remnants of the sun fading below the horizon.

“What did you and Bradley talk about?” He asked you, glancing at you curiously. “Seemed pretty serious.”

You didn’t answer right away, unsure as to how much Bradley had actually told the others.

“He was telling me about his parents,” you decided on. You heard Bob suck in a breath as the two of you continued walking.

“He’s never told us the whole story, you know,” Bob murmured. “All we know is that his dad died one night and his mom was never the same after that. He missed some school because of it, too. We tried to get him to talk about it once, but he just brushed us off and acted like he was okay. Eventually, we stopped pushing him to.”

“I think it still really affects him,” you said quietly. “He told me the whole story. I guess he thought I needed to hear it in order to make an informed decision about what to do.”

“And what is it you want to do, Skip?” He asked, looking over at you now. You considered his words.

“I suppose,” you hummed, “that I’m not exactly sure yet. I have a lot to think about now.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, grimacing slightly. “That’s fair.”

“How are you feeling about all of this?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He rolled his eyes at you.

“You two are disgusting,” he scoffed. “Why don’t you two get a room?”

“We agreed to take it slow,” you shrugged, causing Bob to belt out a laugh as he almost tripped into the sand.

“You could have fooled all of us!” He snickered, earning a scowl from you. You punched his arm lightly, trying in vain to hold back your smile.

“You’re such a jerk sometimes,” you giggled. He swung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you close by your neck as you squawked in protest.

“Just gotta tell my best friend how it is,” he beamed. You went to respond, but let out a grunt as Bob stopped short, nearly making you trip over your own feet. The smile was gone from his face as he narrowed his eyes in confusion at something ahead of the two of you. You turned to try and see what he was looking at. Up ahead, a large lump lay amidst the sand, and the two of you pulled apart to make your way slowly up to the mysterious object.

The clouds rolled out from in front of the moon, illuminating the beach with the pale rays. Your heart stopped as the object became clear. It was a girl, that much was plain. She wore no clothing, and her skin was pale. Her torso was practically hallowed out, deep, angry claw marks etched into her bloated skin, her familiar blue eyes widened in a mixture of shock and fear. Her lips were still parted as if she had been killed mid-scream, a gaping hole in her neck that made the contents of your stomach churn.

Mandy.

Her brown hair still clung to her face from the water, and you heard Bob let out a curse beside you. That was when you heard the screaming, a panicked, high-pitched wailing echoing along the beach. Your eyes were still trained on the body in front of you, her limbs twisted in an unnatural fashion. Your hands gripped at Bob’s arm, and you felt him run a hand over your hair as the screaming continued. Shouts could be heard coming from the street, and you felt the fresh, hot tears cascading down your face as the voices grew closer. It wasn’t until Bob pulled you into his arms, cradling your head close to his chest that you realized that it was you who was screaming. Your screams died down, turning into violent sobs as you clung to Bob, unable to block out the image of Mandy lying there, even after you closed your eyes.

#meet me at the sea #mmats #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #top gun hangman #hangman top gun

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akookminsupporter · 4 months ago

Text

ARE YOU SURE?!: FITH EPISODE

MY IMPRESSIONS

Preface: This is not an analysis post, and honestly, I don’t want to overanalyse their interactions or everything they said and did—many others are already doing that. My intention with this post is simply to share my thoughts on the episodes, my impressions, and perhaps my conclusions.

I’m writing this as I watch the episodes for the second time.

Jimin should definitely wear more shirts like that because they look incredibly good on him. Honestly, everything he wears looks great, but his outfits in this last episode in Jeju were perfect.

When the maknae line is together, it's easy to see who the oldest is between them hahaha.

One of the main reasons I'd like to go to Korea is for the food, but I've realised they love pork, and I’m not a fan of pork hahaha.

Jungkook really loves eating and cooking. He and I would get along so well.

Jimin and Jungkook really get each other. Like, they understand each other's silly side.

Oh god, Jimin looked incredible. His hair and that shirt, oh god!

All the photos that will be in the photobook coming out are the ones they took with those disposable cameras, right? At least most of them.

Jimin really likes Soju hahaha.

Tae spent almost the whole episode on his phone; I wonder if that was the day his friends arrived in Jeju? He seemed distracted and a bit out of the conversation in general. Or at least that's how it seemed by the way the episode was edited.

