#tried to keep em vague
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okay actually though by a happy accident [that post] about how amazing it was for tatiana maslany to play so many different characters in orphan black that are all identifiable and distinct, which i tagged with #woe.begone because i am a classless rube, came out of my queue the day after the season 15 finale deeply impressed me with dylan griggs doing the same thing. clearly the universe wants me to post about it!
primer if you're not familiar: woe.begone stars this bitch called mike walters who gets involved in time travel. 44 episodes in we get cast members who are also mike walters but from the future. time travel can bring ppl back from the future to set up camp in the present, or copy and paste them FROM anywhen TO anywhen. over time the mike population gets a bit [out of hand].
now, mike walters has a Thing about personal autonomy that prompts him to differentiate himself from other mikes. the moment you put 2 mikes in a room they start changing their personalities to distinguish themselves from each other. ergo all the many mikes become different guys if they live long enough to develop a unique identity. (often this takes the form of becoming a cowboy and faking a southern accent 24/7. don't worry about it.)
so this brings us to episode 180, yesterday's season finale. the season finales are huge sprawling things and this one contained six (6) unaccented mikes, plus a further 5 cowboys. they shared their first thirty years of life, their bodies are duplicates of the same body, they have the same larynx. 2 of those 6 are arguably doing A Voice by speaking very slowly and deliberately, but the others are only influenced by their general personalities.
hopefully i have given enough context by now that you can understand how goddamn impressive this is: when a scene opened cold on the words "hello, everyone," i was able to identify from those 2 words that we were hearing a specific mike who up until that very moment had been literally dead.
a couple sentences later he says something identifying, and the scene does make it clear which mike this is, but i didn't need that. we didn't have any prior indication of this mike's return, but i thought, "oh, that mike must be alive again, because he just said 'hello, everyone.'"
my point is dylan griggs, creator of the podcast and voice of mike, is a phenomenal actor. every so often we hear a new mike with no context for who they are or where they come from but we'll know which mike theyre an copy of just by the voice.
i don't know orphan black and have no desire to downplay maslany's skill, but i do want to point out that those characters are different people who are just identical clones of each other. woe.begone is different--the mikes walters are all the same man (to oversimplify a philosophical debate that is hotly contested in-universe) and dylan makes no effort to obfuscate this.
still, his performance is enough to tell you that this is the mike who prides himself on being reasonable, and this is the mike that has leaned into being the annoying baby brother. often live scenes will contain several unaccented mikes with no narration or dialogue tags to speak of, and you can still pretty reliably tell them apart. it's all there in the cadence, the emotion, the vibe. and yes, the mikes do impersonate each other, and yes, you can tell.
tl;dr @woebegonepod really does amazing work at making the same guy into a couple dozen different guys, and i highly recommend giving woe.begone a listen. it really is like no other show out there.
#this is the point where my massively out of date mike chart becomes an embarrassment#it's way more than that by now#oh god how am i even going to handle the numbered michaels#anyway#woe.begone#woe.begone spoilers#tried to keep em vague#w.bg#w.bg spoilers#sage speaks#sage original post#going door to door and asking if youve heard the good news about discussions of personhood in stories w clones or the teleporter problem#mike walters
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the color green + joenicky
N. The color green.
Joe doesn't notice him right away, too caught up in fiddling with the buttons on his shirt sleeves, which means for a few moments Nicky can just lean against the doorframe and watch him for a while. It doesn't matter that it's been nine hundred years: he's still so beautiful Nicky can't find the words for it.
He's in green because Nile's in green, and they're posing as the kind of people who would coordinate their outfits. It fits him perfectly, which Nicky had known because he'd taken the measurements for it, then he and Joe had adjusted it together, but knowing it in the abstract isn't the same as seeing how well it fits him. He's wearing black trousers and a white shirt with it, tie abandoned on the dresser.
Nicky is in a black t-shirt and black jeans, because his job is security and backup tonight. It was Joe's turn, anyway: Nicky wore the fancy suit last time.
Nicky clears his throat, just to make Joe turn around and smile at him, lighting up.
Nicky's not nearly as flowery with his words as Joe is; all he says is, “You look good.”
Joe raises an eyebrow, teasing, with just the hint of a smile. Is that the best you can do? “Oh, yeah?”
Nicky pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room towards him, picking up the tie as he goes. “Yeah,” he says. “Green suits you.”
The first time Nicolò ever saw him in something this fine was in Alexandria, after everything, because Yusuf was a merchant's son and had wanted something for himself, something that fit him properly, rather than whatever they could find when the clothes they were wearing became too bloody and full of holes to be recognisably garments anymore. He'd come back from the tailor in a deep green tunic that had caused Nicolò to forget his words in any language for a good while.
When Joe catches his eye now Nicky knows he's thinking about the exact same thing. Instead of saying anything, he loops the tie around Joe's neck and fastens the knot.
“Nile was asking for you,” Nicky says matter-of-factly, like he doesn't know exactly what the look Joe's giving him right now means. He keeps his expression neutral. “I think she wanted a second opinion. We have to leave soon, anyway.”
“Nicky,” Joe says.
“What?” Nicky asks, feigning obliviousness. He can't help laughing at the betrayed look on Joe's face.
“After,” he says. “Go do your job, habibi.”
#neon answers#nilefreemans#neon writes#the old guard#kaysanova#local aroace tries to write something vaguely flirty: results undecided#they're very silly ok. nicky just loves him a lot and also loves messing with him#the ending is a little abrupt because i did Not know what to do. but thank you for the prompt this was a fun one!!#please feel free to keep sending em i am having SO much fun with these. repeats are chill if i can think of a different scenario#i do think the concept of yusuf al kaysani son of a merchant handling early immortality Badly is very funny
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₊🎞️❜ |[ @4heart said ]| :
“ how bad is it— wait don’t tell me. i don’t think i wanna know. ” (mustard :3)
Bad enough, but nothing Adam can't handle. He looks to the boy, hiding any sympathy he might have towards him under a scowl as he better examines him.
"Pick a lane. D'ya wanna know or not?" he asks, not yet meeting mustard's eyes as he moves his head around to check for any other injuries. He sees none - just some surface-level bruising and the one concerning wound. With a sigh and a harrumph, he pulls himself off the couch and scavenges around for a first aid kit. "You're gonna be fine. I've been through plenty worse myself."
#📸*. – ❝ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃❞ – .* ic .*#🎞️ –〘 mustard 〙– ‘ 4heart . – 🎞️#4heart#₊🎞️❜ 〘 verse : : survivor 〙ೃ༄#📷 》 𝐎𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐈'𝐌 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 》 queue °#(( IF!! THE INJURIES ARE LIKE GODMODDING OR SOMETHIN' I CAN CHANGE/REMOVE 'EM !! I tried to keep 'em vague but yk ;-; ))
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jonathan sims head archivist of the magnus institute london
#IM JUST POSTING HIM RANDOMLY BECAUSE I CANNOOOOOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME DRAW ANYONE ELSE. I HAVE APHANTASIA MAN IT'S HARD OUT HERE#i just started season 3 and heard him mention the graying hair i was like hm.. what if i tried drawring some characters.#i'm actually super happy with how he looks... i had some prior inspiration bc i followed one artist who's posted fanart b4--#(which is how i first heard of the series) and so i already kinda had a picture of him in my head bc of that (i love their art sdfghgfdjh)#so i was jus sketchin and i was like.... yeah this looks ok. i wanted his hair to be kinda just pokin up every which way in front--#--because i imagine him constantly running a hand through it. otherwise it'd look nice n tidy. i just sketched til it looked good enough#the eyes were easy because i wanted sharp and tired. the color was just me testin shit out and being like oooo that looks pretty#the outfit..... i just googled some like business casual stuff LOL. i thought it looked nice#bag and flashlight because he's dungeon crawling#he's also filipino for no reason other than i said so#OHHH YEAH freckles. freckles are cute. also worm scars.#i gotta say i didn't wanna put glasses on him but i thought he looked nakey without em.. but also it might be bc i was strugglin w lineart#the glasses make him look younger i think. which is bad!! he needs to look at least 35!!!#i dunno if i have it in me to draw the others;;;;;;;;;; martin i can't figure out a color scheme for-- and tim & sasha.... waauugghhh....#it's hhhhaaardd because when i'm like reading anything i cannot *picture* characters.... i just get like..... a feeling yknow.....#again i already had some vague images for jon (and martin) bc i saw fanart before lol so that's what showed up in my head#i have a good *feeling* of what sasha should look like but i cannot for the life of me draw it....#i keep sketching and going “noo this doesn't look like her” <- i DON'T know what she looks like#i've somehow instead ended up with a sketch that really feels like melanie tho lmao#if you're somehow at the bottom of this long ramble i will send you $500.#the void given form
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Dick ‘has been a barista like 90 times over 50 years of comics Grayson’ can absolutely prepare whatever drink you want him too. He can also guess/ judge what your go to order is.
With the bats
He can guess what WILL be there favorite even if they’ve never tried it before
——————
Bruce on 13 mins of sleep fucking exhausted but even Alfred isn’t giving him shit bc they HAVE TO crack this case: hrn
Dick plopping a take away coffee cup in front of him: DRINK
Bruce goes through a quick is this my son or a shapeshifter, mind control, demon situation before deciding fuck it we ball and taking a sip: this… tastes different
Dick: yeah
Bruce ‘actual freak who grumbles when coffee isn’t bitter enough’ Wayne: this is good
Dick: yeah it’s a red eye
Bruce: hrn
Dick: yeah no problem B
——————
Jay (just got done fighting aliens and needs to get back to whatever he was doing before) : get me a Drink as black as my soul
Dick: sure
Dick brings back the drink from the kitchen
Dick: strawberry iced matcha with oat milk right here for you
Jay: what the fuck Goldie
Dick: I saw you sobbing at the notebook a week ago don’t play tough with me and don’t fucking lie we both know you like tea more.
Jay sputtering: Don’t PLAY TOUGH? BROTHER I PUT A BUNCH OF HEADS A BAG AND MADE THE UNDERWORLD INTO MY BITCH
Dick: yes yes Jay now go drink your tea and run along
(It is the best fucking thing he’s ever tried, bought a matcha making kit as soon as he got him, has denied it ever since but Dick doesn’t buy it and keeps making him the drink)
—————-
Tim:
Dick:
Tim:
Dick:
Tim:
Dick: you’re a heathen
Tim: proudly
Dick: fine take the monster and go OH MY GOD
————————
Steph wincing at the taste of a latte: there’s something seriously wrong with this place, no matter how much sugar I add it’s just bitter
Dick: yeah Steph it’s bc they burn the beans to get more use of em
Dick: you could add all the cream and milk you want it’s not gonna do shit
Steph: ugh this is the only coffee spot on my campus in so screwed
Dick pulling out a takeaway coffee cup: don’t worry I brought you some from home
Steph: Jesus fuck this is delicious
Dick: upside down sweet almond latte with caramel and double espresso
Steph: should’ve married into the family with Tim god damn
Dick: Cass is still an option
Steph: what
Dick: what
——————————-
Dick:
Duke:
Dick:
Duke:
Dick: you’re one of Tim’s heathens aren’t you
Duke: just because I like energy drinks more doesn’t mean I don’t LIKE coffee
Dick grumbling: should’ve left you with the cops
Duke: what was that? I didn’t hear you
Dick thrusting the coffee cup at him: just take it, end my suffering
Duke: oh damn that’s good… what is it
Dick:…. It’s Vietnamese style coffee
Duke: fuck I might I have to switch, Jesus that’s good
Dick vaguely smug: another victory
—————
Dick: hey Cass
Cass: busy… like you should be
Dick: yeah, yeah I have like 6 mins of free time left before I have to meet up with Robin (Tim) for an op
Dick: anyway i made you strawberry hot chocolate
Cass: this isn’t coffee
Dick: it has 180 milligrams of caffeine
Cass: how?
Dick: don’t ask difficult questions
Dick: where the hell did she go?
Dick: is this how everyone else feels about us?
——————
Damian: I want coffee
Dick: you’re an infant, no
Damian: IM 15 GRAYSON
Dick: a certifiable baby
Damian: I hate you
Dick: you would hate me more if you stunted your growth and ended up Tim sized
Tim: HEY!
Damian: this is true… apologies Richard
#dick grayson#nightwing#batman#jason todd#batfam#tim drake#bruce wayne#damian wayne#batfamily#Tim will be Robin forever#Stephanie brown#duke thomas#cassandra cain#my boy knows his drinks#dick is a coffee snob#Tim whump fics should begin with dick disowning Tim for putting a red bull in his coffee#not bc he needs the caffeine#but bc Dick painstakingly made him coffee which he hates and I wants the flavor#energy drink child Tim Drake#Steph gives almond latte so bad don’t ask questions#Jason drinks tea exclusively
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Songs of Us | Everybody Here Wants You | jjk
↺ pairing: jeongguk / reader (somewhat strangers to lovers)
↺ summary: Everybody wants you, but you only want him
↺ warnings: smut (in a bathroom sorry), unprotected sex (stay safe), oral (f. receiving),
↺ w/c: 8.5k
A/N: Hello... uh... welcome to the second instalment of the Songs of Us series!!! This took 3 weeks to write because I had to keep changing so much, but here it is! My poor wrists are cramped up writing this. And I finally figured out how to do the em dash on mac 😼 so it's over for everyone (jk). I do have other song ideas but I'm always welcome to more! Pls! Enjoy! And I listened to Everybody here wants you by Jeff Buckley on REPEAT whilst editing so this song is stuck in my head. Also I wanted to make this enemies to lovers but something about a lover boy just gets me everytime. I'm drawn to needy guys (not really irl) ! I'll try it again next time 😔
p.s thankyouthankyou to @tranquilreign for encouraging me to keep going!💗 you got this as well!!!
-Zoobi out 🪩
masterlist

Everybody here wants you
Jeon Jeongguk was seething.
Well — not exactly seething. More like… mildly agitated. The moment just before water reaches boiling point. The kind of emotional turmoil that wouldn’t result in a few holes punched into drywall but did warrant a deep sigh and a stare out the window that would have others questioning his behaviour.
