#which is important enough to mention despite not showing it

[nabaath-areng]

Den andra första kyssen.

[desertdragon]

This shit is so ass I just want it to be over

[creatingblackcharacters]

No, That’s Not ‘How Color Works’. - Whitewashing

Whitewashing, as defined by Merriam-Webster:

"to alter (something) in a way that favors, features, or caters to white people: such as a) to portray (the past) in a way that increases the prominence, relevance, or impact of white people and minimizes or misrepresents that of nonwhite people and B) to alter (an original story) by casting a white performer in a role based on a nonwhite person or fictional character"

In fandom context, we know it to include:

Making someone’s skin lighter

Making someone’s hair a thinner texture

Changing someone’s nose to be thinner

Shrinking their lips

Changing the character in their entirety to be someone else

The Normalization of Whitewashing

Remember how I mentioned last lesson that despite the nature of poorly drawn Black characters, most audiences are not turned off enough to discourage the action in professional works? Similar idea with whitewashing. Not the same- unlike the Ambiguously Brown Character, which claims to have plausible deniability, overt whitewashing is usually enough to make fans speak up! But that’s the key word here- overt! It has to be “bad enough” to make enough people speak up, but as we’ve seen many a time, “bad enough” seems to have a much higher threshold for nonblack viewership (sometimes the limit doesn’t exist!)

Some visual examples

This is a link to my personal thread on a Netflix show I was watching- Worst Ex Ever. Now, while the show itself was quite enlightening, there was something I could not get over. I thought I was going crazy. And that was that no matter how dark the person of color would be in real life, the animated portions would draw this light pinkish-brown. Every. Single. Time. It's like they couldn't fathom scrolling down the color wheel. And this is a Netflix original! Netflix has plenty of money for someone to have caught this in creation. But... it was produced. And put out. And they're making more of it.

I asked all of the Dragon Age fans about the series, and uh… I didn’t know things were this bad, guys! Apparently this is a man of color, but it doesn't seem like the creators want you to know that 🤣. Jokes aside, as I’ve discussed before, the noticeable whitewashing- and that was one of many racist things I was told- was not enough to prevent sales... so why would they stop? I can only hope this new game, with all the updates, is enough to turn the tide. But the series has gone on for a while now, that if they’d chosen to do ye same olde… there clearly would not be a lack of financial support to prevent it.

Colorism as a Tool

Even when actors of color are cast, colorism often plays a role in normalizing whitewashing to audiences, even to Black audiences! People think “oh well at least they’re Black!” as if that is the only important part. It is not.

While Aaron Pierre, the actor cast for John Stewart of Green Lantern fame, is a GORGEOUS, STUNNING man, he is not the dark-skinned man that John Stewart is supposed to be and should not have been cast! To me, this is overt colorism, but clearly for many people this is not “enough” to warrant concern or even prevent the casting itself- including the studio behind the movie! Black fans have plead for years for the character of Storm to be played by a dark-skinned, preferably African, woman, and it has never happened.

It naturally happens in fan spaces as well, which is another indicator that colorism as a tool for whitewashing is quite effective for audiences. If I see one more Zendaya fan cast for Kida from Atlantis, I will scream. It’s been happening for years, and I don’t think any of the people who just want to see her and Tom on screen either understand or care that Kida is a dark-skinned character. Zendaya doesn’t look anything like Kida- it doesn’t matter if she’s Black too! Just because someone is Black does not mean they can play every single Black character! I’ve even seen people fancast Emilia Clarke of Game of Thrones fame, to which… I don’t have the words. I can’t fathom what would cause these decisions other than racism.

The Common Excuses

I must be honest. I don’t really feel like re-iterating how certain things are not okay and how to fix them, because I’ve already discussed these things in massive detail. So I’m just going to direct the excuses I regularly hear to my lessons, where you can read up on them.

“Their hair/eyes are like that because they’re biracial so-”

Relevant Lessons: 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 8, 9, 10

There is nothing wrong with having biracial characters with a range of features. I am not saying that! Because yeah, genetics do happen!

But I mentioned this in my last lesson, and I will re-emphasize here, that using biracial identity as a way to whitewash is a sinister form of racism. The intention here- the real intention- is the issue here! The idea that somehow this character can only look the way you want them to look by "diluting" their Blackness… I don’t know how you can explain yourselves out of that one.

You don’t get to use us as an excuse for diversity while still trying to maintain your preference for Eurocentric beauty standards. Black biracial people don’t always look light skinned, thin-haired and ambiguous, and even the ones that do don’t deserve to be treated as your fetish for pretend antiracism. If you just want to draw a white person with a tan, do that. But don’t change a character’s entire look just so you can work in some whiteness. If you want to claim that canon Black character’s mother was white, then I guess they inherited some of her personality because their features should not change.

“It’s my style/It’s the color-”

Relevant Lessons: 3, 4, 10

I hate all excuses for whitewashing, but I’ve grown to despise, hate, abhor and loathe this one the most as I’ve become an artist. I wish there were stronger words to describe just how much I hate the “style” and “color” excuse.

Are style and use of color oft intertwined? Absolutely. I’m not saying they aren’t. But out of everything, there are two things I want artists to understand:

1. Style does not cancel out racism! No style forces you to choose ashy greys and to change peoples’ features. That’s you! If you look at something, and it looks offensive, you change the style. You grow as an artist!

2. “Everyone who is brown will look ashy so I just-” if you recognize that your Black characters look strange in comparison to your nonblack characters, then it’s time to try something else! I don’t understand this sudden need for “realism” when it comes to color and lighting, but not when it comes to hair, for example. No one cares about realism when giving every and all Black characters wavy tresses they probably wouldn’t have, but suddenly milquetoast watercolor attempts at brown and off-putting lighting is “how it works”. That’s not fair.

The color picker is an available tool! I use it often!

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if someone gets the outfit color palette right via color picking, but the skin color is multiple shades lighter. That means they were looking at that character and chose not to proceed.

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if the white characters in the show are completely correct in their palettes. Again, that means they cared enough to look at everyone else… and not the Black characters.

If you use the color picker and the color picked is… disrespectful, you do not have to use that! You can simply choose a better color that is still similar to the brown that ought to be depicted!

“It’s the lighting-”

Relevant Lessons: 4, 5

If your white characters do not shine like snow in the sunlight because of your lighting, then your lighting does not make your Black characters suddenly light tan.

If your Black characters look bad in your lighting of choice- for example, putting a very dark-skinned character in electric white lighting can be ghastly- try changing the intensity or the color of the lighting. DON’T change your character’s skin color!

I'm going to show you some pictures of South Sudanese model Nyakim Gatwech. Pay attention to the choices of light, color, and makeup.

Look how BEAUTIFUL she is! Look at the choices of intensity and color of light, and how they make her look different in each image.

Now look at this image in comparison:

In this image, whoever did her makeup and took this picture did not take into consideration her skin tone. She's also under this really intense lighting. This is an example of "increasing the lighting does NOT make an image "better"". She didn't need to have lighter skin or "more lighting" to look good. She needed BETTER lighting, lighting that worked with HER.

To see this as an example in drawn art, @dsm7 makes an excellent argument for proper lighting and color, why it is an issue to use it as an excuse, and how to solve that problem.

‼️DISCLAIMER FOR NEXT EXAMPLE‼️

Okay. I am about to show y’all a fan-created example from my personal experience. It is a TEACHING EXPERIENCE ONLY. I am not including the artist’s name in this image. It happened a couple years ago, and it’s over- they’ve chosen to be who they are despite me kindly confronting them about it. The only reason I’m including it at all is because I feel like it would be remiss to have such a clear-cut, multi-level example, and not teach with it. That said, no, I am not telling anyone to act out towards them. Again, that is not what I’m telling you to do. The last thing I need is a literal lynch mob of angry nonblack viewership for trying to teach you all, and y’all sitting there watching it happen to me. Every example of whitewashing is not going to be so obvious, but I hope you learn how to spot the examples in the art you see and share.

I'm obviously a Hades fan, particularly of Patroclus- despite my disdain for the lack of effort in his canon character design. So I've seen a lot of things. That said:

“Well it’s just MY design of them-”

Relevant Lessons: ALL

The sepia coloring did not do this. The lighting did not do this. The design is the exact same as the Hades version, even down to the shape of the hair curling in the back. The only thing that is different… is the man himself.

Y'all. Y'all! You CANNOT take a pre-existing Black character and say “oh well this is my design of them” …and the design is of a whole white person. Because if the rest of the fit is the same, and the only thing that changed is the Blackness… Racism. If you’re going to “make up your own design”, then do that!

“Blackwashing”

Speaking of: I’m sure someone edgy out there thinks they’re so smart as they retort to the screen: “but if that’s not okay, then why is Blackwashing okay?” To which I say- shut up. 😐

The “definition” by fandom: making a nonblack character Black, usually an anime character, but characters in general.

Funny enough, the actual definition in the dictionary (or closest to) is “to defame”, in contrast with whitewash (as in whitewashing history). Maybe racist fans ARE using it correctly when they say you’re blackwashing their characters, when they mean you’re making them “less likable because they’re Black now”. 🤔

Anyway: Blackwashing is not real for the same reason reverse racism is not real.

Me painting these characters brown is not going to take away from the fact that there are far more of you in media than there is of me. Me saying that I ‘headcanon a character as Black with 4C hair’ is not going to make the studio go “oh! Well they must be Black with 4C hair now!” Me saying “oh I think I’d like this character better if they were Black” as a beta tester (less overtly, obviously, because I’m not racist!) will never make a studio change that character. Black viewers have minimal value in comparison to the power of the white viewer’s dollar. I could draw white characters Black every single day of every single game media… and they would still produce majority white characters. There has not been centuries- if not millennia, when we consider Jesus Christ himself, even- of purposeful “Blackwashing” with the intent of removing the original ethnicity- and thus importance- of white people. No one has ever been allowed to forget when someone is white. No one has ever been allowed to forget or not acknowledge white people.

How it could be "solved"

Personally, I love Black edits and I welcome them here. I find them creative and fun. But if you really, REALLY didn’t want us to make those edits, then naturally, we need more Black characters in all of our media!

I wouldn’t have to make edits if I saw more of me to begin with in the things I like to watch- but when we have those characters, racists act an ass about them. We’re not allowed to even be present! I’ve seen too many gamer bros mocking the existence of Yasuke in Assassin’s Creed, and he was a real ass man. But if we made a game about African peoples in African societies, how many of the gamer bros would actually play those games? Do you think there’d be as much support, when we hear so much about Black characters that are treated so abhorrently? How many games do we have where people would love their faves just as much if they were Black? I even learned that Solas was apparently supposed to be a man of color. IMAGINE how many people would not have liked that man, with the same exact plot and characterization.

Something I’ve noticed recently: apparently "Blackwashing" is not a thing when White fans “allow” it. Take this recent trend with Miku. International Miku was beloved! But if you draw any other character as Black on any other day, there will be people that are horrid about it. Ask any artist, Black artists and Black cosplayers especially, who’s ever done it what their comments are like. I’ve read entire missives akin to white supremacist drivel on how it’s somehow morally wrong to make characters Black. Meanwhile no amount of “hey maybe you shouldn’t do this” prevented the movie Gods of Egypt from being created, with a cast full of British White people.

Solutions to Avoiding Whitewashing!

1) Using References!!

Do I think you should know what Black people look like? Yes. We’re humans. It’s 2024. Everyone knows what we look like when it’s time to hate and discriminate against us, so you know what we look like when it’s time to love and depict us. If you’re on Tumblr, you have access to the Internet. ESPECIALLY if you’re in the U.S., as Black people are the source of damn near every piece of online pop culture. If you can find my dialect to make my jokes, you can find pictures of me.

Would I rather you use a reference every single time so that you can only strengthen your depiction of my people? ABSOLUTELY.

Anyone on the Internet telling you not to use a reference or that you shouldn’t need a reference? Unfollow them. You don’t need that negativity in your life. Why would you deprive yourself of a tool to create? The greatest portrait painters in history had to look at their subjects! You are not getting paid nearly as much to do this as Hans Holbein, and he had to stare at Henry VIII correct else lose his head- you can pull up multiple references. I’d far rather be judged for using hella references than be judged for being a racist!

Part of the issue is people draw what they’re used to, what they’re comfortable with (thus last lesson). But if what you’re used to is not what someone will look like… That’s not okay. Their features are not the issue, your skills are the issue. Learn! Practice! There is no rush. No one is rushing you to be perfect at drawing Black characters, and no one is rushing you to post them. You can just practice! If you’re not a professional, you can take as long as you need to draw! If you need to draw that piece of hair over and over until you feel like you have down the shape, you do that! If you need to use a tool that would draw the hair for you, you get that tool!

If you want to post, you can say you are practicing! If you make clear you are practicing, then be willing to accept that people may have feedback. I’d far rather deal with someone saying they’re unconfident and practicing, than someone posting a whitewashed caricature and closing their ears because “well at least I’m trying!”

2) Empathize! Care about actual Black people when you create a Black character!

Imagine, if you will, in the Twilight Zone: you went to an artist, and you asked for a white character (I typed in “regular looking white dude” on google). There’s hardly ever any white characters, you’re so super excited about this one! You paid good money, because you’ve seen just how amazing this artist creates! They’re so good at drawing characters of color! But no matter how many times you ask, they send you back an image of… Assad Zaman.

That man might be fine as hell! Gorgeous! Beautifully done! Chef’s kiss. Stunning! But… He’s not white. That’s not what you asked or paid for. You can’t even fathom how they mixed this up, they don’t even look alike! And when you confront them, they gaslight you, they call YOU the issue for not understanding how you can’t tell that this is a white man! They would never get this wrong! They have white friends, you’re the racist! But you’re not stupid, and you have functioning eyes- you can SEE what this drawing looks like! And… It’s not you.

It’s dehumanizing. It’s being told that there’s a “better way” to look like you, and that’s by… Not looking like you. You, as you exist, are what’s incorrect. Your identity is incorrect, not their drawing. It’s better to have thinner hair instead of an afro or locs, it’s better to have lighter skin, it’s better to have a straighter, thinner nose over a round one, and smaller lips.

And what makes it worse is knowing that people who don’t look like you? Probably won’t care. They won’t be willing to see- not unable, but unwilling- that playing with this caricature is harmful, that they’re propagating harm by not acknowledging it. They’re letting you know that your humanity means less to them than the clout received with a whitewashed or half-assed Black character, and that people will applaud them for that ‘attempt at inclusion’. And people will applaud! They will be entertained by the mere performance! And that hurts.

I’m going to say this, and it’s awkward and I try not to say it directly on here, but… Having Black friends and/or being around actual, real life Black people would help. I can tell from some of the questions I receive that Black characters and their traits- especially things like our hair and our cultures- are being treated as… alien concepts. But even if, for whatever reason, you legitimately don’t know any Black people, you do not need to know us individually to care about our humanity as a whole! Even if you do not know we’re there, we are, and we could possibly see your work!

By acknowledging Blackness and making room to understand what it means- and that includes how we can look- you are doing the bare minimum of acknowledging our personhood. If you cannot do even that, you don’t need to be drawing us.

Conclusion

Here’s the thing: if you want to draw a white man with tanned skin, do that. Just do it! You do NOT have to erase me to have more of you! There is not a single fandom where the majority of the white fans ever said “gee, not another white guy!” It simply doesn’t happen. God knows we wish it did sometimes. You will always have an audience for white characters. There’s no danger to any of you of “being erased”.

(Without putting on my political hat, I will say that a lot of white people who consider themselves to be far from white supremacist will express beliefs in line with great replacement theory if you push them hard enough. It is unfortunately not as uncommon an idea as you might think. I would do some self-evaluation.)

People are going to notice that you only ever draw white people, but… To be frank, that has never stopped anybody from being successful. Again, Jen Zee, at Supergiant with the terrible dark-skinned characters… Still has a job. at Supergiant. A professional studio. Dragon Age. Multiple games of consistent whitewashing and racist writing. Still going. If racism prevented creation and popularity, I wouldn’t have to have this blog. Alas, that is the society we currently live in.

But if you ACTUALLY want to depict Black characters, if you ACTUALLY want to do right and be respectful- not because you want the clout, but because it’s the right damn thing to do- then you need to commit! This means drawing them as they are meant to be! Accept that you’ll likely lose some fan base, who was there (whether they were aware of it or not) for the white and lighter skinned characters. Accept that this means that trying to appeal to those people by whitewashing characters is 1) wrong, 2) racist, which is 3) something you chose to do when you could simply have just… Drawn more white people.

I’ll say it again: antiracism is hard. It’s hard doing the right thing in a society that rewards racism so easily. It’s really hard knowing that people will stop supporting you or caring as much about your work when you start including Black characters as actively as you do white ones, especially if you start talking about the importance of it. But in my honest opinion, I’d far rather be someone that cared about others, with genuine fans, than someone that was racist for the fleeting internet clout of strangers. And that may be less ‘hopeful’ than I normally am in these lessons, but… People make choices. And people who have been informed- as you are now- are aware of the choices they are making. It’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers- let’s choose better actions.

[dunmesh]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

[mochinomnoms]

In regard to interspecies romance

Humans have a fairly easy time pursuing the other species in Twisted Wonderland, though there are exceptions to that rule.

multi (separate) x reader [wc] - 2,252 [note] - one of the first things i ever wrote, though i never posted cause i didnt edit it. thought i would anyways cause its kinda cute. Edited 12/14/23 to add a readmore

Despite their animal like tendencies and courting methods, it's incredibly common to see human-beastmen couples and families. Perhaps it's due to how similar their behaviors are to their animal counterparts, but humans are fond of how beastmen flirt and display affection. Beastmen are offended by the comparison, but it's hard to deny how similar, and cute, they are to the common wolf, hyena, or lion.

Wolf and other canine beastmen enjoy being close to their mates. They like to be physically affectionate, almost playful with their partners. They'll nuzzle into the crook of their neck—no matter how much bigger they are compared to their human—lean against them when they walk, and will happily be by their beloved's sided at all times. Furthermore, they primarily show their effectiveness as partners by being great providers, regardless of gender, and showing off how tight-knit their packs are. After all, family is very important to them, and they'll expect to have one, no matter how big or small, with their partner in the future.

If you catch Ruggie trying to slyly and smoothly place a hand on the small of you back when moving through crowds, no you don't. If a person notices Jack momentarily grabbing (gingerly, mind you) your sides as he slips behind you to reach the potion ingredient on the shelf above you, don't mention how his touch lingers ever so slightly. Maybe take it with a grain of salt when Jack tries to invite you to visit his family over break, as friends, of course. And when Ruggie brags to you about how well he watched over the neighborhood kids growing up, how he'd make for a great family man, it's all hypothetical.

Feline beastmen are more reserved in their affections in public, especially compared to canines, and even more so for lion beastmen. It's more common for them to show affection in more subtle manners, such as buying their partner's food and drinks without being asked, going out of their way to help them when they're struggling at school or work, and are able to spend hours just in their general vicinity. As long as their beloved is around, they're happy. In private, though, expect to have their entire body draped over them, weight and all, shoved into their personal space to the point that it becomes a foreign concept. Leona embodies this to his entire core, too prideful to perform PDA, but just prideful enough that he knows he can take up all your time and space with no consequence. Unless that consequence is your love and affection, which he supposes he could suffer through if you hear him purring, don't point it out.

All lion beastmen hold their pride close to their heart (no matter how much a certain prince would deny it) and their partner is no exception. Their pride is an intrinsically developed social network made of an extended, but closed family network. It requires all new partners to be carefully and slowly introduced to the rest of the pride, more so in Leona's case due to the royal family being traditionally made up of Sunset Savana nobility. You won't be the first non-beastmen, but are the first foreigner in a very long time to be introduced. Don't worry, though, Leona is nothing if not patient, and his family are just happy to know that he's found someone.

On the other end of the spectrum, however, are human-fae relations. Uncommon, though not for a lack of trying on humans' parts, due to most of the fairfolk residing in the isolated Briar Valley. The complicated history between the two species, ancient to humans but still relatively fresh for fae, doesn't help either. There's also the unfortunate consequence of humankind's rather short lifespans compared to the average 1,000-year lifespan of the fae. Unless the fae is in their final hundred or so years, they'll almost always outlive their partner without magical interference.

It's not impossible though, and as younger fairfolk leave the valley to explore the world, more marriages have resulted in half-fae children, both human and beastmen. As partners, fae are devoted to the health and safety of their loved ones. Increasing tenfold into nearly coddling territory with non-fae. Compared to them, their humans and beastmen are awfully fragile and naive, and require their protection. This can cause animosity between them, however, and only fae that are willing to learn and change their old ways result in happy, long-lived marriages.

They're also generally known to have lengthy courting methods: not dating, that implies something casual, no they court. Once they've established interest in you, their end goal is marriage, no ifs, ands, or buts. Fairfolk are generous with gifting during courtship: all gifts are about an equal-exchange and your acceptance of their gifts is a reciprocation of their feelings. At the end of the courtship, you can expect a small feast to be displayed at a ceremony held between their and your family. This is an especially important ceremony when courting humans and beastmen: fairy food can often cause lasting damages to those that consume it without permission. By offering their food to you and your kin, they are welcoming you into their world and telling you that they will never intentionally bestow harm to you or your kin. If you choose to accept the food, then you agree to do the same til the end of your days.

Lilia is a strange case, having already lived a long life and being well traveled, a gleeful participant in the strange customs and traditions of humans and beastmen. He'd much rather participate in other's dating and courtship rituals than his own people's. It's fascinating how fleeting the process can be, yet it can result in everlasting devotion. Don't mistake his flexible nature for disinterest, however. He's still a fae, and if you start finding silly little knickknacks of his on their desk, you can expect to never be rid of him.

The Draconia family-line is steadfast in their traditions, even if Lilia raised the latest prince. So don't expect anything other than the previously explained rituals from Malleus, even if you're not aware of them. Taking gems, jewelry, and clothing made of the finest material you'll ever lay hands from his hoard means little to him if it means you'll accept the gift (and him). Even if you aren't aware of how courtship works, the moment you pick up the black ring with the big oval emerald and Briar Valley crest, you're practically engaged in his eyes.

