#you can't even tell what this thing is from this close up. if someone had no idea what pokémon this was and that it was supposed to be a

[freshl6ve]

. ✦ . 𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻 𝑨 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫 .ᐣ ⊹　 ❜ ᵎ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : I sat on the couch, my eyes glued to the TV screen, watching in awe as the triplets kicked off their show. The energy was contagious, even through the TV, and I felt a familiar sense of pride swell up inside me as I watched them sit in front of thousands of adoring fans.

Chris, Matt, and Nick, were answering questions from the audience, each of them taking turns to respond. I could hear the excitement in their voices as they interacted with their fans, their easy banter and playful teasing setting the tone for the rest of the show.

Chris was the next one to speak, and I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with excitement. “Next question!” he said, grinning as he waited for someone to speak up.

A girl in the crowd raised her hand, and Chris pointed to her. “Hi! I have a question for Chris,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement.

“Sure. What’s your question?” Chris asked, leaning closer to the microphone.

The girl beamed and asked, “We’ve seen countless pictures and clips of you and Y/N together,”

The crowd seemed to react instantly to the question, and excitement buzzed through the air. Fans eagerly waited for Chris to answer, hoping to get a glimpse into his relationship with me.

Chris chuckled lightly, shaking his head at the question. The girl in the crowd pressed on, asking, “So is she just a friend or something more?” Chris paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful, before finally answering, “Just a friend,” his voice soft and hesitant.

The crowd's reaction was immediate, a mix of surprise and curiosity. It seemed that fans had been secretly hoping for a different answer, but Chris's response seemed to dash those hopes.

Chris continued, trying to dispel any rumors, “We’re just good friends. We’ve known each other for a long time and have grown really comfortable around each other, so nothing ever feels weird or awkward.”

Nick chimed in, sensing the tension in the air, “Next question!” he said firmly, moving the conversation away from the previous topic.

The show had ended, and the boys were making their way to their tour bus. Fans were still gathered outside, trying to get a glimpse of them, but security was keeping everyone at bay.

Chris reached behind him, his hand outstretched towards me, signaling for me to grab it and stay close to him.

The moment we stepped outside, the fans began to chant, “Chris! Chris!” They pushed forward, straining against the barriers at the barricades to get closer to him. Chris, being the charmer that he is, couldn't resist engaging with them.

The fans enthusiastically replied, telling him that they had loved every minute of the show. Chris let go of my hand and began to sign autographs and pose for pictures with the fans, chatting and laughing with them effortlessly.

Some of the fans spotted me standing nearby and began to call out my name. “Y/N! Y/N! Will you sign something for me?” They called out, waving items for me to sign. Others held up their phones, asking me to take pictures with them.

I felt a sense of surprise as the fans included me in their requests. I wasn't used to being the center of attention like this, but I was touched by their excitement. I walked over to the fans and happily signed autographs and posed for pictures, doing my best to make each person feel noticed.

As I interacted with the fans, some of them couldn't help but compliment me. “You're so pretty,” one said, while another added, “You're so lucky to have Chris.” I chuckled, feeling a mix of shyness and appreciation for their kind words. Every now and then, Chris would glance over, his gaze lingering on me as if he couldn't look away.

The fans noticed the way Chris was looking at me and exchanged knowing glances with one another. Some of them even pointed it out, saying things like, “He can't keep his eyes off you” and “You two look cute together.”

I shook my head and chuckled, responding to the fans' comments about Chris's gaze. “Just friends, guys,” I said, before continuing with the pictures.

As I finished taking pictures, I began to shiver slightly, feeling a chill from the cool night air. I walked over to Chris and stood behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and slipping my hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. Chris, without missing a beat, put his hands in the pocket as well, effectively holding my hands as he kept his conversation with the fans.

I rested my head against his back, seeking a bit of warmth from his body heat. As he continued talking with the fans, he squeezed my hands gently, a small gesture of comfort and acknowledgment.

After a few moments, I whispered in his ear, “I’ll meet you inside,” and gave his waist a gentle squeeze before letting go. Chris nodded subtly, acknowledging my words, and continued speaking to the fans.

The fans immediately noticed the closeness between me and Chris and began to scream in excitement. As I waved goodbye to them, they cheered and applauded, clearly enjoying the hint of intimacy between us.

Chris gave me a final look before continuing his conversation, a small smile playing on his lips. After a few minutes, he finally bid the fans farewell and walked away from the barricades. I watched him as he made his way over to me, his eyes soft and warm.

The bus driver pulled away from the venue, the fans outside waving excitedly. The boys and I stood at the windows, waving goodbye to the fans who were still calling out their names.

Chris stood behind me, watching as the fans grew smaller in the distance. The image of me with my arms around him and my hands in his pockets and the way I squeezed his waist before leaving had replayed over and over in his mind, causing an unfamiliar fluttering sensation in his chest.

Nick slumped on the couch, a yawn escaping his lips. “God, I’m so tired,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

Matt nodded in agreement, his own exhaustion evident. “Me too,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I can barely keep my eyes open.”

The bus was quiet except for the low hum of the engine. Nick and Matt were visibly drained after the show, and they both looked ready to crawl into their bunks and pass out.

Chris and I sat on the couch opposite Nick and Matt. He laid his head on my lap, resting on my thighs, as he looked up at me with tired eyes.

“The show was good though,” he murmured, his voice soft and heavy with exhaustion.

Nick and Matt nodded in agreement, their own exhaustion visible on their faces.

I began to run my fingers gently through Chris’s hair, massaging his scalp lightly. He let out a soft sigh, his eyes slowly closing as he relaxed under my touch.

Nick and Matt both got up from their seats, yawning and stretching. “We’re heading to bed,” Matt said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. Nick nodded in agreement, his eyes half closed. “Yeah, goodnight you two,” he said, a weary smile on his face.

We sat in silence for a few moments, my fingers still gently running through his hair. Finally, he broke the silence, his eyes still closed. “What did you think of the show?” he asked, his voice soft.

I continued to massage his scalp, my fingers tracing small circles against his head. “It was good,” I replied, a smile in my voice. “You guys did really amazing, as always.”

My hand moved from his hair, down to his cheek. I gently cupped his face, my touch soft and tender. “You looked really good too,” I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Chris’s eyes slowly opened, his gaze meeting mine. He looked at me with a mixture of exhaustion and something else, something I couldn’t quite put a name to. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice gruff.

I nodded, my hand still on his cheek. “Mhm,” I confirmed softly, my fingers lightly tracing the contour of his face.

My finger traced a path from his cheek down to his chest, lingering on the fabric of his hoodie. “But the hat should’ve stayed off,” I said, my voice teasing.

Chris’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “And why is that?” he asked, his tone lighthearted and amused.

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I prefer to see your messy hair instead of it being hidden under a hat all the time,” I teased, a small smile playing on my lips.

Chris chuckled softly, a mix of surprised and amused by my words. “Is that so?” he asked, his own smirk forming.

I nodded, my gaze lingering on his messy locks. “Mhm,” I confirmed, a playful tone in my voice. “I think it suits you better.”

Chris shook his head, still smiling at my words. “And here I thought you liked me in hats,” he said, feigning disappointment.

I laughed softly at his feigned disappointment. “Don’t get me wrong, I do like you in hats,” I admitted, my fingers still tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “But right now, I just prefer you without them,” I added with a smile.

Chris shifted his position, propping himself up on his elbows as he turned to face me. Our faces were now just inches apart, the space between us growing smaller.

“I’ll keep that in mind then,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on me, the air between us charged with a subtle tension.

His proximity sent a shiver down my spine, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to look away. But I couldn’t resist teasing him a little, my fingers trailing lightly down to his neck.

“You better,” I said, my voice a low murmur, my gaze locked on his. “Or I might have to take matters into my own hands.”

Chris chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow at my words. “Oh really? Is that so?” he asked, his tone playful.

I nodded, my fingers still on his neck, lightly tracing the sensitive skin there. “Mhm,” I confirmed, my eyes flickering with mischief. “I’m not afraid to grab that hat and throw it away, you know.”

Chris smirked, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and something else. “Is that a threat or a promise?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

I leaned in closer, our faces now just centimeters apart. “Take your pick,” I replied softly, my fingers still tracing patterns on his neck as I held his gaze.

Chris’s breath hitched at the proximity, his gaze dropping down to my lips for a moment before meeting my eyes again. The space between us felt electrified, the air thick with a mixture of tension and anticipation.

I couldn’t help but notice the change in his gaze, the way his eyes darkened as they flicked down to my lips. A thrill shot through me, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to fade away. I let my fingers move up to his jawline, my touch light and teasing.

His eyes flickered to between my eyes and my lips, as if he was fighting against some internal battle. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble.

I smiled, my fingers lingering on his jawline, my touch feather-light. “Maybe I am,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s fun, isn’t it?”