Jimin and Jungkook are the kind of... couple who, at a gathering with friends, are in their own little world. When Jungkook started explaining how he finally learned to properly grill pork, his attention was on Jimin, even though Tae was right beside him and was the one who initially congratulated him for it. Jimin, though teasing him, was also encouraging him to keep talking about it, and he was looking at him so fondly, really paying attention to what Jungkook was saying. That reminded me of VB4 when they were walking together, talking about Jungkook’s shoes or something. Something similar happened in VB2, I think.

I love hearing Jungkook speak in satori.

Jimin looks hot drinking beer.

Them caring for the staff will never stop being adorable.

Okay, my tinhat moment of this episode. We all remember Jungkook’s stance on the perilla leaf issue, right? When Jimin said they should give the staff a bite, and he grabbed a perilla leaf, explaining that it already had ssamjang why his expression seemed like he was telling Jungkook, like, “Look, this one’s almost ready, that’s why I’m using it.” I mean, why explain to Jungkook why he chose that perilla leaf? And Jungkook's response... Look, I know being delulu isn’t the solulu, but they don’t help sometimes.

Jimin and Jungkook having this whole conversation while Tae is just there listening is hilarious to watch. That’s why I always say they operate on different frequencies, and that’s what made these episodes so interesting to watch.

Jimin is so funny without even trying.

Wait, did Tae disappear? Where did he go? Oh, AYS editors...

OH, Tae’s back. Where did he go, and when did he come back? Oh, BigHit editors...

It definitely makes sense why Jimin and Jungkook almost always seem to choose to sit across from each other instead of side by side. That way, they can clearly see the silly things the other does to make them laugh and they can talk directly to each other.

Tae asking Jimin if he taught Jungkook the trick—I guess you could call it that—with Soju is kind of interesting. We know Jimin loves Soju, so in part, it makes sense, but I suppose Jimin and Jungkook are known within the group for drinking a lot together, and I imagine they drink a lot of Soju hahaha.

Jimin’s face denying Tae’s question was hilarious and totally contradicted his response hahaha.

They really click.

I don’t know if Jimin says he’s not handsome because he knows he is and is fishing for compliments or if he really believes he’s not, which is a huge lie. Like, someone give that man a mirror!

Jin will always be the WWH of the group hahaha.

It’s curious that even though Jimin and Jungkook aren’t alone, they usually direct themselves or look at each other when they’re talking. It’s like they subconsciously know the other will pay attention no matter what. And I really think they do this unconsciously because there’ve been moments when they say something and another member responds, and they’re surprised as if they just remembered they’re not alone.

Jimin and Jungkook casually talking about enlisting together is so frustratingly so them. It’s even more frustrating that the editors seem to cut certain parts of the conversation and the reactions of the other members. I’d love to know when the other members found out that Jimin and Jungkook were enlisting together. It’s interesting how at the beginning of that conversation, all three of them were involved, but then it was just Jimin and Jungkook talking about it. Even though Tae was there, he was focused on his phone.

I love how Jimin and Jungkook said that, even though it’s common for best friends to end up fighting when they enlist together, that won’t happen to them. They sounded so sure of it, and that says a lot about the level of trust and compatibility between them.

I think they’ve had that conversation more than once. And it makes sense, obviously. Hopefully, they had it in Japan too.

Jimin was traumatised by the hit to his nose that Jungkook gave him while they were sleeping hahaha.

Jimin, I agree, you guys should do another show. You can name it whatever you want; it doesn’t matter hahaha.

Jimin with cats is the cutest thing ever.

Jungkook with dogs is the most energetic thing ever hahaha. Poor cameraman hahaha.

Oh right, they’re singers! Hahahaha

God, these men are handsome.

Jimin, the ladder was right next to you...

I LOVE Jimin’s tattoos, LOVE them.

I’m still impressed by how long they can stay underwater without breathing.

And Jungkook underwater took my breath away.

Okay, the way Jungkook grabbed Jimin’s hair and pulled him to the surface was hot. Not just what he did, but the way it looked. His tattooed arm came out of nowhere, grabbed him, and lifted him to the surface. Christian Grey would be proud of our imagination because we ALL thought the same thing hahaha.

Jungkook is forever teasing Jimin. And Jimin loves that he does it.

Jimin, could you share with the class what 5412 means? Thanks. Jungkook’s wink! They’re too cute.

Jimin and Jungkook are always the last to go to bed.

And its moments like these -them hitting each other with their towels- that remind me they’re men hahaha.