The courtship is long, even for Malleus who was one step away at every turn to skip over the entire thing in favor of just eloping. All for the person who decided that the great and terrifying Malleus Draconia was actually just a simple Mr. Hornton, a friend, companion who just wanted someone to stay by his side. If it means calling you his spouse, his fellow ruler, and the only love of his life even a moment sooner, then he'd be willing to throw tradition and ritual out of the very tall tower window just to do so.

Many years later, when you reminiscing how the two of you first met, and how long it took you to notice his feelings, you'll offhandedly mention the random gifts you found at your doorstep. How you wish you knew who was leaving those precious stones and golden amulets with no indication on who the admirer was. Upon further questioning, you'll tell him that you didn't even know you were being courted until two months into the ritual. It'll then click in Malleus's mind how utterly lucky he was that the two of you even got together in the first place.

It may be surprising, but human-mer relations have been extraordinarily rare. Only a handful of them have popped up since the times of the Sea Princess, who left her home for a human prince. In fact, you could probably count them on one hand! Perhaps this is due to the difficulties of having a romance between land dwellers and undersea folk; after all, it's much easier for humans, fae, and beastmen to interact when they all live on land. Merfolk can come up to the surface, and have been doing moreso in the last century, but having a relationship with someone who quite literally could not breathe in the same air/water as you is near impossible. At least, not without significant effort on one or the other's part.

Nearly all the human-mer romances that have occurred in history resulted in either one or the other abandoning their home to turn into a human/mer and live the rest of their days with their love in their new world. Certainly a romantic notion to be sure, but it most definitely require their love to be truly eternal. Or else you might run the risk of resentment brewing between the two. With a slowly growing need to easy access transformation potions and spells for business and diplomatic reasons, such romance is not far from reach, at least for those with money to spare. The next issue though would be the significant difference between land dweller and undersea folk's courting methods.

Perhaps it can be contributed to the more...feral nature of merfolk. Most of them still retain more animalistic features and behaviors than the average beastman. The twins are no exception to this. Even if you were to remove their claws, mucus covered skin, and 6-ft tail, you're still left with eyes suited for a deep-sea predator, nose that can smell the tiniest drop of blood in a pool, and rows of razor sharp teeth begging to bite down on your neck. The deep-sea is not only cold, but quite ruthless. So, it'll probably come as no surprise that moray eels will prove themselves as suitable partners by fighting either their competitors or you. If they can prove that they can hold their own, protect you from the horrors of the deep, then they have the right to go for your heart. That's not to say softer sentiments don't exist, and while similar the twins are still two separate people with different tastes. These tastes show during courting, though mers have a more casual date-like ritual.

Like fae, merfolk court via gifts, particularly handmade or ones they found themselves, and Floyd is awfully fond if gifting you the strangest things. A tooth that was knocked out from the student who shoved you a little too hard, a rock you tripped over in P.E., or a sand dollar he found on a trip to the beach were a few of the many items he gave you. Jade is similar, though he's more fond of making his own gifts. A necklace made of seashells found at the beach you had your first date in, a terrarium he made from plants that remind him of you, but your favorite was the small garden he started tending to on your kitchen windowsill. Breakfast was particularly delicious when made with his fresh mushrooms. Expect soon after the gifts lots of physical affection, public and private.

Don't be mistaken, they'll still bully you. But each of Floyd's bone-crushing hugs will be accompanied by a soft headbump from his forehead to yours. Jade's teasing, mean remarks will follow with a swift, sweet peck to your knuckles. They'll grab your notebook and hold it above their head until you agree to give them a kiss or punch them in the stomach, both are acceptable responses. Be a little mean back, they like the idea of a sweet and cute little human that can throw a punch. Your their sweet little human, and you make life in the deep exciting. Just don't ask about their flushed face every time they see you yawn, they aren't quite ready to explain that one yet.

Azul intensely studied a variety of topics before coming to land, even briefly glossing over dating, romance, and marriage before deciding he wouldn't need it anytime soon. He regretted that soon after meeting you, though he made do with what he knew. And what he knew as food. A combination of octo-mer courtship and being the son of a cook, Azul will discreetly court you by personally cooking and feeding you your favorite meals. It's the result of the dangers of ancient octo-mers eating their spouses after mating. Afterall you can't eat more if your already full. While not something they have to worry about now, it's an old ritual still used today, Azul has hear the way to a person's heart is their stomach and can wholeheartedly agree.

What's surprised you the most was what followed after, especially for someone as physically reserved as Azul: octo-mers are extremely clingy and affectionate. He doesn't have the heart to do anything more than handholding and chaste kisses to your cheeks in public, but he yearns to wrap all 8 tentacles and two arms around you so tightly that your gasping for a breath that he steals with his lips. He won't mention it, but he can taste the salt from your skin and the pulse from your wrists with his suckers. Take it from someone who grew up with a refined palate, he thinks your taste is equivalent to ambrosia from the gods, though that might be the lovesickness speaking.

i have a hard time writing savanaclaw for some reason, but imma working on it now! also tagging for all the guys is stressful idk what i should enter, like fullname or just first name idk man!! pls reblog and comment! lmk what you time, xoxo

[hannieehaee]

OUTTA MY MIND

18+ / mdi

summary: getting a brand new job as a senior idol's manager was scary enough on its own, but it became even worse when said idol was jeon jungkook, idol of all idols. what made it even worse? when jungkook began taking a special liking to you, damning any conflict of interest his crush on you may have had.

content: idol!au, staff!reader x idol!jungkook, jungkook is shameless about his crush on reader, but it's fine bc reader likes him back!!, reader acts hard to get bc her job is too important though boo, afab reader, banter, jk is a flirt, reader is a little bit shy, a lot of rlly wrong info about working in the industry, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 7.7k

a/n: my first jungkook solo writing!! i hope u guys enjoy<33 ive been into bts since 2017 idk why i never wrote about them before lol anyways hope this is a good introduction to all my future jungkook works<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Whenever you'd tell someone you worked within the entertainment industry, – the music industry, to be precise – people always showed a little extra interest in your words, probably assuming you to be involved in the flashier aspects of it. The statement on it's own sounded exciting, enigmatic even. This would only then be followed by disappointed upon finding out your specific profession of choice, deeming it less exciting than most.

You were a manager. No, you were not an active member of the entertainment industry itself, but you were one of the many pillars necessary for the talent to create the entertainment people would always seek.

Being as young as you were, it had been hard to get to where you were so quickly. Networking had been your best friend all throughout your career, eventually landing you in your current role – one that would only open even more doors for you.

It had only been a week since you had received a call from your friend – an old friend from an internship who just so happened to be a former Hybe video producer – letting you know of a recent opening as one of the many managers at the company. Having been between gigs at the time, you jumped at the chance without a second thought. Hybe? The biggest entertainment company in Korea? You didn't need any details before agreeing.

It was a few days later in which you found out the details. The opportunity had been even more life-altering than you'd thought.

Originally, you had believed you'd end up becoming manager to one of the many brand new rookie groups in the growing company. With so many surging youth in the industry, it made sense to you that you'd be assigned such a role, not having had any prior experience within Hybe itself.

Except that wasn't the case. Having previously worked and interned at a few other South Korean entertainment companies through the years, it seemed like Hybe deemed you experienced enough to assign you the role of becoming a senior artist's manager.

Jeon Jungkook.

Senior artist had been an understatement. Those had been the words written in your contract, explaining your role in excruciating detail, yet failing to mention that your client would be Korea's most popular singer.

You couldn't lie, you were insanely intimidated by your new role. Despite being proudly skilled at your job, becoming the manager of an idol who had been in the game for longer than you'd even been out of college was a bit scary. Jungkook had gone from the absolute bottom to the top, he had most likely lived through it all by now – what kind of expertise could you offer someone who had already seen it all?

Being manager of an idol differed slightly from managing any other person. Idol companies usually handled the schedulings, bookings, and the legalities of their artists. As a manager, you somewhat took the role of a bodyguard. You were meant to show up everywhere Jungkook went and become his spokesperson – vying for him as if your life depended on it.

And now it was too late to back out – not that you actually wanted to. All paperwork had been signed, you had your own personal Hybe badge and all the benefits that came along with working at the company. Any feelings of intimidation or fear for the role would have to be put aside as you walked into the Hybe building to meet with your new client; the boy you'd have to stick by 24/7 from now on.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon meeting him. It wasn't like there would be any special introduction, or even as if you were his sole manager; no, he actually had a few others who would occasionally aid him in the absence of his main manager, which was now you. Today was a workday for him, meaning that he likely already had a few people in supportive roles as he did whatever it was that Jeon Jungkook did while working.

Walking into the huge building, after getting lost a few times, you made your way to the seventh floor, which, as you'd been informed, had various rooms designated for photoshoots. That's where you'd find Jungkook for the first time, presumably having one of the many shoots scheduled for this week.

Having possession of his schedule made you realize how busy idol life was. Despite having no public schedules all this week, he had a packed itinerary, filled with either shoots or signings or producing sessions. You hadn't even met him yet, but you were already assured that he was overly hardworking – and you had maybe also stalked him online this past week.

It was very unlikely you'd even speak to him, seeing how busy he was. Your duty, after all, was just to be one of the many members of his team, taking care of any logistics as you went around with him, but not taking away from his time by socializing with him.

Upon entering the room, he was the first thing you noticed. Ignoring every other person working the room, your eyes focused specifically on him. It was hard not to, since he was quite literally standing under the spotlight, modeling for a camera. But it was more than that. He had an aura that filled up the room. Putting aside every stylist and photographer in the room, every staff member and intern, he was truly the epitome of main character.

Fuck. Was this going to cause trouble?

Admittedly, you had found him attractive all previous times you'd come across the name Jeon Jungkook whilst working in this industry, but that attraction did not go further than seeing it as an objective fact. You had never had any interest in artists outside of for work-related reasons, so you only knew him by name. Yet now, seeing him in person, it was a while other story.

It wasn't until the director gave Jungkook the green light to take a break that you first made eye contact with the boy. It appeared as if he had also noticed you immediately upon your entrance, as his eyes had gone straight from the camera onto yours. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part.

To your absolute surprise, his eyes stayed on you, lighting up when he realized you were staring back at him. Even more surprisingly, that's when he began walking towards you, a bright smile on his face as he approached you.

"Hey! You must be Y/N! It's really nice to meet you," he bowed at you when he reached you, bunny teeth still sticking out in a smile.

"Oh, I- Thank you! It's nice to meet you too, Jungkook," you managed to get out, bowing awkwardly. You were surprised at him even knowing your name. Was he on a first name basis with his staff? That was crazy to imagine considering how many people he must work with on a daily basis.

"Today's your first day, right?"

"Yeah, hah, is it that obvious?", for some reason you were at a loss of words, not having expected to even speak to Jungkook at all today.

His eyes widened as his head shook in negation, almost as if he believed to have genuinely insulted you by assuming it was your first day.

"Not at all! I know it might look kind of hectic, but I swear you get used to it pretty quick," he assured, giving a quick once-over to his surroundings.

Your eyes left him in favor of eyeing the room, noticing how everyone continued to work on separate tasks as Jungkook spoke to you. Too many tasks were being performed all at once, yet there was some sort of synergy to it all. It seemed far too fast paced for you, but Jungkook seemed to get the rhythm of it all by now.

"Has anyone given you a tour yet?" he asked, making your eyes go back to him.

"Oh, no. But it's fine. I only got lost a few times on the way here. I'll get used to it," you reassured. You had been given an overall overview of the premises, but you were yet to explore the entirety of the place. It was likely unnecessary, considering the size of the building.

Jungkook's eyes widened once again. Jesus, his eyes were gigantic. He seemed shocked at no one having taken the time to show you around.

"What? No tour?? I can't have that. I'll have to take you in one after this."

"What- No! It's fine, Jungkook. I'm sure you have more pressing things to get to. I mean, I have your schedule, I know you have a packed day. I'll just-"

"None of that. I have more control over my schedule than it might seem," he chuckled, "so you don't have to worry about that. It'll be a nice way for us to get to know each other."

The following five minutes or so were taken up by your consistent, yet polite, refusal to his offer, not wanting the talent himself to feel like he had to work his schedule around you. These refusals were met by even more insistence. He was overly charismatic and likable (on top of extremely cute), so it was a lost battle from the start. There was no way you could deny him in the end.

His break ended soon after, forcing his conversation with you to be interrupted. With an exaggerated groan and a lighthearted eye roll, the boy went back to posing, sending you a friendly wink when he was finally back in action in front of the camera.

As a true professional, he got back in the zone very quickly, taking on the form of a model as he followed the director's directions to a T. You continued watching him from afar, easily getting entranced by how good he was at his job. Being too distracted by him (as he kept sneaking glances towards you), you almost forgot to make the rounds around the room and introduce yourself to his other staff.

After about twenty minutes or so of conversing with his other staff (who all had nothing but positive things to say about the boy), things began to quiet down. The director announced that he had everything he needed and things began to get packed up as people left one by one. As everyone left, Jungkook made sure to express his gratitude to each team involved, even personally bidding goodbye to some staff he seemed a bit more familiar with. By the end of it, only a few people were left as Jungkook finally approached you.

Once again, the boyish smile was on his face, almost as if he specifically excited to talk to you. But that was just wishful thinking.

"So, about that tour?"

"You really don't have to-"

"Are we really gonna go over this again?", he groaned humorously, "Please let me show you around. It's the least I can do if I'm gonna make you attend all my schedules," he insisted once more.

"Fine, okay. You wore me down, Jungkook."

With a kiddish yet sarcastic fist bump to the sky in victory, Jungkook gestured for you to follow him and began leading the way out of the room, ready to show you the building.

~

"So, how are you liking Hybe?", he asked after a while of walking around the endless building.

Jungkook was a great guide. He was extremely talkative, so no question was left unanswered. Even before you were able to inquire about certain part of the building, he was already giving you a response, even being able to start a brand new subject of conversation every time.

"Well, it's kinda my first day. But it's nice. Just, uh, maybe a little intimidating," you admitted, walking side by side with the boy.

"Intimidating? Is it cause of me?", he tilted his head to the side with curiosity.

"Maybe," you winced, hoping he didn't take it to heart. You knew it must've been annoying for people to put him in a pedestal, but it was kind of hard not to, especially upon barely meeting him.

"It's okay. I'm not as intimidating as my fame may make me seem. Most people think I'm pretty nice, actually-"

"No, it's not like that! I know you're nice, I, uh, I looked you up before accepting the job. It's just," you paused to gesture at your surroundings, "I've never worked at such a huge company, managing one of the biggest artists in the country. I ... I don't wanna mess it up," you admitted.

He slowed down his walking at this, turning to face you better as both your movements lessened in speed.

"You won't trust me. I, uh, I actually chose you specifically. You know, to be my manager."

That took you by surprise.

Jungkook knew who you were? He picked you? It's not like you had anything to your name, just a few managing gigs here and there, along with endless internships from your school years. Why would he have picked you from what you assumed must've been a pool of tenured professionals at this?

"What do you mean you picked me? Did you-"

He shrugged, the speed of his steps still slow as he focused more on conversing with you, tour of the company fully put aside.

"They asked me for my input, since, you know, we're gonna be spending a lot of time together. I saw you on the list. You were my age and your cover letter made you sound so sincere and excited," he explained, "You were also pretty cute ...", he muttered in a cough before continuing, "I just wanted someone I could be friends with. And I think I made the right choice."

You chuckled, "Yeah? How can you be so sure?"

"I can tell that you like me," he grinned, "We're gonna be besties in no time."

His hand bumped yours as he said this, lightheartedly making contact with you. It was hard to gauge whether he was just overly charismatic or if he had been genuinely hitting on you all this time. All you knew was that if he kept it up, you'd probably end up actually falling for him.

Humoring him, you absentmindedly bumped your hand into his own too, rolling your eyes jokingly as he grinned even bigger at you.

Yeah, you were going to get close in no tome.

It had been two months. Two months since you started your job. Two months since you met Jungkook. Two months since you'd been right – you did fall for Jungkook.

It wasn't as dramatic as it sounded. You were pretty sure this was just an innocent crush. One that most people in Jungkook's vicinity probably had to battle on a day to day basis.

Innocent civilians could not be blamed for the natural effect Jeon Jungkook just had on people. He was handsome, funny, charming, and he was also a flirt. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like he reserved that last trait for you and you only.

Through the weeks, Jungkook was not shy to show his special interest in you. He'd seek you out constantly, always making you stick to his side – which was your job, but still! There was always a sense of something more behind his actions. As he had said, you two became friends quickly, but just as quickly, you had become one of the closest people to him within his staff.

He'd make conversation with you, constantly migrating to your side the moment he got a short break from whichever schedule you were currently at. He'd go as far as interrupting your work just for some of your attention. In short, he was driving you insane.

Walking far too close to you in the hallways, he'd question "Where to next?", with a smile, walking side by side with you while putting his entire attention on you.

And now, you were currently overseas with Jungkook, accompanying him for some solo recordings while the rest of his members worked on their own stuff. It was a small team of people, which was quite unusual for a member of the biggest group in the world. Since it was an unofficial schedule that only Jungkook would be attending to, only the closest members of his team were really necessary. This meant you and a few others.

The situation had started off pretty much okay. One of the requirements for your position had been to become a translator for Jungkook in any situation he ever needed. That had been unnecessary so far, as you had been in Jungkook's home country these past few weeks of work. Now that you were in America, however, Jungkook sought you out even more, claiming you must attend to every outing with him in order to help him in case he needed a better understanding.

You didn't know Jungkook too well yet, but, you were aware that after so many years in the industry, he knew enough English to get by. This was simply yet another excuse of his to keep you close. When you lightheartedly confronted him about this, his response was to stare down at you with his gigantic doe eyes and pretend as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

"English? What's that?" his head had tilted to the side, cutely feigning confusion and giggling when you broke out into an annoyed smile.

On top of joining him any time he went out for leisure (under the false vice of translating), he had also insisted you accompany him to the occasional dance practice he'd attend while in America. Your presence in this instance was completely unnecessary, but you still did not question it. Nor did you question why you were the only person he insisted on bringing along. His other managers? Nowhere to be found. As time passed by in Los Angeles, less and less people would accompany you and Jungkook on his outings – whether they be for leisure or work. It had now fallen down to Jungkook, his bodyguard, and you.

"C'mon, don't you want to see me dance? I'll buy you a meal afterwards, pinky promise," he'd hold his pinky up to you with a boyish smile, knowing you wouldn't deny him.

Anytime Jungkook would discreetly hit on you or fluster you with his attention, you'd simply laugh it off or play into it just the right amount. It wasn't like you didn't enjoy it. His decided infatuation with you gave you butterflies that had you kicking your blanket late at night when you'd think back to how much he must've liked you.

You were entirely aware that he knew you liked him back also. You never said it, nor did you ever return his flirting, but you knew that he knew. Any rebuttals or instances in which you told him to chill (jokingly, of course) were just covers you'd put up. The nerves about actually acknowledging his feelings always stopped you in your tracks, leaving you the lone option of just giggling along to him or rolling your eyes (depending how cheesy he was being).

Jungkook loved your back and forth, you could tell. He enjoyed when you'd jokingly tell him off for his sickly flirtatious demeanor or when you'd simply banter with him. It was likely just a motivator for him to keep going, naturally knocking down your walls one by one as time passed.

The camel's back had broken one week after your arrival in LA, when Jungkook finally decided to take things further, now inviting you over to his hotel room after what were assumed to be work hours. The excuse? He wanted to go over next week's schedule. Both you and him were fully aware he simply wanted to hang out, but the lines were beginning to blur.

"Hey," he welcomed you with a smile when you came knocking on his door, leaning against the frame before gesturing at you to come in.

"Hi, Kook," you walked in, unsure of what to do after making it past his door.

"You can take a seat while I get us some drinks," he gestured to the hotel room couch and walked over to the mini fridge in the living room.

"Drinks? Thought we were debriefing next week's schedule?", you asked with a teasing tone, reclining back into the couch.

"Oh, yeah, the schedule, for sure," he responded in a completely unserious manner.

Approaching you again with drinks in hand, he sat on the same couch as you, leaving a small distance between the two of you to create a more casual environment.

Handing you your drink, he chuckled before even being able to speak.

"Have I been obvious enough or should I try harder?", he asked, sipping his beer.

"Jungkook ..."

"C'mon, it's been a few months. You already know I like you, right? You have to know by now. Are you really not gonna reciprocate at all?", he pouted, "I know you like me back."

"What makes you so confident?"

"You haven't once told me to fuck off," he grinned, leaning back against the couch in complete relaxation.

"I can't do that, I work for you," you rebutted.

"Hah! Please, I know that wouldn't stop you. You might've been a little shy when we first met, but I know by now you would've told me to get fucked if you weren't interested."

He had a point. There had been a few instances in which you did, quite literally, tell him to get fucked. It was always in jest, of course, but you knew that if you ever turned down his flirting, he'd tone it down without question.

Of course you never wanted his flirting to stop. You had found a new source of energy within yourself any time Jungkook would shamelessly shower you with attention. Despite being discrete about it, never being direct with his flirting, he still gave you the same undivided attention any boy with a crush would. It made you feel giddy and wanted. Yet it also made you worry for what may come of acknowledging his interest further than you already had.

You laughed along with him and entertained his banter for a while, following along with his flirting as the two of you drank with one another, eventually arriving to a tipsy state. He drank like a sailor while you only nursed a few drinks, yet somehow reaching a similar level of drunk.

"Are you ever gonna answer my question? I already know the answer, I just want to hear it from you," his original question in regard to your feelings did not circle back until now, catching you off guard yet again.

"Jungkook ..."

He scoot closer to you, "Come on, it's just us. You know what they say – acceptance is the first step."

"If you already know I like you, why do you keep asking?", you groaned, taking yet another swing of your third drink of the night.

"Aha! You do like me," he pointed at you as if he had made the grand discovery.