I moved even closer, my body pressing against his as I continued to trace patterns on his skin. “Being this close,” I repeated, my voice soft, my lips almost grazing his.

Chris’s breath hitched again, his eyes fixed intently on my face. He was so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and his scent was intoxicating.

I leaned in, my lips hovering just millimeters from his, my breath warm on his skin. “Let’s see how good your self-control is,” I whispered, my voice challenging.

Chris’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes locked on my face. His body was practically vibrating with tension, and I could tell he was fighting hard to control himself.

“You’re not playing fair,” he said, his voice strained. The urge to close the distance between us was almost overwhelming, but he was holding back.

I tilted my head slightly, my fingers still on his jawline, my touch a mixture of gentle and tantalizing. I could feel the tension radiating from him, his restraint obvious but fading by the second.

“No one ever said I play fair,” I murmured, my voice a low, teasing tone. “Especially when it comes to you.”

He let out a soft groan, the sound almost a mixture of frustration and desire. His gaze was fixed on me, his eyes darkening with every passing second.

I pressed myself even closer, my body flush against his. It was as if all my senses were heightened, the world shrinking down to just the two of us in this moment. I could feel everything, his body tense and taut under my touch, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

I leaned in, my lips almost touching his ear. “Come on, break,” I whispered, my voice teasing and defiant.

I brought my thumb up to his lips, tracing the soft curve of his mouth. He inhaled sharply at my touch, his eyes closing for a moment as if to savor the sensation.

His lips, soft and slightly parted, were mere millimeters from my thumb. I could feel the heat radiating from them, the air crackling with tension. I pressed my thumb gently against his lower lip, my gaze locked onto his face, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes fluttered open, and I could see the struggle in them—the battle he was fighting to maintain control. His breath was coming fast now, almost choppy, and his body was so tightly wound that it seemed like he might explode at any moment.

“Come on,” I whispered, my voice low and seductive. “You know you want to.”

Suddenly, Chris lost the battle, his self-control snapping like a rubber band stretched too far. He moved to kiss me, his body surging forward, but I was quicker.

“I win,” I whispered, the words a soft, teasing breath against his lips. I pulled back just enough to keep his mouth out of reach, a smirk playing on my own lips.

I gave his shoulder a gentle pat, a sly smile on my face. “Goodnight,” I said, my voice filled with satisfaction.

Chris sat there, his head hung, a mixture of frustration and amusement evident in his expression. He poked the side of his cheek with his tongue, trying to contain his emotions, while a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

As I settled into my bunk, my thoughts drifted to Chris, a pang of longing in my chest. I wished he was there with me, and as if he could hear my silent pleas, he appeared, pulling back the curtain and sliding into the bunk.

He wrapped his arms around me, his body pressed against mine, his face buried in the crook of my neck. “Since you won’t play fair,” he whispered against my skin, his voice a mix of desire and challenge, “neither will I.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, the intensity in his voice awakening a deep hunger within me. His lips grazed my neck, leaving a trail of feather-like kisses, while his hands roamed over my body, exploring every inch of me.

We were locked in a game of desire, each move a calculated risk. I let myself sink into the sensations, my own desire matching his, fueling the fire growing within us.

I turned to face him in the narrow confines of the bunk, my body pressed against his. “What happened to the just a friend title?” I asked, a hint of playful defiance in my voice.

Chris looked down at me, a smirk in his eyes. “That was already out the window the moment you started this little game,” he responded, his voice low, the huskiness in it sending a frisson of excitement through me.

I couldn’t help but return his smirk, the thrill of our little game palpable in the air. Our bodies were so close in the cramped space, the heat radiating between us growing more intense with each word.

I leaned in closer, my lips hovering near his ear. “So you’re saying you’re not going to fight this anymore?” I asked, my voice soft, almost teasing.

Chris’s voice was low and rough, filled with a mix of desire and a hint of frustration. “Never said that,” he replied, his lips moving along the curve of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

He planted soft kisses, his words a hushed confession against my skin. “I can’t keep pretending like I don’t always want you,” he whispered.

His words were a raw admission, no longer hidden behind the pretense of friendship. The tension between us was palpable, the air thick with unspoken desire. I arched my neck, giving him better access to my skin, my body responding to his touch.

His mouth lingered on my collarbone, his teeth grazing my flesh gently, and then he continued to speak, his voice a low, needy growl. “Can’t pretend anymore. You drive me crazy.”

With each kiss, each graze of teeth, his words grew more possessive, more desperate. I could hear the hunger in his voice, the frustration and desire meshed together, driving him forward. “The way you touch me, look at me, it's like torture,” he whispered, his lips trailing up my neck to my ear.

“I can't resist you,” he murmured, his voice rough and urgent. “I've tried, God, I've tried to keep my hands off you.”

“But I want you all the time, every second, every minute.” he murmured, his voice ragged and strained.

As our bodies tangled together in the close confines of the bunk, Chris' hands drifted to the waistband of my pajama shorts, his fingers making small distracting circles on my skin. His touch was gentle but impatient, like he was holding back something, something that could set us both ablaze.

His eyes locked with mine, their intensity searing. And then he said, “I tell the fans we're just friends, but I've always seen you as something more than that.”

My breathing was ragged, my chest rising and falling with each heated moment. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading in the semi-darkness, and I whispered, “Chris.”

His own breathing was labored, his gaze fixed on me, and he responded, “Hmm?” His fingers still lingering on the edge of my shorts, tracing little patterns that sent shivers down my spine.

“I need you,” I said, the words a soft, plaintive moan. The hunger in my voice, the need for him was like a living, breathing thing in the cramped space. I reached up, my fingertips tracing his jawline, wanting, needing him closer.

His eyes darkened at my words, his own need matching mine. He leaned in, his body hovering over me, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “You have me,” he murmured, his voice a raspy whisper. “You've always had me."

His mouth was hot and demanding on mine, his tongue delving into my mouth, claiming me with an intensity that made my head spin. I met his hunger with my own, my arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, needing him to be a part of me.

His hand slowly left my waist and started a teasing descent downwards, his fingers leaving a trail of fire on my skin. I felt a surge of anticipation, my body craving his touch. As his hand reached the waistband of my pajama shorts, I grabbed his hand and guided it lower, into the shorts.

Our lips broke apart, our breaths ragged and needy. “Touch me,” I whispered softly, our lips still close enough that his response was almost a kiss. His fingers slowly inched lower, finding my center. He teased around the edge, making me whimper. “Here?”

“Mhm,” I moaned softly, my hips shifting slightly to encourage him. He slid one finger inside me, his thumb pressing down on my clit. He started a slow, deliberate rhythm, his fingers curling up to hit that spot inside me that made my eyes roll back.

I bit my lip to stifle a moan as he added a second finger, his pace quickening. His lips and teeth traced kisses and gentle bites along my neck and collarbone, his other hand coming up to gently cover my mouth. “Shh, stay quiet for me,” he whispered against my skin.

I nodded, my eyes rolling back as he hit that spot inside me again. His fingers were relentless, his thumb never leaving my clit. I felt the pressure building inside me, my body tensing up in anticipation. His lips found mine again, his tongue mimicking the movements of his fingers inside me.

I couldn't help but moan into his mouth, my hand coming down to hold his in place between my legs. My hips bucked against him involuntarily as I rode out the waves of pleasure building within me. His fingers curved perfectly inside me hitting every sensitive spot.

“Mmph!” I muffled a cry against his lips, my fingers tightening around his wrist hard, trying to pull his hand away as I got close. He understood my silent plea, but instead of stopping, he pushed his fingers deeper, hitting that sweet spot. “Just a little longer, baby,”

I whimpered, my body tensing as I felt the climax building to a peak. His fingers moved faster, more insistently, his thumb circling my clit with expert precision. “Chris,” I gasped into his mouth, my nails digging into his wrist as I struggled to keep quiet.

His long fingers reached deep inside me, curling up to hit that sensitive spot over and over again. I could feel every ridge and vein on his fingers as they moved inside me, the sensation driving me wild. “Shh, baby, just a little more,”

My back arched as the orgasm hit me hard, my inner muscles contracting around nothing. He pulled his fingers out suddenly, bringing them up to my lips. “Suck,” he ordered softly, his eyes darkening as he watched my mouth part to wrap around his wet fingers. God, he was dirty.

I obeyed, sucking my own taste off his fingers as I rode out the aftershocks of my orgasm. He hummed in approval, pulling his fingers out of my mouth with a pop. “Atta girl,” he whispered, leaning in to capture my lips in a searing kiss.

He pulled back, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and something else, something deeper. “Turn on your side, ma,” he said, his voice low and commanding. I did as I was told, my body still trembling slightly from the intensity of my climax.

I heard the sound of fabric being removed and turned my head to see Chris bringing down his sweats and boxers, his large hand wrapping around his thick, hard cock. He lined himself up with my entrance from behind, his other hand gripping my hip possessively.