It wasn’t common for him to feel such freakishly intense emotions – on a Friday night, no less – but alas, he was a growing boy (pushing 30) who was yet to have a hold on his emotions.
In all honesty, he was a well-regulated person. He was said to be a man of structure (Jimin’s words, not his) and often showed high levels of self-restraint. He did his morning exercise, ate balanced meals nine times out of ten, and even spared time to read self-help books every evening. But tonight? All of that had been thrown right out the window and stuffed down the garbage chute.
Why?
Because of a girl.
And no, he wasn’t rejected by her. Quite the opposite actually. She was too nice. Painfully, bewilderingly, disarmingly nice.

You see, upon meeting this girl, Jeongguk had been confoundingly starstruck. No, really — his mouth had literally fallen open.
He had tried to say something – anything – but all he could let out was a sound that was vaguely similar to the sputtering of a dying car engine. You, of course, had smiled. Not with pity and certainly no mockery either. You gave a smile that radiated warmth and signalled that Jeongguk hadn’t actually embarrassed himself.
But a nudge and a snicker from Jimin beside him snapped him back to the reality that they were being watched by a few friends, and that he, in fact, did lose some composure in that moment. He couldn’t do anything but flush a soft pink and scratch the back of his head as he muttered a quiet,
“Uh-hey… nice to meet you,” as if the universe were witnessing his struggle and had decided to put him in a far more awkward situation.
The universe, in that case, seemed to be Jimin who found Jeongguk tripping over his words much more comical than his mouth falling open. His laughter echoed throughout the bar, much louder than necessary, drawing the attention of a few nearby onlookers who most definitely didn’t need to see Jeongguk socially run himself into the ground. He could’ve sworn he heard someone whisper, “Is that Jeongguk? Didn’t he sing karaoke here the other day? With like a hundred people?”
Jimin — the absolute traitor — was no help whatsoever. He was too busy trying not to keel over onto the ground, an apparent sign that he loved to see Jeongguk suffer. If anything was better than getting under Jeongguk’s skin, it was seeing him fumble and trip over his words in front of a girl. At least Jimin was a true friend.
But that wasn’t all.
The worst part was that Jimin was holding onto your arm as he tried to keep his balance. His arm was curled gently around your forearm, and you, being the kind-hearted person you were, your free hand was gripping onto his bicep to keep him steady.
And even though Jimin was holding onto you for support, there was a level of intimacy behind his hold.
Jeongguk wasn’t sure whether he wanted to strangle his best friend or sprint out the door without looking back.
He couldn’t help it - his gaze kept drifting back to you. Your focus wasn’t on Jeongguk anymore – no it was now on Jimin. Jimin, whom you were looking at like he was some kind of circus act.
Your hand was still wrapped loosely around his arm, fingers brushing Jimin’s hidden tattoos, but Jeongguk swore that he could feel the heat from your touch like it was something tangible. It certainly didn’t help that you were laughing along with Jimin, making Jeongguk feel like an outsider in his own group of friends.
Even Namjoon at the back was stifling his laughter – a man notoriously known for fumbling things. The goddamn audacity of Jimin, ruining Jeongguk’s chance at normality, whilst simultaneously sweeping in and bonding with you like old pals – which, Jeongguk supposed, you were.
“Jimin,” Jeongguk had muttered beneath his breath, voice laced with frustration, “you’re making it worse.”
But of course, Jimin didn’t hear. He didn’t really acknowledge Jeongguk’s visible awkwardness, as he knew Jeongguk would eventually warm up with a few drinks — or at least thought Jeongguk was grown enough to do so.
As a matter of fact, Jeongguk hadn’t warmed up with a few drinks.
Instead, his beer sat untouched in front of him, condensation dripping slowly down the side, as if it were taunting him.
You were still talking to Jimin. Still laughing. And still pulling the attention of everyone in the room without meaning to. Jeongguk had caught at least four guys taking a double take as you waltzed past everyone to the restroom.
And Jeongguk? He was just there. Stuck in his own head. Watching the way you floated through the room with such grace that it felt illegal to look at you for too long.
And yeah, maybe it was a bit — no, it was very — stupid of him as he just sat in the corner of the booth, fidgeting with the bracelets on his wrist,a storm brewing behind his eyes.
But as if the universe were playing some big cruel joke on him, a song he knew too well started playing from the speakers behind him.
“Twenty-nine pearls in your kiss
A singing smile,
Coffee smell and lilac skin
Your flame in me…”
Jeongguk was frozen. He knew that song. Of course he did. His scratched-up vinyl was somewhere under his bed, tucked away with the rest of his albums he liked to pull out on nights when his emotions got the best of him. If anyone were to find his collection, Jeongguk would just laugh and offer to put one on. But this specific song was a bit more worn, corners a bit more frayed, because Jeongguk had simply used the vinyl so much that it was begging to be put back and given rest.
Now, like a memory brandished in front of him, it was playing in public, in real time. The words reverberated in his skull as you threw your head back to laugh at something Jimin said. The delicate curve of your neck matched the lift of your smile, pulling at something deep in Jeongguk’s chest. It hit Jeongguk – this wasn’t a crush. It couldn’t be classified as infatuation.
Because this was a full-body ache.
Years of hearing about you and your travels across the world, what jobs you had bounced between, the languages you spoke like they were your mother tongue. The little anecdotes Jimin would filter into every conversation added up over the years – like the time you roamed the streets of Prague lost in the city lights with nothing but a dying phone battery in one hand and heels in the other. Or when you somehow managed to charm a cranky police officer in Tokyo, speaking perfect Japanese without hesitation. All these stories, all these mentions of you over the years had turned you into a slowly building myth in Jeongguk’s mind. You were a legend in his group.
A soft, golden legend. Who was now sitting in front of him, laughing. Just existing in the same vicinity as him. So real and so devastatingly beautiful.
Jeongguk didn’t even know what to focus on, his gaze hyper- fixated on your figure. Your dress, delicate straps sloping down your shoulders. Your necklace, sitting perfectly in the hollow of your neck. Every detail was so meticulously curated, from your hair down to your nails, that all Jeongguk could do was stare. He smiled when you smiled. Laughed when you made jokes. Offered to refill your drink, which you kindly accepted. Even Namjoon had noticed Jeongguk’s attention solely directed to you, but a few nudges from him wouldn’t even deter Jeongguk from continuing to shine the spotlight on you.
“I’ll be waiting right here to show you
How our love will blow it all away…”
The lyrics hit too close to home. God had a sick sense of humour.
Frankly speaking, Jeongguk hadn’t expected to be put in this situation. Hadn’t expected to be looked at the way you did – not when Jimin showed your pictures and certainly not when he mentioned you were tagging along for the night.
You were Jimin’s friend. Jimin’s closest friend. The kind who whispered secrets under the covers. The kind who knew what each other was thinking before anything was verbalised. The kind that walked into the room and became the air that everyone breathed. And the kind that never lingered for too long, always hooking the attention of people, leading them in a trail of passports and postcards and “Goodbye don’t miss me!” notes.
And even though Jeongguk knew this when you looked at him – before the embarrassment, and before Jimin began his normal routine of making jokes at Jeongguk – it wasn’t dismissive. There was curiosity in your gaze. A sort of gentleness that Jeongguk hadn’t had the opportunity to really see. Ever.
And call it cliché, but he felt seen. Not in the normal performative way that others viewed him in — the golden boy title — but something more subdued. Like the world had halted and you had suddenly found yourself at the same frequency he was vibrating on.
That was the part that hurt.
He couldn’t even decide if there was more jealousy to be channelled towards Jimin – for grasping and attaining your attention so easily – or himself, for knowing how you could look at him.
And God, the way the song resounded through the bar.
“I know everybody here wants you,
I know everybody here thinks he needs you…”
Everyone did want you. Jeongguk could sense it in the way people's eyes lingered on you from across the room like you were some kind of celestial being. The way their eyes lit up as you voiced conversations. He was insane for thinking that he even had a sliver of a chance with you – he was too structured, too soft-spoken, and had a deep fear of too much.
So he sat there, quietly tracing the rim of his glass, unnoticed by the rest, while the music filled the void of what he wanted to say and what he inevitably never would.
And as your winding, overly animated exchange with Jimin came to an end, your eyes scanned the booth before landing on Jeongguk. You tentatively offered him a small smile, and Jeongguk’s heart flipped in his chest – a sharp, stabbing pain that he would gladly experience a hundred more times, just for you to give that tender smile of yours to him.
“Everything okay?” you asked calmly, cheeks flushed from the combination of the hot air and alcohol.
The question wasn’t for others to hear. Wasn’t dramatic and wasn’t loud.
And Jeongguk - poor, deteriorating Jeongguk - nodded frantically.
“Yeah. Just, uh… you know… thinking.”
You tilted your head to the side, bangs untucking from behind your ears and falling ever so carefully down your forehead.
“Dangerous pastime, I’ve heard. Don’t hurt yourself.”
He gave a breathy laugh.
“Are—“
Jimin stood up abruptly, thighs knocking into the table, causing Jeongguk’s drink to slosh over its rim.
“Jeonggukie. We gotta go, dude. She’s blowing up my phone again.”
Jimin was already halfway to the door, coat in hand, and evidently in his own world. Jeongguk didn’t move, fingers still absentmindedly circling the glass’ rim. Only when Jimin interrupted with a loud “Jeongguk!” did he jolt out of his daydream — nightdream? It was well past the hours he would be awake, and Jeongguk was feeling the effects of it.
“I swear to God, Jimin,” he muttered, running a hand down his face, his words drowned out by Jimin’s boisterous antics. The said person was already making his way back over to the booth to pull Jeongguk up, barely giving him a moment to recover.
Jimin looked at you, a sheepish grin plastered on his face, and laughed out,
“Sorry, Jeongguk’s just a little—” He gestured his hand vaguely to Jeongguk and the pure awkwardness radiating off him. “Well, I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Jimin winked at him, who could only glare in return and yank his arm out of Jimin’s hold.
Jeongguk wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way the entire bar seemed to blur around you, but as he reached down for his jacket, the weight of his emotions was heavier than ever. His body was stiff, the physical manifestation of every feeling he couldn’t quite place. But you?
You were just there — your warmth, your presence, the way your gaze lingered on him with that unspoken curiosity, and Jeongguk found himself paralysed.
The moment you were so close to sharing was gone, dissipated in the door Jimin had left open.
And the perpetrator was already at the door again, texting away like he had zero notion for the turmoil his best friend was experiencing. It was a good thing that Jeongguk had learned over many torturous years how to silently communicate his frustration to Jimin, because right now it was at an all-time high.
Jeongguk wanted to say something to you – anything - but, like always, his words failed him when he needed them the most.
So when he looked back at you to catch one last glance, he found you staring at him – not Namjoon, who was engaging in conversation with you – the smile from earlier lingering on your face. Jeongguk grinned back but couldn’t quite place what your smile meant. Pity? Or… something else? And that goddamn ridiculous song followed him out the door, mocking him for the predicament he was in.
He had barely taken two steps toward his bike, which Jimin was resting against when he heard the unmistakable whisper of your voice. It travelled through the air and struck a chord, freezing him, breath caught in his throat and the tension that was slowly leaving came back in full force.
He turned around, eyes scanning the street barely lit by the overhead lamps. His gaze found yours — heart skipping a beat as he saw you standing there, a few feet away, shuffling in the cold.
You were staring at him — so calmly, so composed — but there was something in the way you looked at him that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was your drawn-out gaze that lasted just a few seconds too long, or the soft tilt of your head. It was different… but a good different.
“Jeongguk,” you said again, softer this time, like you were testing the air between you. “You left your phone behind.”
His first instinct was to pat the pockets of his jeans, then his jacket. Then he looked up at you, eyes wide with surprise. He smiled that awkward smile of his, like he’d just been caught cheating in an exam and walked over to you. Your gaze, full of amusement, was locked onto Jeongguk’s figure as he made his way over to you, and he swore he felt you look him up and down — but he didn’t want to feed into the delusion.
He muttered a small thanks as you handed his phone back to him, but his eyes never left yours. The streetlights shining overhead seemed to illuminate you — a visage kissed by light, highlighting the gentle features of your face: your delicately sloping nose, the little freckles on your cheeks and the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder like a scarf, woven from midnight and dreams. In Jeongguk’s eyes, you were oneiric, someone spoken of only in myths and tales.
You took a few steps closer, feet directly opposite Jeongguk’s, a smile playing on your lips — mischief mingled with something else. Something caring.
“You looked like you were overwhelmed in there,” you teased, voice but tinged with a softness that made Jeongguk’s chest tighten.
He let out something between a laugh and a cough, surprised to be caught. Usually he was able to place an impressive façade, but maybe it just wasn’t as good as he thought it was. He fiddled with his jacket, pulling the sleeves over his hands, pretending his skin wasn’t warm to the touch — feverishly red.
“Yeah…I-I’m fine,” he said, but the words felt foreign on his tongue. He was anything but fine.
You watched him with a steady gaze and hummed softly, as if trying to figure him out.
“Are you sure?” you asked, stepping closer. “I don’t want to assume, but it… it didn’t seem like that.”
Jeongguk’s heart thudded against his ribcage — from panic, but something he was yet to identify. How could you have such an impact on him after only just meeting?
"I…" He paused, swallowing the build-up of spit in his throat "I don’t know. I’ve just—" He let out a small, frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "I guess I was just nervous.”
You blinked, eyes softening in understanding.
“Nervous about what?”
Jeongguk gestured vaguely toward the bar.
"Being around people. Making conversations. I get all... tangled up in my head and forget how to just relax." He laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh — more self-deprecating, if he was being honest. "I probably just needed another drink.”
You tilted your head slightly, eyes boring holes into Jeongguk.
Y’know,” you started, voice closer to a whisper, “Jimin didn’t tell me that about you.”
Jeongguk balked, eyes widening in sudden surprise.
“He talked about me?”
You laughed, ripples of joy escaping your lips, getting lost in the night breeze, and looked up at Jeongguk with a big smile on your face.