"Jungkook!"

Raising his hands, he relented, "Sorry, sorry. I'm just excited to hear it. Can you blame me? I've been trying to get you to flirt back for months."

"I don't have the same liberties as you, I'm your subordinate, it'd be inappro-"

"Inappropriate? Not any more inappropriate than me hitting on you every day since we met."

"Inappropriate, exactly," you scoot further away, "which is why you should stop."

He scoot closer again, this time even more so.

"I like you, you like me. Why should either of us stop?"

"I work for you. Yeah, you can flirt with me, but-"

"But what? Come on, don't reject me before I've even asked you out. At least let me have that much," he insisted, knowing he was wearing your false rejection down.

You sighed, twisting your body so you'd now be facing him fully on the couch, "Okay, fine. Go ahead."

He twisted too, now fully facing you. He took a deep breath and put down his drink, "Let me take you on a date? Please?", he pleaded with a shy smile.

"Can I say no?"

"I mean, you can, but I'll just keep insisting," he giggled, making you groan exaggeratedly.

With a fake sigh of defeat, you accepted, "Fine. You can take me out. But if you're as annoying as you were today, then I don't think it's going to work out."

"Yah! I'll be the perfect gentleman. Just you wait."

After a few more drinks, Jungkook insisted on walking you back to your room, – despite the fact that it was just next door – sheepishly asking if he could kiss your cheek goodnight, to which you responded with a kiss on his cheek of your own and a hug goodbye. Through your peephole you could see a very adorable Jungkook scrunch up his nose and smile to himself in contentment at the night's outcome.

Going to sleep with this insane sense of giddiness had been almost impossible. Your mind kept going back to the pretty boy who had insisted yet and yet again for the chance to simply go out with you. The back and forth this past few months had wore you down immensely, and last night had just thoroughly hammered you in.

You weren't entirely sure of the logistics of the date just yet. How were you to go out with Jungkook when he was so insanely popular? People were already aware of his current stay in Los Angeles, as he had been spotted a few times. They were also aware of your presence, though people already knew of your role and had grown accustomed to seeing you with Jungkook without questioning it.

Going to any usual dating spot with him alone would still prove catastrophic, however. Even if people knew you were nothing more than a manager, a one-on-one outing at a place usually meant for couples would be an instant giveaway, so it was entirely out of the question.

Surely the hopeless romantic that was Jungkook already had something planned, so you likely didn't have to worry your head over it. For now, you could simply wait for Jungkook's next unpredictable act of affection towards you with a racing heart.

~

The following day, you found yourself waking up earlier than usual, having been awoken by incessant knocking on your door that you had not expected. It was 9AM, so not too early, but today was meant to be a day off for everyone on Jungkook's team, including him. It was obvious to you who could be the culprit behind the knocking, but it didn't make it any less strange, especially considering Jungkook never had a tendency of waking up early unless it was for work.

Marching to your door in annoyance, you swung it open without any need to check who was on the other side, knowing you'd encounter the same doe-eyed boy you had kissed goodnight just a few hours ago.

"Jungkook, what the hell are you doing here so early?", were the first words out of your mouth.

He was already fully dressed, donning his usual black attire and carrying two drinks from what you knew was a local coffee shop – with one of them being your drink of choice, because of course Jungkook would have it memorized.

He grinned at you, placing your drink on your hand and smiling even harder when you sipped it.

"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't changed your mind about the date," he wasn't actually here for that reason, obviously, but it was still cute of him to use it as an excuse.

"And if I have?"

"Don't say that, I'll cry."

You laughed, leaning against your door as you sipped your drink once more, "So, have you decided what we're doing?"

He shook his head, "Nope, can't tell you. That's top secret. All you can know is that you should be ready tonight at 7 sharp and to wear something nice but comfortable," he blushed a little before continuing, "maybe that pretty sundress you wore the other day?", his eyes left you to shyly look at his shoes for a moment.

Fuck, he was far too cute.

You pretended to ponder for a bit before agreeing, "Okay. I think I can manage that."

Letting out a tiny little "yes!", he looked to you again, noticing your pajamas, "I'll let you sleep in since I kinda kept you up all night, but I'll be back, okay? You can keep your expectations as high as you want, I'll meet them all," he said confidently.

"Oh? Okay, let's see if you can swoon me then," you accepted the challenge before receiving a shy yet short hug goodbye and heading back into your room, aware you'd be unable to go back to sleep with all the anticipation you felt for your date.

Things had already changed drastically between you and Jungkook and it had only been a few hours since his official confession about his crush (along with your reciprocation). He was touchier and more open with his affections, even becoming a little sheepish now in contrast to how bold he used to be. Now that the cards were all on the table, it was harder to even look at each other without blushing. It felt like a giddy high school crush, and you were already enjoying it far too much.

~

"Fuck, you look gorgeous," Jungkook breathed out the second you opened your door, "Sorry, was that too much?," he chuckled sheepishly afterwards.

Ignoring the blush threatening your cheeks, you shook your head and smiled, "Thank you, Kook. You look ... you look really handsome," you went on a whim and placed your hands on his jacket, enjoying his own shy smile at your compliment.

You made small talk as you walked down to take Jungkook's private car, sitting side by side in the back as the driver took off.

"So, where are you taking me?", you asked again.

He tsk'd, "No patience in that head of yours, huh? Relax. It's private and comfortable. You'll have fun, I promise. Just let me surprise you."

"Fine," you sighed in feigned annoyance, leaning back into your seat. Jungkook followed and leaned back also, face turned to stare at you.

"Would it be too forward to say I already want to take you home?", he asked.

"Stop," you groaned, "Don't say that, you already wore me down into going on a date, give me time to breathe."

"Are you saying I could wear you down into letting me take you home?", he smiled.

"Anyways," you rolled your eyes, making him chuckle.

The rest of the ride was filled by your usual banter, making the date entirely too casual thus far. It felt like a regular outing with a friend, plus the added butterflies you felt any time his eyes would scrunch up whenever you made him laugh. How handsome he looked also did not help matters. He had changed out of the casual clothes he had on this morning, opting for a casual yet elegant look that consisted of his usual chunky boots and a black blazer. It was very much a usual look for him but he somehow looked extra good tonight.

Fastforward to the date itself and you found yourself in what was supposed to be a private restaurant A-listers in LA would frequent. It allowed for the utmost privacy and served the most famous of people. The atmosphere of the place was casual enough for you to be able to sit yourselves, but it was still packed with security and high-end waiters making the rounds. Being there as a mere manager felt almost illegal.

Jungkook held your hand as he guided you to a secluded booth in the back, opting to sit next to you rather than across you, something you found really cute of him.

"Do you like it?", he asked after a few moments of sitting.

You nodded, "Do I even wanna know how much this place costs?", you asked as you took in your surroundings.

"Yeah, no," he laughed, "Don't think about that. It's all on me. You being here is more than enough," he reassured, reaching over to take your menu before you could get to it, "I'll cover the prices, okay? I want you to order anything you want."

Cute, handsome, funny, into you, and also such a gentleman? You were not to survive even the first date.

"Order for me?", you suggested, knowing he was a foodie at heart and would likely order the perfect meal for you.

And he did. Unsurprisingly to everyone, he picked the perfect meal and side dishes and drinks and even desserts. The meal was amazing and completely relaxed. The conversation was never-ending, allowing for no awkward lulls or forced small talk. Jungkook had been right all those months ago, you did become very good friends. It made you wonder if he had liked you from all the way back then.

"What are you looking for in a relationship?", asked Jungkook after a few drinks, already cozied up with you in the booth.

"That's very forward for only two bottles of soju," you joked.

"C'mon, you can tell me. I won't tell," he whispered childishly, leaning closer to you with genuine interest in his eyes.

You straightened up before responding, "I guess I want something serious. No hookups or anything like that, just ... just someone nice to spend my time with."

"Hey, that's kind of what I am already, huh? I'm nice and we spend most of our time together."

You chuckled, taking a swing of your drink before returning the question, "What about you? What are you looking for in a relationship?"

"You," he deadpanned, giving you a dopey smile.

You couldn't help giggle at that, scrunching up your face at how much of a flirt he was.

He grabbed onto your chin and made you look at him, completely halting your laugher, "I'm serious," he started, "I've been wanting to ask you out since forever, but I knew I'd be putting you in an awkward position with your job. But I don't care about that anymore. I know you like me, and I like you – so fucking bad. Give it a chance? Please?", he pleaded as he stared down at you, eyes fleeting to your lips for one quick moment.

Your breath caught in your throat, making you freeze and gulp before being able to respond to the confession you'd been expecting, yet were not prepared for.

"Jungkook ... Take me home?"

"F-fuck," he groaned, "do you know how long I waited to have you?", his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake, "thought about this every day ... How pretty you'd look pressed up against me ... So fucking pretty," he panted.

Jungkook had dragged you off the booth the moment you suggested for a change of scenery, directing the driver to get the two of you to the hotel as soon as possible. Once at the hotel, Jungkook rushed you to your floor, having already had to hold back during the entirety of the drive back. Even in the elevator, your usually lighthearted Jungkook was missing and replaced by an agitated version of him.

The first thing he did upon unlocking the door to his room as push you against it, closing it back up in the process and liberally letting his lips trail down your neck.

"Kook ..."

"Have I ever told you how much I love the way you say my name? God, just everything about you," he trailed his way back up, hands still on your waist and fingers digging into your skin.

His lips leaned down into yours, almost kissing you but not yet, "I know it's kinda late to ask, but can I kiss you?", he whispered.

Your nod was nothing short of desperate, lips almost chasing his won before he finally connected them to yours.

His kiss was as soft as his hold on your waist, and the sigh he let out against your lips was only a ghost of the passion he felt for you. His lips guided your own, with his tongue licking your mouth open and invading it in a sensual entanglement between your tongues.

It was hard to think clearly with the pretty moans he let out against your lips, almost as if you were gifting him the utmost pleasure with the mere touch of your lips. Hands became braver and breaths became heavier, leading to a mess of ruffling clothes and gasps filling up the silence of the room. You melded into each other, refusing to let your lips separate nor prevent your hands from exploring one another. His hands made it under the skirt of your dress, liberal in the way he felt up your add and pressed you up against him. In the meantime your hands threw off his blazer and began unbuttoning his shirt, feeling up his strong chest in the process.

"Let me take you to my room? Fuck, I- I can't think. Just wanna have you so fucking bad," he mumbled into your lips, groaning when you refused to stop kissing him as he spoke.

You nodded, not trusting your voice and allowing him to guide you to his room by the hand.

Once in his room, he laid you down softly, letting you sit up as he took off his remaining clothes, eyes encouraging you to do the same. His eyes widened when he realized what you'd been wearing under the dress he'd requested, clearly caught off guard by the pretty set you had chosen for him.

It wasn't all that, simply a matching lacy bra and panties that you'd packed before coming to LA. Clearly Jungkook didn't care about the quality of the set, or at least that's the impression his eyes gave you as they stayed glued to your chest, halting his movements as he took his shoes off.

"Oh ...", he breathed before making his way to you on the bed, "For me?", he asked as his hand went down to lightly run his fingers across the strap.

"Mhm," you nodded, getting up from the bed and putting your hand on his shoulders, eyeing up his toned chest and tracing his tattoos, "Do you like it?", you looked up and made eyes at him.

"Fuck, don't do that. You can't look like that and then look at me like that and think I won't fucking burst," he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist once again, "Can I touch you, pretty? Hmm?"

Nodding again, you led his hands to your breasts, letting out a breath when his hands began feeling you up, going from your breasts to your hips to your ass while his mouth made its way back to yours. He freely moaned into your mouth at the feeling of your body under his hands, walking you back onto the bed and lying you down once more.

His hands were hesitant in reaching the clasp of your bra, to which you responded by humming a soft 'please' into his lips. The removal of your bra caused him to pull away for you as his eyes got a fill of you, groaning yet again at the sight. His hands went to your breasts again, feeling them up as his lips trailed down to your tits. Jungkook's groans of pleasure at the feeling of your bare skin against his lips were never-ending. You fed into it, arching against his lips and running your hands through his hair. It wasn't like he needed any encouragement; his eyes told you of every bit of lust he felt.

"I want you so fucking bad," he murmured against your tits, "I can't even think ... Just want you so bad. Haven't been able to stop thinking about you for months," his lips suckled at your nipple once more before reaching your ear, breathing heavily against it, "Tell me I can fuck you, please. Just need- need you so fucking bad."

Pulling him to your lips by the his hair, you moaned your desire for him into his mouth, pleading at him to get on with it.

"Fuck me. How do you want me? I'll- Fuck, just-"

"I know, pretty. I'll take care of it, okay? Just ... Want you just like this. Wanna see you while I fuck you, okay? Let me-", his hands reached to your panties, seemingly meaning to finger you before you stopped him.

"No, Jungkook, just fuck me. Please? I'm wet enough, I swear. Just need you. Now," you pleaded at him.

He shook his head, tutting at you, "Baby, at least let me eat you out? Gotta stretch you out a little. Swear I wanna fuck you so fucking bad, but shit ... Need to taste you," he rambled before getting on his knees, pulling your legs apart and towards the edge of the bed.

"Fuck ... Always wanted to kiss up these thighs," he breathed as he ran his nose up and down the sensitive skin, leaving a few airy kisses along the length of them, "So soft and pretty."

Slowly yet sensually, he made his way to your cunt, pressing his nose against your panty-covered pussy and taking a deep breath, shamelessly capturing your essence. Ignoring your scandalous whine, he pushed your panties aside and stuck his tongue inside, groaning at the taste of you.

"Baby ... Fuck, how am I ever gonna function without this pretty pussy ever again?", he murmured into you, tongue digging deep inside you as he took turns sucking and licking at you. His nose made an appearance eventually, rubbing deliciously against your clit while your hands pulled at his hair, pushing your hips up against his face.

"Yes, fuck, keep grinding on my face, baby. Use me," he pleaded, almost crying into your cunt.

Jungkook was already an expert in your pleasure, damning everything else in favor of optimizing your pleasure in every way. He let you pull at his hair and grind on his face, somehow never running out of breath as he ate you out with a desperation that had your nails digging far too harshly into his hair – something that had him moaning against you.

Once finished, he licked up every drop of your essence, humming in pleasure at the taste and even coming up to let you suck on his tongue, sharing your own honey with you.

"Kook ... Fuck me. God, I need- need you so bad. Please," you pleaded into his mouth despite not pulling away from his kiss.

"Fuck, okay, yeah. I- I'll fuck you," he finally pulled away and pulled down his boxers, reaching over to his pants on the floor to get a condom from his wallet.

"Oh? You were ready for this?" you grinned at him mockingly.

"Baby," he whined, letting his head fall to your chest in bashfulness, "Don't do this right now. Just let me make you feel good. You can make fun of me all you want after."

"Okay, Kookie. Now, hurry up!", you reached down to his ass, squeezing it jokingly as he let out a scandalized noise and lightly nibbled at your tit in retaliation.

Finally, he put on the condom as you slipped off your panties all the way and throwing them off. He was soft yet shy in his movements as he teased your slit with his cock, playing with the wetness and groaning at the warmth wrapping around the head of his cock. He checked in on you constantly throughout, kissing at your cheek every so often as he bottomed out.

"Feels so good, pretty. Fuck ... gorgeous girl. Knew you were made for me," he groaned, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer as he began to thrust.

His words of encouragement didn't end there, letting out every emotion he felt towards you all while you whined his name and raked your nails down his back.

"Always wanted you ... You have no idea how much I like you,"

"Sweetest girl, and all for me ... Oh, fuck- feel so good wrapped around me,"

"You take it so good ... Feel so fucking good and look so fucking pretty. How could I ever resist you?"

"Need you so bad, fuck. Need you every day,"

His praise was never ending, rendering you a mess both physically and emotionally as your feelings for him burst in the form of cries of his name and mumbled reciprocations of his feelings.

"I need you to cum with me, gorgeous. Okay? Let me just- Yeah, right there, huh? That's the spot?", he murmured almost to himself as he lifted you by the legs and began hammering his hips against that one spot deep inside you that had your eyes rolling back. One of his hands eventually joined the mix, thumbing at your clit slowly yet harshly enough to make you gasp at the intensity of the sensation.

"Gonna cum, Kook. Cum with me? P-please?," you cried out for him.

"I'm right there, baby. Just cum with me. Like you so fucking much," he couldn't help but let out yet another expression of his feelings as his orgasm took over him, taking you right along with him.

"Like you t-too. S-so much!", you cried before practically blacking out.

Hips continued to grind against each other as your highs hit you, creating a symphony of skin slapping desperately and high-pitched whines coming from the two of you.

Jungkook almost fell limp against you when his high finally wore down, breathing heavily into your chest before rolling to your side, holding your trembling form against him.

"Was that a good first date?", he asked after catching his breath.

You laughed at the complete change of subject, "Maybe. I'm still expecting you to outdo it for the second one," you turned your body to his own, nuzzling against his chest.

You could feel the vibration of his chest as he chuckled a response, "Oh? I earned a second one?"

"Shut up before I change my mind."

"Yes, ma'am."

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content:  afab reader, smut,  semi-public sex, reunion sex, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 597 (teaser); 1877 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Kook! Stop being so touchy!," you whined when you finally found yourself alone with him.

He ignored you at first, opting to wrap his arms around you and nuzzle his head into your hair with a satisfied hum.

"But why, baby?", he huffed.

He thought he was so cute when he played dumb.

"No one in the staff can know we're dating. It's like you want me to lose my job," you groaned, reciprocating his gesture against your better judgment.

"Baby, I'm your boss, and I have no plans of firing you, so what's the problem?", he ran his nose up and down your neck, breathing you in softly.

"Still. Sleeping with my boss just gives off a bad image."

"Everyone already knows I have a crush on you anyway, what's the harm?", he whined.

"Kookie ...", you groaned.

"Hmm, love when you call me that, baby," he giggled against you, waddling from one side to the other as he walked you over to the wall, pressing you up against it in a surprisingly innocent manner.

After yet another 'subtle' public display of affection he had decided to engage in whilst recording for a new brand deal, you had dragged Jungkook over to an empty dressing room during a break, deciding to put a stop to his behavior before it went too far.

You had only been dating for a few months by now, becoming exclusive almost immediately after that first date. However, despite the exclusivity and the age of your relationship, you had demanded that Jungkook keep it under wraps when it came to work. The only people aware of your relationship could be counted on one hand (maybe two), including his members, family, a few close friends and your own loved ones. Other than that, not even the company was privy to your new relationship.

Unfortunately for you, it seemed like your boyfriend was on a mission to let everyone know about your relationship, always sending you suggestive looks or sticking to you in a manner usually reserved for couples.

Most people in Jungkook's team already knew of his touchy demeanor (and of his very obvious flirtatious tendencies when it came to you), but you knew that you'd be in trouble if you ever reciprocated. Having such a cute boy blatantly show interest in you proved hard, as you had to control yourself in front of everyone else any time he decided to cause trouble for you.

"C'mon, baby. We're alone now. There's no one to see what I wanna do to you," he smirked into your neck, beginning to trail kisses along its length.

His grabby hands stayed on your hips, occasionally sliding up your waist and under your shirt to feel the warmth of your back. Not-so-innocent touches were beginning to arise, making you conflicted since you were technically still in your company's premises at the moment.

Pressing your hands into his chest, you made a lame and effortless attempt at pushing him away, your heart not truly in it as you allowed him to keep his hands on you, "Kook, we're still at work!"

"We're practically done! I did my part, it's just the guys who need to get their shoots done. I could literally disappear right now and no one would notice. It's okay, baby," he reassured, wrapping your hands around his waist and pulling you even closer, lips beginning to ghost your own.

"Kook ..."

"Shhh, just let me kiss you. Been holding back on kissing you all day," and those were his last words before occupying his lips with your own.

...

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[biscuitdolly]

୨ৎ absolute necessities .ᐟ

if you're trying to glow up, get healthier, etc, these are the very basics that you absolutely NEED to follow!

01, WATER .ᐟ

Staying hydrated is crucial for your health and wellbeing. While the recommended daily intake is 8 cups of water, you can gradually increase your consumption over a few weeks if that seems too overwhelming. Drinking enough water provides numerous benefits, from clearing skin and flushing out waste, to boosting exercise performance and supporting weight loss. Despite being the very essence that sustains life, water is often underappreciated.

02, FOOD .ᐟ

I used to skip breakfast, thinking it would help me lose weight. However, studies show that those who eat breakfast tend to lose more weight and keep it off longer. The truth is, food is incredibly important. It's best to regulate your eating habits by consuming at least 3 meals per day, even if they're only small portions. Some food is better than no food. If you want to go on a diet, that's fine! but make sure you research healthy dieting methods. At a minimum, eat one serving of fruits and vegetables daily, and try to increase that to five servings per day if possible. Proper nutrition is key for your overall health.

03, HOBBIES .ᐟ

i have this previous post regarding hobbies you could try! It's so important to find fun activities that you genuinely enjoy and look forward to doing. Hobbies add fun to your life and pose as a nice break from technology and the stress of work and school. They also greatly improve symptoms of depression and anxiety. You could do some physical activity, such as a sport you like, or something more calm and creative, like painting or writing.

04, SLEEP .ᐟ

a lot of people struggle to fall asleep at a decent time. Try getting ready for bed early. Personally, I tend to take off my make up and do my skincare immediately after i come home for school/work so i don't have to worry about it before bed.

Technology is probably your sleeping schedule's worst enemy, as the blue light from the screen keeps your brain awake, so try to pause screen-related activities at least an hour before bed. Also, try not to snack 2 - 4 hours before you go to sleep. This is because lying down makes it harder for your body to digest food, which can result in sleeplessness.

Forcing yourself to go to bed super early isn't helpful either. Like I've mentioned in my other points, take things slow and gradual!

05, SOCIALIZATION .ᐟ

Engaging in simple social interactions, such as conversing with family, seeing friends, or greeting people on the street, is incredibly important. Isolating yourself in your room all day accomplishes nothing.