He pushed inside me suddenly, his length filling me up completely from behind. I gasped, my eyes rolling back as I felt him hit deep spots inside me that his fingers hadn't reached. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, starting to snap his hips against me in deep, slow strokes.

His large hands spread my thighs wider as he buried himself deeper, his thick length hitting my cervix with each thrust. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer as he pounded into me. “Shit, baby,” he grunted, his hot breath against my neck.

I covered my mouth with one hand to muffle my moans, the other reaching back to grip his hip tightly, pulling him even closer as he fucked me hard and deep from behind. His thick length stretched me out deliciously, filling me up completely with each powerful thrust.

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby,” he whispered huskily against my ear, his pace starting to become more urgent. “Can you feel how deep I'm getting? How hard I'm fucking you?” His fingers dug into my hip as he pulled me onto his length again and again.

With one hand, he managed to lift my leg up despite the limited space, tilting my hips at a perfect angle for deeper entry. “You wanted this, didn't you?” he growled against my ear, fucking me harder. “Teasing me got you here and now you’re getting what you deserve.”

He snapped his hips against me, the angle and his size hitting spots that made my eyes water. “This bunk isn’t giving me enough room to really destroy this pussy like I want,” he panted, “But it’ll do. You’re still taking my big cock like a good girl.”

He removed my hand from my mouth and forced it down between my thighs, curling my fingers against my swollen bud. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, “Let me hear you only, baby.”

I bit my lip, trying to keep my moans quiet as Chris fucked me from behind. “Chris... Mmmph... Right there...” My hand moved softly against my clit, matching his rhythm. The bus’s movement and engine noise helped muffle my sounds slightly.

“Fuck, baby...” Chris groaned against my neck, his kisses becoming more urgent. “I’ve waited so fucking long to feel this tight pussy wrapped around my dick.” He thrust deep and hit a spot that made me gasp. “God damn, you worked me up good.”

“Mmmm... you’re getting so close already, aren’t you, baby?” he growled in my ear, his thrusts becoming more powerful. “Can feel your pussy squeezing my cock... fuck...”

“Fuck...Chriss” I moaned softly, fingers moving faster against my clit. Chris suddenly grabbed my jaw possessively, making me face him over my shoulder. “Look at me when I fuck you,” he ordered, snapping his hips against my ass, going deeper.

“Ahh... Chris...!” I moaned loudly, my eyes hazy and glossy as he kissed me deeply. His tongue shoved into my mouth aggressively, saliva spilling over our lips as he pulled apart for a breath, strings forming between our open mouths. “Mmmph...!”

Chris's thrusts became erratic, his hips slapping against my ass as he chased his release. His kisses grew sloppier with each thrust, saliva dripped down our chins as he moaned into my mouth repeatedly.

“Shit... Baby...” He kissed down my neck roughly, leaving faint hickeys. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy...!” He growled, his body tightening as he came deep inside me. I cried out softly, fingers rubbing my clit faster as I followed him over the edge.

“Mmhmph...!” I moaned, pushing back against him. “Fuck... Yes... Like that... Fill me up, Chris... God...!” My fingers moved furiously against my sensitive bud as he pounded into me, releasing his hot seed deep inside. “Chris...!”

Chris groaned loudly, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside me. “Fuck... baby...” He panted heavily against my neck, still thrusting slowly as we both rode out our orgasms. “Your pussy feels so fucking good.”

Chris pulled out slowly, causing us both to moan softly at the loss of contact. He settled onto his back, chest heaving from exertion. I turned to face him, placing my hand gently on his muscular chest, still sensitive from pleasure.

I watched his length closely, realizing it was still rock hard. I wet my lips subconsciously and wrapped my small hand around his base. “Need some help with this?” I asked softly, pumping him slowly. His hips jerked slightly. “Baby...” He watched my small hand working him.

I brought my lips close to his neck, my warm breath fanning over his skin. I wanted nothing more than to take him into my mouth, but the small space made it difficult. So instead, I kissed and sucked on his neck gently, my hand continuing to pump him slowly.

“Mm...” Chris guided my hand with his, showing me how he liked it. “Chris...” I whimpered softly, pumping him slower. “I wish I could taste you...” I admitted softly. He locked eyes with me, dark and serious.

“Once tour's over, I'll let you taste whatever you want, baby.” Chris promised darkly, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. My hand tightened around him at the promise. “Good...” I whispered, leaning in to suck a mark onto his neck.

I started pumping him faster, my small hand moving up and down his length quickly. Chris hissed, his fingers tightening around mine. “Fuck, ma... Just like that...” He panted, his hips thrusting up slightly to meet my hand. “Gonna cum again...” He warned darkly.

“Shit...” Chris cursed softly as streams of hot liquid shot onto his abdomen. He made small, unmanly moans that made me giggle. He glared at me suddenly, finding my laugh sexy. “Mm...” He captured my lips, kissing me deeply as his body relaxed.

“Damn... look what you do to me.” Chris grabbed his boxers nearby, cleaning himself, then carefully wiping me. He tossed them aside before pulling me close. “Come here...” His voice softened.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me onto his chest. His large hands splayed out on my back possessively. He nuzzled his face into my hair, breathing in my scent. “We should really get some sleep…” He murmured, already feeling sleepy and content.

I snuggled closer to him, my head resting on his chest as I listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal. His arms tightened around me protectively, and within minutes, his breathing evened out into a soft snore. I smiled softly against his chest, feeling content and safe in his arms.

A/N: a quick little one shot :> sorry for not posting! might post another chapter of “off limits” today if i’m not busy!!

TAGS: @st6rify @jetaimevous @certifiedstarrr @slvtf0rchr1s @l3sbiancvnt @wh0remikasas @r0s3luvr @emely9274 @mimiluvzpicklez @courta13 @talia-unknown @ivysturnss @kissesfromkitty @fmalewokk

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𐔌 . ⋮ 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

╰─..★.──────────╯

[moth2flamewriting]

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Guysss, the feedback has been so nice and feeling so much support from the fanfiction world. As always I appreciate you all reading! ❤️

Some one suggested I write from Smoke's POV and honestly I love that! So here's a little take!

Trying to find longevity in my ideas so it's taking me longer to push out! Nonetheless, here we go.

Smoke x Annie

Warning: Sexual Content.

ENJOY.

I was in the Delta after 7 suem years. Chicago ran its course and Stack and I were ready to go.

Home was the first place I wanted to come back to. I had somebody waiting on me. Two somebody's and I didn't know how to approach it.

"Boy I see you getting tense," Stack joked. I laughed it off. But i was tense.

I was nervous. Cause all I could think of was her. If she'd have me back. If she felt the same. I was sweating.

"Stack, think you can drop me off by Annie's?" I asked.

"Fasho' but don't get too caught up. We still got business to handle," he replied.

To be honest, I ain't come here for no juke. I came for her. The juke just something to keep me here.

"You think she'll have me back?" I could always open up to my brother. He never judged me, never made me feel dumb for wanting someone I aint seen in 7 years.

"Oh she'll have you back. You can't get rid of a Moore. No matter how many spells she cast," he grinned. That relaxed me a bit. But I still had a bit of unease going into this situation.

It's like she knew I was coming. She was standing right on the front porch. Hand on hip. God she was beautiful.

Chocolate skin that danced in the sunlight. Beautiful brown eyes that cut right throught you. She was perfect and hopefully.. she was mine.

I got out of the car, closing the door and adjusting my clothes. Even though Stack starch and pressed my clothes perfectly. Under her eye, I was nervous.

I approached her anyway.

"And what do you want?" she sucked her teeth.

Damn, right out the gate she was fiesty.

"I came to see you, I really need to talk to you," I replied.

Her eyes rolled so hard to the back of her head, I thought they were gonna fall out.

"Elijah please don't come around here on no bullshit." She was mad. She had every right.

And my nerves were dancing.

"Annie, I just wanna be civiliz-," she cut me off. "You think I give a damn about being civilized with you? You done rolled in from God knows where and what?," her arms were swinging back and forth in the air with every word.

But I knew her. I knew to just be honest here. One thing we always said was to just be honest.

"I came here to make things right with ya," I stumbled over my words. "It's not a day that went by that I didn't want you." I sunk into myself under her glare.

A moment of silence passed between us. The air was so thick.

I could see the wheels turning in that pretty head of hers. Looking for questions ask. Looking for answers. Needing an explanation.

"Where you been Smoke?"

"Chicago." I replied, wanting to meet her with full honesty I raised my head and stood up straight.

"Why you leave with no explanation?"

"If I would've told you, I would've stayed and I was too scared to do that."

She leaned back into her thoughts. Wheels turning in her head so hard, I could see steam coming out her eats.

"What was you doin' down there?"

"Working." I knew that wouldn't be a good enough answer.