“Of course he has.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He figured he should’ve expected it. If Jimin talked endlessly about you to everyone, then surely he’d talk about Jeongguk as well, right?
All the awful stories that had accumulated over the years on drunken nights, the occasional nights fuelled by pure adrenaline, and the nights he would rather not bring up rushed back into Jeongguk’s head. He fought the urge to groan. Goddamnit, Jimin.
You shrugged, the playful glint in your eye never fading. “I know a lot more about you than you think, Jeonggukie. Jimin just doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”
You paused, taking in his bewildered expression.
“And I know you know about me too.”
That was the last straw—the final piece of décor on the cake. Jeongguk hung his head in embarrassment. All that, and he still managed to fuck up his first impression.
You didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence wrap around you both—and the awkwardness around Jeongguk. There was something serene in the air between you, a quiet understanding that perhaps you weren’t really strangers.
And then you moved—just barely, but enough to close the space between you two, causing your shoes to brush the tips of his.
Jeongguk froze.
Gone was the laughter in your eyes. But it wasn’t replaced with mockery. It was curiosity. Raw curiosity, almost like you were inviting him to say something he’d been festering on all night.
Then your voice, soft and harmonious:
“Maybe next time… try saying hi before your nervous system gives up.”
A laugh bubbled up from his chest, the first genuine one of the day—lifting some of the weight he had been unconsciously carrying.
You smiled at him like you meant it and ever so carefully inched your hand out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.
Jeongguk stood still, phone still clutched in his hand, grip tighter than ever, and nodded slowly. Your hand slowly made its way down and rested on his jaw a few seconds too long—long enough for Jeongguk to get nervous, red tainting the tips of his ears. Thank God it was dark.
“Okay,” he breathed out shakily. “Next time.”
You took a step back, hands clasped behind your back, eyes still on his. “I’ll keep you to that, Jeongguk.”
Then you turned, hair catching the light like strands of spun gold, and made your way back to the bar—leaving behind the soft smell of jasmine and a boy who could finally breathe.

Art exhibitions were one of Jeongguk’s favourite places to be. At first, he only came because Namjoon would plead him to come — to which he would, begrudgingly — but overtime he had come to find peace in the simplicity of the experience and was constantly finding new ones to go to (with Jimin as well).
The gallery was picturesque, with soft, warm lighting — strangely reminding Jeongguk of the night with you outside the bar – with the shadows across the walls where canvases breathed tales in splashes of watercolour and acrylic. The air had the subtle after-scent of paint and polished wood, mingled with faint undertones of perfumes and freshly opened bottles of wines.
Jeongguk was lingering near a large painting – an explosive composition of blues and reds, very much paying a homage to the inner disarray he had been experiencing over the last few weeks.
First, hearing from Jimin that you were on a flight to god knows where less than twelve hours after your initial meeting quickly dampened his giddy mood. He was hoping to see you again — even just for a quick coffee— but was now stuck resorting to stalking to your Instagram.
He couldn’t even do that properly, considering your account was strictly private and Jeongguk felt that he wasn’t at that level of status with you. He couldn’t even stalk from Jimin’s phone because he knew that his best friend wouldn’t keep his gob shut and would relay the information back to you in less than two minutes. So he was stuck with his memories. Which was quite poor, considering how tired he was on that darned night, but your face and the lingering smell of you was enough —for now.
What made this indescribable feeling of yearning worse was the fact that Jimin didn’t even know when you’d be back. Seriously. What was he even useful for? Despite all the claims of knowing you the best, he never once thought to figure out your spontaneity — or at least tried to make rough estimations based on patterns. If Jeongguk ever tried to slip your name in a conversation (very discreetly—at least he thought so), Jimin would just laugh to himself and mutter some incoherent words before going back to typing furiously on his phone. Literally. That’s all he would do.
It was frustrating to Jeongguk to no end, but he learnt to keep his mouth shut and instead wallow in the idea of what could be (which really wasn’t looking like much)
So, he figured he would distract himself with what he knew best. And no, it wasn’t the gym—even though it came a close second—but it was the tranquillity of these small art galleries, the ones that were tucked away in the quietest streets, waiting for travellers to settle inside and welcome a new world
He always liked being the one to pursue things, not the one being sought for.
Thus, he stood in a quiet corner of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, body stiff and mind racing with thoughts. He told himself that this was a casual event, but he couldn’t help but put on his best dress shoes—and yes, he might’ve gelled his hair a bit and put on his best black shirt, but it made him feel good. He needed this boost of confidence considering how pathetic he had felt lately and dressing up to have somewhat done the trick.
But it still didn’t stop the unease running through him. It was unsettling – he wasn’t one to feel nervous in a place he found comfort, but there was something about the air that made tonight’s exhibition a bit more… lonely.
Perhaps it was the fact that Namjoon and Jimin had ditched him for their dates—he didn’t even know that it was allowed in friend group meetups, but… it wasn’t like he had one anyway.
And like someone had just replaced the tonearm on a continuous vinyl, the very song that Jeongguk had been trying to avoid filtered through the speakers once more and wandered over to his ears.
…it had to be a joke. Right? No way this song was following him around like it had a warrant on him. Seriously. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this torture, and frankly, he didn’t have the mental strength to think about it.
Jeongguk didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take his hand out of his pockets. Just stared at the painting like he was trying to be absorbed by it, disappear amongst the weird, colourful swirls and blend in to hide from whatever divine intervention was going on around him, just preying on him in his most pitiful moments.
“I know everybody here wants you…”
He tightened his jaw, muscles fluttering in annoyance.
It was decided. The universe had a sick, personal vendetta against him. How the hell did this song play everytime his thoughts drifted to you? Sure he might’ve thought of you more often than he’d like to admit, but he was trying to distract himself, goddamnit!
He huffed. Not even the multitude of colours in front of him could tug his attention from you.
It wasn’t really about the song. Not really. It was more so to do with what it meant to him.
The night outside the bar.
The way you caressed his hair even though he wanted it to lay like that.
The way you whispered his name like it was a secret between the two of you
The way you saw him.
And then— the way you left as quickly as you came.
He barely got to say his goodbye. You were there one minute, and suddenly he had blinked, and you were gone. All that was left was the feeling of your fingertips grazing his skin and the filtered story that Jimin showed you with a geotag somewhere oceans away.
Jeongguk exhaled slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t in love or anything he was past the stage of teenage limerence.
…Right?
A soft clack of heels pulled him from the drifting seas of his mind.
He didn’t react at first. Footsteps were common in galleries, voices humming like bees in fields of sunflowers. But there was something different about the rhythm. It made the hairs on his neck stand straight up. There was delicacy behind the footfalls nearing him.
He turned.
And nearly forgot how to fucking breathe.
You.
Long black dress, tan coat slung over your shoulder, and your hair just effortlessly pooling down your back like ink in water.
“And our eyes are locked in downcast love…”
Your eyes met his, the twinkle in them almost blinding him before he could pretend to look away and be interested in anything else.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The song, of course, droned on in the background like a cruel soundtrack to his unbecoming.
You tilted your head, lips lifting into a knowing smile, like you were fully aware of the effect you had on Jeongguk, even by just standing there. Just by simultaneously coexisting in front of him.
“Jeongguk.”
He swore you said his name like it was yours.
“You’re here,” was all he managed. His words were barely spoken, drifting like mist and condensing on the painting next to him. Honestly, it felt a bit pathetic—what he said—but you smiled wider, nonetheless.
“Jimin slipped it into conversation,” you replied, stepping closer. He could see the glitter you lined your eyes with. “Told me you’ve been moping around in galleries like a sad little poet.”
He groaned, running a hand down his face. “No, he didn’t.”
“Oh, he did,” you laughed a little. “Even told me that you wore your ‘special’ shoes tonight.”
Jeongguk looked down, half expecting his brogues to start sinking into the ground out of sheer humiliation.
You stopped beside him, nudging him softly. “I like them.”
His laugh was disbelieving—the kind that crinkled the skin around his eyes and displayed the little freckle under his lip.
“Didn’t think you were gonna be back anytime soon,” he said quietly, hoping in the way he phrased it.
You shrugged. “Only for a little while. Maybe longer.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d spent months thinking about all the things he might’ve said if you were ever in his presence again, but now that you really were—so achingly near, close enough to smell that jasmine scent again—his brain had fried itself and was devoid of any thoughts.
But you, as always, were the lighthouse in a storm.
“Hi,” you simply said. This wasn’t a greeting. It was a reset.
Jeongguk swallowed nervously.
“Hi.”
Joy bloomed in the creases by your eyes.
“See? That wasn’t so hard.”
He smiled at you sheepishly.
You turned your attention to the painting he’d been staring at before—the chaotic mix of colours that had once mirrored his internal disarray. He glanced at it and noticed how the mess seemed to fade towards the edge into two distinct lines of tranquillity. Huh.
“It’s pretty intense,” you said, studying the canvas.
“Yeah,” Jeongguk replied. “S’pose that makes sense, though.”
You glanced at him. “Because you’re feeling like it?”
He hesitated. Then nodded. “You kinda… do that to me.”
Your smile wavered for a millisecond—not in a bad way. In a breath-caught kind of way. A quiet pause before your expression softened.
“Good,” you whispered. “Because you—”
The ringing of your name being called across the gallery ceased the little conversation you were having.
You sighed, eyebrows furrowing, and looked over.
Jeongguk reluctantly tore his gaze from your face and followed yours over to see a man striding over. He was tall. Well-dressed. And very clearly knew you, the way he sauntered over, arms wide open in welcome. His coat flared slightly as he walked to your corner and had that laid-back, easy grin that made Jeongguk’s eye twitch in irritation.
Without hesitation, you stepped towards him, situating yourself into his arms that wrapped all the way around you. It was déjà vu—the way the hug looked so familiar to him. It was too close. And too long.
Jeongguk stood motionless.
His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, fingers alternating between being clenched into fists or flexing involuntarily with nerves… or something more. He tried to understand what the hell was happening in front of him—and what you were on the verge of saying—but he was all too distracted by the lack of space between you and that stranger.
When you finally pulled away, the guy leaned in to say something close to your ear. Jeongguk didn't miss the way your eyes flickered briefly back to him and away, like it never happened. You faltered.
“I’ll be back in a second,” you told him quickly, that ever-present softness in your voice still lingering, but dimmed. “I’ll catch you later, Jeonggukie, okay?”
He nodded. Tried to smile, but it came out more like a wince. Tried to let the sting not pierce his skin too deeply.
“Sure,” he replied. “Later.”
And with that, you walked off, arm in the stranger’s, and Jeongguk’s heart in your hand.
His posture sagged in small defeat, and he glanced towards Jimin, who was nearing him, sipping his wine and observing the turmoil Jeongguk was experiencing.
Jimin caught his eyes and raised a singular eyebrow with a smirk.
“Are you just gonna stand there?”
Jeongguk forced out a bitter laugh and brought his hands into his pockets.
“I’m fine.”
He knew he was lying. Jimin knew he was lying. The random women giving him a look as they walked past knew he was lying as well.
Every laugh that flowed from your lips felt like a knife digging into an old wound. When the stranger brushed a small strand of your hair behind your ear, Jeongguk scoffed, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looked away.
He found himself shuffling closer to Jimin, letting the small talk between him and his best friend become a barrier to hide behind.
Your eyes met his once across the room, and you offered him a small smile—but Jeongguk looked away before the moment could unfold into anything more. Instead, he watched you weave in and out of the crowd, integrating into fruitless conversation yet still capturing the attention of everyone in the room.
“Maybe I should’ve asked who he was,” Jeongguk muttered under his breath to Jimin, who just chuckled and patted his shoulder.
“Chill, man,” he teased. “You’ll see her again. I’m sure.”
Jeongguk wanted to believe it—really he did—but it was hard to when that ‘later’ never came.
You disappeared into the night with the man—that Jeongguk never figured out the name of—like mist beneath the stars. And Jeongguk had waited, eyes constantly scanning the gallery until closing. Even helped the staff clean up the bar and stack some chairs, just in case you popped back in.
You didn’t.

Jeongguk was seething.
Well—not exactly seething. More so… mildly agitated. The kind of agitation that was so close to spilling over the surface and onto everyone around him.
The house was too warm.
The people too loud.
The lights too dim.
He wasn't even sure why he was there– sure it was his house, but Namjoon had convinced him to host a small party with familiar faces, ‘friends-of-friends’ so he would finally loosen up.
He’d spent the last half of the hour sipping on the same drink and dodging the half-drunk people that attempted to make conversation with him.
That, and the god-awful playlist Jimin had put on. It was like Jimin was stuck being heartbroken or pumping his fist at a rave with the kind of music you just had to vibe with.
And currently Jeongguk did not vibe with it.
He kinda nodded his head to heartbreak songs though - he supposed he could relate just a tad.
He hadn’t heard from you since the night at the gallery.
Nothing.
And it’s not like you were obligated to - numbers weren’t even exchanged - but Jeongguk’s hope was a persistent little bastard that maybe, just maybe thought you would ask Jimin for his number and check up on him.
And it wasn’t like Jeongguk hadn’t tried the same. He gave up on the subtle hints to Jimin and had straight up asked for your number, even though he was turned down - rather quickly- with the words,
“If it was meant to be, she would come to give it to you herself.”
Jeongguk sighs at the memory, nursing his drink and glaring into the clear liquid as if it had caused him personal anguish. The laughter of those around him fades in and out of his hearing. Everything is duller, like the colour had been vacuumed out from the room. He’s partly tempted to pull an Irish goodbye at his own party and just leave. Maybe grab his walkman on the way out to play a song that didn’t emotionally scar him.
But then he sees you.
You, standing by the kitchen island, in conversation with Namjoon. You, lit like a spotlight found you despite the purposely dim lighting. And you, head tipped back slightly, laughing at something Namjoon is saying. Gone is the tan coat, replaced by an off- the- shoulder black top that clings to your figure. Gone are the effortless waves, swapped for your hair pinned back, emphasising the delicate nature of your neck.