There was a time when I dreaded spending time with friends, convinced I lacked the energy or mood. However, once I forced myself to make plans, I realized how much I genuinely enjoyed their company. Other people are what make life truly worthwhile. So why not reach out to a friend right now and invite them to hang out tomorrow?

06, ACTIVITY .ᐟ

you don't need an exercise routine if you don't want one, but simple physical activity is still a daily necessity! At least 30 minutes is recommended. Personally, i most enjoy plugging in my headphones and going on a walk around my neighbourhood for an hour or two.

07, SELF TALK .ᐟ

Arguably one of my most important points, quit the self-deprecating talk. You never realize how much it affects you until you quit it. Yes, you can absolutely get that assessment done. Yes, you are a likable and amazing person. Just keep affirming and reminding yourself that you are worthy, and you will attract so many good things. Trust me, it will help you so much in the long run.

[wearysparrows]

Give an Inch, Take a Mile

ao3/masterlist

Summary: Sylus shows up at the door of your motel room after finding out you're investigating protocore energy fluctuations in the middle of nowhere. He claims he has business in the area and needs to stay the night -- but there's only one bed.

CW (18+): only one bed trope, grinding, vaginal fingering, AFAB mc (no usage of pronouns, no use of Y/N), reader is MC, a brief mention of birth control, Sylus comes in his pants, you both have a good time, etc. 6.4k

This situation had turned out to be less than ideal.

The Hunter’s Association had sent you on a mission that had seemed simple enough on paper: investigate the suspicious protocore energy fluctuations that were occurring in a fairly rural area, just outside of Linkon city. However, they had conveniently failed to mention the nature of your accommodations. It wasn’t that you weren’t used to staying in less than ideal conditions – you just weren’t prepared for this situation in particular. You pulled up to the motel on your bike, your belongings in a bag on your back. This was the only accommodation for miles around, and unless you wanted to sleep on the ground again, this was as good as it was going to get.

You weren’t sure how much more of sleeping on the ground your body could take.

There was nothing outwardly alarming about the motel on the outside – it was unassuming, two stories lined with austere gray doors. It was quiet. No one came in or out, despite the full lot. Somehow, this made you feel more uneasy than if there had been people milling about. Attempting to push these worries from your mind, you approached the check in window. A young boy’s face – no older than ten or so – peered at you with wide eyes from behind the glass that divided you. You were momentarily stunned into silence when he asked if you were checking in. You quickly showed him your Hunter’s ID, and he checked you in, giving you the key card to your room. You hurried towards it, now feeling eager to get settled away from the strangeness that was beginning to fall on the goings on around you.

You pressed the key card against the lock, and it opened with a soft click. You opened it just a crack, checking inside before fully going in. All was quiet. You opened the door fully, stepping inside and closing it behind you. The room was unassuming enough – a box spring mattress, a coffee table, a couch that had seen better days, and a strangely large mirror hanging over a countertop in the back corner of the room. You checked the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for a rather tastelessly colored plaid blue shower curtain. You felt your body involuntarily relax. You returned to the main room, and set your bag on the coffee table that sat next to the couch. You sat down on the bed, which creaked loudly underneath you. It was a strange sort of creak, one that clicked loudly with each minor movement you made. A sigh escaped you as you unlaced your boots. It was only until you found the source of the strange fluctuations, you reminded yourself.

Just as you had finished kicking off your boots, your phone rang in your pocket. You checked it, eyeballing the contact on the screen.

It was Sylus. Rather, his contact said ‘Sy,’ as you had recently updated it to reflect the nickname you gave him in your head.

What could he possibly want right now?  

To your own irritation, you felt your heart rate increase exponentially as you looked at his contact. You hadn’t heard his voice in a few days. You missed it, and him. You answered, intentionally letting it ring a few times so you didn’t seem too eager.

“Hello?” You kept your tone level.

“Where are you right now?”

Sylus sounded somewhat out of breath on the other end of the line, like he had been exerting himself. You found yourself wondering what he had been up to, but there were much more important matters – like why the hell he had called you and requested your location so rudely.

“Most people say ‘hello’ back before asking questions, at least. Why are you asking?”

Sylus tutted into the microphone, as if you were asking him something obvious.

“Well, I’m not most people, sweetheart. I’m asking because it seems like you’re stationary in the middle of nowhere. Is this the work of your oh-so-wealthy association?”

You didn’t even bother to ask how Sylus knew where you were. You had unwittingly grown used to his constant keeping of tabs on you. You had long assumed he had put some kind of tracker in your phone (though you could find no such thing after checking), or using Mephisto to keep an eye on you (you hadn’t seen him at all today, either). At the very least, you weren’t expendable to Sylus, though why he went through such great lengths to keep tabs remained unclear.  Sylus’s natural purr of a voice calmed your anxious senses, despite his critical words. You leaned back on the creaky bed before you answered. It was so loud that you wondered if Sylus heard it through the speaker on his end.

“Don’t blame the Association. These are the only accommodations in the area, short of sleeping outside again. Besides, it’s not like it’s the worst place I’ve ever stayed. I only wish I’d come more prepared.”

You chewed at the inside of your cheek after you spoke, unsure why you’d offered that last admission of information. Though you were certain Sylus was aware of your personal flaws, being unprepared usually wasn’t one of them. You didn’t like to tarnish your own image – you had your pride, after all. Sylus hummed thoughtfully. 

“I see that the bar couldn’t possibly be any lower, as usual. Alright, I’m on my way. There’s something I need to do in the area. Don’t be surprised when I knock.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sylus had already hung up on you. You stared dumbly down at your phone. It reflected your stunned face silently. You flipped it over, not wanting to see your own expression.

Something he needed to do in the area?

You couldn’t possibly imagine what Sylus needed to do in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere. Or why he was coming to stay with you. Or if he was planning to stay the night, and where. Or how he would know what room you were in. You felt your face flush at the image of Sylus laying in the shitty motel bed with you. Based on past experiences, you were almost certain he slept naked.

Couldn’t he just get his own damn room?

You shook your head, attempting to free your mind from these circling predatory thoughts. You changed into more comfortable clothes, careful not to let your bare feet touch the paneling of the floor. You showered in the little bathroom, trying to ignore the state of the towels there. After, you busied yourself looking over the mission files in bed, finally losing yourself in the information before you.

A sharp rapraprap on the door broke you from your absorption. It made you jump, your eyes flicking instinctively to your Hunter’s issue gun on the nightstand next to you. The sound came again twice more. All at once, you remembered Sylus had said he was coming, though you had half expected him not to show. You quickly checked your Hunter’s watch. It was nearly dusk, already. You hurried towards the door, feeling irritated and excited all at once at the prospect of seeing the enigmatic leader of Onychinus. Of being in the tiny room with him. You steeled yourself emotionally before unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door. 

Sylus stood before you in his usual leather getup that he wore when using his bike. He looked no less handsome than usual – his moon-white hair was tousled by the wind, and his eyes shone deeply in the light of the setting sun. He had a suspiciously large duffel bag thrown casually over his shoulder. He regarded you coolly, an easy smile on his lips. You found yourself struck by him despite yourself, and struggled for words for a moment. Sylus found them for you.

“May I come in, my little hunter?”

You scowled at him, but found yourself stepping aside anyway. He slipped in the room, his steps strangely silent for a man of his size. He set his bag on the table next to yours. You deadbolted the door behind him, and put one hand on your hip. The other pointed at him accusingly.

“Aren’t there other rooms? Why could you possibly need to stay at this motel in particular? Surely this is a hovel compared to where you’d normally stay. And what’s with the bag? It looks like it’s about to burst.”

Sylus had busied himself removing his leather outerwear and shoes, putting them away neatly. He turned towards you with arms crossed. You thought he made the small room look even smaller with his height.

“The other rooms were all full. You’re right about the hovel, though. That’s putting it kindly.” Sylus scanned the room critically as he spoke. He was pointedly ignoring your question about the bag. You eyed it suspiciously. 

“Besides, you stay at my base all the time when you’re on missions. Can’t you return the favor just this once?” Sylus’s tone was playful, and he regarded you with his usual air of confidence. 

He did have you there, and he knew it, too. You more than frequently took advantage of the hospitality and resources he freely offered for your usage. He rarely made comments about it, and now it was coming back to bite you in the form of the man you were doing your very best to hide budding romantic feelings from. You adjusted your sleep shorts, suddenly feeling more cold and exposed under his crimson gaze. You had forgotten you had already changed into sleepwear. You crossed your arms around your upper body.

“Nothing in life is free,” you muttered. 

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” 

You sat back down on the bed, attempting to make a return to your files. You knew it would be impossible to focus with Sylus’s overwhelming presence in the small room. But you could pretend, for now.

“Such a cynical creature, aren’t you?” 

You looked up from your paperwork. Sylus’s words were teasing, but his tone and gaze were incredibly warm. You hurriedly looked away again, hoping to hide the redness of your face. 

Why did he say that like it was a compliment?

You heard more than saw him unzipping his bag and rifling through it. His socked feet appeared in your periphery at the side of the bed, and you felt something plush drape around your shoulders. You looked up in surprise. Your previously bare arms were now covered with the warmth of a periwinkle fleece blanket. You hadn’t even realized how much of a chill had crept into you until the blanket was around your body. You opened your mouth to say something – anything – to Sylus, but he had already turned back around, and was producing another item from the bag. He wordlessly placed a pair of slippers neatly on the floor next to your side of the bed. You watched all of this occur with a degree of shock before finding the ability to speak again. 

“What’s all this? Why go through all the trouble?” You tugged the blanket closer around yourself, grateful for its warmth despite your suspicions. Sylus shrugged.

“You said you were underprepared. So I came prepared for you.”

You stared at him in stunned silence.

For you?

Before you could respond to his previous statement, Sylus spoke again.

“I’m going to shower. There’s more in the bag. Feel free to take a look.” He made his way to the bathroom, toiletry bag in hand, without sparing you a further glance. You opened and closed your mouth silently. He was hardly letting you get a word in. The last thing you had expected the bag to be full of was items for you.

You padded over to it quietly, having slipped on the slippers Sylus had brought. They were annoyingly comfortable, and just the right size. You ignored the little butterflies emerging from their cocoons in your stomach. You peeked inside the bag. It carried the lightest hint of Sylus’s scent.

The contents consisted of various wants and necessities – clothing of Sylus’s (you pointedly ignored the pairs of boxers, though your wicked eyes were drawn to them), extra towels, a small pillow, some food items, and a bag of toiletries. You unzipped it curiously. It was all travel sizes of the same kinds you used at home. You felt yourself blush so furiously that you swore it colored your fingertips, as hot as they suddenly felt. You put the toiletries back in the bag hurriedly, running a hand through your hair in a self soothing motion. The idea of Sylus keeping note of every single self care item you liked should have been alarming, but it only endeared him to you further. Any other man keeping such close tabs on you would have sent you running for the proverbial hills. You decided, distantly, that spending so much time with him had only deepened whatever burgeoning mental issues you were already saddled with. You threw yourself back into bed, and found yourself listening to the comforting sounds of Sylus showering. You could hear the water fall in waves as he moved underneath it. 

You found much of your earlier anxieties had melted away for his presence at the motel. Despite your protests, it was nice to have another soul staying with you. You could take care of yourself, but Sylus’s energy was nothing if not reassuring, and you were grateful for it – even if he was only here on some mysterious business that he refused to disclose.

Not that you could ever tell him that. It would certainly go straight to his pretty head.

As if summoned by your thoughts of him, Sylus appeared from the bathroom, fresh from the shower. He had nothing but a towel around his waist, and was rubbing another smaller one on his wet hair. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him like this, and your mind was immediately drawn back to the brooch fiasco. You swallowed. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t manage it. Steam was still rolling off of his taut muscles, which rippled under his skin as he moved. Your eyes raked over his form, lingering where his obliques disappeared underneath the towel. Your mind kept trying to fill in what he’d look like without it. He really was unfairly beautiful. He looked even more ridiculously out of place in the room while half naked. He belonged in another world entirely. An evocative, tormenting vision of hell.

You felt his gaze on you, then. Your eyes snapped to his face. He was smirking. He gestured to his form nonchalantly.

“You’re pretty bold, aren’t you?”

You scoffed at him, trying to cover the fact that you had been staring. Nearly an impossible feat. You tore your eyes from the sight, insteading focusing desperately hard at your phone. Having no notifications, you opened the weather app instead.

“I wasn’t exactly planning to have a naked man in my room at night. Especially not you.” You grumbled. You didn’t mention all the times you had imagined a naked Sylus in your room, just like this. You kept your eyes glued to the weather. It was getting pretty cold outside. You were glad for the blanket.

Sylus’s face appeared in your vision. He was bent over at the waist next to where you sat on the bed. He was significantly more dressed than before, wearing a black tee and corresponding sweats. Definitely not how he usually slept, you noted. 

“Is there another man you'd have preferred to have naked here tonight?” His voice was low, teasing – but there was something darker underneath it. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You rolled your eyes at him, trying to cover the way you felt. His gaze was burning into you, intent on your answer.

Why the hell was he even asking?

“Sy, are you jealous of just the idea of someone else being here with me?” 

Your nickname for him inadvertently slipped out. At some point (which you would hardly admit to yourself), you had started shortening his name to a diminutive form. You pressed your lips together, and hoped he had either missed it, or would simply choose not to acknowledge it. 

Sylus’s eyes flashed at the use of the nickname. No such luck. A little chuckle reverberated out of him, and he removed himself from your personal space, standing upright. 

“I don’t think I have anything to worry about, actually.” He had returned to his usual tone. His back and forth always gave you emotional whiplash. You attempted to control your expression.

“I’ll take the couch.” 

He jabbed a thumb towards the offending piece of furniture, and your eyes followed the motion. It was a sad excuse for a couch, and had a suspicious sunken-in shape in the middle. It was much too small for a man of Sylus’s size – even for someone your size. You shook your head immediately. 

“No way. You’re way too big. I’ll take it.” You made to stand up and head towards it, but Sylus was in front of you just as quick, blocking your way. You poked him in the chest with a finger.

“You’re in the way.”

Sylus had hold of your index finger, now. It was dwarfed in the grip of his large hand. 

“So you won’t even pull back this duvet to sleep on the sheets,” he nodded towards the bed, “but you’ll sleep on that couch?”

Sylus was right. Considering the state the towels had been in (and the sudden appearance of a new blanket), you had elected to sleep on top of the duvet with just the blanket Sylus had brought. You didn’t trust the state of the sheets. The couch may have been even worse off. You had hoped he wouldn’t notice – but he was as perceptive as ever. Sylus released his grip on your finger, and your hand fell limply by your side. He continued.

“It won’t kill you to share in the name of comfort. Besides,” he went around to the side of the bed you hadn’t been resting on, and sat down.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed, right?”

Sylus’s words brought back memories of the times he was referring to. Not only had you shared a bed before in similar circumstances, there were times you had slept in his bed. You rubbed a hand over your face. Why did it always feel like he was catching you in a trap with his words? You really didn’t want to touch that couch. You also knew you wouldn’t be getting a lick of sleep with Sylus next to you in bed. Your pulse was already thundering at just the sight of him adjusting himself into a more comfortable position on the mattress, as if he already knew what your answer was. 

You resigned yourself to your fate, sitting back on the bed, leaning on the pillows that had been propping you up to do your work. Sylus looked at you, his expression somewhere between smug and pleased.

“Perhaps being in bed together more often will make our resonance stronger.” He said offhandedly.

 You shot him a look.

“Aren’t you normally only active at night? Why are you suddenly going to bed at the same time as me?” You pulled the blanket over yourself, chasing away the chill of the night air in the room. You ignored the siren’s song of the heat radiating off of Sylus’s body. Why did he only bring one blanket to share?

“I always adjust my schedule to accommodate yours, kitten. Especially since you’ve so kindly agreed to let me impose on your space.” He turned away from you to do something on his phone. He made no effort to hide its screen from your eyes. You turned your head ever so slightly towards it, so as not to alert him to your prying. Sylus turned his phone to a vantage point at which you could see better.

“You’re welcome to watch, but it’s not very interesting. It might put you to sleep. Actually, in that case, maybe you should watch.”

You felt like you should be embarrassed at having been caught, but something about Sylus’s devil-may-care attitude kept you from feeling too ashamed. You scooted a modicum closer to see the screen better. Sylus leaned towards you. Your shoulders were practically touching. You focused on the screen instead of his proximity.

“Are these businesses?”

Sylus hummed in affirmation.

“These are just what’s for sale at the moment. So far nothing is standing out, though.”

You watched as Sylus scrolled through the listings. The sound of the gentle tap of his thumb against the screen somehow made you feel more at peace. The pricings next to the listings suddenly reminded you that this was the leader of Onychinus who was staying with you in this seedy motel, looking at buying listings that were likely worth this business ten times over. The thought made you puff out a little laugh. Sylus tilted his head towards you, questioning.

“What?” He sounded amused just to hear you amused. 

“It’s just funny that you’re here. Probably the most wanted man in the world – the leader of Onychinus. Relentless Conqueror. Endless assets at your disposal, and you’re at a shitty motel in bed with a Hunter. Shopping online.”

Sylus laughed too, then, and the smile lingered on his face. He set his phone down, and put his hands behind his head, relaxing. The movement was decidedly masculine, and found yourself even more attracted to him in that moment.

“Here – with you – I’m just Sylus. The ‘where’ doesn’t really matter.” He was looking up at the ceiling as he spoke, sounding sort of far away. His words made your stomach twist and flip upon itself, like a prey animal that chose to freeze rather than run from danger. You propped yourself up on an elbow to look at him, turning on your side. 

“Are you saying you can be yourself around me?” You were half teasing, half actually asking. You tried not to wait for his answer with baited breath. He turned his face towards you, the back of his head still in his hands. He had a soft smile on his lips. 

“Is there anyone else who I devote so much of ‘myself’ to?” 

You were taken aback by his question, though not surprised he answered one question with another. 

Devote?

His wording made it sound like this side of himself – this sense of self – was dependent on his devotion to you. Words had power, and devotion was a particularly strong choice. You felt like you and Sylus were always dancing around each other, just on the edge of the truth. He was always trying to say something without actually saying it – without inciting you to run away. You struggled to maintain eye contact with him, but managed to hold your ground.

“What are you trying to say, Sy?”

Sylus was quiet for a moment. He shook his head.

“Nothing. You don’t want to listen to me wax poetic about meaning all night. You have an early morning, right?” 

His words prompted you to check your Hunter’s watch. It was way later than you thought. You nodded, though you wanted to press him again for answers – you knew he would offer none. 

You found yourself laying on your back in bed, sharing a blanket with Sylus. His breaths were coming deep and slow. He had fallen asleep rather quickly, and you realized he must have been exhausted. You wondered what he had been doing before he made the decision to come stay at the motel – and whether it was really true that he had some business to attend to out here. Eventually, the serene sound of his breaths lulled you into a dreamless sleep. 

You woke, eyes creaking open in the pitch blackness of the room. You really didn’t want to get up, but your bladder had other ideas. You slunk out of bed and to the bathroom in the darkness, careful to not wake Sylus. The bathroom light was bright, and it cast a menacing orange beam on the room before you could shut the door and finish. You cursed it mentally. 

You washed your hands in the darkness, as the sink was outside of the restroom. You fumbled around for the hand soap, and found it, turning on the water to just a drip. You didn’t think about why you were going to such lengths not to wake Sylus. You just did it. You dried your hands, and tiptoed back to bed, sliding in under the covers. 

Just as you thought you had accomplished your stealth mission successfully, Sylus had turned towards you, and wrapped you in a too-warm embrace. He had you crushed up against his chest as he lay on his side, your head now resting on his bicep. 

“Sylus?” You asked, your whisper intense. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might make an exit through your throat. You could feel every part of his body against yours – the hard lines of his muscles were pressed flush to you. Your hands had been pushed up against his hips. You kept them very, very still. Sylus didn’t respond.

He was still asleep – or so you thought. The arm that was thrown around you came up to rub circles in the back of your scalp. His thumb brushed the shell of your ear a few times – intentionally or not, you couldn’t be sure. Your hands fisted the material of his shirt near his waist, and your knuckles were touching his lower abdomen. His scent completely enveloped you. You knew you should have pulled away, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. You weren’t even sure you would have been able to, with how strong Sylus was. You could feel your own arousal curling in your belly despite your best efforts to curtail it.

His voice, rough from sleep, came from above you. It shot tingles up and down your spine. 

“When did you get so close?” 

He made no move to remove you from his embrace. His hand had migrated from your scalp to in between your shoulder blades, pressing between them like he was trying to make space for you to sprout wings. The touch caused the smallest arch of your back in surprise, and the movement pressed your flesh harder against him. You heard him let out a quiet gasp, nearly imperceptible. 

“You pulled me close in your sleep, dummy. You’re like a vice.” You tried to keep your voice level, but you thought you heard some of the heat you felt slip into it. You could feel his growing erection pressing hard against your stomach. You steeled yourself mentally, willing yourself not to acknowledge it. You weren’t in any better of a state, being so close to him. 

You tried to push him away, but only succeeded in putting pressure on his lower abdomen with your knuckles. You felt his hardness twitch against you at the touch. His bare skin was hot under your fingers, a stark contrast to the coldness of the room. He held you a little tighter, hand finding your lower back now. Pressing. Massaging. You couldn’t help but relax some into the touch, but your mind still raced. It was like some invisible force was testing the level of your self restraint, tugging at the needs of your flesh, inciting them to rear their ugly heads. 

“You’re so soft.” He murmured. His fingers were trailing lazily up and down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You weren’t sure if he meant your skin, your body, or your mind – or that it really mattered.

“Sy?” You questioned, not even really sure what you were asking. 

Why haven’t I pushed you away yet? Why haven’t you pushed me away yet?

Sylus rolled on top of you suddenly, legs on either side of you, holding himself up by his palms. Even in the darkness of the room, you could see the heat of his carmine eyes. He was so close that his hair was brushing your face. 

“I like it when you call me that.” 