"Working on fucking what, Smoke? Be so fuckin' serious right now," her left eyebrow was raised now and she couldn't even try to hide the irritation if she wanted to.

"We went up there to make some money, it was dangerous. Got into some shit. Came back down here to lay low." I knew it sounded like bullshit. I knew I would need answers.

"So what? You here cause you needa' place to stay?" she cackled. I wasn't welcomed here. At least that's what it felt like. "You got one more chance to tell me why you here and then I'm gon leave you where you standing," her hands were on her hips now.

"I want you. I tried to convince myself that I was coming back here for other reasons but, I know that aint true. The only thing I came for is you, Annie." Her feet shifting, she back thinking and to be honest I knew I was fucked.

"Did you fuck anybody while you was in Chicago?" Her face was dead straight. I swallowed hard. Nervous as fuck to tell her.

"Yes."

What once was the fiesty woman in front of me now look like a lost puppy. I broke her. Tears welled in her eyes and I had no way to fix it. I fucked up. I knew I fucked up.

The moment I was intimate with someone else I felt our connection sever. But that was my first month or so in Chicago. I was lonely and sad. And instead of writing my wrongs with her, I chose to be with someone else.

"Leave," she said throught sniffles.

She looked up at me. Eyes red.

"Leave, Elijah." I didn't move.

She approached me, so close that she's breathing what I am exhaling.

"I waited for you. My body waited. My mind waited. I waited for you and you left me high and dry. Then you come back all these years and what?" She's crying so hard. Fist balled up, pounding my chest. I let her. I deserve it.

"Annie, you gotta understand. Soon as I did it i regretted it. That was 7 years ago-"

"It don't matter Elijah. Somebody had a piece of you that was mine. Sacred to just us," her head was down now.

I feel like shit.

She planted her hands on both sides of my chest.

"I had some type of hope for us all this time. I just knew that my man would come back to me," her voice cold.

"I am right here," I'm pleading. My hands wrap around her waste but she pushes me off.

"I want you gone." She turned away from me, walked back into her house and, closed the door.

I couldn't give up so easy, I needed her back. So I walked up the stairs and I sat on the chair. I stayed there. 'As long as it takes.' I would do whatever to have her.

I heard shuffling inside, which prompted me to look up. It was her, in the window. Unimpressed. She closed the blinds and I was met with the sound of the door locking. Which meant GO AWAY. But I wasn't doing that.

The next morning..

I don't think she expected to see me, being as thought she let out a scream when she opened her front door to me sitting there.

"You scared the shit out of me," she exclaimed holding her chest. "What are you still doing here?"

"I want you," I said.

She let out a laugh that would hurt any mans pride.

She went along her day. Running errands, the shop, chores and visits with friends.

She acted as if I wasn't there. And that hurt me bad. Bit I deserved it.

I could hear an engine sputtering from down the road. Wondering who it could possibly be.

It was Stack. "Bro, she got you sitting outside her door like you a stray cat." He was laughing and it broke me out of my mood.

"Man she aint fuck with me, AT ALL," I chuckled quietly.

"I just rode by to see wassup wit ya," he said. "I figured Annie stubborn ass wasn't going for that."

"Nigga you said fasho she was gon have me back. Yo punk ass just be talkin," I recanted with a weak ass smile.

"Sittin' outside her door gon do the trick, you know she aint got the heart to be so cruel," he said.

"Speaking of which, think you can roll me up a couple cigarettes? If ima sit here, Ima smoke sum."

"Fasho, I got 6 rolled up for you right here. Figured you'd need em,"

We said our goodbyes and he was gone whever the wind to em.

I sat back down in my spot and watched as the sun began to go down.

The front door lock came undone and it creaked open.

It was her. Checking on me. Even thought she was so tough yesterday.

"You ate today Elijah?"

"I be sittin' here all day, aint going nowhere til I got you." I was determined.

"You so damn extra. Just come eat." She walked away but left the door open. I followed her in.

...

Fried fish, cornbread, cabbage, yams and mac.

Her food was so good, I had 3 plates. But once the scraping of my fork against the plate stopped, the tension came back.

"Was the food good?"

"You know the food was good Annie." I'm getting irritated because where is this going. Even though I had no right to be upset.

I just want her back. But I know I gotta get through the hard part first.

Her eyes went black, I could see she was working herself up.

"When you fucked her did you like it?"

Here we go.

"I'm a man Annie," I answered honestly. "but I wanted you."

She laughed, unconvinced.

"You wanted me so bad, you went and fucked somebody else."

I took it. I deserved it.

"Was her pussy better than mine?"

I hate that I even let shit get so bad between us that she even thought to compare herself to some random girl. That was my fault.

"Nobody will ever be better than you," I was honest.

"Did you give her your seed?"

"Fuck no, the only person I've ever given that to is you."

I stood up and walked over to her, my turn to invade her space.

Both our chest rising and falling at the same time, due to close proximity.

"Smoke back up," she's moving away from me with her hand up to create space.

"No," I back her into a wall.

I kiss her. Immediately her hands go to the back of my head pulling me in closer. She opens her mouth to grant my tongue entrance. Our spit being exchanged, I pulled back from the feverish kiss. I look into her eyes and I am madly in love.

I leave a trail of kisses from her lips to her neck. Swirling my tongue in circles, sucking hard and soothing it with a soft kiss. My hands found her ass, pulling and squeezing it. Eliciting moans and gasps.

"Smoke," she whimpers. "We shouldn't be doing this."

That didn't stop me, I was in and she wasn't going to stop me.

I slip my hands into the front of her waistband to find a hot and wet pussy. Coating my fingers in her sex, she throws her had back up against the wall.

I'm swiping over her pussy with just enough pressure to get her close but not enought to go over the edge.

"Elijah.. I- Ahh-," she couldn't even speak I was fingering her pussy so good.

The moment was abandoned with a stiff push. She pushed me off her. 'Did I hurt her?'

"I can't do this. I can't let you hurt me the way you did. And you get to just.. come back?" She was standing firm in her boundary. And I was at a loss for words.

"Annie, I'm trying to show you," fat ass knot in my throat.

"I can't take your word for it Elijah. It has to be constant, not when you want it."

She walked to the mirror at the end of the hallway. I followed. Only, talking to me through the reflection and not turning around to address me head on.

"I think you should go,' her head tucked damn near between her shoulders.

"I'm gonna leave now, but I will prove to you that this IS constant. That I never stopped loving you. That I want to be with you," not caring if I convinced her in this moment. I was convinced. I was getting her back and that was final.

She walked me to the door and before I made it down the steps she called after me.

"I hope you stand firm in your words," followed by a weak smile on both our ends.

"I will," and I turned from her with my head held high.

I was going to get her back. If it is the last thing I do.

[oh-no-its-dragons]

Step Two

Bodhi knows exactly how it happened. When it settled. 

For @empyreanevents' Bodhi Week, day 5: Window

Personal challenge checklist: ☑ don't mention Xaden ☑ Bodhi has a nice day

(cw for lots of talking about sex and specifically one explanation of how sex can look from an aegosexual perspective. 🖤🤍💜 please keep in mind that I'm drawing heavily on my experience, but there are many different ways to exist on the ace spectrum. this is a direct sequel to yesterday's Step One, which was inspired by look around, look inside by @theoppositequeens.)

Somehow Ridoc had slotted himself into my life and made it look easy. I was used to thinking of myself as the odd one out, tagging along to social events that my friends had been invited to. 

Ridoc sought me out. Invited me, specifically. And at first I worried that meant I would have to stick around watching him be the life of the party long after I might have ducked out if I were alone, but instead he noticed. He checked in with me. Sometimes he kissed me good night before I left, and sometimes he left with me. 

It was good, but it took some getting used to. 

Ridoc was forthright about most things. "I have a hard time keeping my inside thoughts on the inside," he described it. It meant he didn't shy away from saying what he was feeling, even when what he was feeling was —

"I'm so horny I can't think," he announced, and not for the first time, but for the first time I answered him before he could say he was going to go see if Tyvon or whoever was around.

"I can help with that," I offered. I'd been thinking about it a lot, about what it might feel like to offer, what I would do if he took me up on it. Ridoc had been good at listening so far. 

It was fucking terrifying to risk it, but whatever we had was working so far. Gods, sometimes the thought that someone could understand me made me want to hide, because I was sure that if I were understood then he'd see that there was something wrong with me, some disconnect between my brain and my body that couldn't be fixed. 

"You don't have to do that just for me," Ridoc answered, almost automatically. "I thought you weren't into sex."

"I'm not, not exactly. Not the way people think of it. But I'm not into planning revenge on Henrick, and yet I like helping you with it. Because it's you, I guess." Ridoc opened his mouth and closed it again, and his throat bobbed like he was swallowing whatever he'd started to say. 