Jeongguk freezes, glass halfway to his mouth, breath lodging in his throat. You looked dreamlike, standing out amongst the crowd, like an advert he’d seen on television one too many times. He wouldn’t dare to skip out on you— not after knowing the smile you could give him.
When did you get here?
He doesn’t even realise Jimin has slipped into the little corner of the couch that Jeongguk was practically sprawled on until a shoulder nudges his own.
“You’re doing it again,” Jimin teases, sounding far too happy considering his playlist.
“What thing?” Jeongguk hisses, eyes locking onto the way you seamlessly flit around the kitchen.
“The ‘I’ve-dreamed-about-her-every-day-and-can’t-believe-she’s-here’ thing.”
Jeongguk scowls and shoves Jimin lightly, but his eyes don't stray. You haven’t noticed him yet.
He can’t decide if that’s mercy or torment.
“She knows, doesn’t she?” he asks.
The smug silence of his friend is enough.
“She asked me if you’d ever want to see her face again. I said you were a sucker for pretty faces and that she should come and find out for herself.”
Jeongguk gapes.
“You’re such a menace.”
“Well it worked, didn’t it? She’s here. In the flesh.” Jimin grins, clapping a hand down on Jeongguk’s back. “Maybe she wanted free drinks. Or… see you.”
Jeongguk ignores Jimin’s banter, eyes still tracking your every movement. The way your fingers tap against your glass. Or the way your gaze occasionally drifts from whoever you were talking to, and sweeps across the room —but never quite meets his.
And still, Jeongguk doesn’t approach you. Can't get himself to move up from that sofa. The weight in his chest keeps him tethered down. The unspoken words claw at his throat like before.
So he sips his drink. And waits.
The party hums around him, low and warm like the static of one of his vinyls that was left on too long.
You pass by him once, ever so briefly.
And in that one incandescent moment, your hand brushes his — hanging over the back of the couch—as you slide past on the way to the hallway. He doesn’t look up, but he knows it’s you, he feels it’s you. The absence of your touch shouldn’t linger the way it does
He doesn’t see where you go. Doesn’t even register why he’s following the scent of your perfume until his feet lead him to the hallway. Past the kitchen, past the shoes by the door, and away from the loud thrum of the party.
The bathroom door near the back end of his apartment iss half-open, an amber glow spilling through.
He raps his knuckles against the door.
“Occupied?”
A soft voice calls out.
“Yeah - give me a sec!”
But that voice…he knows it. He knows it too well.
Jeongguk pushes the door slightly - just a little further.
And there you are. Standing at the mirror, fingers fixing the wing of your eyeliner, with the smallest concentration crease forming between your brows. You see him in the reflection and halt your actions.
“Sorry-” he starts, already turning around to go back.
But you spin around, swiping a finger across the corner of your eyes.
“Wait Jeongguk.”
He freezes. The air is heavy, electricity tingling in the way that makes the space feel so much smaller than it already is..
“I was gonna leave,” you say after a beat, eyes searching his. “I…I didn't think you wanted to talk to me.”
“I thought you didn’t.”
A momentary pause. The tension doesn’t dissipate, only grows thicker, encircling the two of you like entertainment in a cage.
“I was waiting,” you start, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I wasn’t sure if…”
You don’t finish your sentence.
Jeongguk steps in. Closes the door behind him with a muted click.
“You came,” he murmurs, voice barely a decibel above a breath.
You smile at him. “I was told by a certain someone that if I wanted your number, I should come get it myself.”
Jeongguk gives a quiet laugh and steps closer to you.
“Funny. I was also told something similar. What are the chances it was the same person?”
You move forward, and lean up to him.
“A hundred percent.”
Your laughter at his expression is more subdued this time, eyes fluttering down to the space between you both—or the lack of. It’s close. So close. He can smell the fragrance radiating off of you, the floral scent ingrained into his head. He’s not sure if it’s his pulse or yours echoing so loudly in the confined room.
“I was going to ask for it,” you say, voice softer now. “At the gallery.”
“I wanted to kiss you,” Jeongguk blurts.
It slips out. Honest. Raw. And unguarded.
Your eyes snap up to his, plush lips parting slightly, startled but… not afraid. Not uncomfortable.
“Why didn’t you?”
“You left with someone else.”
You nod. “That wasn’t what you think.”
Jeongguk doesn’t want to ask. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment. He’ll face the repercussions later—as long as he’s allowed in your presence for more than twenty minutes.
Your hands move. Brush down your sides, like you’re trying to ground yourself. Or preparing for something. His hands twitch. He wants to touch you. He wants to remember how your fingers felt against his jaw. But he waits. Waits for you to make the first move.
He’s done seeking first.
Your hand lifts slowly to his chest, palm lying flat over his sternum, right where his heartbeat betrays him. You can feel it. He’s sure.
“You’re still nervous,” you whisper.
“I’ve never wanted something so bad in my life.”
The air cracks.
Your fingers slide up lazily. Up to the collar of his shirt Tugging him. Testing the waters.
“Hi,” you say.
That’s all he needs.
He’s moving before he can process his actions, lips pressing to yours in a kiss that doesn’t ask permission—but it doesn’t need to. It’s slow at first. Hesitant. Like he’s making sure you’re really there. That this isn’t another cruel memory that would fade before he even woke up.
But when you sigh against his mouth, tilting your head just enough and nudging your nose against his—
Something inside of him explodes.
His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, mouth pressing with more desperation, tongue sweeping past your lips when you part them with a soft whimper that nearly undoes him. Your hands tangle in his hair, anchoring yourself as he kisses you like he’d been waiting a lifetime.
The counter is cold against the back of your thighs as he lifts you onto it, barely stopping to catch his breath. His hand wedges around your hips, thumbs dragging across the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up.
You gasp into his mouth as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, heat unfurling between you like a wildfire.
He pulls back when you tug lightly on his hair, lips red and kiss-swollen, eyes hazy but focused.
“Hi,” you breathe out.
Jeongguk grins against your mouth.
“Hi baby,”
He reaches behind him, turning the lock on the door before moving for you again. His hands move with a practiced ease - the nerves from before nowhere to be found - as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, warm fingers tracing the soft curve of your waist. His lips never leave yours, kisses rougher now, and more urgent.
Your breath mingles with his, hands clenching the fabric of his shirt, drawing him in closer, a siren in disguise.
His body presses firmly against yours, hips aligning, heat between you flaring.
With a quiet grunt, Jeongguk shifts, lifting you higher on the counter. His hands roam lower, fingers teasing the edge of your skirt, fingers dipping below the waistband. You arch into his touch, breath hitching and fingers tightening.
His mouth finds your jaw and he trails down, nipping gently before moving again - neck, collarbone, the skin below your shirt - a trail of fire in his wake.
Your fingers tangle in his hair once more, tugging, urging him deeper and harder. Jeongguk’s hands drift beneath your skirt, skimming the smoothness of your skin— inching toward that sensitive spot that makes you shiver.
He looks up at you, knees resting on the ground. Neither of you speak. The world’s shrunk to the heat of skin on skin, and the desperation laced into your frantic breaths.
He lifts your skirt up tentatively, eyes meeting yours in a silent ask. You nod. Oh how badly you need this.
Jeongguk’s fingers rub against your hip bones as he inches forwards. He presses soft kisses up your thigh, pausing when he meets your sweet spot.
“Jeongguk,” you whisper, voice shaky with anticipation.
He nudges his nose against you, “I’m here.”
He glances up at you once more, long enough to meet your eyes - dark, smouldering, and utterly focused on you - before diving in again. His tongue brushes against your underwear, rubbing up against you in a slow, teasing dance, exploring the promise in every touch.
You cry out, hands tightening at the edge of the counter, legs fighting the urge to close around his head. Jeongguk clamps his hands around your outer thighs, stabilising and ruining you at the same time.
He smiles against the lace of your underwear as you grip his hair, tongue lapping up any hint of your approaching climax. He licks deeper and triumphs as you call his name out once more, thighs trembling by his ears.
Burrowing himself deeper under your skirt, he almost halts his actions.
What if you think that he only wanted you for sex? What if this is a fleeting moment that won’t be rediscovered?
But before the irrational thoughts can settle, your hands pull on his hair, begging for him to come back up. He complies, clambering up, shaking his knees out and looks at you.
Meeting your tear stricken eyes, guilt settles in his chest,
“Are you-”
“I need you in me. Now. Jeongguk…please.”
And there it is.
His chest tightens like a wave crashing against the shore, relentless and full of emotion. This isn’t just affection he feels for you, this is an all-consuming force that pushes past reason.
He nods and reaches for his jeans. Doesn’t bother with pulling his jeans all the way off, just slides them down past his butt. Reaches for his length, stiff with need and leaking with arousal.
One. Two. Three pumps and he grasps for the back of your thighs before pushing into you. He lets out a low moan into your ear, loudening as you squeeze around him. He falls forwards, hands falling beside you.
“B-baby, don’t do that, I’ll finish,” he murmurs along your neck, nibbling gently at the column of your throat.
Your arms clasp around his neck, nails clawing at his shoulders.
“Sorry… I’m just nervous,”
Jeongguk leans back. Smiles down at you and reaches for your hand. Fingers spanning the entirety of your wrist, he places your palm against his heart, mimicking your actions before.
“Me too,”
You melt at his words. Literally. Jeongguk feels you loosen up around him, nails no longer digging half crescents into his skin. He lets out a short breath and pulls back to the tip, before pressing into you again… and again.
You moan, head tilting back, one hand holding his, resting on your waist, the other, turning white with how tightly you were gripping the counter.
Jeongguk grabs the back of your neck, encouraging you to meet his eyes. He had your attention now —only his—and he wasn’t going to lose it.
There’s something so vulnerable about this position. Neither of you are fully unclothed, but you’re practically baring your hearts to each other.
Setting a steady pace, Jeongguk snaps his hips into you, grunting with every thrust, moving you further up the ledge next to the sink. He reaches around for your ass and pulls you closer. The movement shifts your positions slightly, where he’s deeper, and firmer inside of you..
“J-Jeongguk,” you rasp.
He thrusts harder, lewd noises of skin meeting skin filling the air. Reaches down and rubs a finger against you,
“Come on baby. You can do it,”
Your back arches, curving into Jeongguk’s hands as you release—hot, sticky cum coating him and the inside of your thighs. You pulse frantically around him, pushing him forwards, moaning as your orgasm rips through you.
Your arms give out, collapsing against the mirror above the sink with a broken whimper as you try and come down from your high.
“Oh fuck,” Jeongguk groans, pulling out, leaving you mourning the loss of him inside of you.
He jerks himself, hand fisted tightly around his cock, wrists moving with a rapid pace, hips stuttering and he chases his own climax.
You watch with bated breaths as his head tilts back, lip bitten raw in pleasure. A deep groan escapes him as his pace slows down, hips twitching forwards and he spills across your thighs in thick ropes. He fucks himself through his orgasm, one hand holding yours as he paints your skin milky.
He exhales as the last of his cum leaks out, and lets go of your hands to wipe the sweat lining his forehead.
He meets your eyes and lets out a little chuckle.
Leans forwards and pecks your nose. Your cheek. And then your forehead . You giggle at him and reach for a towel - to which he snatches it out of your hands, before running it under hot water. He swipes it across your thighs in gentle strokes, like he didn't just obliterate you and cleans himself up.
He pulls his jeans up, buckles his belt and pulls down your skirt. Reaching for your waist, he helps you hop off the counter.
You move towards the door, but he pulls you back.
You meet his eyes. He swallows.
“I don’t want this to end. Ever.”
You look at him through your lashes and tuck a strand of his hair back.
“I’m gonna need your number first baby.”
Jeongguk grins, a smile lighting up his face as he wrenches the door open, hurrying for his phone that he left around somewhere.

Sunlight spills softly through the blind, casting warm stripes across the room where Jeongguk lies, you tucked under his arm. The quiet buzz of the city is distant, an otherworldly place that you’ve both stepped away from for a while. His arm rests loosely over your waist, arms sliding the hem of his t-shirt up as he traces small circles on your thigh.
For once, the voracious thoughts that constantly plagued his mind seem to have quietened down, leaving the calm weight of you beside him and the thrilling, quiet certainty of what happened last night.
You meet his eyes, and he smiles, dimples burrowing in his cheeks. No words are exchanged. This moment - this morning - is enough.
Jeongguk nudges his nose against yours,
“Can you accept my instagram request?”
You look up at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion,
“Wha-”
The door creaks open and Jimin steps inside with an infuriatingly wide grin.
He laughs, breaking the tranquility of the morning.
“By the way, Jeonggukie, I know what your favourite song is.”
Jeongguk stares at him, processing his words as Jimin’s teasing smile grows bigger.
“Okay?”
“And I’m also really good at making people play whatever songs I want.”
Jeongguk freezes. No way. He can’t be… that fucking little-
#bts#jeon jungkook#bts jeongguk#bangtan sonyeondan#bts x reader#jungkook#bts army#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jungkook fluff#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#bts updates#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x original character#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x you#jungkook x oc#bts jimin#park jimin#bts namjoon#namjoon#jeon jeongguk#Songs of Us#Iboozi
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"Eh, that's not a story worth hearin'." Aster shook their head. "Trust me on that one." The night they'd solidified running away. The faint hope that they'd be able to see that odd little kid again, if they ever came back. Wanting to find something worth knowing, worth replacing a childhood marred with something better. Their smile had faltered- but it was quick to be back.
It really wasn't a story this young adult needed to hear. Or anyone, for that matter. Aster would just as soon let it fade into the darkness of their history. Besides- with their vision being in a blank metal capsule as it was, surely that was oddity enough.
"Surely you'd rather talk about your path to becoming a guild worker? I'm certain that would be of more intrigue than a silly cat folk's vision story."
"As for where I'm from..." Asteria...didn't they know a little kid like that, years ago?...back in the village... "...it's not worth callin' by name, but- it was a pretty small place. Don't bother t'remember much, save a lil' girl I used t'watch over when her parents asked me to. She...was probably one of the only pleasant things about where I'm from."