Jungkook waiting by the door for Jimin and immediately saying he should take the bed is so sweet. Jimin immediately refuting that no, he should take the bed is so them. Then Jungkook saying he doesn’t like soft beds, and Jimin comparing the beds to check what Jungkook said is so...

And Tae?

Jimin immediately telling Jungkook he’s hungry after waking up is a MOOD hahaha.

Jimin is so hilariously dramatic.

Morning cuddles!

Bro, after hearing the “alarm” Jimin set for Jungkook, that scene is even funnier. Why are they like this? And you know what’s even funnier? I can totally see Jungkook actually using that alarm.

Did Tae go to exercise? I don’t know, Rick, it seems fake hahaha.

I LOVE Jimin’s tattoos. Especially the ones on his back.

Jungkook is just as dramatic as Jimin hahaha.

Jungkook, babe, you’re not a plant?

Someone give Jimin a YouTube career, please!

Jimin is so gorgeous, oh my god!

I guess Jimin and Jungkook are a bit predictable to the other members hahaha.

Jimin and Jungkook know everything the other is doing even if they’re... asleep hahaha.

Someone tell Jimin he should wear glasses more often and always have that haircut!

Again, it makes sense why Jimin and Jungkook seem to prefer sitting across from each other rather than next to each other. And also, it’s funny how they talk like they’re alone.

Jungkook genuinely loves eating hahaha.

Jungkook sounding so sure it wasn’t ham when Tae said it was, but immediately doubting himself when Jimin said it was, is so funny.

Okay, this part has been discussed quite a bit from what I’ve seen but from a different perspective. Jungkook doesn’t act like a donsaeng with Jimin, and Jimin doesn’t mind. Tae was the one who initially said it was ham they were eating, but Jungkook only reacted to Jimin when they confirmed it wasn’t ham as he said. He didn’t do the same gesture with Tae, only with Jimin. And that’s already common between them. And it says A LOT.

Jimin immediately asking for more food because Jungkook said he wanted more is so sweet. He didn’t question Jungkook about it; he just said, “Do you want more food? Bring more food!” Besides reassuring Jungkook that as long as he was happy eating, everything was fine. Ahh, why have I never had a Jimin in my life?

The way Jimin watched Jungkook eat so fondly...

Jungkook is definitely Gen Z.

The little conversations Jimin and Jungkook have sometimes are so cute. They can talk about anything together, but they almost always tell each other even the smallest things, no matter how simple or impressive, knowing the other will give their full attention no matter what.

MY CONCLUSION ON THE FIFTH EPISODE

Ahh, I enjoyed this episode too. I think it was a bit more balanced, but Jimin and Jungkook really do live in their own world.

It’s obvious how the group’s dynamic changed once Jimin started feeling better. Once that happened, we saw more of what we had seen in the U.S.—the dynamic between Jimin and Jungkook. At times, it was like they were alone, and although I know how that sounds, it’s something typical with them. I remember in my post about the third episode, I mentioned that Jimin and Jungkook sometimes seem to adjust their relationship dynamic when another member is present, but after watching episodes 4 and 5, I think that initial adjustment was because Jimin wasn’t feeling his best. Once he was, they went back to their usual selves.

Tae seemed a bit more absent in this episode, even when he was there. We often saw him engrossed in his phone, and I suppose his friends were in Jeju that day too, so he was a bit distracted by that.

This episode felt like the slowest-paced one in the show so far, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing. One thing I love about AYS is how real it feels. In general, what we’ve seen is what you’d expect or do on a typical holiday with friends. Some days are more exciting than others, but each day has its charm, and each day leaves something to remember for tomorrow. It’s nice that they were able to rest and be lazy at that point in their lives—they deserved it.

Once again, it was clear how similar Jimin and Jungkook are and how well they understand each other. Tae was right; they are twins, though not in the genetic sense—jikookphobics, don’t get too excited.

I’ve mentioned this before, but it’s a bit frustrating how casually Jimin and Jungkook talked about enlisting in the army together, though it was nice that they mentioned being happy to have each other for support.

The episode itself was sweet. It was a calm way to end this part of the series.

I can’t wait for Japan! I thought we’d get the trailer of Sapporo today, but we didn’t—it makes me wonder why. What happened in Japan that they seem to be guarding it so carefully?

If you’ve made it this far, I’m sorry and thank you—I just couldn’t stop writing ajajajajaja.

#jkk show #rosie's thoughts

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