“Yeah?” You squeaked out. Everything around you was Sylus – the sound of his voice, the heat of his body, the scent of him – it was overwhelming, all encompassing. Your body was pleasantly too hot, lulled into submission underneath Sylus’s dominating aura on top of you. You swallowed dryly. 

“Yeah.” You could feel his breath against your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was heady with need. 

The question barely registered in your brain. He was on top of you, pinning you to the bed, and he was asking you for permission to kiss you. How many times had you thought about him kissing you? You managed a nod, beginning to wonder if this wasn’t just some elaborate fabrication of your desires haunting your restless dreams. 

Sylus’s lips on yours were very real. The kiss was languid and warm, but insistent and desperate all at once. His tongue pried your mouth open, and he pressed it against your own. The inside of his mouth was even more unbearably warm than the rest of him. Your hands, which had found their way to his chest, were sliding down his abdomen now, lost in the heat of the moment. Sylus was sucking on your tongue, which made you pause your ministrations. The sensation had done much to increase the wetness pooling in between your legs. He pulled away, laughing breathlessly. Your chest heaved, having finally been given back access to air.

“I’ve been wanting to do that. You have a cute tongue.” 

Sylus pressed his forehead against yours. You struggled to form words.

“How can a tongue be cute?” 

Your hands resumed their downward journey, emboldened by his compliments on the muscle in your mouth. You found what you were looking for – Sylus was rock hard underneath your touch, straining against the thin material of his sweatpants. He hissed as your hands made contact with him, instead of coming up with an answer to your question. You wrapped a hand around him as best you could through the fabric, feeling momentarily brought out of your reverie by the sheer size of him. You palmed him up and down, trying to gauge his size.

“You’re so big.” You blurted out. Like he didn’t already know. You felt him twitch once, twice, under your touch at your words. He pressed another kiss to your lips. One of his hands was making its way underneath your shirt. He cupped your bare breast with his warm hand, squeezing. His fingertip circled your nipple, and it hardened under his touch. You shivered.

“Yeah. You feel how hard you make me?” His hand enveloped yours that was touching him, pressing down. He ground into your palm, and you could feel the wetness of his precum through his sweats. This only lasted for a moment. He released your hand, instead sliding his fingers inside your sleep shorts. Everywhere he touched left a buzz under your skin in his absence. He slipped two fingers against your cunt over your panties. You arched into his touch, fully knowing he could feel the wetness there. There was no way your attraction was a secret, now. It felt so good to finally have his hands on you. That you were mutually aroused.

Sylus was kneeling in between your legs now, fingers sliding up and down your pussy, refusing to give you what you wanted. His free hand alternated fondling your breasts and pinching your nipples in between his fingertips. You were caught between enjoying the pleasure, the ache for him that was reaching through you, and telling him to put it in you already. 

This thought caused something else to occur to you.

“Sy – ah – do you have…a condom?” 

Sylus paused his movements. His fingers hovered above you. He cursed quietly under his breath. 

You couldn’t help the exasperated laugh that escaped you. You hadn’t been on birth control for a while – not since you had stopped seeing other men because of your feelings for Sylus. You hadn’t expected this to happen, ever. 

Sylus pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“I don’t. I didn’t think…” He cleared his throat. 

“I came here in a bit of a rush.”

You filed that comment away in the things to ask Sylus about later drawer in your mind. 

“Fuck.” You exhaled. You didn’t want to come away from the momentary bliss and back into reality. Before you could take the thought any further, however, a pair of strong arms had wrapped around you, carrying you in front of the large mirror in the room. Sylus set you gingerly in front of it, and you instinctively put your hands on the counter to steady yourself. Even in the darkness, you could see how Sylus’s form dwarfed your own in the reflection. He was pressing up against you from behind. Not just pressing, but grinding his arousal against your ass. He wrapped a hand around to your front, and began rubbing little circles on your clit through your panties. His voice was low in your ear.

“Let’s do this instead, then.”

Sylus set a pace, rutting against you. You were so wet that one of his fingers slid inside you easily, and you ground down on his palm, attempting to find friction there against your clit. You could tell Sylus was losing as much of his composure as you were, because he was pressing you hard into the counter, and kept sucking hickies into your neck that you knew would bruise later. You couldn’t find it in you to care. The sensation of him marking you was exhilarating. He had two fingers inside, now, the lewd wetness of the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet motel room. 

“Sy,” you panted out, “want you inside me so bad.” 

You felt yourself clench around his fingers, which only seemed to encourage him to add a third. You were close now, over stimulated by Sylus in every way possible. He was grinding on you at a stutteringly erratic pace. 

“Fuck. ” he growled.

“I wanna be inside you, baby. Fill you up. Stretch you out.” 

His fingers forced your mouth open, and he stroked your tongue with them. You sucked them eagerly. The thumb of his other had found your clit again, pressing against the hard button of your own arousal with increasing desperation. His words were enough to bring you over the edge. You clenched around the fingers inside you, your orgasm finding you white and hot, making your knees buckle underneath you. The sound of your own moans was foreign to your ears. Sylus held you up by the waist, the force of his movements practically lifting you off your feet as he ground on you.

“Shit,” he breathed. “Baby, fuck.” His hips stuttered against you without further warning, and you felt his cock pulse against your ass as he rode out his orgasm onto you. He groaned through it in a way that made you want to cum all over again. Through your blissed out state, you distantly realized he had cum in his pants. Not that you were any better off. Your panties were completely soaked. 

Sylus peeled himself off of you gently, still supporting your weight. He hoisted you up instead, and held you in a princess carry. Your head lolled against his chest, and you were hit by what had just occurred. Sylus had worked you to orgasm with just his fingers, and he had cum from grinding on your ass. You looked up at him through your lashes. He was carrying you back to the bed as he spoke.

“Was that alright?” He was looking down at you. You thought you could see concern on his face in the dark. He set you gently down into the bed, sitting next to you. You stared at the stain on his pants. It almost would have been funny if it wasn’t so hot that you had worked him up so much – so easily. 

“It felt really good for me. Did it feel good for you?” 

The words felt a bit awkward on your tongue, but they were the truth.  You liked him too much to be crass – you couldn’t believe he had just fingerfucked you to orgasm in a run down motel and cum in his pants from grinding on you. You felt like you were floating outside of your body, still not fully accepting that you had very nearly had sex with Sylus. Your face flushed hot all over again at the thought. Now he knew without a doubt that you wanted him inside you.

“Very good.” He gestured to the spot on his pants. “If you couldn’t already tell.” 

The two of you had cleaned yourself up separately that night, settling for changing into clean clothes. Showering would have to come in the morning – you were both too exhausted. As you lay back down to sleep, Sylus had pulled you close again, and you didn’t try to protest. You fell asleep against his chest to the sound of his steady heartbeat. 

The blaring of your alarm awoke you with a frightened start in the early morning. You sat straight up, cutting it off quickly. The events of the night before came crashing back into your mind. Sylus’s fingers inside of you, his body pressing you against the counter – you felt yourself flush all the way up to your scalp.

Now how were you supposed to act?

Sylus sat up next to you, pushing his hair out of his face. He was squinting in the morning light. You felt a pang of regret that you hadn’t been able to see the way his face looked while in the throes of pleasure last night. He turned to you, blinking. A large hand squeezed your thigh. 

“If you’re going to investigate the fluctuations in the area, let me come with you.” His voice had the same sleep roughness to it that made your stomach hot. You cocked your head at him.

“I thought you had business in the area?” 

“You are my business.” He deadpanned.

You groaned, and reached out to smack him half heartedly on the shoulder. He caught your hand, and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles instead. You couldn’t deny it – he really had come all the way out here just to see you. The thought made you giddy rather than annoyed, now. The mighty leader of Onychinus really went the extra mile when you gave him an inch.

[strawberry-nugget]

Ahhh I do NOT know what this is other than depressed af Bakugo, who is trying to be a good boyfriend with a hint of fluff

It starts as something as innocent as forgetting to fold your laundry after a hard day of work. Although he never does that, he's too meticulous about the house chores even after a 12 hour shift. You don't yell at him and he doesn't yell at you. He has ordered take out before even getting home and he eats in silence, after offering you some of his pizza and you decline, hurt that the portion of food that you made for him will go to waste. He doesn't say anything else for the remaining twenty minutes he remains awake and you end up folding the laundry.

By the time you go to the bedroom he's fast asleep, blond hair covering his forehead and mouth open enough so he can breathe through it. you notice the band aid on his nose; another wound he didn't bother telling you about.

It's a silent, muffled goodnight that puts you to sleep and not his arms around your waist but it's okay, you’ve been more than used to it.

When apathy isn't something that's enjoyable or even barely tolerable when you're in a relationship, you overlook it.

You think of him more often than you see him and you see him all the time. 

He delivers flowers to your workplace as an atonement for giving you the cold shoulder last night with a note. 

‘Sorry for being so grumpy lately, date tonight at 8?’

Your coworkers definitely enthuse about it and you grin like a schoolgirl. You think that even if you get off at six and you barely have enough time to get ready you can make it. So you text him, frenzied and insanely happy that you can make it and he snaps a picture of him drinking his smoothie while sitting on a railing of a building. Then he tells you where you're going for the night so you can be there as he'd be coming right after work.

Or at least he was supposed to. 

So what? He doesn't show up on a date. Katsuki's a pro hero, in the top five, too, so you can forgive that one time, despite having to endure the looks of pity from the waiters at the restaurant he has booked, and despite paying the minimum order fee all by yourself. All while downing a bottle of wine, dressed in your best clothes, make up done so nicely, in such little time too.

You try not to cry, at least not in front of anyone, because it's one time and it's okay that he didn't even bother to cancel on you, he for sure must have been busy! 

But you don't find it in you to plan another date anytime soon, and you don't allow him to mention whatever happened that night when he gets home to you. He’s battered, he’s bloody and behind red eyes there's that sorry expression of a dog that’s trashed the whole roll of toilet paper. 

You dont yell, you don't fight. He runs a bath for himself and you wash his hair.

Though, you'd love to actually at least leave a sassy remark on what he did, you're scared that his response won't be up to your standards or liking and hurting yourself like this -yes, begging for an explanation to the happening is begging- is not something you plan on doing. 

Until it happens again. 

This time, it's worse, because he's supposed to meet you and your friends at the cinema, on a day patrol shouldn't take too long to end. On a day there's no new article about a monstrous villain destroying the city. And yes, you do refresh the news section on your phone every second, with the way he's been getting so beaten up on the daily.

But this time, it's okay, because he lets you know beforehand. 

10 minutes beforehand. 

Through text. 

And even if it infuriates your friends, you can live with it. It's fine, you tell yourself and your friends. It doesn't usually happen, and he actually made an effort to let you know so you don't have to wait on him. 

It's more than understandable, you tell your friends, because your boyfriend (if you could call him that still) is a pro hero, and you, nothing but a civilian. His lifestyle is far more important than yours. Which, you actually find funny in the moment, now that everyone's staring at you. 

But your friends do not find it funny, actually. They don't lecture you yet, if they did, you'd burst in tears, and you enjoy the movie as much as you can in their company and rheir company alone. 

They're all you have, at the end of the day. 

Katsuki doest really have an everyday life as a civilian. And while striving to become number one he's overworking himself 

There's also the time he shows up to your friend's art gallery opening with his hero costume -broken left gauntlet and grease and mud all over his hair and face- because 1) you've lectured him about never showing up and the impression he's left on your friends and 2) he really is trying to make an effort and well 3)he doesn't really care about an amazing public image.

Your friends hate him. 

You don't.

The annual hero ratings come around the corner and he's fallen one place on the chart. The two of you spend that night at his parents’ and some subtle comments that youre not sure from whom it is worded sparks a fight with his mother, she tells him to not visit her again if he doesn't fix his attitude. They end up fighting over the phone every single day.

He gets worse after, always towards himself, as if he's done all the bad in the world. He spends most of his day on patrol and in the gym, but he doest bulk anymore. He’s more than okay with you making him lunch for work, he’s not mindful of any of his habits for a while.

Every single day that passes he’s more unhappy. Every day is worse than the other.

You continue to wash his hair and do the laundry on days he comes home bleeding and you don't get mad when he just wants to stuff his face in pizza. You go to bed with him and never let him sleep alone.

“you're s’nice to me when you don't have to” he mutters as you're stroking his hair away from his forehead. Not one of you is focusing on the movie that's playing. He;s sprawled like a cat on your chest, breathing from his mouth like that night.

“Its just cause i want to”

“m sorry i stood you up on that date”

“no need to talk about it” you reassure him. And its like he gets mad when you place a kiss on his exposed forehead. Brows furrowed, eyes half lid in exhaustion.

You pay him no mind, averting your eyes to the screen on your right He’s been so frustrated, you just know he's going to want to pick a fight

“dumbass. you should have dumped me.”

“You want me to dump you?”

He shakes his head in your chest as a response, hands wrap even tighter around your waist. 

“Stop saying dumb shit then okay? and stop thinking you don't deserve to be happy because life is shitty right now. You're the one who told me. Remember?”

At that he hugs you impossibly close. Pebbled chest pressing on your stomach as he wiggles his hands to wrap your feet around his waist. Your hoodie is lifted, just above your belly so he can plant a kiss on your skin and slanted red eyes look into yours again, this time more determined.

He knows how life has been for you. Things keep happening to you one after another and he's been there to witness it. To hold you. Your relationship with your own mother is only a little worse than his own and now, for the first time he actually understands how it's like to have someone hold him through all that he's been going through. 

No one can understand him better than you do, no one can love him better than you do.

There's an end to his restless nights, as you're spending them wrapped in his arms, face squished between his pectoral muscles. And now it doesn't matter if you sleep for two, five or eight or twelve hours. You're always rested. He’s not grumpy in the morning. Your migraines are gone. His muscles aren't sore anymore.

 Katsuki never had a civilian life, but when he comes home to you it's the closest he can get to one.

(this is my first post in two years be nice)

[evilwickedme]

It's so clear to me that so many so called "anti Zionists" - especially the non Palestinian goyim - have no idea how the Israeli election system works, and how bibi remains in power, and why we had five elections in like, three years, despite elections supposedly being every four years - because he couldn't keep a government stable enough to stay in power. Bibi netanyahu is MASSIVELY unpopular, and his approval rate has tanked even more since the war started, even among likud voters, the people who vote for HIS party (although their approval rates ranked less than the rest of the population). He has an extreme right wing government because if he didn't cooperate with right wing extremists and haredim he straight up wouldn't have the majority he needs to be our prime minister in the first place. He's been on trial for corruption for years at this point, and tried to completely restructure the judicial system just to avoid prison - leading to nearly a full year of protests until Oct 7. Luckily it didn't end up passing.

If elections were held at any point in the last five months since this war started, not only would he not be PM, we'd straight up have a center-left government. My recent transformation into a Yair Golan stan account is a joke but also 100% real - according to polls from the last three months or so, if he does what he's campaigning to do, leading a combined avoda and meretz party, he'd get enough votes to have an actual influential left wing party in the government for the first time in decades. An unbelievable amount of Israelis are calling for bibi to resign, many of them not calling for it to happen after the war ends, but right now.

I am sourcing this information from polls conducted by channels 11 (kan), 12, and 13, as well as by the Israeli democracy foundation, all but one of our important news channels - channel 14, the last channel, is our equivalent of fox news, and despite their numbers often being extremely different due to what is in my opinion biased reporting and flawed methodology, even they at times have had to admit that gantz is currently leading in the polls.

(Disclaimer that I work for a company that provides subtitles for channel 13, but i do not directly work for channel 13. Channel 13 leans mostly center left, and employs several (self identified) Arab Israelis in front of the camera, including Lucy Aharish, who makes considerable effort to bring Palestinian and Bedouin perspectives to her show. It also employs at least one massive racist though.)

I write this post because I keep seeing an unsourced claim by goyim that there's a poll showing a high rate of approval - 88%! - of the destruction and/or deaths Israel and the IDF are causing in Gaza. I went down a rabbit hole and simply couldn't find a poll asking about approval of deaths or destruction, although maybe I was looking up the wrong keywords? As a result I have just... So many questions. Because with the information I have from trustworthy local news sources, from the news channels I mentioned above and papers such as yediot aharonot/ynet and Haaretz, it doesn't fit with current public opinion, including many recent protests for more efforts towards a ceasefire. So my questions are thus -

Who conducted this poll? Was it a think tank, a government agency, a paper, a news channel? If so, which one? Are they left leaning, right leaning? Was it conducted by an Israeli or foreign institution?

Who did they ask? Was it a sample of likud voters; all Israeli adults; did they include only Jewish Israelis or also Arab citizens (approx. 1.5 million out of our 8 million population), Bedouins, and other minorities?

When was the poll conducted? Was it in October, immediately after the Oct 7 massacre, before the death toll in Gaza grew? Was it conducted more recently?

What, exactly, did they ask? Did they ask about destruction in general, or about the death toll in particular? Did they ask about the attempts to rescue hostages with military means, or all military actions? Did they ask about the number of Hamas operatives dead, about their estimated ratio of Hamas to civilians, about the total deaths?

What was the size of the pool surveyed? Was it conducted on a few dozen, a few hundred, or a few thousand people?

Because without this information, that one, sole statistic is essentially useless. As Mark Twain said, there are lies, damned lies, and statistics. Always look at the source and ask: who asked the questions, who got asked, and what the questions were.

More specific statistics and sources under the cut.

I did find one survey by the Israel democracy foundation that asked if the IDF should take the Gazan suffering into account - an entirely different question, although it did still have a horrific 89% Jewish Israelis and 14% Arab Israelis and Palestinian citizens who said they shouldn't. That said, the pool they were drawing from was not very large - 500 of the interviews were conducted in Hebrew, 100 were conducted in Arabic. Also, of the people who supposedly said that they shouldn't, a little more than half of both populations said they should "somewhat" take it into account - that is, they didn't say they shouldn't take it into account at all, just not make it their first priority. This survey was conducted mid December.

In another survey by the same source with a slight larger sample size (a little over 600 Jewish Israelis and a little over 150 Arab Israelis), an insanely low 15% still wanted Bibi to be the PM, with the only candidate who received more than 6.5% being the center candidate Benny Gantz, who historically has tried to cooperate with center and left parties, with a whopping 23% of the votes. The survey included 10 candidates, as well as five other non candidate options. 4% voted "just not Bibi", and an actually insane 30.5% voted they were undecided. Only a quarter of those surveyed believed Bibi would manage to maintain a coalition after the war, a number that includes more extreme right wing voters, and only the ultra Orthodox haredi population had a majority of people (60%) who believed he can. This survey was conducted in January.

The channel 13 news survey from early March - barely over a week ago! - covered more specifically which parties would manage to get into the government and how many seats they would get, as under a certain amount of votes you simply do not get seats. Not all seats get into a coalition. According to their poll, the amount of seats the likud would get is halved, from 32 to 17, while gantz's the state camp would grow from 12 to 39. While currently meretz gets 4 seats and haavodah do not get enough votes to get a seat at the table so to speak, a combined haavodah and meretz under Yair Golan gets 9 mandates. In total, the right wing only get 47 mandates, well short of the amount of mandates necessary to create a government.

Channel 12's corresponding poll from January shows 35 mandates for gantz, and bibi had 18 mandates. Channel 11, in the same month, gave gantz 33 mandates and bibi 20.

I also sources an English Jerusalem post article which reports on channel 14's polls; jpost is a right wing biased paper, and yet even they report 36 mandates for gantz and 18 for bibi as of February.

Sources

The Israel democracy institute: 1 (English), 2 (Hebrew), 3 (Hebrew)

Haaretz: 1 (English) (paywalled)

Channel 13: 1 (Hebrew)

Ma'ariv: 1 (Hebrew) (reporting on channel 12)

Podcast which summarizes the above article: 1 (English) (includes transcript)

Kan 11: 1 (Hebrew)

Jpost: 1 (Hebrew)

[softspiderling]

happy birthday! I'm here for 🏖️ ... can i request cregan x reader, and the word/trope is 'sister'? thanks!

ha ha. HAHAHA you’re so funny 😐 jokes on you because i’m writing it @eldrith

the secret of us | c.s

word count: 1k

author's note: this is my first time writing cregan so pls be gentle 🙂‍↕️also unbeta’d bc i wrote this for my beta bestie sister wife <3 (cringe)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“You wanted to speak, so speak.”

Stilling, you held your breath, hearing the voices next door. You were in the library - not the large one, accessible to everyone - no, you were in Cregan’s personal library. Calling it a library was generous, it was merely a small room right next to his study.

The same study, in which Cregan was holding council apparently, with what seemed to be Lord Karstark. The sound of the door shutting made you nervous; it must be an important meeting. You pressed yourself against the wall; you wouldn’t face any dire consequences if you were discovered, but it would be uncomfortable either way.

The chairs scraped against the stone floor as both men took their seats, Lord Karstark let out a small sigh.

“Your twenty fourth name day was a moon ago.”

Silence followed and you couldn’t see Cregan, but you just knew he was staring at Lord Karstark, waiting for him to continue. Lord Karstark took a breath, like he knew Cregan wouldn’t like the words that would follow.

"It is time for you to find a wife."

Your eye twitched at the prospect of Cregan taking a wife, despite knowing it was to be expected of him. His line of succession was at risk, with no direct heir. You had wondered when the time would come. Cregan let out a scoff, but there was no argument.

“I will consult the maester and we will have a list of suitable ladies ready for you on the morrow,” Lord Karstark said, his tone pleasant, like he hadn’t expected for Cregan to give in so easily. He guffawed however, when Cregan suddenly mentioned your name. You were in a similar state. Cregan couldn’t possibly be suggesting what you thought he was…

“What about her?” Lord Karstark asked carefully.

“What if I were to marry her?”

Your breath stocked in your throat and the book you were holding nearly slipped out of your grasp.

“She grew up in Winterfell, was raised on our customs. She would make a fine Lady Stark.”

“She’s your Ward.”

“She was my father’s Ward.”

Cregan’s voice was heated, and Lord Karstark stayed quiet and Cregan let out a displeased grunt.