What had been her name....Ashley? Anastasia?....no,...had it been...?
"Y'look a lot like her, now that I think about it. But that's probably just because I ain't seen her since I was a barely a teen, myself- n' you're the first person t'ask. Most just ask why the Hell I wanted to play TCG if I'm so bad at it." They snickered. Cover up the worry- just enjoy themself. What was the point to anything else? "I don't even know if that village's still standin'..." They had no intent to return. Not after how they'd escaped--- but maybe,..they could swing by in the dark of night, just to make sure that little girl had grown up well, some time.
— She paused alittle, curiously thinking of the question as she tried to tone out the going on argument in the background.
She had half a heart to get up and break, but she remembered this was her break time. And she would rather spend it wisely.
Besides, it would be kinda rude to just the leave conversation so suddenly.so she sighed and look at the stranger known as aester.. The name felt weird to remember.
She smiled gently as she nodded. "well... I guess i could ask about how you got your vision..."
She did her best to hide the bitterness in her tone, burying the envy like she always did. "and... Maybe where your from..? I can tell you aren't from here..."
She hoped the answer would help her figure out the truth of how she knew this cat folk stranger..
#thenightgirlie#//if they end up gettin' along well there ain't gonna be nothin' against 'em acting like adoptive fam XD#//or at least good friends- @ster has very few actual 'friends' so they're mentally '?????'#//tried to keep it vague simply b/c @ster doesn't like their hometown#//nothing against anyone there but their own experiences kinda tainted the place in their eyes
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hi! congratulations on 8k! i know no one who deserves it as much as you! i hope you are having a lovely day. just wanted to request this if it hasn’t been done before:
hot cocoa☕️; ‘coming home’ with james
the way you write is so soft and gentle and reminds me of when my mom would dump laundry that just came out of the dryer on me as a kid so thank you so much for being a source of comfort to me:)
thank you either way!
Oh that's the best feeling, thank you so much!
cw: vague mention of reader's "friends and family," which in my head could mean chosen family, I tried to keep these people very obscure so sorry if that makes the writing feel unnatural
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 857 words
James watches you with an odd sort of pride as you navigate the contours of a beat-up road on instinct and memory.
You’ve become more obviously familiar as your little road trip has gone on. It’s endearing, your posture changing and fingers sure as they turn the dial to a radio station you must know; you’re getting closer to home. James rolls down his window and breathes in the scent of dogwood trees and wet soil, and he imagines you smelling these things every day for so long they became a part of you. You curve around a pothole so naturally James doesn’t think you’ve noticed yourself doing it.
He realizes the wind is messing up his hair, and puts up his window quickly.
You notice his unease. “What?”
“They’re going to think I’m a mess,” he says, flipping down the visor above his seat to fix his hair in the mirror. It always looks disheveled, but he was hoping to have it less so to meet your friends and family.
You laugh. The sound relaxes James some, light and sweet and all things lovely. “They are not,” you say. “You’re going to charm the pants off of everyone without even trying, and then they’re going to vote to replace me with you.”
He grins, slotting a piece of hair behind your ear that had come loose when he’d let the wind in. “I wouldn’t let that happen to you, lovie.”
“Not sure you can help it.” You look at him sideways, teasing. “Everyone falls in love with you instantly. I’ll seem bland by comparison.”
This is something you’ve repeated often since inviting James home with you—not the part about you seeming bland, which is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, but about everyone liking him. You have an unshakeable faith in his ability to get on with people. The word irresistible has been employed once or twice, and James doesn’t have the heart to correct you (Sirius’ parents seemed perfectly able to resist him. Argus Filch would probably still have James’ bollocks in detention if it were in his power). Every time he’s suggested you might be biased you’ve waved him off.
Still, James isn’t very nervous. He’s going to meet the people that have been your home; loving you is something they’ll all have in common.
“You could never be bland.” He leans over to smooch your cheek, chuffed when it squishes with a smile with your eyes still on the road. “Anyway, if they try to excommunicate you I’ll only go with you.”
“Will you?” you ask, pleased.
“Course. You’re my favorite.”
You make an amused humming sound, reaching for his hand. Your fingers are cold, and James sets about warming them, rubbing his thumb over yours. “It’s that sort of sweet talk that’s going to have you sitting in my spot at the table by dinner,” you say, “just you watch.”
“We’ll sit in it together,” he replies, stroking a line down to your wrist. “That’ll show ‘em.” James probably shouldn’t be talking about your people like they’re antagonists already, but he’s gotten distracted by the sweet bit of skin where your long sleeve has slipped up your wrist. He leans down thoughtlessly, pressing a kiss to the intricate linework of veins showing beneath.
James comes from an adolescence of dorms and locker rooms. Having had multiple serious conversations fully naked, nudity doesn’t tend to phase him. He is, however, an eighteenth-century gentleman for you and only you. The delicate bumps and creases of your wrists and knees make his heart flutter in a way he has to imagine is medically dangerous.
These are feelings he’s going to have to get a handle on while meeting the people you grew up around.
James sighs. “I should have brought a dish.”
“Don’t,” you chide. Your fingers tighten on his, squeezing reassuringly. “You didn’t need to bring anything, there will be too much food anyway. Are you really still nervous?”
“Not very,” he admits. “I do want them to like me, though. And…don’t get after me for chauvinism or anything, but I want them to think I’m taking good care of you.”
You slow down at the side of the road, and for a second James thinks you’re stopping to console him, but then he sees the line of cars parked in front of you. You’re here.
You turn the car off before taking off your seatbelt, turning to face him. “You take very good care of me,” you tell him, soft and kind with your hand on his cheek. “You don’t need to worry. They’re going to love you for all the same reasons I do.”
James raises his eyebrows. “I’m not taking my shirt off for them.”
Your eyes sparkle beautifully when you laugh. “Maybe not those reasons. But really, when has anyone not liked you?”
“I could make you a list…”
“It’d be exaggerated.” You roll your eyes, kissing him once before reaching into the backseat for your bag. “Ready?”
James smiles, the warm impression of your lips still tingling on his. He'd go anywhere you asked him to.
#mae's 8k#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter x self insert#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#james potter scenario#james potter drabble#james potter blurb#james potter one shot#james potter oneshot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader
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DC X DP
Dead on Main, Mad Scientist Danny Feton, bad reval, poor moewo mewos
Danny would call himself a guy. A dude, very chill if you must, and he was fine in his own little lab. Was it just the cramed basement of some abounded apartment complex that probably had more mold then wall? Yes, that did not matter. What did was the fact he could do everything he wanted! Not legally, but laws where made to be very vaguely followed, as his mother said.
Now, being know was good for business! Being the guy people went too when they wanted some shit was good! Was he happy that all (and by all he ment every single fucking one, even the kid he gave a healing pot too witch what the fuck?) of them where villains? No! He thinks he's aloud to be upset about that.
So Joker dragging in a new lab rat of his was not new. What was, was the fact the idotoc asshole kept comeing back. Kept dragging kids to Danny's feet like Danny was nothing but a senseless dog.
Danny's finger twitched of the gear of burner. The screaming was the worst part, that and the goofs cheery laugh.
"I won't take em asshole." Joker all but croons sadly. Still giggling over himself, "Yes- but this ones a ah! A favorite of you, mh, maddd types!" Danny paused. Shit this wasn't the normal gas test was it. God dammit.
Danny turns to look at the man. Ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind singing of a curuis cruletly. The voice of Phantom, ones hes tried so hard to squish. "Do tell," Danny urges comeing to stand infrot of the wooden box.
Joker smiles impossiblely larger. Hands clasped together as his shoulders shake with mirth. "Well! I know you live under a rock dear Docter, so let me say!" The clown dances around the box. Drumming on it before he leans over it. Hands on his chin, smirk on his face. "It's the dead Robin." Chackles Joker.
It dosnt smell dead. No, not more then anyone else in Gotham for that fact. Still Danny knocks on the box, not hollow though due to its size there lots of empty space. The nails are hammers down sloppily, and the holes are drilled as a after though. Usesly air holes mean their alive, or they want him to think they are.
"I'm no god Joker." Danny scolds. He'll have to decontimate now, witch is awful becuses if death has gotten into test AEA7 it would ruin the-
"Oh no, it came back."
What?
Danny stares at the mad man. The morth still wrote on the man's face and if he focuses he can hear the muted heart beat of something side the creat, drowned by Jokers erratically flailing one.
"What." Joker smiles at him, wiggling his finger at Danny like he had caught him. "I knew you Docters love something new!" Joker claims clapping to himself. "What the fuck do you mean?" Joker frowns at haveing been cut off by Danny but dosnt repermand him.
"It came back! It defined everything we know, and we'll, I ah, I know you Tinkiters love something that stays, well, hm, fixxed." Dear Acienects. Danny stated at that wooden box sering it for what ot was, a cheap cage. Something to keep them down till you found something better, or they gave in.
Something Danny's can imagen himself in. Can imagen Dani in. Fuck even Dan. Something he swore he'd never let in. Something he promised he'd keep others safe from.
He failed. Something he so obviously failed, and all he can feel is the numbness of his fingers as his nails dig into his palm.
"Get out." His voice croaks. That same weak voice he'd cry to be louder, cry to stop everything. The voice he shredded for nothing.
Joker pouts. Twirling a finger in his hair like a school girl. "I'm helping!" He plays. Plays, like a humors fiddle life is. Like it's something one man can mold and shape. Like it's his to control.
He dosnt know how he ends up punching the bastred he jist know he dosnt stop. Claws dig into his face but this is no mortal man. This is a monster, more so then Phantom, more so then Danny.
His father always said monsters got braver the longer you let them linger. Danny knows now that he was right, and dosnt let this one return.
Guns are not typical lab equipment.
Guns dosnt usely have no safety, guns don't usely have a last name stickerd on it. Guns dosnt usely shatter a skull in one shot.
Danny whipes his nose. The body is still warm and Jokers chest rises and falls mindlessly. He's dead. Danny shoots him once more, and the body converses with the motion. Very dead.
The kid. The kid, fuck the kid.
Danny whipes the blood onto his coat, shoveing the gun as far as he can, he can, he jist killed their captor. Okay this could go very bad, or very good.
"Hey kid- your, shit, your okay now-" That is a grown ass man. That is a very awake, very drugged grown man.
Captive looks up twords him, head lulled slightly, and stares at him. Danny stares back. He's tempted to close the lid again, just wait till it's out of him, and he can leave. Yeah that might be the best plan of action.
"Is he gone?" The very adult man says. Voice a horseh whisper. Danny stops shutting the crate. Looking to stre back at the adult man (kid, he's a kid, mabye bot forever but right now he is).
"Uh." Shit what did Jazz said calmed kids? Danny slowly puts his hand in the box, "He is. Big Goof didn't start a chance against good old.. um.." he didn't really have the most hero nickname.
It didn't seem to matter, becuses the red helmeted man grabs Danny's hand. Nearly dragging him into the creat aswell.
"Thank you, thank you- thank you-" Danny just sat still. Red helmet dude clearly needed this.
Manye it could be okay for him too.
"Yeah, it'll be okay.."
#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc#dp x dc prompt#jason todd#danny fenton#danny phantom#they are both so very sad#mad scientist#dc joker#fuck him#on a drastic level#i want that man castrated#writing promt#dead on main
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I LOVE your hcs with the boys so much(´ 3`) ok so picture this.... there's a rumour in the papers that he's having an affair, can you do how he'd show you that it's actually false and how he'd prove that he really loves you ? ˆ𐃷ˆ
𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟��'𝑠 𝑎 𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔
𐙚 note ; thank you for always being so kind!! i hope you’re feeling adored today!! ✿
𓆩🕊️ john 𓆪
"You really think I'd be stupid enough to cheat on you?"
It’s some daft article in the Mirror.
Claims John was seen laughing “intimately” with an actress at a party. There’s even a fuzzy photo. You barely mention it, but he knows.
He catches you going quiet when you think he’s not looking. Biting the inside of your cheek. Folding laundry without speaking. That’s how he knows it’s gotten to you.
At first, he tries to laugh it off,
“You think I’d go for her? Christ, she’s not even funny.” But then he sees your face fall just slightly, and he gets serious real fast.
“Look, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not bloody stupid. I wouldn’t toss this” he gestures between you two “just for a daft party flirt. You know me better’n that.”
He proves it. Reads you lines from his songs in that dramatic fake-Shakespeare voice
(“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s giggle, luv”)
Follows you around the flat strumming nonsense love songs until you smile.
“You want proof?” he finally says, softer. “I talk about you to everyone. Paul’s sick of hearin’ your name, swear it.”
𓆩🕊️ paul 𓆪
"C'mon, love. That's not even my shoulder!"
Paul is devastated that the media would even suggest something like that.
The article has a grainy photo of someone who vaguely looks like him walking into a hotel with a girl, but it’s not him.
The hair’s wrong. The coat’s not his. The smile isn’t even close to being yours.
You don’t even bring it up, but Paul notices you’ve stopped humming his songs around the house. That’s enough to panic him.
He comes straight home with every receipt ever.
Swears he’ll call the bloody photographer if he has to.
He takes your face in his hands and says, voice thick, “Don’t let this rot get in your head, sweetheart. I love you. Only you. Always have, always will.”
Keeps proving it in little ways: he writes your initials in the margins of his notebook, takes you to the studio just to kiss you between takes.
He goes all out. Flowers, your favorite kind, hand-picked. A note tucked into each one, little scribbled things.
𓆩🕊️ george 𓆪
"Can’t stop ‘em printing lies. But I can show you what’s true."
The paper’s cruel.
Says George’s been “getting cozy” with some socialite at a club.
You weren’t even in town that night. You don’t ask, but George sees the shift, less eye contact, slightly less affection.
He doesn’t know how to say it at first. But it eats him up that you might think for even a second he’d choose someone else.
Comes into the kitchen one morning and just wraps his arms round your waist from behind, murmurs, “Y’don’t believe it, do you?”
When you hesitate, his arms tighten. “No. No, don’t do that. That’s what they want. It’s all rubbish, love. Every word.”