Watching him not talk was surprisingly adorable. Whether he was listening or thinking, his forehead scrunched up and he sometimes chewed on his lip like he was pouting. Ridoc could be a lot more than people seemed to realize; he was all over the place a lot of the time, sure, but when he did focus he was intense, like suddenly instead of being all warm, comfortable shades of brown I could see the frost in his eyes where his signet came from. 

But I needed to not get distracted, because he was talking again. "Are you okay talking about sex more than we have?"

"Yes," I said, because I was learning it was always yes with him, "but I haven't put a lot of things into words before, so it might be slow. Or I might say something and then realize I'm wrong."

"Most people are bad at talking about sex." Ridoc slid over until he was next to me on the bed. "Even people who fuck all the time! There's so many assumptions, guys who think everybody's automatically into the same things they're into, or people who will just get in bed with somebody but never say what they like best or ask their partner what they should start with."

"I thought everyone else just knew," I admitted, but it didn't feel like a bad thing when I was saying it to Ridoc.

Ridoc laughed. "When people ask me for sex advice, I have two things I always tell them. One of them is that if you want to be good at something, you have to practice."

"I bet most of them like that advice."

"You'd be surprised! A lot of people want to be good at things right off the parapet. It's more fun to think of yourself as a natural sex savant who's just instinctively good in bed, rather than as someone who's taken specific instructions about what to do with their tongue."

"What's the other thing?"

"It goes along with the first one, actually. It's talk to your partner. And I give that advice because people don't do it. I know this because a lot of people are surprised when I do."

I nodded at that. "So, what, as soon as I brought up something sex-related, you want to talk about it?"

"If that's okay with you, yes, I want to talk about it. Because I meant it when I said I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to get me off. Sex isn't — well, at least it doesn't have to be transactional like that. So, let's go back a little bit. What's sex like for you? What have you done that you enjoyed?" Ridoc slid so close he could throw his legs over me and he was practically sitting in my lap. He laid his head on my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tighter against my chest. Like I was eight and he was my old sheep stuffie. "For me, it feels like sex is two different things that everybody else can do at the same time, and I can only do one or the other. I can focus on my partner or I can do the thinking that gets me off."

I felt Ridoc nod, his hair tickling my neck. "Can you tell me more about that?" When I glance down, I notice a bulge in his leathers. 

"Are you turned on by this?" I asked him, trying to twist my neck so I could see his face without making him move.

"Yeah, sexy talk is totally a turn-on for me." He huffed a laugh, his breath warm against my shirt. 

"Is this sexy? Or just about sex?" I was curious.

"Both. It's the same thing to me. And you are changing the subject."

"I didn't mean to," I told him, sighing. "Okay, so focusing on my partner is easy to understand, right? I'd just be touching you, using my fingers, maybe even my cock, but it's not about me getting turned on or staying turned on or whatever."

Ridoc nodded. "That part makes sense, yes."

"Actually getting off is much easier for me to do alone." It was hard to talk about it without the shame welling up about being selfish, or thoughtless, or rude. "I can't focus on a partner. It's like trying to control magic without grounding. I need to be… in my head, I guess. Like I'm watching through a window, like I need to focus on what I'm thinking and what I can feel."

I trailed off when I realized that Ridoc was watching me intently. A smile played on his mouth and there was hunger in his eyes that I didn't understand. "Do you know what that sounds like to me, Bodhi?"

"...Selfish?" Maybe if I said it first, it wouldn't sting as much when he agreed.

"No!" He shifted in my lap, pushing at my chest until I lay back on the bed and he was on top of me. Ridoc pushed his chest up so he could meet my eyes. "You don't sound selfish. You sound like a challenge."

I wanted to pull away, to leave the room, except it was my room and I didn't really want Ridoc to stop being on top of me. "A challenge to see if you can fix me?" I asked, still unsure what he meant.

"A challenge to learn what you like. What works for you. What if I said I wanted to learn to be what you need in all the ways, not just cuddling?" Ridoc was fully smirking now. "Would you like it if I kissed you?"

"Yes," I answered before I'd even finished processing the first part of the question, and Ridoc was on me like he was late to breakfast and I was the last sausage on the tray. There was that focus again, the absolute certainty that my mouth was the only thing in the world worth his attention right now.

And in that moment I believed him. I believed him when he said he wanted to learn me. I believed that I could be learned, not fixed.

If I let him, he would take me apart, not to put me back together, but purely to enjoy the picture I made as he did it.

I still wasn't sure it was possible, but I could tell Ridoc was sure. That, more than anything, made me willing to try.

[obitez]

Troubled Waters

Another 8x17 coda fic, because I can't help myself | AO3 Link

Since Bobby’s death, Buck and Tommy… they had started growing close to each other again. 

It was good, healthy in a way for someone to be there when you were grieving a great loss. Even though Tommy still had feelings for Buck, and he felt they were reciprocated, he didn’t think this was the best time with everything going on for them to get back together again. 

So things were growing as if they were close friends. Nothing like when they were dating, nothing like that at all. They hadn’t shared any kisses or other displays of affection beyond one or two supportive hugs, the same kind Tommy would share with someone like Chimney or anyone else he worked closely with now or in the past. 

But Buck and Tommy had started talking again. Started talking to each other again and stopped leaving the elephants unspoken about. 

Most of their communication had been over the phone or through text messages, but they had met up in person a handful of times too. 

On one such occasion, two days before the funeral, Tommy had run into Eddie on the day he arrived at Buck’s house. To say that the meeting had been awkward was an understatement. 

Eddie clearly didn’t forgive him for whatever he thought happened between Buck and Tommy when they broke up. And Tommy didn’t feel the need to get forgiveness from the man. 

They had spent pretty much the entire dinner avoiding talking and looking at each other, almost like Buck was having dinner with two different people at the same time. Tommy had tried his best to avoid Eddie after that. 

That night was about a week ago now. 

Tommy had texted Buck that morning, in the way he had done almost every morning in the last couple weeks, asking how Buck was doing. Not if he was okay, Tommy knew if he asked that Buck would just say ‘yes’, but an open ended question that Buck would actually have to describe how he was doing. 

Evan: Doing better

Evan: Think Eddie’s starting to grow on me tho

Tommy: What do you mean by that? 

As much as Tommy knew Buck and Eddie were best friends and that Bobby’s death hadn’t done anything to diminish that, Tommy had picked up on a certain… strained between the two the longer Eddie had stayed at Buck’s place. Nothing that screamed imminent doom for their friendship, but more in the way Buck was annoyed by having to share his personal space with someone. Tommy knew, from the months they had dated, Buck usually wasn’t one to get annoyed by people being in his place. But it probably had to do with a mix of still dealing with the aftermath of Bobby’s death and the fact that, from the time he was over there with Eddie, Eddie still treated the place like his own. 

Evan: Doesn’t matter. Ravi said Eddie got the job with El Paso Fire, he should be going back to Texas by the end of this week.

At first Tommy wanted to point out that whatever Buck was feeling with the man, it did matter, but his focus was pulled more towards the second sentence. Why was Ravi the person to tell Buck that, when Buck was living with Eddie? 

Tommy: That sounds good for him. 

It took a long… long moment for Buck to respond to that. 

Evan: Yeah.

Tommy didn’t need to hear Buck’s voice say it to tell he wasn’t that enthusiastic about Eddie’s new job. 

Tommy: Do you not want him to go back to TX?

It took a while for Buck to send a message back to that question. Tommy watched as the text bubbles popped up, then disappeared, then popped up again, for a couple more minutes. Whatever Buck sent, Tommy knew he found the touchy subject Buck was acting hesitant about. 

Evan: No, or well, I’m happy he got the job and is going back to his family. Also, things are getting kind of cramped over here. I’m just kind of annoyed he didn’t tell me himself, we’re living together rn. 

Evan: And I mean, I’m trying to be supportive and help him, but he’s just like, pushing me away. 

Yeah, Tommy could understand Buck’s annoyance with that. 

Tommy: Do you have anything going on tonight?

Tommy asked the question, not expecting or hoping for either a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. Maybe, if possible, they could meet and talk about this stuff in person. It would be better than texting, and it had been about a week since they’ve seen each other in person. 

Evan: Not really. Since I took an extra shift on Monday, Gerrard said I could get off at 2 unless some big emergency comes up. Needed to pick some stuff up at the store. Other than that nothing’s going on. 

Tommy: I could bring some take out over. Got some coupons for that Indian place that opened on Powers Street

Evan: You don’t have to do that. 

Tommy: Don’t worry, I want to do this. 

If there was one thing that worried Tommy the most these last three weeks, it was that Buck was continuously putting others before himself, to the point where if someone offered him help, he was pushing them away. Maybe that was one of the reasons Tommy had made sure to keep in contact with him. 

It took a second, and another message from Buck came in. 

Evan: Okay, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. 