"She's not my blood."

“She is your sister in everything but that,” Lord Karstark said. “It is not proper.”

“Leave.”

“My Lord,” Lord Karstark stammered. “I did not mean to insult you-”

“You said your piece,” Cregan stated, his tone even. “Leave. I have other business to attend to.”

The feet of the chair scraped against the stone floor again.

“My Lord.”

The door opened, before it shut again; but you still held your breath, hearing Cregan standing, moving around in his study. His heavy steps came towards the library and you quickly hurried to the furthest corner of the room, acting nonchalant when Cregan entered. If he was surprised to see you in the study, he did not let it show. He rarely did.

“Good day,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Cregan tilted his head, a silent greeting, as he watched you flit around the library.

Of course you had noticed his looks. His gaze lingering on you, the heated look on his face, the way his eyes followed along the line of your body. It wasn't how a man would look at his sister.

But you weren’t foolish enough to let yourself hope. He was the head of his house, the warden of the North, and you were merely a girl his father had taken in when you were a babe. You had nothing to offer were you to be Lady Stark.

The shelf next to the window caught your attention, and you slid the book you were holding back in its place as you studied the neighboring books.

“Find what you were looking for?”

You kept your gaze on the small book shelf, seeing Cregan move towards you out of the corner of your eyes.

“No,” you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your eyes to the book spines. “Have you?”

You could feel the warmth of his hands before even touched you, his palms stretching around your ribcage as he flipped you around to face him, keeping his grip on your waist tight. Not tight enough to hurt, but just enough to make heat pool between your legs.

“Do not feign ignorance,” he whispered, one hand coming up to brush a tendril of hair behind your ear. “It does not become you.”

“I was not trying to listen,” you said defiantly, lifting your chin as you spoke. “Your voice travels.”

Cregan looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips. It wasn’t often that he let his emotions show, but lately, it was more often than not. He stepped closer, his feet caging you in, his strong thighs brushing over your dress. Your hand came up to rest on his chest, an act of intimacy you rarely allowed yourself, but in the privacy of his study? It would be alright.

“What do you say?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “To me being your wife?”

Cregan merely blinked at you, not filling the silence but you only sighed, looking away.

“Lord Karstark is against it,” you muttered, evasive. But Cregan wouldn’t have any of it, cupping your chin with his hand, gently turning you to face him.

“Who is he to tell me who I can marry or not?” he asked with a soft voice. “I only care what you think. If you will have me, I will fight anyone who dares to protest.”

A grin tugged on your lips and you cast your eyes down, but Cregan ducked his head to keep your gaze, a frown on his forehead, uncertainty filling him.

“Will you be my wife?”

“Oh for Gods’ sake,” you laughed, swatting at his chest. “Of course I will be your wife.”

A smile lit up Cregan's face and he leaned down to capture your lips with his, pressing your against the bookshelf. With a soft sigh, you reciprocated, your hand diving into his dark hair. His lips were hot against yours, stroking the heat between your legs into a fire, but he pulled away, letting out a soft breath.

"My wife, Lady Stark," he declared and you huffed, shaking your head.

"We are not wed just yet, husband," you reminded him with a grin, the title rolling off your tongue easily, but Cregan only pulled you closer, his arms settling around your waist.

"My heart has been yours from the moment we first kissed, my love. We might as well be wed."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: also tagging my cregan girly @dipperscavern MY BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION IS STILL ONGOING!!! head to my inbox/check my pinned post🤍

[m1d-45]

for all to see

summary: fontaine’s court of law is questionable on a good day. on a bad day? well…

word count: ~1.2k

-> warnings: you die, blood mention, spoilers for fontaine archon quest (only names of things), potentially ooc neuvillette(?)

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

despite being the nation of justice, fontaine was not known for its fairness.

trials took place in opera houses, the prosecution focused not on proving their claim, but to put on a show. the citizens didn’t care for the outcome if it wasn’t amusing, the archon known for throwing fits if things were too boring. to survive was to be entertaining, painting as many coats of shimmering blue over your soul until it was shiny enough to go outside.

obtuse laws hid around every corner. no floating objects for the first three days of each month. no fonta was to be brought into any government buildings, unless the date was a prime number, in which case it could be any flavor but strawberry. mechanical pens had long since been invented, but had to be classed as a meka, which required a permit that far outweighed the price of the pen itself.

nothing made sense. even neuvilette, as well versed in the law as he was, did not understand the reasoning behind most of these rules.

however, there was one that he backed entirely, the very first law ever established in fontaine—arguably in teyvat as a whole, the very notion of such a crime pulling disgust regardless of origin.

‘Any person or persons found to be impersonating the divine creator, with the exceptions of roles within an opera or other such performance, shall be punished with the full extent of the law, up to and including the death penalty.’

“defendant, do you have any evidence to refute ms furina’s claims?”

you said nothing, staring down at your hands. you’d stopped pulling at the cuffs that bound you to the railing, leaving you still as stone. your entire appearance was disheveled, a result of the nearly year’s long hunt for you. part of him felt pity, but he quickly dismissed it. you deserved this—provided you didn’t, somehow, have evidence to the contrary…

you looked up, overgrown hair falling into tired eyes. you were dirty, dark crusts of blood lining hairline scratches all over your face and arms. you didn’t say a word, but he found himself avoiding your sharp gaze quickly, inspecting your wrists instead. raw, angry, the metal cuffs unkind.

“if you wish to think, say so. if your silence continues, i will be forced to move on.”

you looked back down to the banister wordlessly, the crowd murmuring at your silence. he ignored them.

“we now turn to the oratrice mecanique d'analyse cardinale to render the final verdict on the charges.”

the oratrice clicked and clunked, gears spinning and meshing as the machine drew its conclusion. blue faith filled the tubes within the walls, collecting, then were pulled back in relative quiet. now would be when the scales would return to normal, but he hadn’t heard them tilt at all during the trial… he pushed aside that train of thought once again. he was getting distracted too easily considering the importance of this trial.

he picked up the verdict from the oratrice, addressing the crowd. “according to the judgement of the oratrice mechanique d’analyse cardinale, the defendant is…” his breath skips as he opened the small folder, something in his chest twisting violently. “…innocent?”

how?

furina sat up in a hurry, the audience clamoring for reasoning, but he barely hears anything. if the oratrice itself declared you innocent, then…

behind furina, his god also stands, cold eyes staring into the crowd. “calm down, everyone. it’s clear this fraud has simply tampered with the oratrice.” your head snapped up as neuvillette closed the pages from the oratrice, sending it back down the chute.

“my god, i can personally assure you that the defendant has not had the opportunity to-“

“silence.”

he bowed his head when they turned to him, mouth dry. something was off about the situation, but what?

“since we clearly have all the evidence in front of us, i think we can safely override the oratrice’s rule.”

“divine one, in fontaine law it clearly states that the oratrice-“

“and i’ve stated that it can be overruled. which is more important, fontaine’s laws or divine laws?” he couldn’t speak. “clorinde, my bow.”

he watched as clorinde produced a bow, as quiet as the crowd below. nobody could say a word—the death penalty hadn’t been imposed in fontaine for years… but this was a special case..

black steel arrows reflected light into his eyes as the creator pointed them at you, his heart thundering. the air was always polluted in fontaine, but it felt twice as oppressive now.

“chief justice. i can’t get a clean shot.”

neuvillette bowed once more, feeling cold. he weaved through the private hallways of the opera house, making his way to the defendant’s balcony.

he didn’t even know your name. you’d refused to give it- refused to say anything, really. how his god had arrived at this verdict was beyond him… but he could not overrule the divine. he opened the door to the balcony, uncertainly stepping to your side.

this was wrong. he could hear it begin to rain, water pattering against the windows, but all he could tangibly feel was confusion. he knew something was wrong, but what?

he lifted his hand but you beat him to it, lifting your head as you turned to face him. “step back,” you mumbled, and he found himself obeying in the split second before the arrow struck. bright blue blood flew into the air, landing right where he would have been.

you didn’t want him to get blood on his clothing.

the rain picked up, lightning striking close and shaking the floor beneath him. the whole house gasped, all eyes turned to you as you collapsed. he couldn’t look away, not when he heard the sound of a sword—clorinde’s, likely, furina was never one for a fight—or the shouts of the gardes. he was paralyzed, watching blue spread out beneath you, reaching the edge of the balcony and beginning to drip.

he’d known. he’d felt it. and yet he was powerless to stop your death, the one he- the one they all perceived as divine pinning down teyvat. he should have known from the moment they overruled the oratrice, should have seen the blue tint to your scratches, should have asked for more evidence before- before—

rain came down in hails, his hands shaking as he stared at the injustice before him.

[anika-ann]

Sweet and Ours, Tonight - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, domestic... filth

Pairing: Steve Rogers x wife!reader   Word Count: 5,8k

Summary:  You and Steve had a long, long week.

You both deserve a reward. Perhaps an evening with undivided attention to each other... and maybe to end the endless week with a bang.

The thing is, Steve has no idea about what’s awaiting him at home. Yet, you have a feeling he will like it - and he'll be happy to show you.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, praise kink, slight authority kink, soft dom/sub elements (with a tad dominant Steve), a sprinkle of possessiveness, potential blasphemy, lingerie kink, marriage kink (if that's a thing), mention of (tender) hair pulling, mention of semi-public sex if you squint really hard, language, FLOOF

A/N: At the time of Cum Together: Community Revival Extravaganza  hosted by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420, there were two potential stories on my mind – the soulmate AU one, which I ended up writing, and this one, which fulfils multiple prompts from the list (see the end). The extravaganza is long over – but hopefully, you’ll enjoy 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @saradika; enjoy, but it's smut y'all - read at your own risk and responsibility

Setting the half-full glass of water on the counter, you smiled to yourself as you heard the keys rattle in the lock. The sound meant one of your favourite things in the world: Steve was home.

‘Home’ was your spacious shared apartment near the new upstate Avengers facility, one you and Steve had chosen not because the large complex hadn’t included living quarters, but because you had wanted a place that was truly your own.

On days like this, you were more grateful for that decision than ever. Here, the work and the weight you carried from it could be left at the doorstep, and you could enter a truly safe space, shielded by your love from the outside world. World which could be loud, overwhelming, and at times, evil.

Today, it meant that Steve would try to leave behind the exhaustion and frustration of a week-long conference of the United Nations and adjoined organisations. You, you had left behind the very same sentiments lacing the endless week of extra shifts. Sometimes it felt like the work was never done; be it patching up international relations or patching up the dumbass of the day. Be it dealing with diplomats who barely even listened, let alone acted on their empty promises; or be it repairing damage to human body made by another supposedly human being, battling to keep alive agents who not so rarely held zero regard for their own safety in the process of saving the very world for whose safety Steve was advocating in DC. You wondered where the agents could have possibly got the inspiration for their reckless behaviour – but that was not the kind of thoughts you wanted to entertain tonight, especially since you knew the answer all too well.

Tonight, you wanted to cherish your husband’s company.

You had missed Steve; even when swamped with work, you both took care to stay in contact, confiding one another on as much of your longing for each other’s company as on feeling drained.

You were glad for having had enough wits to plan ahead and be able to come home before him.

It had been no surprise to you that Steve had called you that he was about to arrive home as scheduled, but crankier than planned despite finally leaving the self-contained self-important jerks behind. The relief in his voice had been palpable; and his voice had only grown warmer when he learned you were to already wait for him at home. Your lips had twitched at the guttural sigh he released upon learning, whispering he was really happy to hear that; as were you to hear that he was coming home in one piece, which was unfortunately not a rule.

He loved you, he had said too. So damn much.

You had told him the same, wondering if that was what would leave his lips when he’d see you. Especially since he had no idea what coming his way, should he want it.

The lock barely clicked open and you were already on your way. A rapid carpet-muted staccato of your heels welcomed Steve as he entered, his curiosity clearly piqued in an instant.

He had but a second to take in your appearance – the bloody red pumps, the peek of nude nylons, the beige trench coat reaching just above your knees, your simple but effective hairdo and make-up, dominated by berry-red lipstick – or get his suitcase through the doors and close them. Before he could say as much as hi, you were already cupping his face and kissing him softly, for once not having to stand on your tiptoes too high.

There was a significant part of you which was dangerously close to jumping on him with enough force to slam him against the door and pour all your enthusiasm at seeing him into the kiss. It had taken all your willpower not to do so since your body throbbed with the need – but you didn’t want him to feel ambushed, unsure about his mood. So you revelled in the precious opportunity to touch him, in the feel of the figurative and literal warmth he was radiating, in the taste of his lips you had missed so viscerally; and with the minute mental capacity left, you tried your best to read his reaction.

It would be a shame for your plan and efforts to go to waste; but the last thing you’d want was to push thoroughly exhausted Steve who’d just want some peace into something he’d… be willing but not excited to do.

Your worries were fruitless, however. Steve’s hands came to life immediately, one reaching for your waist, the other to cradle your cheek. His lips responded in kind, even as his smile tasted of surprise. The tension you had got a brief glimpse of melted away from his shoulders, fingertips caressing your skin, nose gently nudging yours as your lips parted, forehead to forehead.

“Hi,” you breathed out contentedly, feeling the tension leaving you as well, warmth spreading through every vein and nerve in your body at Steve’s gentle chuckle instead.

“Hi, love.”

“Welcome home.”

His smile was as nothing short of blinding when he retreated just a bit to look at you and grace you with a shining gaze roaming your face, as if taking in every feature, every line, every arch, every last eyelash for the first time. Your heart thump-thumped in your chest happily as your hands slid to his neck, unable to tear your gaze away from the beautiful image he made.

A man with love.

Your man.

Your husband.

Your extremely handsome husband; every suit, be it a formal wear or his tactical one, accentuated his wide shoulders and sharply cut jaw you couldn’t but run your fingertips over, marvelling at the pure delight in his face.

“I feel very much welcomed, sweetheart,” he assured you, squeezing your waist. Despite being clearly exhausted, his smile was radiant; until it fell a fraction. “Are you going out?”

Your heart hummed with a soft ache; it was impossible to miss his effort not to look disappointed as not to make you feel guilty for having a social life outside your marriage, even if rather inconveniently timed. Bless his good, good heart.

You shook your head with your smile lingering, barely hiding a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Rogers.”

His expression perked up again, his arm sneaking further around your waist as he observed you with playful curiosity. “Oh? Are we going out? Did you plan something, Mrs. Rogers?”

To highlight his indulgence in calling you that – and god knew hearing him say that still sent butterflies to your stomach even after months of that being a reality – his hand moved from your cheek to take you left hand, fingers interlacing; your wedding bands made a soft clinking noise as they met, Steve’s gaze flickering to their combined light with such undiluted joy in that little action you couldn’t but brush your lips over his again, something deep inside you trembling and preening at once.

Your husband.

“Would it be a bad thing? If I did plan something?” you asked, part coy, part genuine. “It’s okay if you’re not in mood for that.”

Steve only smiled wider, dropping a kiss to your knuckles and then your lips, before pulling back just a fraction. He observed you silently and almost absently, yet seemingly with mission-level intent. 

The silence stretched as you awaited his answer, encouraging him – and yourself, because the silence was growing louder with every beat of your heart – with a suddenly unsure smile.

“Steve? Love?”

He blinked, shaking his head lightly. Before you could feel your stomach drop in disappointment at this being his answer, he spoke up.

“Sorry, you… you look beautiful. Got a little distracted here.”

Your belly did a funny flip-flop that had no right to be so deep within; but this gorgeous man had no right to be so perfect either. And you loved him for it.

“I don’t mind going out or staying,” he said softly. “I’m honestly just glad to be home. With you. That’s my favourite thing in the world. Being with you… here, in the home we made together.”

Tremble. Something within you trembled and it was almost comical how those words shook and soothed your soul, a sharp contrast to how very non-poetic your intention to seduce his body was. But that was how you seduced each other the first time and did so over and over again; body, mind and soul alike, tipping the scales in favour of one and then the other and back as the situation allowed.

It was your turn to blink now, fighting the burn of tears in your eyes, threatening to spill at the profound sincerity in Steve’s voice and the adoration in his beautiful blues; they turned all the prettier as a spark of mischief lit them up and he stepped back, releasing you from his warm embrace.

“But, since you got all dolled-up and clearly made plans, it would be a waste. Want to tell me what my orders are, ma’am?”

Excitement lighting up your nerves anew, you stepped back with a hum.

“Well… actually, I made plans to stay in…” Steve’s eyebrow arched a bit, but something beautifully dark flashed in his eyes – a mute understanding that whatever you had planned, you had dolled up for him. For him and him only. “And since you said those people there were all talk, no listening, no action… I thought that maybe you’d a like a change of scenery.”

As you took another step back further into the apartment, Steve discarded his shoes in a lightning speed, his gaze never leaving your face, hanging on your lips for every syllable. 

You bit back a satisfied smile, something hot stirring in your belly. “That maybe, you’d like someone who can listen very well, and is willing to… act? Would you like to tell me my orders, Captain?”

His gaze went to roam – from the top to bottom, drinking in your attire, a perfect trap you had set for both of you to tangle in. The tall red heels. The coat for him to untie. The nylons – which Steve at this point must have understood were, in fact, thigh-highs, perhaps strapped to a garter belt. The hair. That lipstick. That damn lipstick that turned his eyes a shade darker and hungrier, his voice dropping two octaves.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?”

You raised a challenging brow, a coy smile adorning your red red lips as you toyed with the hem of your coat; Steve knew you well-enough by now to know that you wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if you hadn’t wanted that. You wanted.

You wanted him, with every fibre of your being, lit alive and reborn divine under his searing hot gaze. You longed to be his, however he pleased. To please him however you could.

At last, he got the message. He seemed to very much revel in that message, in fact.

“Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

He led you by the hand, even though you both knew the way and had walked it many times before, even when blinded by desire, with lips never parting, frantic stumbles and wandering impatient hands. Tonight, there was no rush; steps deliberately slow, you followed his lead, standing still by the doorway when he let go of your hand in favour of stripping his suit jacket as soon as you entered.

Your eyes followed his every move, indulging in the sight of his muscles rippling under the smooth fabric of his white shirt; indulging in the shudder of realization running down his body, coming after his brief confusion of finding you obediently exactly where he had left you.

You barely bit back a smirk at the way his breath hitched.

“Alrighte,” he breathed out as he walked to the foot of the bed, turning his back to it to look at you.

You had never had a man to look at you like that before; his gaze was like the most delicious shockwave igniting every cell in your body with desire and pride.

His. You were your own woman, but goddamn, were you his.

“Alright. Come here, sweetheart.”

You did. Hooked on his burning gaze as he seemed hypnotized by your every step, by every inch erased between you, you walked to him, only stopping when he settled his wide palm over your hip, his other hand soon joining on the other side.

For a moment, he simply observed you, your parted lips, your eyes blown wide, just as aroused by the dynamics as he was. Then, a warm yet mischievous smile lifted the corners of his lips, hands squeezing your hips.

You weren’t sure what you had expected – a kiss, a toss on the bed, his hands ripping the fabric, all things you had encountered and more – but of all options, he chose the one your mind had not offered at the moment. His hands slid lower, inch by inch as he kneeled in front of you, sitting back on his heels, the heat of his skin seeping into yours the second his palms slipped past the edge of the fabric of your coat.

Sensual. Steve was most definitely in mood for sensual tonight and you were not going to complain if for nothing else than for having trouble breathing as his fingertips traced the thin ankle strap of your shoe, warm fingers delicately circling your ankle, cupping your calf, sneaking past your knee to spread over the back of your thigh, inching your legs apart so he could move the coat out of the way and press a lingering kiss to your where the lace of your thigh-high met bare skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat when his free hand reached for the loose knot on your coat, dextrous fingers undoing it with ease and tugging, all while his lips brushed over your sensitive skin higher and higher towards the apex of your thigh.

“Take it off, love,” he whispered into your heat, tugging at the hem of your coat, the index finger of his other hand slipping under the strap of your garter belt, nosing along your inner thigh and inhaling deeply.

A shudder ran down your spine at the huskiness of his voice, leaving you with no space to even consider embarrassment at your husband’s need to drown himself in the scent of your arousal; you busied yourself with stripping the coat in five seconds flat and dropping it on the floor, rewarded by his warm breathy chuckle.

“So good for me…” He looked up from his spot, caressing along the line of your panties, feasting his eyes on the delicate lace hugging your breasts, at the elaborate but feather-light pattern on your garter belt, at the barely-there panties covering your sex. The smoulder in his pupils as his gaze zeroed on his price was almost too much to bear. Whether you were shy or impatient, you couldn’t tell, but your chest was heaving with every breath, your back arching just a bit at the praise that stroked something deep within you. “My beautiful, irresistible wife…”

“Steve-“

He returned his attention to your thigh, sucking a lovebite just above the hem of your stocking, soothing the offended spot with a butterfly-soft kiss you couldn’t help but sigh his name at again.

He hooked his fingers at the front straps of your garter, urging you forward, closer, as he sat on the floor, back leaning against the foot of the bed, tilting his head back and resting in on the mattress; a content smile played on his lips as if it was the most comfortable spot in the apartment, his hands roaming appreciatively. Over the curve of your hip. Following the pattern of the lace. Along the straps, along the hem. But never, never where your need for him burned, soaking the excuse of underwear over your sex.

“Didn’t have such pretty view in D.C.,” he mused, gaze trailing over the thin fabric already shining with your arousal, trailing all over your body to your face, to your red lips painted just as you knew he loved them. “Never ceases to amaze me. Like a piece of art. So damn perfect… mine to touch.”

You didn’t have timefor body insecurities with Steve. Any imperfection you saw, it didn’t bother him; he’d kiss you everywhere, claiming and loving every piece of your body and soul and mind, as he hadn’t forgotten to mention when he proposed; and then followed up with proving the first part of his claim with intense but the softest damn loving.