He proves it with his quiet devotion: he skips after-parties to be home with you.
He gives you his guitar when he’s writing.
He tucks your scarf into his coat pocket and calls it his good luck charm.
One night, you find a folded bit of paper in your coat, lyrics he wrote but never showed anyone. Scrawled at the bottom:
“You’re the only voice I hear through all the noise.”
He doesn’t say much. But when he kisses you that night, his hands trembling a little where they hold your face, you know.
𓆩🕊️ ringo 𓆪
“I don’t care what the papers say. You’re the only one I want comin’ home to.”
Ringo gets hit with a nasty one.
Claims he’s been “secretly meeting” a woman he dated years ago before fame. Total lie, but it rattles you.
He finds you reading it at the kitchen table. Frowns immediately.
“Don’t believe that rot, do you?”
You don’t answer right away. He gets real quiet, then pulls out a chair and sits beside you, knees touching yours.
“You know me,” he says softly. “I’m not slick. I’m not some silver-tongued fella sneakin’ round in the night. I’d never do that to you.”
You still look unsure, so he pulls out the box. The one he’s been hiding in the closet. Inside: a little ring he’s had made for you, engraved with your initials.
“Was savin’ this for later. But I think you need to see it now.”
“Y’know how I prove it’s false?” he adds, “’Cause I’ve been plannin’ forever with you, not anyone else. That’s real.”
He makes you your favorite tea. Writes you a silly poem that rhymes “cupboard” with “loved bird.”
He even calls up Brian and has him verify where he was the night the photo was supposedly taken.
He makes sure you know how loved you are, cuddling into your side when he watches telly, dancing with you in the kitchen to jazz records, introducing you proudly as “my better half.”
taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee
#the beatles#the beatles fanfic#the beatles x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#beatles x reader#beatles#john lennon#paul mccartney#ringo starr#george harrison#john lennon fanfic#john lennon imagines#paul mccartney x reader#paul mccartney imagines#paul mccartney fanfic#john lennon x reader#ringo starr imagines#ringo starr x reader#george harrison x reader#george harrison imagines#headcanons#beatles headcanons
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Okay, this is TOUGH because I generally think that "which would be most interesting" is a trick question - the real question is, "how could this be done interestingly?"
Van Helsing: I would not want the VH/Dracula relationship to be the reason that VH is willing to consider Lucy's Diagnosis: Vampires. His open-mindedness in the face of compelling-but-inconclusive evidence is part of what makes his character special. So, I would lean towards a during-the-book romance, presumably with VH not initially knowing that Dracula is a vampire. This creates a fascinating element of future distrust between VH and the gang.
Lucy: Here's the thing - Lucy is arguably Dracula's narrative foil! Three spouses/spouse options, a helpful Harker (/Murray), material wealth, etc. So I think Lucy/Dracula could work. To make this interesting and not another retread of "Lucy is a Wanton" (ugh), I think the story would need to lean more into Lucy being aware of her own power and use that to draw a clearer narrative parallel between the two of them.
Renfield: Any kind of Renfield/Dracula relationship must ask the question - was Renfield's mental illness caused by Dracula? I feel like most of the time, stories lean into Renfield as being ill because he's the victim of Dracula-related trauma, which is fair. But it would be interesting to tell a story where Renfield is victimized because he is mentally ill.
Captain: I can only imagine this as a kind of incubus situation, where the Captain is visited by a lover whom he thinks is imaginary, because this mysterious man couldn't possibly be on the boat for real...right?
Mina: Sigh. This has been done....so often. And I think it comes from a place of wanting to elevate Mina as a character, which in theory I am all for! But I'm so tired of female characters being "elevated" by being made love interests of the main character. I would really only want to see Mina/Dracula in a story where Mina is undeniably the main character in her own right.
Quincey: Ooh, there are a LOT of ways this could be interesting, and without changing the core story from the novel. (It also takes the underlying uncomfortable theme of nativism/xenophobia to some new places, potentially, with Britain as the 'perfect center' threatened by both Old World and New World.)
Arthur: THE ANGST. I cannot see any way of doing Arthur/Dracula that is not MAXIMUM TRAGEDY for Arthur specifically.
Mrs. Westenra: Hmm. Mrs. Westenra/Dracula would almost certainly make Mrs. Westenra a vector of Lucy's fate - a huge betrayal. It suggests a story that would lean sharply into a theme of reliable and unreliable family relationships, blood vs chosen family relationships, and how even chosen family can be either nourishing (e.g. Van Helsing as adoptive father) or threatening.
Seward: Ahahaha. This works so well it's almost uninteresting just because it feels obvious? Dracula is the metaphorical representation of all of Seward's negative tendencies. To do this justice, I really think you'd either need to retool the story to be way more Seward-centric with a focus on his moral arc, or give Seward a straight-up villain turn and have him betray the gang for Dracula.
Horny Dracula fans, take two
I made this poll already but I left off names like an idiot so let me do my spiel again
You have been given an unlimited budget and an unlimited run time to make your ideal adaptation of Dracula. You can be as faithful or unfaithful as you want, it's all up to you, with one caveat:
Dracula has to have a relationship, sexual or romantic or both, with one of the humans.
Now if I just made a poll right here, the answer would overwhelmingly be Jonathan Harker. Let's be real. Even if you don't personally ship it, he's the one Dracula spends the most time with, he's the one Dracula declares to be his and stares at while saying "I too can love," Jonathan's plot parallels so many damn "pretty lady with dangerous man" narratives like Bluebeard and Scheherazade and so on and so forth, it all writes itself
so I have removed him as a choice because I'm genuinely curious as to who your second choice would be and why
You don't have to vote on what you think would be cute or whatever (I mean you can if you want but given what Dracula is and his goals I don't think he can have a cute or even vaguely healthy relationship with a human), just whatever you think would be most narratively interesting. Whether within the narrative of the existing story or going off in some other direction.
Give me your vampire romance thesis
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100 this or that selfship questions !
answer these however u want ! I'll keep most of em vague so you can have freedom to interpret however youd like ! :) remember to practice reblog karma !!!! and since there's so many, send a handful to whoever you send asks to :)
🎉 - big celebrations or small gatherings ?
🎊 - parties or alone time ?
🎈 - circus date or musical date ?
🎂 - home baking or going to a bakery ?
🎀 - casual or fancy ?
🎁 - expensive gifts or homemade gifts ?
🎇 - bonfires or cook outs ?
🎆 - fireworks or fairs ?
🧨 - play fighting or play arguments ?
🪩 - dancing or singing ?
💐 - bouquets or chocolates ?
🌹 - home grown flowers or store bought ?
🥀 - selfship hurt/comfort or selfship hurt/no comfort ?
🌺 - pomegranate metaphors or dog metaphors ?
🌷 - butterfly coded or moth coded ?
🪷 - info dumping or listening ?
🌸 - cats or dogs ?
💮 - writing and history or science and math ?
🏵️ - ball of sunshine x dark and brooding or silly goofy x always serious
🪻 - selfship art or selfship fics ?
🍓 - fruits or veggies ?
🍒 - sweet or savory ?
🍎 - cooking or buying out ?
🍅 - breakfast or dinner or dinner for breakfast ?
🌶️ - spicy or mild ?
🍉 - summer or spring ?
🍑 - muffins or cupcakes ?
🥭 - coffee or tea ?
🥕 - share a milkshake or share a sundae ?
🥭 - diner date or fancy restaurant ?
🦭 - touch tank or petting zoo ?
🦈 - sharks or seals ?
🐬 - ocean or space ?
🐟 - aquatic pet or non aquatic pet ?
🦐 - seafood or steak ?
🦑 - be able to breathe underwater or fly ?
🐙 - jewelry as gifts or stuffed animals as gifts ?
🪼 - aquarium date or zoo date ?
🦪 - pearls or diamonds ?
🪸 - sea shells as gifts or rocks as gifts ?
🌱 - planting veggies or planting flowers ?
🌿 - best dressed or casual attire ?
☘️ - lucky or unlucky ?
🪴 - fake plants or real plants ?
🌵 - yo momma jokes or deez nuts jokes ?
🌴 - road trip or cruise ?
🌳 - day in the park or day in the woods ?
🌲 - big city or countryside ?
🪵 - carving your initials into wood or putting a lock on the love lock bridge ?
🪺 - funny movies or scary movies ?
🎨 - painting date or pottery date ?
- making mementos or making memories ?
🖌️ - history museum date or art museum date ?
🖍️ - have a fandom for your selfship in universe or being a rarepair ?
🪡 - fixing things or buying new ones ?
🧵 - hotdog is a sandwich or cereal is a soup ?
🧶 - hand made blanket or hand made sweater ?
🎮 - unlimited bacon but no more video games or games, unlimited games, but no more games ?
📷 - photos or memories ?
🎲 - video games or table top games ?
🎹 - hand written poems or love songs ?
🎷 - have a popular fan song for your selfship or have a popular fanfic for your selfship ?
🎸 - selfship playlist or selfship theme song ?
🎺 - listen to music online or live ?
🪕 - movies or tv shows ?
🎻 - instrumental music or lyrics ?
- opera or concert ?
🥁 - fairs or festivals ?
🪈 - plays or musicals ?
🎧 - loud music or soft music ?
💫 - gold or silver ?
⭐ - stargazing or birdwatching ?
🌟 - fate or coincidence ?
✨ - ghosts or monsters ?
⚡ - be feared or be loved ?
🌞 - sunset or sunrise ?
🌛 - night owl or early bird ?
🌚 - scary stories or myths ?
🌕 - sun coded or moon coded ?
☄️ - meteor shower or eclipse ?
🌈 - light or dark ?
🫧 - baths or showers ?
🌊 - beach trip or mountain trip ?
🔥 - hot weather or cold weather ?
🌪️ - wind storms or hail storms ?
🌧️ - thunderstorms or snowstorms ?
💧 - sunshine or rain ?
⛄ - snow men or snow angels ?
❄️ - snow or rain ?
⛅ - peaceful walks or hikes ?
❤️ - big spoon or little spoon ?
🧡 - introvert or extrovert ?
💛 - physical affection or words of affection ?
💚 - day in or adventuring ?
💙 - acts of service or gift giving ?
💜 - silly nicknames or serious nicknames ?
🖤 - biting your f/o or being bitten ?
🤍 - wedding or no wedding ?
🩷 - only be able to give kisses or only be able to give hugs ?
🩵 - getting compliments or giving compliments ?
I tried to make all the emojis correlate but. you know . 100 questions . n all that . okay hope u like bye bye !!!!
#🥀📜#self ship#selfshipper#self shipping#self shipper#selfship#selfshipping#f/o community#f/o#fictoromantic#romantic f/o#yumedanshi#yumejoshi#yume community#yumeship
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hi love! i'd like to req emily smut, maybe a little more on the rough side if you'd be comfortable with that, where she gets jealous over reader and shows that through sex
if you want something less vague, it could be when reader brings emily lunch to her office and morgan keeps flirting with her, leading to some action in emily's office

I'll be doing these two together cause why not. I hope you don't mind! thanks for requesting, and I hope you liked it!!
jealousy - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: see the asks, it's a mix of both, it kind of took a turn, but i hope you still enjoy it! tw: jealousy, a very poor try at dom Emily, fingering, breast play?, idk tws are so hard once you've finished writing🥲, i think that's it lmk if i'm missing smth a/n: no idea if there's a way for me to link both asks here, someone lmk if there is
It's only 8.00 am when you enter the police station, two bodies in the past 12 hours required the early hours, everyone had to be focused, your mind had to be only in one place. However, this wasn't the case for all the people on that room.
The local police officer at the head of the case had some other things in his mind.
He starts by boldly checking you out, looks at you up and down, stopping and staring at the short tank top you were wearing, which makes you uncomfortable enough to cover yourself with your arms as much as you can.
The look your girlfriend sends to him doesn't go unnoticed to you, you start to believe she will set him on fire just with her stare, she places herself covering your body to shake his hand, which she gripes a bit too harder than the usual.
If you didn't know her any better, you would say she is jealous.
But there was just no way, right? Emily Prentiss doesn't get jealous, she's too confident for that, she has you so well wrapped around her finger, she doesn't need to be jealous. Right?
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
"so you think this... unsub like you call him, could be on a killing spree because of his mother?" the agent asks you, staring at the last picture you just sticked to the board with a puzzled look.
"we're positive, we've seen this modus before, it's a clear pattern" you explain
"ugh, so talking about mommy issues" you can't help the little snicker that scapes your lips.
He looks triumphant, fully believes he's got you under his spell. He couldn't be more wrong.
The familiar hand that slides behind you on your lower back makes you jump, Emily comes around you, standing closer than she usually does.
"hey, what were you talking about?" she asks, tilting her head.
"oh, nothing just the case" you say, unbothered.
"just the case huh?" you turn your head to see how she's staring at him, as he walks away from you both.
"Em? what is it?" you ask suspicoisly.
"nothing, i just don't understand, what could be so funny if you were just talking about the case..." she says sarcastically
"oh my god" you try to keep your voice down, but the excitement is still noticeable "oh my god, Emily, you're jealous!"
"what? What do you mean I'm jealous?" her voice a couple octaves higher, making it so obvious to you she's lying.
"that's not even a real answer!" you say.
"ugh..." she lets out one of those little sounds she always makes when she knows she's been caught, you think it's adorable.
"ok, so maybe... maybe I just... don't like the way he looks at my girlfriend, so sue me!" she tries defending herself, but you couldn't take it seriously for your life, you find it adorable, the slight pink tinting her cheeks, her reassuring hand still resting on your lower back.
"Emily, c'mon, you know i love you" you kiss her cheek, she kisses you back but still doesn't look so convinced.
The thing is, you could not be any less attracted to that man, there was no way in the world you would find his flirting any appealing, but the idea of teasing Emily sounds too exciting.
A little fun never hurt anyone, right?
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
"...hellooo, earth to Prentiss?"
Morgan waves a hand in front of Emily’s face and she’s brought back to reality.
"what?" she asks.