🚁 🚁 🚁 🚁 🚁

Tommy pulled up on the street outside of Buck’s house. He got out and grabbed the bag of take out he had sat on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat, closing the door behind him and walking up to Buck’s door. 

Tommy had walked in, the front door unlocked like Buck had said, and through the angle he was looking towards the kitchen at, he could see Buck standing, back to the wall, with Eddie standing in front of him, nearly chest to chest, Eddie’s arm against Buck, aggression oozing out of him. 

Tommy let his presence be known by slamming the door closed behind him, both Eddie and Buck quickly turning their heads in his direction. 

Eddie dropped his arm, letting out a breath and taking a step back. “T- Tommy!” Buck called out. 

“Hey,” Tommy said. He lifted his arm holding the food. “I brought the food, what’s going on?” he asked, trying to play it cool and bring a calmness to whatever was just going on. 

“Nothing,” Eddie said as he turned around and leant against the opposite counter. 

Tommy had to lift an eyebrow in disbelief at that. Whatever was happening, it definitely wasn’t ‘nothing.’ 

“We- we were just talking,” Buck said, mumbling and looking down at his feet. “Eddie finally got a position with El Paso Fire,” he said, as if he hadn;t told Tommy that only hours before, probably because he didn’t want Tommy to know what they were actually talking about. 

Eddie let out a harsh breath and he turned around, his back leaning against the kitchen counter as Tommy walked in, setting the bag of take out on a far counter. With all three grown men standing in there, the already small kitchen felt infinitely smaller, and the tense atmosphere did nothing to help. 

“You just can’t leave anything between us, can you?” Eddie asked. 

Buck shifted on his feet. “Again, sorry for assuming you would have told me instead of needing to find out from someone else. You’re freaking living with me right now.” 

So this was what this ‘argument’ was about, if you could call Eddie pinning someone to a wall an argument. From his texts earlier, Tommy figured this might be a topic of conversation tonight. 

“And again you’re making it about yourself,” Eddie bit out. 

Tommy watched as Buck bit his lip, but before he stepped in to say something and try to dispel this whole fight, Buck continued. “I just want to know what’s going on! Sorry about that!” 

“Oh, you want to know what’s going on!” Eddie repeated. “Well maybe if you hadn’t been constantly ‘checking in on us’ I would have told you!” 

“Well sorry for caring about everyone! I just wanted to make sure everyone was doing okay after… after…” Even after all this time, Buck still had trouble voicing the event. 

“You want to know what it feels like for me?” Eddie asked. “Well, what do you want to know? How I had to wake up in the middle of the night to find out Bobby died. Or how I had to hold it in to not wake my son up? Or how I had to tell my son the next morning that another person that he loved was dead? Of what? You want to know about all of the thoughts running through my head on how if I was here we might have been able to save him?” 

“What- What are you saying? You think we didn’t try everything to save him?” Buck asked. 

“How should I know? I wasn’t there,” Eddie threw back. 

Tommy’s eyes widened in complete shock. Did he really just hear Eddie say that? As if that was Buck’s fault? 

“Okay, that was uncalled for,” Tommy said, directing Eddie’s attention from Buck to him. 

“And who do you think you are to have a say in any of this?” Eddie asked. 

“I was there too!” he shouted, making them all go silent. “We were all there, all doing the best we could to save everyone, when you were across the country, so why do you feel the need to question any of this?!” 

“Tommy-” Buck began to say as he took a light hold of one of Tommy’s hands. 

Eddie cut him off by speaking. “Look man! This is about you, this is between me and Buck!” 

“Oh, don’t give me that Eddie!” Tommy said. “You lost that when you put your hands on him!”

Eddie scoffed, looking away from them. “Well sorry for wanting to grieve in my own way.”

“You’re not the only one grieving here, Eddie,” Tommy bit out. “We all are, that doesn’t give anyone the right to attack someone like this.” 

They all lapsed into a very tense silence after that. Eddie glaring daggers at Tommy. Tommy stood firm and not backing down to him. Buck looked nervously between them, but drifting closer to Tommy. 

“I think you should leave,” Buck said, just over a mumble, just loud enough for all of them to clearly hear what he said. 

Eddie’s head whipped up to look at him. “What?” he asked. 

Buck took a deep breath, giving his eyes a hard blink as he looked at Eddie, making direct eye contact with him. “I said… you should leave… You, Eddie.” 

Eddie brought a hand up to his head and ran it through his hair. Letting out half of a laugh, he said, “This is hilarious, you know that.” 

Tommy felt more than saw Buck take a half step back, straightening his posture as he did so.  

Eddie dropped his arm and shifted his gaze between the two of them a couple times, before eventually landing back on Buck. “When this blows up in your face again, don’t come crying to me,” Eddie said before he turned around and left the kitchen. 

It took a couple minutes, a couple banged doors later, but then Eddie was gone. Tommy didn’t know where, but he didn’t particularly care right now. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know Eddie was gonna be here when you arrived,” Buck said after a moment. 

Tommy resisted the urge to sigh, knowing it wouldn’t be reassuring to Buck at all. “It’s fine, I figured he would most likely be here anyway.” 

“Still,” Buck said, wrapping his hands around one of the cans he had just taken out of the shopping bag. “You shouldn’t- you shouldn’t have had to walk in on that.” 

“Really, it isn’t a problem,” Tommy said, then paused and rethought something Buck had just said. “When I walked in it looked like he was about to hit you,” Tommy said, his voice almost near a whisper. 

“It- it wasn’t like that!” Buck suddenly said, looking slightly startled. “He- Eddie’s- He never hurt me before!” 

“Never hurt you?” Tommy asked. 

Buck gulped, looking down at the can and picking his fingers at it. “It was years ago now. Doesn’t matter.” 

Tommy knew when to drop a subject. He wouldn’t drop it for good, but he would for now. Instead he walked back a couple steps and picked up the bag of food, setting it down on the kitchen island. 

Buck looked back up, still looking slightly shaky. “What did you get?” he asked. 

“Their sampler and some samosas,” Tommy said. “Didn’t really know what I was reading on their menu.” 

That elicited a small laugh from Buck. “You could have sent me their menu. I could’ve told you what sounded good.” 

“I’ll remember that for next time.” 

🚁 🚁 🚁 🚁 🚁

They fell asleep watching movies on the couch in Buck’s living room, leaning against each other. Buck’s cheek pressed into the bony tip of Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy was woken up by the sun peeking through the blind on the window on the other side of the room. 

“Tommy?” he heard Buck’s voice softly ask after a while. He turned his head to the side, he hadn’t even realized Buck had woken up yet. 

“Hmm?” he hummed. 

Buck lifted his head to look at Tommy’s face. “You stayed?” he asked. 

Tommy gave him a soft smile. “Of course,” he said. 

Buck lowered his head to place his forehead against Tommy's large biceps. “This is the first time you’ve stayed over since that night,” Buck said, followed by a small squeeze to his forearm and what Tommy probably guessed was a smile on Buck’s face. 

“I guess it is.”

“Thank you… for everything.”

“No problem.”

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Laundry Room Mystery | Thunderbolts | Oneshot - 1k

Thunderbolts spoilers!

Bucky can't seem to keep his wardrobe full, so begins his laundry room mystery. His empty wardrobe is the clear victim, but who's the perp?

Warnings: Language and nonsense.

Notes: For @avengers-assemble-bingo AASpring Bingo - "Stop stealing my clothes!" Divider by @saradika-graphics ⚡ I was thinking about a ship while I wrote this but it didn't feel like enough to justify putting it in the description. Will probably write for it in the future, let me know what you think

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes | Spring Bingo

Bucky closed and then opened his wardrobe doors, half hoping the rail would magically fill itself with black t-shirts and jeans if he just wished hard enough.

But they were still starkly empty.

He'd been wearing the same t-shirt for two days, despite putting a load of laundry on, it just never seemed to make it back to his wardrobe before it disappeared. Almost everything was gone, t-shirts, jeans and combat trousers, most of his hoodies, even his socks and boxer briefs had gone!

He continued his search out into the corridor, hoping he'd perhaps just dropped the basket somewhere and forgotten about it during a call, but it was as empty as his wardrobe, still in the same white paint and tiled floor the contractors had chosen.

"Oh, hi Bucky, have you lost something?"

Bucky looked round to find Ava stood, leaning against the wall. There was something familiar about her jeans — he squinted at them, really really familiar.

"Just looking for my laundry." He looked towards the end of the corridor too, just the window out onto the New York skyline, but no laundry.

"I think I saw some of your things in the laundry room." Ava shrugged and turned to go back into her room. There, on the back pocket, was a frayed rip. Those were his jeans!

"Hey wait!"

"See you later, Bucky." He can't stop her phasing through the wall and her bedroom door remains firmly closed as well.

"God damn it." He sighed, he's torn between hating Ava for being able to run away so easily, and being consumed with jealousy that he can't just disappear through walls sometimes.