The memory of him getting on one knee with a glimmer of tears in his eyes quickly dispersed when his maddeningly delicate touch finally brushed over your slit, your hips instinctively bucking forward; Steve instantly used the opportunity to spread his palms under your bottom, urging you closer and closer until the front of your thighs met the mattress, effectively caging him in, mouth not more than an inch from your mound. He smiled up at you wickedly, forefinger drawing nonsensical patterns over your clothed sex.

“Steve, love-“

You lost your voice when he guided your knee to prop on the mattress next to his head, a violent tug of desire gripping at your core at the implication of what he wanted – stirring as much want as insecurity and hesitance.

You voice was shaky as your gaze found his, the question on your lips so quiet he might miss it hadn’t it been for his enhanced hearing.

“Steve, are you… sure?”

One glance into his eyes told you was more than that.

And the mere thought of him doing what he was leading you towards felt like molten lava poured into your veins, nothing but smouldering heat left behind.

You had never done that. Not with him, not with anyone else.

It was true that Steve could get rather intense when it came to love making – or shameless fucking – but he always drew significant amount of his pleasure from your own. Your husband was but a giver, even as he always coaxed you to give it to him. He had sure been far from shy or prudish in the privacy of your quarters – or in certain cases no one must ever learn about, elsewhere – and he enjoyed all kinds of things, his mouth on you among them. You had explored together, dived into depths of pleasure you hadn’t thought were possible. But you hadn’t---not like this.

Not with you basically on top of his goddamn face.

“Are you?” he asked, pressing a brief kiss to the juncture of your thighs, looking at you from under his eyelashes with a challenge and a plea.

In your exploration, he had pushed your limits; but never you. He’d never do anything that seemed even tad too uncomfortable for you. As of consequence, there was virtually nothing you wouldn’t let him do, because you trusted him to stop at the first sign of your protest.

Okay. Okay. The utter wanton in his eyes shining through the sincerity was melting your brain. No choice to make.

You nodded, rewarded by a satisfied smirk that would have earned anyone else a smack to their face. But with Steve, there was something dangerously alluring about that instead; that smirk meant paradise aligning with hell awaiting you, whispered of you soon begging him – to stop or to continue, you’d never quite know yourself.

“Well then, remember you promised to listen… and do.”

Little shit, was as far as you got in your thoughts.

Because then he was wrapping a firm arm around your leg on the bed and pushing your panties aside and after a few teasingly careful licks, he began his feast like a starved man seated at the royal table.

Your hands found purchase on his hair and the bed, knees nearly buckling under the assault of pleasure, burning through your body like a wildfire. The way his wicked tongue played with you had you gasping his name in need bordering on desperation, chest tight as you were forgetting to breathe, core clenching so soon you couldn’t quite believe it as the tidal wave of bliss washed over you, hips rocking in aftershocks, knees eventually giving out.

It was only for a split second that you worried you might smother Steve or splatter ungracefully on the floor; because Steve had you. He always had you. His supersoldier part undeniable, he caught you, manipulating your body so he could cradle you protectively as you came from your high and literal height, holding you against his chest as you straddled him with seemingly boneless legs.

You were hyperaware of every bit of praise spilling from your lips, whispered to your skin warmly, but you couldn’t form words.

Not until his lips found yours, meeting in a soft kiss spiced with the tang of your essence, the most intimate kiss between lovers. He pushed the hair from your face tenderly, eyes both hungry and soft as if you weren’t soaking his dress pants where your core met his evident arousal and you weren’t both panting as if you had just run a marathon. His hand caressed up and down your spine, over and over, as if to ground you in reality.

A peck to your cheek. To your mouth. Your lips coming back to life at least, pressing to his jaw, to his smile.

“Could stay like this forever,” he whispered, nose trailing along your cheek, leaving a kiss under your ear, drawing a breathless chuckle from you. “With you in my arms, your taste on my lips, head swimming from your sweet perfume and everything that’s you… my wonderful wife… “

Blinking owlishly, you met his gaze as he cradled your cheek, hair a beautiful messy hallo from where you had tried to hold on when he was devouring you. His lips found yours again, a gentle murmur.

“You’re my everything, you know that?”

You did. By god you did. It was impossible not to, even as that fact was but a pure stroke of a miracle. He was your everything too. Your alfa and your omega. Your weakness and your strength. Your love, unshakable foundation even on days when everything including his own hands did shake. Your home, whenever you’d go.

You ran your fingers through his golden locks, expression nothing short of tender, touch nothing short of reverent – as one should be when in face of a miracle.

“And you’re my home,” you whispered back.

Seconds ticked by in soft silence, pleasure still tingling all over your body, but it was the overwhelming love and need in Steve’s gaze that consumed you completely.  

You didn’t dare to blink. You didn’t dare to breathe. You simply watched him living through a moment as precious to him as he was to you, electric tension rising and almost audibly crackling in the air.

And then he was gripping your nape, mouth claiming and devouring, one hand sliding under your bottom to lift you in a display of strength that never failed to make you dizzy and blinded you with desire unmatched despite having just come down from your high. You returned his kiss with the same fervour, hands grasping at his shirt, frantically searching for buttons to undo and then simply tugging hard until the thread gave out and sent the buttons flying, a nip of teeth to your lips accompanied with Steve’s dark chuckle like the sweetest song of victory.

He sat down at the bed with you still straddling him, helping you strip the shirt without your lips ever parting, his hands leaving you but for the fraction of second necessary to get rid of the fabric in your way and then you were both sighing in relief when your palms met the burning skin of his sculptured chest, his wide shoulders, his clenching abs.

“Need you,” you confessed as soon as you got to breathe in, back at his lips the very next second, Steve’s large palm kneading your bottom, hips thrusting into yours and eliciting a wanton moan from you both. “And I want you in my mouth-“

A delicious growl rumbled in is chest, fingers tangled in your hair pulling just a little, tipping your head back to give him access to leave a string of kisses down the column of your throat, the deliberately slow bucks of his hips into yours never ceasing.

“You’re a wicked little thing.”

You chuckled, a cheeky remark on your painfully free lips, the delightful friction between your bodies not nearly enough to sooth your thirst.

“You do say I’m wicked smart. Why this time?”

The nip of teeth on your collarbone and the way his fingers dug into your flesh had you barely stifle a gasp, but his answer was a reward for a work well-done.

“Goddamn you, woman, you know what you do to me, especially that lipstick-”

“I know what it does to you to see it smeared in certain places,” you breathed out, silenced by a bruising kiss to your lips and a light sting on the back of your thigh as Steve pulled at one of the strings of your garter and let it snap against your skin. Your wandering hands reached for his belt, almost tasting the salty tang of him already as you’d get on your knees for him.

“Wicked,” he grunted against your mouth, lifting his hips – with you still on top – to help you strip his pants, “I thought I was giving the orders tonight.”

“Oh you do, Captain,” you assured him, revelling a little too much at the twitch against your core as you blatantly used his title against him. “Just informing you I’m willing.”

“Driving me crazy. Want you to want me just as much, to need me-“

“I do. Need to taste you-”

“Jesus Christ-“ he choked out, releasing you so you could press one last thorough kiss to his mouth and then slide down to your knees, grateful for the soft carpet.

Ridding Steve of the last piece of clothing, you took great care to maintain eye-contact as you stroked him, feather-light, and licked at the tip. The breathy sound resembling your name that left his lips when you wrapped your lips around the head sent a jolt of heat down your spine, hot satisfaction pooling in your belly and making your heart thunder in your chest.

Nothing had ever made you feel more powerful and treasured than Steve looking at you with half-lidded eyes, groaning as you took him deeper and bobbed your head, closing your lips tight around him as you pulled back to smear as much of the sinful red colour down his cock, his hands gripping the sheets so hard the fabric might tear.

God, he was gorgeous; a wrecked angel-like figure made for worship and sin, they only deity you needed, sculpted to divine perfection.

His fingers tangled gently at your hair, only to twitch repeatedly as he was holding back the strength he wanted to use keep you right there, always making you want to swallow around him harder to make him lose that control; the curses, the deliciously prolonged fuuuck tasting like a victory, the fuck-- sweetheart, you feel like heaven a blessing that stirred pure lust deep within your core.

He was done for almost too soon; a little work, a hint of a sinful smile in the corner of your lips as you watched him lose layer after layer of control to reveal the primal drive that made him just as human as any. Once your hands joining your efforts, he was spilling down your throat, eyes squeezed shut in an image of absolute heavenly ruin.

You waited for him to flutter his eyes open; not having even gone soft in your mouth, you dragged your lips down his length to leave the last red and glossy mark, the string of blasphemy leaving his mouth telling you he didn’t give a damn thing about your tear-smeared mascara but cared a whole lot about the prettily ruined lipstick. When you licked your lips as if he had just given you your favourite treat, he practically dragged you back to his lap, seemingly torn between proposing all over again and lamenting you were going to be his death.

Yet, he kissed you tenderly like a precious porcelain doll and reached for the wet wipe in the nightstand drawer to gently clean the black smears down your cheek. The smudged lipstick he indulgently wiped with his thumb before his mouth slanted over yours again, the thrumming passion between you growing louder again; you were dripping down your thighs from the appreciative gaze and the taste of him alone and Steve was rarely ever sated with climaxing just once. Especially after a week apart.

With his most acute hunger sated, however, he took time to admire the view again, even with your shoes finally discarded, indulging in the delicate lace instead, in the warmth of your body, in your perfume and the scent of your skin. His voice dropped low in volume, intimate whispers of how he wanted to see you take him deep and make you his, fingers gently stretching you to accommodate his impressive size before he led you to sink down on his length at last, filling you up so deliciously and completely.

With bodies stilled, the time seemed to slow down too. Eyes blown wide and dark, but with a sweet curl to your lips as you tasted each other over and over again, you both revelled in the sensation of being connected; brushes of fingertips, kisses to your lips, to your neck, to your sternum and breasts; to his chest, to his shoulders, to his kiss-swollen lips, wherever you could reach.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he confessed between encounters of lips, the softest voice with a husky aftertaste. “Missed this. Never going to another conference again.”

You almost chuckled at the unrealistic prospect, touched all the same.

“Missed you more… might go to a conference every once in a while. For science.”

Steve grunted in protest, palms framing your face as he observed with a slightly amused pout to his kiss-swollen lips.

“Hm. Sounds like your argument contradicts your hypothesis there, Doc.”

This time, you did chuckle a bit, raising an eyebrow even as you caressed his cheek, index finger tapping the pouty lower lip. “Well sue me, I’m a little dazed. I’m allowed. I finally have you for myself after a week, Steve.”

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to the pad of your finger, something devilish flashing in his eyes.

“That you do. I’m all yours. My smart, beautiful wife…” he coaxed with a kiss, hand landing lightly on your waist, hips thrusting up to encourage you to roll yours. There was no need to do so twice. You rocked your pelvis, jaw falling slack at the delightful sensation. A single movement and pleasure was spreading to every nerve ending, coil in your belly forming; Steve responded in kind, urging you on to keep going and set a pace.

“So good to me, sweetheart… so precious.”

“That’s it. So damn gorgeous like that--- look at me, love.”

“Making me feel so good… love having you like this. Never gonna get enough of this, of you…”

Golden. You felt so damn golden under his touch, from inside out, caressed with every single appreciative word spilling from his lips so naturally.

God, you had needed that. You needed that more than you had realized, having pushed down all the unpleasant interactions that had piled up during the week, interactions that made you feel everything but good, precious, brilliant or gorgeous. With every word, Steve poured his faith and love into the cracks in your being and healed them, silencing every doubt, grounding you so profoundly in the pleasure you shared that every single cell in your body ignited with something divine. The coil in your belly was strung so tight you almost felt yourself falling, if you’d only--- if he’d-

“Steve, please, I need-“

“I know what you need, love. I’ve got you.”

Your climax erupted through your body with Steve’s mouth wrapped around your nipple, his dextrous fingers digging into your ass and playing with your clit.

He found his release as he kneeled behind you and caged you to his front, one hand around your throat to angle your head for a sloppy kiss, the other spread wide over your lower belly, sneaky fingertips having coaxed another Earth-shattering orgasm from you.

Somewhere along the way, your lacy attire had ended up in shreds where Steve pulled a little too hard; the remnants of garter belt and stockings were carefully stripped by Steve’s tender fingers as he cleaned you up with a warm cloth before covering you with several kisses and only then with the comforter.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his side and simply holding you as close as humanly possible, living and revelling in the moment just until his stomach growled.

After a semi-serious joke about taking you as a dessert for the second time, you lazily ordered take-out for three since you had worked up an appetite, moving to the couch. A movie in the background, Steve shared some of the highlights and escapades of the past few days from the conference and DC – as much as he could anyway. In return, you shared your own – as much as you could anyway. When in each other’s embrace, the trouble seemed far away; and what had felt like a path to the next Armageddon suddenly appeared considerably more manageable.

You were practically asleep, half-sprawled over Steve’s chest, when he pressed another kiss to your scalp, this time lingering.

“I love you… and thank you. That truly was a nice welcome home,” he said, bringing a ghost of a tired smile to your lips.

“It’s our home, Steve… You should always feel welcome. Loved.”

“And I do. Coming home to you is the most precious thing,” he mused, caressing your hair when you snuggled impossibly closer to him, inhaling the comforting scent of all that was him. “But you walking the extra mile… that truly makes me the luckiest guy in the universe.”

You hummed, his words warming you more thoroughly than his body and the blanket combined. You pressed a kiss to his sternum over his sleepshirt.

“And I’m the luckiest woman. I love you, Steeeve… I’m sorry-”

His chest shook under your cheek softly as your confession turned into a yawn, but he took it as a sign. He half-carried you to the bathroom and carried you entirely by the time you were done with your nighttime routine.

You murmured another love you, sleep well as you laid your head on the pillow, cradled in Steve’s protective embrace, his words reaching your ears from a terrible, terrible distance, but tasted just as sweet as ever.

“I will, love. I most definitely will.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Aren't they just sweet? 🥺 Happy belated birthday, Stevie 💕 I hope you enjoyed - feedback is always welcomed💕

Prompts, as promised:

Pouncing on your partner as soon as they arrive home from a trip away

“My favourite thing in the world is being here with you.”

Kinks: praise, soft!dom, oral

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go bath in holy water and pray to my muse that she'll let me write longfic too 🤭

[malereadermaniac]

Daddy ~ Kakashi Hatake x Male Reader

A belated Father's day imagine/drabble with your sexy boyfriend SFW! NO SMUT!! word count: 600 m!reader (no genitalia mentioned) / FDNI

Boyfriend!Kakashi going out on a regular old date with you; his cute, sexy, lovable boyfriend. The ninja ensuring to enjoy one of his few days off with you, having spent most of the morning chilling in bed with you (along with doing some other things with you in that bed), and now strolling through the village centre with you.

Boyfriend!Kakashi spoiling you, he gets paid a hefty sum for protecting the village and teaching youngsters, so why would the man not share his wealth with his beloved? The muscular man ensures to tease you when looking through new clothing imports, trying on clothing which shows off his killer body to make you blush, and making you give him a little fashion show in feminine Kimonos or revealing outfits.

Boyfriend!Kakashi who notices a lot of families out on this random day, watching with a smile under his mask as little boys and girls run around the street with their parents behind them. Very quickly, Kakashi puts two and two together, after noticing that it was mostly dads out with their kids and also seeing a few advertisements in shop windows, that the village was celebrating fathers day!

Boyfriend!Kakashi who can't stop thinking sappy, domestic thoughts! The gray-headed ninja fantasising about raising a little runt with you; thinking about feeling a wave of relief when he hears a high-pitched voice shouting 'dad!' and seeing you cooking up a meal for your family as he walks through the door, coming from a tiring day.

Boyfriend!Kakashi who isn't verbally the sappiest guy, so he decides to vocalise his cute, fluffy thoughts of raising a family with you in a jokey sense; a jokey, naughty sense.

"Hey, (Y/n), my darling~" the handsome man starts "Hm? What's up with you?" you respond, immediately weirded out by your boyfriend's sappy tone "How come you never tell me 'happy father's day'?" Kakashi questions, a comedic pout visible through the man's translucent, mesh mask "....'Cause you're not a dad?" Your expression just becomes more quizzical, your confusing boyfriend's glimmering eyes giving away that he was planning to say some stupid, pervy joke "Then how come you sometimes say to me 'Ah~ Daddy!'-" "OI! SHUSH!" you shout, moving your hands up to your annoyingly loud boyfriend's mouth to prevent him from publicly embarrassing you some more

Boyfriend!Kakashi who gets scolded for a solid 15 minuets after his very well executed joke, but just doesn't care; cause the embarrassed, cute look on his boyfriend's face and your angry voice are so worth it. And that isn't the only moment where Kakashi nods towards the liking he's taken to the idea of raising some little trouble-makers with you...

Boyfriend!Kakashi who brings up the serious conversation of children after you calm down from his remark, and despite his nonchalant attitude, Kakashi is pissing himself internally. But his face literally lights up when you seem quite open to the idea of a domestic life with Kakashi; his ego as a macho man, a provider for his lover, getting stroked so, so nicely when you give a simple 'that sounds nice' to the ninja suggesting he takes you as his house-husband.

Boyfriend!Kakashi who does his best to wine and dine you that night, giving you a taste of what is coming if you two decide to go through with your little fantasies from earlier. And don't put it past your sex-machine of a boyfriend to try for some biological babies with you that very night - he's a true believer that even as a man you can get pregnant if you two just try hard enough~

[spaghettiposts]

Unspoken Truths

Summery: You and Wanda have been friends for years, but never once has she showed up at your doorstep in this state. Pregnant, alone, and hurt. You take her in and you both dive into the difficulties of pregnancy, and hiding feelings.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Dickhead Vision, Friends to lovers, Attempts at comedy, Reader being a sweetheart like always, Mutual Pinning, Faint talks of Abortion, talks of nausea and vomiting.

Words: 4k

There was a knock at the door. Which was weird since it was- what time was it? 

Your arm reached for your phone resting on the bedside table. 2:04 am. Your brows furrowed in confusion, feeling discomfort. Who would be knocking at your door at 2 in the morning? Wiping your eyes you rose to your feet, questioning if this was really worth getting up for. 

Slowly you found your courage, and a baseball bat in your hands. You stumbled through the hallway, trying to wake yourself up to face the potential threat at your door. You felt like you were walking right into a classic horror scene, was it Ghostface maybe? Nah he’d call, you think. 

Through the peephole you saw the last person you’d ever expect at this ungodly hour.

“Wanda?” You yawned, hand still on the door. “It’s 2 in the morn- Woah.” You grunted in surprise as her arms wrapped around your waist, instinctively you wrapped your arms around her too. Your surprise quickly shifted into concern at her small sniffles, the brunette tightly gripping at your shirt. “Wanda? What’s wrong?”

The girl in your arms said nothing, merely shaking her head against your shirt. You took that as your cue to close the door behind you, leading Wanda inside. Not once did you separate from her, allowing her to cling onto you. Despite the circumstances you couldn’t help the blush from rising. 

Unfortunately you don’t dwell on how nice it feels to be hugging Wanda, not now, not when she’s still crying. Removing an arm around her, you place it on the small of her back. “Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” 

It’s then that Wanda realizes her current position, she takes a shuddering breath, agreeing with a nod of her head. You ignore the flutter in your chest from the way her grip tightened on your forearm as you lead the way. 

When you sit on the couch Wanda follows suit, sitting a safe distance away from you. You figure she’s composing her thoughts from the way she plays with the rings on her fingers. 

Without thinking you reach for her hand, missing the way her breath hitches from the contact. “What’s wrong Wanda? You can tell me.” 

The brunette looks up at you through tearful eyes, she only feels herself tear up further by the look you give her. An adoring look, a soft comforting smile. It hurts to look at, it hurts even more when your eyebrows furrow. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s bothering you so much…” You add, she’s quick to wipe her eyes and take a deep breath.

“Y/n, I’m pregnant.” She sighs out, feeling some relief. She cringes at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Now you were certainly awake.

Out of all the things Wanda would say, that was certainly not one you would’ve predicted. Pregnant. Of course you could see Wanda being a mom but you recalled her mentioning how she’d like to finish college first.

Clearly…that didn’t happen.

“I just found out.” Wanda let out one of many sighs to come, rubbing her swollen eyes with her hoodie sleeves. She leaned back on the couch, giving you a forced smile.

You remained flabbergasted. Pregnant.

Wanda was pregnant. And came to you. For comfort? Advice? A secret revelation that your love for her was strong enough to get her pregnant? That last one was still part of your sleepy brain talking. 

You had many questions, the most important one was where was the father? You assumed Vision was the father, at least. Even if part of you didn’t like that idea so much. 

Taking in consideration how the brunette arrived at your house, with red bloodshot eyes, and tear stains on her cheeks from crying so much. You worded your next question carefully. “I’m assuming it’s bad?”

A watery laugh escapes her lips, she shakes her head in disbelief. “Bad is an understatement.” And although she’s laughing, her eyes continue to water until she’s tired of pretending everything’s going okay. Her crying turns to sobs, leaning against you for support again. This time you don’t disconnect, letting her rest her weight on you.

You stare up at the ceiling, Wanda laying on your chest having fallen fast asleep. The couch is comfortable enough to make you feel better, but not enough to silence your worries for the woman on top of you. Unsure of what to think you simply conclude it’s best if you don’t, not right now. 

Letting out a deep breath, you close your eyes, tightening your arms around the girl.

Tomorrow, tomorrow you could talk about it.

/-/

It was tomorrow, and you were dreading talking about it. It’s not even yours, chill out, you reminded yourself. First thing you woke up to was an empty couch, with just you laying on it. Where was Wanda?  Rubbing your eyes to wake up fully you noticed the small sticky note on your arm. 

Turning it around revealed Wanda’s whereabouts.

I wanted to make you breakfast, so I went to the market. Your pantry sucks ♥️ 

Okay, breakfast. You loved Wanda’s meals, you figured the least you could do was clean up the kitchen for her. Forcing yourself to get up you threw your arms over your head, letting your back pop. Looking towards the kitchen in all honesty it didn’t look too bad. 