"i said, could you please put your frown away, you're scaring Reid" Spencer doesn't even hear the comment, too focused on the case file to even pay attention to the conversation that was taking place right beside him.
"my frown is just where it has to be, thank you" she says raising an eyebrow at that.
Derek gives a scoff, and Rossi chuckles at the whole stupidity of the situation. “If y/n can’t feel your stare burning a hole in her back, when she turns and sees you, she’s sure gonna think you're planning a murder.”
"i might just be" she mutters
"I think I know what's going on" Rossi intervenes "she isn't looking at y/n" he explains pointing at you "I think someone might be jealous"
You are only a few feet away, discussing your last findings with the detective, trying to laugh at every little thing he says, making sure Emily is watching.
"I'm not jealous" she defends "she is so clearly not interested, but what if she needs me to step in?" her attempt to make up a good excuse isn't good enough for any of them to buy it
"if that helps you, but all i can hear is jealousy" a big, cocky smile spread on Morgan's face, it's only making her angrier
"c'mon, or we will too have to face the consequences of the territorial monster of jealousy when it explodes" Rossi says, dragging Morgan away
"yeah, mark your territory" Morgan laughs, while Emily gives him the finger "go get her lover!"
It's your loud chuckle that draws the line for her. When you finally get away from the persistent officer, you turn to see Emily isn't there anymore, taking your phone you see 2 new message from her.
From Em💕: you better knock your shit off baby.
From Em💕: That's it. You're so in for it later.
That one makes your heart throb, it shortly makes you wonder if you had taken it too far. This was not gonna end well for you.
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
Hotch decides to call it for the day, sending you off to start fresh in the morning, when a male voice you had heard enough already, calls your name
"Agent, I was wondering if you would be in for a drink with me?" he asks, eyeing you up and down yet again.
You are so sure you would find it just as disgusting if you weren't so gay, and so in love with your girlfriend.
"oh, sorry but no, actually, I-" a much more familiar female voice interrupts you "she's with me" Emily says.
He can't believe his eyes, Emily wraps her arm around your waist pulling you close to her body "hi babe" she says, kissing your lips, you return the kiss, a bit amused at her jealousy, but loving the possessiveness she was showing.
"Sorry, you were saying?" she asks, the man still open-mouthed, he can't bring himself to even speak.
"nothing... ugh, good night, agents" he dismisses you, and walks away defeated.
Emily and you head out of the bullpen, her arm still securely wrapped around your waist, she slides her hand on your back pocket, grabbing a handful of your ass possessively, making you chuckle.
"wanna talk about it?" you ask her innocently
"oh we are gonna be doing a bit more than talking you and me"
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
Emily doesn't even leave time for the door to close, and you have a split second to register your thoughts before she closes the door and walks over in one long stride and slams you into the wall.
Her mouth attacks yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, her tongue invading in a fight for dominance, that you just let her win, she is determined to have her way with you, and you aren't going to stop her.
She wasted no time in getting her hands on you, roughly rubbing her hands over your exposed skin. You, however, delicately placed your arms around her neck and when you both pulled apart to breathe.
"what's wrong, Em?" you ask her, breathlessly
"you know what? For starters, I didn't like the way he was looking at you" she starts, her breath warm against your skin, she lowers her head getting your neck, kissing it so sweetly you feel you could melt
she is quick to find your pulse point, mouth-opened kisses all over your skin, she nips all over your spot, which makes you moan
"but then imagine my surprise when i saw you, flirting back" her hand finds her way underneath your shirt, reaching for your breast, she finds no more resistance as you aren't wearing a bra, your other nipple peaking through your shirt in excitement.
She uses her free hand to grip your ass, you jump at the feeling whimpering on her mouth, her closeness only making you more excited.
"but you don't like him, do you, baby?" she asks, teasing you, she leaves a soft kiss on your lips
"he wouldn't stand a chance, we both know men aren't really your type" Emily says lowly, nipping at the tender spot behind your ear.
She slips her leg between yours, a soft moan escapes your lips.
"so you just wanted to make me jealous" you're too deep in her dominance to even register anything, letting out soft whimpers every time her thumb brushes against the nub and grips the soft skin of your breast
"god... Emily" you let out, as Emily pulls your thighs apart with her hand.
"you know, baby, if you wanted me to fuck you, you could've just asked" she attacks your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave purple marks you couldn't care any less about now.
Emily presses her fingertips against the crotch of your jeans "your clothes. Take them off or I'll rip them off" she commands, taking a step back from you, leaving too little space to maneuver.
You knew better than to tease her when she was like this. A shiver of excitement runs through your back, and you comply.
You take your jeans off then, your shirt, quickly throwing them somewhere far on the room.
You move to kiss her again, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for a kiss, but she doesn't let you, instead she grabs you by your thighs, lifting you up.
You wrap your legs around her waist, she carries you to bed, laying you down just harshly enough to make you even more excited for whats to come.
"you are gonna do exactly what i ask you to tonigh, you know why, baby?" you hold your breath, you're not sure if she actually wants you to answer, but you try nonetheless "because I'm yours"
Your answer seems to satisfy her, as she begins kissing her way down your body, taking special care to nip at your collarbone and stomach to leave more marks than the one's on your neck.
The soft cloth of her shirt rubs against your skin and as if just now realising she was still dressed, you grab the hem of her shirt and help her take it off, throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of the room, like you had done with your own clothes.
And not a moment later, she is back to kissing your body, stopping suddenly when she reached the hemline of your underwear.
Her hand navigates down them, she dips low enough to collect your arousal on her fingertips before rubbing your clit forcefully. Your body reacts immediately, curling forward. "Em!" you moan
"what's wrong baby? Cat got your tongue? use your words, if you want me to stop the teasing, just say it"
"fuck...Em, please, I'm yours, please Emily, yours" you confirm, closing your eyes and letting your hips rock against her hand.
“Who are you this wet for?” Emily demands, nipping at your earlobe.
"just you" you whimper, desperation starting to build in your lower stomach
"that's right baby" the cocky smile on her lips makes your eyes roll. You obviously loved slow, romantic love making with your grilfriend, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't love this side of her just as much.
She continued to move her fingers inside of you and you met each thrust but you almost fell apart when she pressed her thumb against your clit and rubbed hard.
She uses her free hand to play with your breast, you let out a gasp when her tongue moves over it spurred you on and she begins to gently suck on it while her hand still caressed your other breast.
You melt into the mattress at her words. "let go, c'mon baby, I got you" you cum on the spot, as she fucks you through your orgasm, she let's you ride your high.
Emily lays down beside you as you come down from the climax, she kisses your lips softly, lovingly this time, less urgent.
"you know i didn't mean any of it right? I was just playing with you, i love you. He didn't stand a chance" you try to clarify
"yes baby, i know, i love you too, i wasn't so harsh with you right?" she asks concerned. Sometimes you can't believe how Emily's mood changes so fast, from all dominating, incredibly sexy, to concerned, soft girlfriend.
"Em, it was perfect" you say, grabbing her face and pecking her lips "you are perfect" you kiss her again.
"well, good, because we're just getting started, i'm not sure you've learned your lesson yet" she grins.
"Like i said, I'm all yours, agent Prentiss" she sits to straddle you, and you grab her face to pull her in for another kiss.
Emily caresses your neck with her thumb, looking at the purple marks she had previously left "this will be hard to cover tomorrow"
"who says I'm covering them?"
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
Sitting on your usual spot on the plane, you lay behind Emily's amr, resting your head on her shoulder as she reads.
You aren't oblivious of the look on Morgan's face, right in front of you.
The shirt you chose had your neck and cleavage all on display, small and big purple marks cover your skin.
He stares bluntly at you, a cheeky smile covering his face "So y/n, looks like you and Prentiss had yourselves a good night. Care to share?"
Emily gives him the finger.
"in your dreams" you say.
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
wow! a lot longer than i expected it to be! finishing this one gave me a headache so please like and reblog if you liked it, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated! <333 reqs still open as always!
#emily prentiss#wlw#criminal minds x reader#emily prentiss imagine#lesbian#emily prentiss lesbian#lesbian pride#wlw fanfic#wlw smut#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss fluff#emily prentiss smut#emily prentiss x you#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#emily prentiss x y/n#criminal minds x you#emily prentiss x reader smut#emily prentiss x female reader#criminal minds smut#emily prentiss wlw#emily prentiss oneshot#Emily Prentiss x reader#emily prentiss headcanons
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vat7k designs in my head...
i thought their canon designs were a eensy weensy bit Unpolished so i made these mostly for myself. erm if u rly want it i think varian is 19 here, hugo 19, nuru 18, yong 12.
i also made rhem all playlists and had to draw them a cover so thats what the last img is I linked each of em under my notes for all of em... Under the cut is Like a Huge Infodump of notes i have for each chara,,,,,,
i kept varians design basically the same, i dislike the design w the orange neck thing so i just Nuked it😭... Here's Varians playlist
Hugos design i just wanted to put him in something more Loose. hes a thief, a professional escape artist. i dont think wearing clunky metal is ideal for him. i also gave him a prosthetic arm (blond w no arm design trope!) but u cant see it in the ref so i added another drawing of him in his under layering👍 i vaguely referenced russian(?) clothes for him as well... Yeah not too much changed w him i just tried to make him slippery-er. Here's Hugo's playlist
yong came relatively easy to me, if it wasn't obvious i did rip gaming from g*nshin's hoodie. i thought the lion hood was Adorable and freaking perfect for what i had in mind for hos character. since the og notes said the fire kingdom is loosely Chinese inspired i basically just kept that. i mashed tgt a buncha diff dynasties though sorry for how inconsistent i was... i think he looks Okay. anyways i changed yongs role a bit, ill explain why im adjusting some of their roles later but i kept yong as the Jinx Type character. hes the eldest in his family and has a buncha younger siblings, hes a lion dancer and does performances w his family/siblings. he rly like special effects n keeps tryna incorporate his fireworks into their performances (it flops and he has to sew up the dmg) ill explain more of yongs role in another post maybe shrugs... Here's Yong's Playlist
miss nuru was a bit of a struggle for me i might share my full design process with her coz i did a Bunch of mockups for her😭😭😭... i didnt have a specific country of reference for her but i chose to make her vaguely south asian inspired. i also really wanted to keep the sheer fabric w the star / constellation map. i love that idea its so cute so shes still technically the navigator. but she also wields a sword too, fencing or whatever. (her and varian r Huge Cass fangirls which is probably why she started tryna use a sword (snuck out to watch cass compete) Okay ill talk abt this later) in my head, okay ill Probably make a whole nother post talking abt how im interpreting/writing each chara, but in my head i think nuru is the youngest and her kingdom's archivist. shes mostly in charge of like Her kingdoms history / artifacts / etc. ok im getting too side tracked ill save the lore dump for later but thats Nurus role in the party. Here's Nuru's Playlist
uhm below i made their character stats mostly to help me with planning / role developing. the yellow is their base stats the color behind is their end stats i guess. i was gonna explain my reasoning for their stats but ermm this post is kinda Really long so sorry😭... varian max int for obvious reasons, also max charisma just coz i feel like u kinda learn a thing or two being around a couple manipulators and spending time in jail idk shrugs... (also lets not forget the "ud b surprised what ppl would do for a cookie!") Hugo slippery guy, if a brick is thrown at him as hes running hes gonna try n run faster to shatter it, his mindset is Run Run Run! i think hes relatively agile too but yeah mostly a Speedster. i think he n varian got no Physical strength varian maybe just like A little coz Farm boy but I rly doubt quirin is making him do a Lotta heavy lifting. yong has incredible stamina and agility because hed a performer. nuru is the strongest coz this team would literally Flop without a proper Offense😭... i think varian n hugo r able to outwit plenty of their opponents but i think nuru is pretty good in a fight, same w yong. Yeah Okay Sorry for a Long Long Post thanks hope u guys enjoy

#vat7k#varian and the seven kingdoms#varian vat7k#hugo vat7k#nuru vat7k#yong vat7k#varian tangled#fanart#lizzysart
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Read The Packets
Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n; petnames sweetheart, baby, and I think a darling in there)
Warnings: 18+ only, smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v, teasing, spanking (blink and you'll miss), swearing, some praise kink sprinkled in, bratty reader, sort of Thunderbolts* spoilers if you care about Valentina's storyline, I think that's it? But please let me know if I missed anything!
a/n: My very first Bucky smut! Venturing out from my usual fluff. Completely gratuitous. Just one of many thoughts I've had since my first viewing of Thunderbolts* earlier this week. Surely more to come, because... WHEW, that man.
______________________________________________________________
"Read the packets," Congressman Gary said plainly, as if it were just that simple.
In truth, Bucky had tried to read the packets. Once. After a long day on Capitol Hill, he had resolved to sit himself down in his apartment that evening and lock in, pushing through the boredom. A quiet night in with takeout, work, and you, his best girl, to keep him company.
He had failed, though, to presuppose the mood you would be in that night.
Be it hormones, or just missing him after your own generally hectic schedule lately, you weren't sure. All you knew was you needed him, and seeing him in dutiful politician mode certainly wasn't helping.
He was sat on the couch in a t-shirt and boxer briefs, packets stacked on the coffee table save for the one open in his hands, with that little eyebrow crinkle that formed when he had his serious face on as he focused on the words on the page in front of him.
The same crinkle that always formed when he focused on fucking you senseless.
You quietly sauntered over to the back of the couch in nothing but your silken robe and wasted no time, silently dragging your hands down his burly chest from behind and leaning down to pepper slow, sloppy kisses to his jaw and neck. A smile formed on your busy lips as you heard him sigh out a groan.
"Sweetheart," he said in a vaguely warning tone.
"Hmm?" You questioned innocently, not letting up.
"Gotta read these."
You placed a kiss to the shell of his ear. "They're not going anywhere."
Bucky chuckled. "Yeah, that's the problem. Should've read 'em weeks ago."
"What's a few more hours then?"
"I-- baby, please." He all but whined, desperately trying to keep his focus. The sooner he got through these, the sooner he could get to taking you apart in whatever way you wanted.