At least he has some sort of clue, maybe he had just left everything in the laundry room this time. He strode his way through the living room towards the elevator, coming to a stop when he spots his hoodie on the sofa tangled up with a pile of blankets and throw cushions. As he reached down to pick it up the pile moved, revealling a sleeping Bob underneath.

"Hey," Bucky stage whispered, he didn't really have the heart to wake the man. "Hey," he tries again, but Bob just rolled over, snuggling deeper into the neckline and Bucky gave up.

Laundry room, there must be something in the laundry room.

The elevator dinged open far too quickly, revealling a very warm and ruffled looking Yelena in her favourite oversized workout shirt and little black shorts

"Bucky," she smiled looking at his own compression shirt and the sweat pants he wears in the evening, the only clothes he had left in his wardrobe. "You are going to the gym? I could go another round." She laughs and Bucky smiles too, it's nice having Yelena here, someone who reflects some of the darker parts of his own history but with a dry wit and a newfound enjoyment for life.

"Not today, 'Lena, looking for my clean laundry."

"Ahh…" she looked around knowingly and then sniffs, a tell, he's noticed. She knows something.

"Would you know anything about it?"

Yelena shrugged and they danced around each other as she leaves the elevator and he steps inside. "Not a clue, Bucky." She smiles one last time, then lifts a corner of her shirt to wipe sweat from her brow and — for christ's sake those are his boxer briefs. His underwear.

"Yelena you can't just take —"

"Byeee Bucky!" She shouts and the doors click shut, whooshing down to the laundry room.

There's nothing in the laundry room.

Not his clothes. Not anyones clothes, which is somewhat concerning when he thinks about how many people live in the tower now and how much laundry they must surely generate.

With a resigned sigh he stepped back into the elevator, scrolling his phone to order some new clothes. It'll bankrupt him, at this rate, maybe he can bulk by those t-shirts he likes from the supplier.

The living space is busier when he returns, everyone's sat around on the couches, even Bob's awake and gives him a little wave, hands half covered by Bucky's hoody.

"Ahhh Mr Winter, returned from…" Alexei pauses, trying to figure out where Bucky might have been in his mismatched outfit.

"The laundry room." Yelena supplies and John snorts a laugh.

"It's not funny, Walker, I know Ava and Yelena have been stealing my clothes." Bucky puts his hands on his hips, attempting his scariest stare in an effort to retrieve his jeans and underwear.

"Not guilty," Ava says, waving a hand in the air.

"I know you're lying." He glares back and she simply sticks her middle finger up and goes back to her flipping through a magazine.

"I would never take your things, Bucky." Yelena said very seriously despite the fact it was quite clear her little shorts are actually underwear.

"That's gross, Belova."

"Bite me, Walker."

"Wait a minute." Bucky looks John over again. "That's my t-shirt isn't it?" He scrunches his face up and covers it with both hands to stop himself from leaping over the coffee table and wrestling the shirt back. "I don't know which of you is worse!"

"Pretty sure this is mine." John doesn't even look, just leans back and sips from his mug. Bucky could hit him, but his ridiculous banter is making Bob and Yelena laugh.

"Mr Winter, this is very disrespectful, what are you going to do?"

From between his fingers Bucky sighs again, "Nothing, Alexei, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Forget it, join us." Alexei's voice was loud, but welcoming, and Bucky really can't be bothered internet shopping right now when he could be lazing around and reading his new book with a hot coffee instead. Alexei's buoyant company keeping them from falling into a real argument.

"Only if everyone promises to stop stealing my clothes and return them all by this evening."

The team go quiet, but eventually everyone nods in agreement.

"Good, then I'll join you."

Alexei shifts up, kicking his boots off and planting his feet on the coffee table as the volume starts to rise from everyone talking at once.

Bucky looks from Alexei's beaming face to his socks, one has a little Captain America shield, the other Joaquin's new Falcon logo.

"Are those my fucking socks?"

[igglemouse]

Week 1 ~ Introducing Magdalena ~ Tuesday

I start the day greeted by little energetic barks from my little guy Bruno. He's very happy to see me although I was just in the other room? I suppose I should move his bed to my room one day, I can't imagine being a little guy like he is and spending that much time alone.

Honestly, it was a selfish decision to adopt him. I didn't want to be here all alone all day long either so I suppose he wouldn't want that either but it looks like he won't hold a grudge against me as long as I give him his ball.

Such a cute little fella! There will be no singing about how we won't talk about him in this house, no no no.

The relationship I have with my sister is what you might expect. One of love and loyalty...but, there is one catch. She's a little loca. Crazy in the head, no? Perhaps that's too harsh but she proudly runs with the wrong crowd and while I do love her, to death, I also try to keep a safe distance from whatever she's up to in fear that I might get pulled into it. Sometimes it feels like even phone calls might put me in danger.

It's nice to hear from her though?

I can't allow her to get in front of my dreams or ambitions and I will not allow being a little unfit to also get ahead of them. While I failed the last audition I am doing all I can to pass the next. Failure is just an obstacle, just a bit of challenge to leap over and I will clear each one put before me, eventually.

Can someone also tell me why it's so chilly outside as well? I guess it's one of those DSV things huh? Random weather?

But I do have some very good news, very very good news even. I got the part! Yep! The music video! In fact, it all happens today! I'll be heading out a little later for it and to prepare I've decided to listen to a lot of Marco's music to get a better feel for him and watch a few of his videos. I know it's just a music video and my part in it will be eye candy but I have to do my best for every opportunity I get because that alone could be my big break. You never know whose watching, after all.

As for Marco, I'm aware of him, casually, but I am finding that a lot of his music is so very romantically inclined. Just songs about love and passion and heartbreak and more love! He's a real crooner with a very smooth voice and whenever he sings in Selvadoradean it does make me feel a certain way...just a little bit!

I can't wait to tell papa about it and he's just about as excited about it as I am. He only hopes that the video is tasteful for me, reminding me that it might upset my mom if it isn't. I'm not sure why that matters? Mama is kind of a hater, my hater, as crazy as that sounds, but let's not dwell on her right now, yes?

I cannot go out without making sure everyone is fed though because how can you be at your best on an empty stomach? I do think Bruno is coming around to me but I suppose food helps a lot with that and it's so cute hearing him munch away happily but I will have to go and leave him alone for a bit, unfortunately. Maybe one day I can afford a sitter, right now that is not the case. Also, maybe one day I can afford bitter dinners than grilled cheese sandwiches. Could be worse, sure sure, but could be better, no?

It was a drive that had to be at least over an hour long because of course the wealthy live far far away from us regulars but arriving to the hills of DSV hit me hard. This is where I wanted to be, a house on the hills, looking down at the city beyond, living the good life. Perhaps this is my first step towards that moment?

The place before me was exactly as I expected, sleek, modern, and had to be worth close to a million simoleons? I could even imagine myself in it one day or in a place like it, ambling around comfortably and enjoying the result of my artistry on the big screen. Watching movies in my personal theater, working out in my personal gym, all before heading out for a lavish trip before I go off for my next big role. That, is what I imagined.

Unfortunately, my little day dreams are broken up by reality the moment I step through the doors.

The director, a man named Elijah Love, greets me with an imaginary smile and lets me know that this is all business and time is simoleons. Something I should always keep in mind moving forward.

So, I find myself in a bathroom again, posing and preening in front of a mirror. I am reminded of the question that Jaxton, the casting guy asked of us yesterday. Am I prepared for the world to see me in this way?

I turned this way and that, making sure that everything was covered. Despite the loose nature of the robe there were pasties over more sensitive areas just in case something slipped, so that wouldn't be an issue, but still, this video would be seen by millions? Was I ready for that?

I decided there was a line and that this wasn't it. I've seen Marco's videos, they were always classy and focused on romance, which sometimes focused on sensuality of love. There is nothing wrong with a little sexiness, no?

Besides, I look amazing!

It was then time for me to perform and I should add, improvise. Elijah gives me one simple direction. Be Alluring.

Easy enough. I settle on the piano, the top part of it? Not sure what that is called but it doesn't matter. I matter, that's where the lens are focused, I'm what the viewer will see.

I go for simplicity because my goal isn't to distract, it's to blend in to the video, it's to make sure that no one ever imagines this video with anyone but me. You might think it selfish but this is a selfish business.

The bigger the star the more the universe will rotate around it...

Speaking of gravity and physics, Marco Aparicio proved my point the moment he walked in. There was an aura about him, a man who was used to getting his way, a man who knew that one simple smile was all that was needed to disarm someone and a man, most importantly, that captured my attention immediately. My eyes locked onto his and instantly I felt something, a spark, maybe? A connection definitely. I hopped off of the piano to greet him, thinking this might be the start of something I could never expect and yet...

It was nothing. A simple nice to meet you with a courteous smile, I honestly don't think he looked at me for more than five seconds. Ouch.