Just some pots that needed to be cleaned, remove the grease. A bag of flour on the counter…you didn’t quite remember why and how that was there. And a sock on the stovetop, you held it up in disgust. When did that get there? 

Feeling embarrassed for yourself, you got to work. Quickly. Socks were placed in the hamper. Flour, back in the pantry in its designated compartment. Then you dropped some flour, falling all over yourself and the items around you.

“Great…” you muttered, eying all the powder on the floor. 

Sweeping it is. 

Aside from the mess, and making more of a mess things went quite smoothly. You were satisfied with your work, the kitchen looked like a kitchen again. However pots still remained, making quick work of them you rinsed them off. 

Not noticing how the front door opened and a certain brunette looked your way. She smiled fondly at the small cusses you let out, shaking your hand from the hot water. Carefully she placed down all the grocery bags, a little louder than she intended.

“Oh shit!” You gasped, dropping the pot. “Wanda! You scared me.” You chuckled, turning off the tap, you could finish washing that later.

“You bought a lot…” You pointed out, drying your hands. Six paper bags were on the table, you were very glad you took time to clean it. 

Wanda snorted, unloading the frozen products from one bag. “Y/n you didn’t even have tomatoes. Absolutely no produce.” 

You rolled your eyes. You never cooked much, tomatoes would’ve gone bad under your care. Wanda on the other hand lived for cooking. A perfect balance in your opinion, she could cook, and you could taste. You walked over, taking the frozen foods from her hands to put them away, ignoring the pointed look.

She muttered something about your organizational skills—lack of. Probably a complaint.

“How much was it?” You asked from the freezer.

Does cheese go in there?

“It’s on me.” She shrugged, opening the onions and placing them in the basket. Her nose crinkled watching you attempt to be useful, gently her fingers wrapped around your wrist, taking the cheese away and putting it in the fridge. 

You let out a shaky exhale from the contact, watching her walk away. Shaking off the feeling you remember her words, scrunching your face. “No Wanda, how much?”  Pulling out your wallet you handed her $120 “Here.”

Wanda laughed, pushing your hand away “No. It’s on me. For last night.”

“Seriously?” You scoffed not believing it, waving the money at her. If she wouldn’t take it you knew you’d have to put it in her purse when she wasn’t looking. Like usual. “Well at least let me cook if you’re not gonna take it.”

“I said I was making breakfast!” She whined. Cute.

You pouted at your friend, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “Yeah but I want to do something…”

Wanda smiled, placing a hand on your forearm. “You’ve done enough for me.” She said, leaning up to place a small peck on your cheek. “Thank you Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat, knowing you didn’t win this battle. Of course not, she cheated, but she didn’t know that. She’s with Vision, having no clue of the effects she has on you. You still felt hot on the inside, and were probably blushing on the outside too.

Damnit Y/n pull it together, she’s pregnant and needs your support. Not your gayness.

Once everything was put away, mainly Wanda doing the work and correcting whatever you did wrong. She pushed you down on the chair, telling you to sit while she cooked. Then you could talk, talk.

Right, the talk.

Fuck. 

You wondered why you were still so nervous. Around Wanda? Well that one was given. But a pregnant Wanda? That felt…odd. Nevertheless you gave her, her space not wanting to overwhelm the pregnant person. 

She didn’t look pregnant…obviously. She just found out…hasn't even been a month. God was it hot in this room? Or were you just sweating? Nervous. 

“It is Visions.” You turned your head to look at Wanda. She spoke calmly with a tense figure. She flipped the bacon, turning her eyes to you. “And- You know I didn’t want…kids right now but things happen. We’ve talked about it before and Vision said he’d love that.”

You tilted your head, knowing there was more to it.

She let out a shaky breath “After college, he's still building his business a-and he said he doesn’t have time to raise a family. He wants nothing to do with them but I-“

“Abortion isn’t…?”

“No.” She said firmly, turning off the stove, using her sleeves to wipe her blurred eyes. “Your bacon might be a little salty by the way.” She smiled sadly, handing you a plate with two pancakes.

Seeing past the smile, you squeezed her arm in understanding, grabbing the plate from her hands. She sat down across from you, eating from her own plate giving you the opportunity to do the same. 

“These are great Wands.” You mumbled after swallowing your food, wiping your mouth. “You’d be a good mom.” Digging your fork into the pancakes for more. They were truly delicious, you don’t think you’d ever get used to how spectacular she made them. 

Wanda gave you a scrunched look, a sheepish smile on her lips. “You’re just saying that.” She shrugged it off, ignoring the way it made her feel.

“I'm not though. You’re kind, patient, compassionate, giving, and understanding. Aren't those motherly qualities?” You teased, though your tone remained reassuring. 

Still Wanda remained in disbelief, shaking her head lightly letting out a breathy laugh “I’m just not sure where to go from here. I’m keeping them.” She stared at you, seriously, as if you would try to change her mind. 

“But that’s all I know.” She rubbed her head with her hands, feeling frustrated. She had no plan.

You reached over for Wanda’s hand, rubbing soft circles with your thumb. “It’s okay, we can figure it out together.”

Her mouth curved into a smile, looking at both of your hands. Together, that was a nice word. Then she took in what you said, her head tilting to the side. “We?”

Wanda’s smile turned into a teasing one, as you stammered over your words, tensing your hand from their ministrations. “Well yeah I mean since Vision isn’t really in the picture and you shared the apartment with him I’m assuming- offering if you wanted to stay with me.” You bit the inside of your cheek.

Smooth.  

“It was just a thought I had…” You finished, feeling intimidated by her gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest, waiting for her answer. You had basically just proposed she move in with you, with a kid. Like couples do. With a kid. 

The more you thought about it the more you wanted her to say yes. You wanted to care for her, god knows she needed it. An idea came into your head about rearranging the guest bedroom into Wanda’s, only if she said yes- god we’re getting ahead of ourselves what if she says n-

“Yes.” She blurted, squeezing your hand in excitement, a little harder than intended. 

“Wait- yes?”

“Yes! Oh my god yes,” She practically squealed, standing up from her seat to pace. “I mean I was also thinking about where I’d go…I’m not ready to tell my parents, you know how they feel about pregnancy before marriage, and Pietro already knows but he’s barely thriving.” She gestured with her hands, clasping them together and looking at you expectantly.

You nodded, growing even more excited with her. “Then it’s settled, you’ll stay here.” You beamed up at the brunette. She was quick to pull you out of your chair with a toothy grin, pulling you into a hug. 

You both sighed at the contact, holding each other tighter. 

“Thank you, again.” She mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck. You could only smile, what else could you do? This girl was amazing, you squeezed her back in response. 

“It’s no problem, I’d love having you here. And the kid, or kids? Wouldn’t it be crazy if you had twins- worse triplets.” You mumbled to yourself, Wanda giggled.

Maybe Wanda would need help moving in. Getting her stuff, avoiding Vision. You thought to yourself about skipping work for the day- maybe a week. The guest bedroom had the essentials, but not anything baby related…

As you continued rambling on about the move, Wanda sighed, tugging you closer with a loving smile on her face. Then it dawned on her, was she in love with her best friend? Her eyes widened at the realization, trying to bury her panic and listen to your voice instead. 

You raised a hand to your chin, not noticing how tense she had become. “I think I could skip work today and go to the hardware store. We might need a crib, the guest bedroom is yours but the baby gosh it needs its space too-“ 

/-/

The move had gone smoothly, a little too smoothly. Wanda insisted you stay outside the door to Visions apartment while she took care of things. Reluctantly you agreed standing outside waiting, only coming in when Wanda signaled for you to come in. 

His apartment was quite nice, you could see why Wanda liked it so much. Unsurprisingly his home was decorated with small luxuries, perks of being a Stark.

Boxes after boxes went by packed, you insisted Wanda do the lighter loads, not wanting her to hurt her back. And before noon all of Wanda’s stuff was ready to go, no Vision in sight. He must’ve been busy today, Wanda only muttering something about his Chess club. 

Not wanting to stay any longer you packed up the truck, heading to your place. So in short, yes, everything was going great. Wanda made herself an even more important figure in your life, you didn’t think that was possible. Although she had a way of proving you wrong.

She fell quickly into your daily routine, and so easily too. Every morning she’d make you coffee for work, and when she was feeling sick you made her breakfast in return. Wanda had been getting sick a lot more than usual, you assumed it was morning sickness. If only you had realized sooner how bad it had gotten. 

Wanda could not sleep.

There were days when she’d have nightmares as a kid that prevented her from sleeping, often nightmares of a bomb being dropped on her house. Nights waiting up for Vision where she couldn’t sleep in hopes he’d return soon. Many times in her life Wanda found it difficult to sleep, this time the horrors of pregnancy guiding her to insomnia.

Until she felt that familiar feeling again, nausea. Quickly she threw the covers off herself, booking it towards the bathroom. Wanda was so grateful your guest bedroom had a bathroom connected to it, it had given her more privacy and spared her the embarrassment.

Her fingertips barely grazed on the door to close it before she was kneeling on the floor by the toilet, emptying the compartments in her stomach.

Hunched over on the toilet she didn’t realize how much time had passed, time passed slowly for her during this part. All she remembered was the door creaking a little and her hair being collected into a ponytail.

Wanda swore she could hear your voice, she preferred to focus on how nice your hand felt rubbing on her back, how soothing it felt. Your touch brought her back, wiping the side of her lips she turned to meet your concerned eyes. 

Only turning more concerned by the look of exhaustion Wanda held. Words weren’t necessary to communicate where Wanda would be staying that night, or any other nights. Really, as Wanda was pulled up to her feet, and guided to your bedroom she found herself unwilling to care. You kissed her forehead so tenderly whispering goodnight that made Wanda realize it wasn’t so bad.

Sleeping in your arms was worth a little sickness. 

/-/

“Twins.” You heard Wanda mutter from beside, laying on the bed. You couldn’t quite decipher her tone, but her squeeze on your hand made you feel uneasy. Not wanting to overwhelm her, you decided to keep silent, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Weeks had flown by pretty fast, Wanda being on her 15th. Poor girl was already feeling the pain of carrying not one but two kids in her stomach. She’d often ask you to hold her stomach which you easily complied too. 

The doctor turned in his chair, away from the monitor looking at you both with a grin. “Yep! Looks like two healthy babies, would you like to know the gender?” He asked.

Your eyes glanced at Wanda, her face indifferent. Thankfully you caught the slight quiver of her lips letting you know all you needed to. 

“Uh no. Thank you Doctor Stephen but I think” She squeezed your hand again. “…we’re fine for now.” You mustered up a polite smile. 

He nodded his head, mirroring the same smile “Of course! I’ll just go put this in your file and clean things up then you’re good to go.” He tossed his gloves in the bin, finally leaving you two alone. 

You sucked your teeth, hearing the door click shut. Knowing Wanda, she was never used to change even though throughout her childhood all the brunette did was suffer through it. She liked to be in control, prepared for what to expect.

Now it seemed you were expecting two. 

You let out a small noise as your back hit the chair next to her side. Deciding to break the silence, you spoke calmly, “So twins, I guess that means we might need another crib.”

Her eyes only twitched in response, barely acknowledging the way you tried to subtly cheer her up. Make her feel this wasn’t a sudden change she wasn’t prepared for. The thought of another kid shook Wanda, it made her feel nervous. She fidgeted from her place, picking at the bedsheets.

Wanda shook her head, letting out a sigh. She took her hand off yours, using them to rub her temple. “God I- this wasn’t supposed to happen. Y/n I-“ Her throat closed up, she hated the way her immediate response was to cry, tears starting to prickle at her eyes. She hated even more how your face softened, “I can barely fathom one kid, now I’m supposed to mother two.” 

Her head hung lowly as small tears started to stream down her cheeks. Not wanting you to see her that way she tried her best to turn away only for you to grab her cheeks with both hands, thumbs rubbing soft circles against her skin. Wanda let out a choked sob, staring at you so hopelessly. The sight broke your heart.

“Wanda hey, it’s okay.” You whispered.

“No Y/n I just-  two. That’s two new people coming into your home, and me included- I can’t do this to you. You don’t deserve it.” She croaked out, sniffling between words.

You scrunch your face in protest, giving her a stern shake of your head. “Wanda you’ve always been welcome in my home, pregnant or not and it’s not just mine now it’s yours too. I want to help you.” You affirmed, moving your hands to wipe at her tears before coming down to hold her own.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I care about you, and I love you.” You confessed, the words coming out with more meaning than you intended. Wanda stared up at you in adoration, her eyes crinkling, and a small blush dusting her cheeks. It was then you noticed how close you were, how close Wanda's face was to your own. Feeling overwhelmed by her stare, you looked away, taking a couple steps back. “And I love them too, whatever they are…”

Missing the disappointed look on her face.

Leaning back into the bed, Wanda turns her head to look at you, and if you were looking back you would’ve seen the loving look on her face “I really don’t deserve a friend like you.” She said softly, her voice so fragile.

Then you turned back this time, meeting her gaze, her words registering in your head. Quickly your face turned into a frown, “Don’t say that.”

Ignoring your words Wanda took a hold of your hand. A gesture that came so naturally now, both of you latching onto each other, wanting to feel one another. “I love you too, so much detka.” 

More than you realize.

/-/

“Y/n.” Wanda murmured hurriedly, shaking at your arm. “Detka, wake up.”

Letting out a snort, you woke up with a cough, turning away to cover yourself. Your eyes fluttered wide open, wrestling with the sheets in a panic, “Huh? Yeah- Wands? What's wrong, are they here?”

A small smile crept up her lips at the mention of the twins, “No silly, I'm just…hungry again.” She whispered, turning away from your gaze in embarrassment.

“Again?” You clarified.

“Yeah…sorry.” She chuckled awkwardly.

Leaning on your elbows for support you lifted yourself up, sitting up. Scratching the back of your head you turned to look at your clock. Naturally it was 2 am, usually the time when Wanda would get hungry. 

“No, no, that's fine.” You muttered hoarsely, clearing your throat. “I don’t mind, what are you craving?” 

“Steves burgers…” She beamed.

“Steves? Okay I’ll get you some, with onions or without?” You said as you walked towards the closet, shrugging on your jacket. 

“With, and grilled please.”

“Okay, yeah.” You hummed, slipping on your shoes. “I’ll uh be back try to get some sleep yeah? It's pretty late.” Kneeling up from the floor you reached for your wallet, stuffing it in your pockets. 

Wanda made a disagreeing grunt but pulled the sheets back on herself anyway. “I guess.”

You nodded, giving her a sheepish smile. Grabbing your keys from the nightstand you made your way to the door, a small tug on your jacket stopping you. Curiously you turned around to meet Wanda, tilting your head in question. Her hand traveled up your forearm, pulling you down to press a lingering kiss on your cheek.  

“Stay safe, and put on your glasses when you drive. Your astigmatism gets bad at this hour.” She husked out, letting you go. 

Your breath catches in your throat, not trusting your words you nod again. Stumbling through a few items you rush towards the door, leaving with a small goodbye unsure why Wanda was teasing you. What was that?

/-/

“Hey.” You said, a surprised look on your face as you closed the door behind you. Wanda gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes from the dimly lit dining room. She was sitting comfortably in the chair, wearing one of your hoodies.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting, it’s really late.” Checking at the clock once again you confirmed your suspicions, you assumed perhaps she’d enjoy her burger in bed like she always does. This time however Wanda had different plans, fiddling with her sleeves.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” She retorted, gazing into your eyes “I like it when you’re here.” She confesses profoundly.

You give her a sheepish smile, unsure what to say. The look in her eyes does nothing but make you even more nervous, what was going on with her? “I like it when you’re here too. Is everything okay?” 

Wanda lets out a sigh, you choose to ignore it thinking she’s probably starving by now. You place the plastic bag on the table, taking out the bags and giving Wanda her burger. A number 2 with grilled onions, two pickles, and no cheese. “And I got you these.” You slide the container to her.

Wanda gives you a questioning look before opening it, she lets out a gasp when she does. Animal style fries. The annoyed quirk of her eyebrows long gone. Closing the lid she gives you a thankful pout, her eyes glossing.  “Thank you…”

“I got you a strawberry milkshake too since I know you like dipping them with the animal fries.” You chuckled, putting the glass on the table. 

That’s when Wanda wanted to cry, cry pathetically into her perfect burger brought by your perfect, kind, compassionate self. Instead she tossed the burger aside and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, but pressed back with the same intensity, quickly melting into the kiss. 

Wanda sighing against your lips easily became your new favorite sound, eager to get her to make more, your hands coming up to cup her face. Eventually you realize that this isn’t just any girl, but your best friend. Your best friend who you’d have been crushing on for years, your best friend who just kissed you.

She kissed you.

And you almost break the kiss by how much you’re smiling but Wanda beats you to it, leaving lingering kisses on your lips, slowing the pace until her forehead is against yours. “I’m in love with you Y/n.”

Your breath hitches “M-Me too.”

Wanda shakes her head, moving to nuzzle against your collarbone. “No detka, as in more than just a friend.” She says, reminded of your previous statements on what friends do. Fuck being friends, you wanted Wanda. Wanted to show her how good of a partner you could be.

“So you like me?” You asked shyly, still processing the revelation.

Wanda picked up her head from your shoulder, correcting you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Love you.”

You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race. “That's great- thats- I.”

“Just kiss me already.” She orders breathlessly, barely giving you time to mutter ‘okay’ before your lips are on hers again. 

It's not until the morning when you both come downstairs, lovesick smiles on your faces, that you realize the mess you left behind. Both burgers remain uneaten, but as your eyes glance down to yours and Wanda's intertwined fingers, you could care less. 

[hannieehaee]

OUTTA MY MIND (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: getting a brand new job as a senior idol's manager was scary enough on its own, but it became even worse when said idol was jeon jungkook, idol of all idols. what made it even worse? when jungkook began taking a special liking to you, damning any conflict of interest his crush on you may have had.

content: idol!au, staff!reader x idol!jungkook, jungkook is shameless about his crush on reader, but it's fine bc reader likes him back!!, reader acts hard to get bc her job is too important though boo, afab reader, banter, jk is a flirt, reader is a little bit shy, a lot of rlly wrong info about working in the industry, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 924 (teaser); 7.7k (full fic)

release date: may 31st

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: ive had this in the drafts for a while but kept forgetting to finish it lol anyways i hope u guys enjoy it once it comes out<3 (also not 100% proofread oops..)

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Whenever you'd tell someone you worked within the entertainment industry, – the music industry, to be precise – people always showed a little extra interest in your words, probably assuming you to be involved in the flashier aspects of it. The statement on it's own sounded exciting, enigmatic even. This would only then be followed by disappointed upon finding out your specific profession of choice, deeming it less exciting than most.

You were a manager. No, you were not an active member of the entertainment industry itself, but you were one of the many pillars necessary for the talent to create the entertainment people would always seek.

Being as young as you were, it had been hard to get to where you were so quickly. Networking had been your best friend all throughout your career, eventually landing you in your current role – one that would only open even more doors for you.

It had only been a week since you had received a call from your friend – an old friend from an internship who just so happened to be a former Hybe video producer – letting you know of a recent opening as one of the many managers at the company. Having been between gigs at the time, you jumped at the chance without a second thought. Hybe? The biggest entertainment company in Korea? You didn't need any details before agreeing.

It was a few days later in which you found out the details. The opportunity had been even more life-altering than you'd thought.

Originally, you had believed you'd end up becoming manager to one of the many brand new rookie groups in the growing company. With so many surging youth in the industry, it made sense to you that you'd be assigned such a role, not having had any prior experience within Hybe itself.

Except that wasn't the case. Having previously worked and interned at a few other South Korean entertainment companies through the years, it seemed like Hybe deemed you experienced enough to assign you the role of becoming a senior artist's manager.

Jeon Jungkook.

Senior artist had been an understatement. Those had been the words written in your contract, explaining your role in excruciating detail, yet failing to mention that your client would be Korea's most popular singer.

You couldn't lie, you were insanely intimidated by your new role. Despite being proudly skilled at your job, becoming the manager of an idol who had been in the game for longer than you'd even been out of college was a bit scary. Jungkook had gone from the absolute bottom to the top, he had most likely lived through it all by now – what kind of expertise could you offer someone who had already seen it all?

Being manager of an idol differed slightly from managing any other person. Idol companies usually handled the schedulings, bookings, and the legalities of their artists. As a manager, you somewhat took the role of a bodyguard. You were meant to show up everywhere Jungkook went and become his spokesperson – vying for him as if your life depended on it.

And now it was too late to back out – not that you actually wanted to. All paperwork had been signed, you had your own personal Hybe badge and all the benefits that came along with working at the company. Any feelings of intimidation or fear for the role would have to be put aside as you walked into the Hybe building to meet with your new client; the boy you'd have to stick by 24/7 from now on.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon meeting him. It wasn't like there would be any special introduction, or even as if you were his sole manager; no, he actually had a few others who would occasionally aid him in the absence of his main manager, which was now you. Today was a workday for him, meaning that he likely already had a few people in supportive roles as he did whatever it was that Jeon Jungkook did while working.

Walking into the huge building, after getting lost a few times, you made your way to the seventh floor, which, as you'd been informed, had various rooms designated for photoshoots. That's where you'd find Jungkook for the first time, presumably having one of the many shoots scheduled for this week.

Having possession of his schedule made you realize how busy idol life was. Despite having no public schedules all this week, he had a packed itinerary, filled with either shoots or signings or producing sessions. You hadn't even met him yet, but you were already assured that he was overly hardworking – and you had maybe also stalked him online this past week.

It was very unlikely you'd even speak to him, seeing how busy he was. Your duty, after all, was just to be one of the many members of his team, taking care of any logistics as you went around with him, but not taking away from his time by socializing with him.

Upon entering the room, he was the first thing you noticed. Ignoring every other person working the room, your eyes focused specifically on him. It was hard not to, since he was quite literally standing under the spotlight, modeling for a camera. But it was more than that. He had an aura that filled up the room. Putting aside every stylist and photographer in the room, every staff member and intern, he was truly the epitome of main character.

Fuck. Was this going to cause trouble?

....

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