Bucky felt you huff in annoyance against his skin as you ceased your torturous ministrations. "Fine."
But you weren't really done with him yet. No, his responsibility only spurred you on, and his rare rejection activated a brattiness within you the likes of which either of you had yet to experience.
You rounded the sofa as Bucky redirected his attention to his work, plopping down next to him dramatically and scooting as close to him as you could without fully ending up in his lap. Much to your annoyance, he managed with some restraint to keep his eyes on the paper without even glancing your way. You leaned closer into him until your bare knees landed across his thigh and your chest partially pressed against his arm, appearing to join him in reading the packet while your hand found his hair, nails raking over his scalp as you began to lightly scratch and massage just how he liked.
"Baby, I-"
"Shh," you whispered. "You're supposed to be reading. This is riveting stuff."
His eyes rolled back as his body involuntarily relaxed under your touch. "'m trying."
You let your hand gently drop from his hair, using it to prop your own head next to his. Bucky opened his eyes and shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear it and regain control.
All was innocent and peaceful for a minute or so before you slid your other hand to Bucky's knee. He inhaled sharply at the feeling of your soft, uncalloused hand ghosting over his thigh, stopping at the hem of his briefs, then back down again. It only took three featherlight passes for you to feel the fabric pulling and tightening as his cock hardened.
Bucky's jaw clenched as he fought to retain the words he was reading, but as the blood flowed from his head to the head below it could have been written in Wingdings font and he wouldn't know the difference. You pressed a kiss to his tight jaw, urging the muscles to relax.
Your barely-there touch caressed its way to the fully pitched tent and you couldn't help the satisfied hum you let out at the feeling of Bucky's stiffness at your fingertips. He twitched in his briefs at your touch and sweet sound.
His excitement and your own growing ache in your core encouraged you not to stop your fun. Painfully softly, you began to stroke him at a leisurely pace, not yet making direct skin to skin contact. You hummed again when you felt the warmth of the wet spot forming on the thin cotton layer that separated you.
"Ple-" Bucky began, tearing his gaze from the packet to beg you for mercy.
You cut him off with a quick but passionate kiss, leaving him yearning for more as you pulled away. "Read, congressman," you ordered, earning another twitch at the usage of his title.
Wordlessly he watched you slip off the couch and onto your knees before him, guiding his legs apart to rest in between them, ducking into place under his arms, which were still slightly raised and diligently holding the first impeachment packet. He shot you a look that was half warning, half plea. You looked up at him innocently as you bent down and placed a kiss to the tip of his clothed dick. You gave him the look once more, this time descending for an open mouthed kiss to the same spot and earning a poorly controlled growl from deep within Bucky's chest.
You slid your hands up his thighs to the waistband of his briefs, freeing him as much as you could until you could see the pretty pink head. You met his gaze through your long lashes, silently asking him for help to get them the rest of the way off. When he didn't immediately oblige, you settled for wrapping your hand around him and beginning to pump him at the same leisurely pace you'd maintained before, continuing to hold eye contact.
Bucky licked his lips and shook his head. "You're killin' me, sweetheart."
"Read, congressman," you repeated. "You have work to do." And so do I, you thought. With that, you took him as far into your mouth as you could manage with his briefs still partially in the way.
"Fuck," he hissed at the contact with the wet warmth of your mouth.
You moaned at the taste of him on your tongue, wishing you had full leverage to take him completely down your throat.
With the scene before him, he knew he wouldn't last long. You, his sweetheart, his best girl, so bratty and desperate for him, so wet from being on your knees for him that his serum-enhanced senses had him smelling your sweet arousal. No, he wouldn't last long at all like this. And no way in hell could he get through those fucking packets.
Bucky tossed the packet aside on the couch with a thud and you let out a playful giggle on his cock. Just what you wanted, obviously. Defeat. "So fuckin' needy, huh?" He cooed, threading a hand into your hair as you bobbed up and down. He felt you nod in his palm, the vibration of your affirmative "mhmm" all around him. "Not even out of my clothes yet and 'm already gonna cum."
You released him with a pop and looked up at him, leaning back slightly and running your hands up his abs under his t-shirt. "Off, please."
Bucky ignored your plea and leaned down to give you a wanting kiss, mimicking the one you'd given to him earlier, drawing a whine from you as he pulled away. "Up, darlin'." You gave him a pouty look. "Get up, c'mon. Just givin' my girl what she wants."
You rose to your feet as you were told, Bucky grabbing your hips without warning and pulling you down to straddle his lap. Immediately you were on him, hands in his hair to shower him in deep, hungry kisses. He pulled the offending t-shirt off, providing fresh landscape for your hands to explore. You barely noticed in your fervor him untying your robe and sliding it off your shoulders to the floor, leaving you stark naked in the living room turned makeshift office.
"So fuckin' beautiful," Bucky sighed into your neck as his kisses descended from your lips and his hands roamed your bare body. "But such a little brat." A surprised yelp escaped you as his flesh hand planted a firm slap to your ass, then soothingly rubbed the reddening spot. The slight sting left you throbbing over him, aching for friction. "You gonna start behaving?" His vibranium hand left its place on your thigh, his cold fingers sending shockwaves through you as they met your folds and glided through the gathered slick.
You bit your lip and nodded furiously, needing to feel him inside of you. "Yes-- yes, I'll be so good."
"I know you will, baby," he said, nodding back at you while he slowly inserted two fingers. "So be a good girl and pick that packet up for me, huh?" You looked at him with confusion, trying to focus as his fingers dragged in and out of you. "Right next to you, pick it up." He couldn't tell if your whining as you complied was out of pleasure or annoyance or both, but he didn't care. "That's it." He removed his fingers abruptly and made quick work of lifting his hips to slide off his last bit of clothing, his rock hardness bumping your swollen clit on the way up, earning an abrupt moan from you. "See, it's like you said, I have work do. So let's multitask." His hands found your hips again, gripping and guiding you down until he felt his tip kiss your entrance and watched your mouth gape in anticipation. He held you there, hovered slightly, and slid himself in teasingly slowly. You groaned in unison as you felt the friction between you. "God, you're fuckin' soaked."
"Feel so good," you breathed, eyes rolling back.
"Eyes open, baby," Bucky said firmly. "You won't let me read it, so I need you to be a real good girl and read it to me." He punctuated his sentence with a deep thrust fully up into you. The moan he knocked out of you seemed to echo through the apartment. "Can you do that for me?"
You shook your head, an almost pitiful look on your face. "Bucky, I don't think I-"
He cut you off with another hard thrust. "Sure you can." And another. "Read the packet."
"'Resolved, that," you began, "that Valentina Allegra d-de Font'-oh!" Bucky hadn't let up his thrusts, unhurried but powerful and punctuated, now sucking and nipping at your neck and chest. "'Fontaine, Director of the Central'-right there, fuck- 'the Central Intelligence Agency o-of the United States of America, is impeached for h-high crimes'-yes, god- 'impeached for high crimes and misdemeanors and th-that the f-following articles of impeachment be exhibi-exhibited to the United States S-Senate'- fuck, I c-can't."
"Not so easy, is it, sweetheart," Bucky asked, sustaining his established pace.
You shook your head. "N-no."
"'S'right." Thrust. Bucky took the packet and tossed it on the table atop the others. "You knew better." He grasped your hips tighter and held you on him as he lay you down longways on the sofa, hovering above you, your legs wrapping lazily around him. He quickly found a new pace, faster than before, and reached deeper inside you from the fresh position.
And then there it was-- that crinkle. You watched through watery, dilated eyes as it formed between his brows, physical proof of his complete focus being on you now. He maintained the quick snap of his hips, knowing he would finish soon and not caring one bit. Your cries beneath him and wet warmth around him told him you didn't either.
"This what you wanted, baby?"
You were beyond the ability to form words, merely moaning in response.
"Look so fuckin' gorgeous under me. Take me so well," he praised. "My best fuckin' girl. God, 'm gonna cum."
All you could do was beg. "Please."
Bucky's hips stuttered and a guttural moan ripped from deep within him as he painted your walls with his thick spend. His head collapsed into the crook of your neck, both of you catching your breath, while you placed sweet, sloppy kisses to his temple and cheek. "I love you. Missed you."
"Could tell," he chuckled. "I love you, too."
You lay there together like that, connected, caressing up and down his spine, until Bucky finally lifted himself on his palms and a groan. Fully expecting him to clean you both up and start back on his reading, you were surprised when he scooted back toward the other end of the couch by your feet, remaining between your legs. You instinctively started to shut them, an unconscious shyness at being on full display for him, your mixed juices dripping from you. You peered at him hesitantly.
Bucky met your gaze and spread your knees back wide. "Not done with you yet."
"But the pa-"
"They're not going anywhere," He said, face disappearing between your legs.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes#bucky barnes oneshot#thunderbolts
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Fearing thunderstorms.
Genya is scared of thunderstorms and snuck in to your room for comfort. Why not let him stay?
Pairing: Genya x gn!tsugoku!reader

You were already all cuddled up in your bed, relaxing and ready to sleep. It was perfect timing too since it just began to rain and you could hear the heavy droplets fall onto the roof above you. Thunder was roaring in the distance, making you grin and snuggle closer against your sheets and close your eyes. This is going to be a cozy night with some good, well deserved sleep…
But then, you heard your bedroom door ever so slowly open and someone stepping inside. Your whole body tense beneath your sheet as your fist balled together, thinking it was some intruder trying to break in. You slowly opened one of your eyes and tried to spot who it is by trying not to turn your head as much as possible. That’s where you spotted your best friend Genya sit in the corner right next to your door, hugging his knees and pulling them to his chest. His shoulders looked tense and his eyes were wide open, his lips former into a small pout. Usually you see Genya scowl or just stare at nothing during training or breaks. He is smiling though whenever you talk and hang-out with him, but right now he just looks so small and afraid.
You groaned and rolled over in your futon, stretching your limbs. You saw how hard Genya flinched from the corner of your eye. Poor boy thought he was smooth and quiet by sneaking into your room in the middle of the night. Before you could speak up, the booming sound of thunder stopped you. You saw Genya flinch again and state at the ceiling above as if it’s about to crumble any moment, his shoulders tensing further while his body curls up more into a small ball of fear. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight. It was bizarre seeing such a tall and broadly build guy looking like a distressed kitten. He moved his gaze back over at you, now both staring at each other.
“Sorry. For sneaking in.”
Genya whispered, hugging his knees tighter against his chest. Although his mouth was apologising, his body made no movement to get out of your room. You sat upright on your bed and tried to forget how messy you must look right now.
“Why did you even sneak in?”
The rain got harder and more severe making the curled up boy in the corner even more nervous. You rubbed your eyes tiredly and yawned, his eyes now fixated on you.
“I- uh… I-I’m scared.”
He vaguely gestured to the ceiling.
“Of the loud thunders and stuff… ever since I was a kid I was scared of ‘em.”
That makes sense. You never saw Genya be scared of anything besides disappointing his big brother or failing in training. Those are reasonable things to be afraid of, but thunder storms? That’s kind of adorable. You couldn’t help but grin just a little, but he noticed and blushed.
“D-Don’t make fun of me!! They are loud, bright and the rain- you can get flooded anytime i-if the rain’s too heavy! C’mon!”
His posture loosened a little and his face got covered in a bright blush. He was embarrassed, clearly. You suppressed a giggle and decided to offer him comfort instead of driving him out of your room to cower in fear on his own. You grabbed your blanket and got out of your futon, sitting down on the tatami beside his shivering form. You didn’t even notice how hard he was gripping his pyjama pants before coming up close. Genya’s expression shifted from embarrassment and fear to confusion as you wrapped your warm blanket around his shoulders, tucking him in. He hid parts of his face in the warmth to prevent himself from showing his embarrassing blush. You smiled slightly and patter his shoulder.
“Well, if you’re scared, you can stay with me. I’ll even keep it a secret from Tanjiro and the others.”
You wrapped your arm carefully around his shoulder to offer him some quiet support. Outside, the rain began to die down a little and the thunder wasn’t as frequent as before. Genya nodded quietly and moved the blanket over to your shoulders so you two can share it.
“M’sorry for hogging your blanket— here.”
His arm also wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. A soft blush spread on your face, and with that, matching his face. You two sat together in the corner in the dark, listening to the soft rain. You turned to face him.
“Things are getting quieter. You wanna try and sleep a little? We’ll need the rest tomorrow.”
Your soft voice pulled him back into reality after staring into nothingness for a while, listening to the rain. Genya glanced at you and shyly nodded, scooting a little closer to you. You sighed and pulled him to rest his head on your shoulder. His whole body stiffened up by your warm body and the cozy blanket creating a shield of comfort around him, protecting him from thunders and heavy rains. His shoulders sagged and his legs slowly stretched out, releasing them from the straining fetus position. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Your fingers ran through his mohawk, making him relax further against your shoulder.
You were just about to try comfort him further by talking or rubbing his back but the quiet snores leaving from Genya’s lips made you remain quiet. His head felt heavy on your shoulder but you didn’t mind, not at all. Your hand pulled your blanket further over his body before moving to his back. The repeating motion of rubbing his back felt relaxing and soothing to you and your eyelids slowly began closing and you sleepy rested your head on top of his before finally falling asleep yourself.
🎃
Flufftober prompt: Stormy nights
I read your comment about your favourite characters @starvedluci and decided to write Genya for you! Hope you enjoy and don’t mind I’m calling you out like that :,P Also, fun fact, I am really scared of heavy rains. My country had some heavy flooding a while back and that kinds traumatised me, idk XD Thunderstorms are totally fine and normal rain is very relaxing, but heavy, bullet-raindrops? Nope nope nope nope.
Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!
Take care of yourselves <3
Here’s my event masterlist 🎃
#💠 house of vry 💠#💠vry’s events💠#demon slayer#demon slayer x reader#kny x reader#fluff#genya x reader#genya x y/n#kimetsu genya#kny genya#demon slayer genya#shinaguzawa genya#genya shinazugawa#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer x you#kny x y/n#kny x you
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