I told myself I wouldn't be star struck and I wasn't. It was worse. I was in love. I think anyone seeing this video will say a few things and will comment on my performance but...this is no performance. The dance and small moments and the kiss, all of it was...well, you might as well have called me a method actress in this moment because I imagined it as real. I could imagine me and him, a couple, living in a place like this, a collision of stars that brightens the universe for the short time we exist within it...

Then I was back home, watching the cooking channel, and doing my best to forget it ever happened. It was a job and it was business. Marco certainly treated it as such. How many women have I seen in his videos today? Every video of his features one or another and each one bleeds passion through the screen and music. I was just another video girl in the end and here I am watching some old woman lecture her audience about the importance of a good thermometer for roasting turkey.

Still. I wonder if there was something more there...

Index ~ Next

[yandere-fics]

♡ Sophie Is Sweet To Her Wife Sometimes ♡

(More apocalypse auuuuu)

♡ It's hard for her to switch between her punishing side to her loving her wife side so most of the time she just comes across as coarse and mean but that doesn't mean she doesn't love or care for her wife. Even though the apocalypse has been going on since she was 16 and I imagine she got married at around 24, the cult is still in it younger stages where the sisters must always be aware of anyone trying to make a grasp for power. It weighs heavily on Sophie almost every day which might make you think she doesn't care at all but if she didn't she wouldn't have gotten married at all, her sister Darla already had enough wives to keep the cult all connected, she only took hers because she liked you. ♡

♡ She only touches you with her gloves when she's punishing you or others, her hands are reserved for when her wife has been good, she thinks of this as her being soft and sweet when really a lot of the time it just comes off as scary. Makes you fear whenever she does put the gloves on because that means she's ready to punish you or going to make you witness someone else being tortured. If you ever tell her that you're scared of the gloves she won't really understand, why be scared? Just don't try to leave her and you won't have to face the gloves. They're made of a thick leather, if you get close enough to her for her to trust you can handle things you'll find out it's human skin leather layered with leather from the mutated creatures beyond the wall. ♡

♡ Kissing is something she's not all that confident in, it's not that she doesn't want to kiss you but hers are rough and aggressive. She'll probably be shocked if her wife greets her with a kiss when she comes home. Remember that this version of Sophie never got to venture out and her parents were not at all affectionate with each other plus the old church taught kissing was for rough people, she has a whole picture of kissing as this aggressive act in her head. It would take awhile for you to teach her how to be soft when she kisses you. Her neck kisses are a bit softer though surprisingly. Mostly through trial and error, her biting at your neck to mark you, hearing you cry in pain and then softening it the next time. It'll never be super tender but when you've been with Sophie so long even this much starts to feel sweet. If you do get her used to kissing when she comes home which is something she never ever saw her parents do, she'll start expecting it and give you maybe a mild punishment if you forget. Probably just pinching your cheek until you kiss her when she finds whichever room of the house you're in, unless you had a good explanation. ♡

♡ Dinner and food is still very much a form of affection to Sophie, one that she will be upset if you reject. She gets up before her wife every morning to make breakfast and your lunch before she wakes you up to let you know she'll be leaving. Quality of food can drastically vary based on how much human flesh the group has and what the hunters found outside the walls. Expect to eat some very bizarre eggs from a mutated creature. Don't worry if they have to give you something that the quality is unknown she'll leave you with some medicines to settle your stomach. When she sends teams out scavenging she makes them gather bottles of gummy vitamins they can find under the pretense of giving them out to the sick for extra help but really anything that isn't expired is going towards you. You're getting very random vitamin doses, one month it's a prenatal cause she figured it can't actually be harmful and the next it's just a straight up iron supplement. Don't worry you probably need a little bit of extra iron anyways cause of the energy the apocalypse takes. ♡

♡ She's actually shockingly gentle after punishments. It feels like whiplash cause she just tied you up in the freezing air over night but now she's taking a day off to warm you up inside and cook extra foods for you. She doesn't talk much, there's not a lot she could say but she does give you books and will occasionally ask you what you're reading about. She gets a bit agitated if it's a romance novel though cause she's aware she's not like one of those plus if you need love she'd much prefer you try to get it from her, if you ask really nicely, especially after a punishment she'll sit quietly on the couch next to you and let you snuggle against her. Once she starts to grasp the concept she might even hold you back. There's not a lot of hobbies that can be done in the wastes besides reading but even Skye has stopped reading at that point because she takes her role in the cult extremely serious. She'll try her best to get people to find you something to do, if you're lucky they might get a puzzle that's missing some pieces or maybe find a mutated animal that can make weird yarn for you. ♡

♡ On anniversary's she can't promise to take the day off but she can at least shove some wild flowers in your face with your morning weird eggs while grumbling about how she doesn't understand this tradition at all. Again it might come across as her not caring since she's dismissing it even as she's doing it but her going out of her way for this at all does mean a lot. If you're really really lucky and looting has been productive you can expect a new dress on your anniversary as long as you promise to never wear it outside and only wear the other thick dress she approved outside. She'd prefer to get you pajamas but those are too much of a flimsy luxury in the apocalypse, at best you can get an old t shirt to sleep. She does tell you though that she'll shred those and make you sleep naked if you even think of wearing it outside. Really dampens the mood there. ♡

♡ Hair care is another way she shows love. A big priority raiding item is soaps and conditioners to keep them from getting infected and to prevent hair getting tangled and caught in things. The priestesses of course have to keep their appearance nice but Sophie regardless always takes more than she's supposed to just for her wife, priestesses can rot for all she cares, they're just a means to an end but her wife is her wife. She'll also cut her hair short so there's less that has to go into it and more for her wife. You could grow your hair out to your feet for all she cares, she'll whip anyone who tries to comment on her wife's over indulgence when you're not even a holy woman or if you were you're not actively serving as one anymore. You'll still get snide comments from her though and if you try to run away she'll cut it all off. If you do grow it long then in the morning she might even braid it back and put it up for you before she goes. It feels random to have her brushing your hair out but you'll get used to it. ♡

♡ So while you might not hear her tell you that she loves you very often if ever, she still does express it somewhat. ♡

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Traitors & Lovers (Hero & Villain) part 15

Warnings: some serious emotional whump/rejection, loads of hate (villain hating hero), severe injuries, semi crippled villain? Hero cornering villain, forced confrontation, mild degrading humiliation

OH MY GOSH I JUST CHECKED AND THIS SERIES ALREADY HAS OVER 16,592 WORDS WHAAAAAAAT

His hair was messy from sleep, and he looked... adorable, really, if Villain didn't know what lay beneath the charming, handsome exterior. A rotten core hidden by practiced charisma.

"I did," Villain snapped, stomping up to him to push past and storm back to her bedroom. She aimed to walk through the gap Hero left on one side, but Hero pushed upright off the doorframe, blocking her path.

Villain bristled. She didn't like being cornered like this.

"You're lying," Hero casually pointed out. "Your left eyebrow twitches when you lie. You didn't find what you wanted, and now you're pissed I'm standing in the way of you retaining your pride and dignity by pretending you have yourself pulled together. I see you haven't outgrown your stubbornness -- you could easily ask me for help, but you won't. Is it really worth it?"

"Yes I'm pissed at you -- That should be your cue to move," Villain snarled, unnerved by how easy she was for Hero to read. She tried to shove past him, expecting him to finally back off and let her pass. But to her surprise, Hero lightly shoved her backwards with a single hand to the shoulder, maintaining his position.

That simple touch made Villain flinch violently and sent her staggering back with a choked cry of pain she couldn't keep from slipping out. Was Hero always this strong, or was she really just that weak, that even the lightest shove would nearly knock her over?

Hero's expression instantly darkened. "That bad, huh?" He asked, but his voice lacked any hint of mockery.

"It's none of your business," Villain barked. "Back off and leave me alone."

"You are a guest in my house. You don't get to order me around -- you hold no power here. And telling someone to 'back off' in their own house is rude, don't you think?"

"I'm not a guest -- I'm a prisoner here!" Villain snapped. "Why do you even want to keep me alive so badly? Why go to all the headache of saving me?? I don't serve a purpose to you anymore -- I have no more information to give, so if that's your end goal you might as well kill me now. I haven't known anything valuable ever since I ran away -- I can't be a pawn for you any longer."

Hero had the gall to look shocked by what she'd said.

"I would never kill you!" He blurted defensively. "Where did that idea come from?"

Villain narrowed her eyes hatefully. "You intentionally got close to me to get information to feed to Agency. You used me. And you know what happens when tools break?" She bared her teeth menacingly. "They get disposed of, and you get a new one. I'm not useful to you anymore -- so why haven't you gotten rid of me yet? Did you not know I have no information left to offer? Hmm? What's your motive?"

Hero's eyes were wide and hurt, and he took a step forward into the bathroom.

Villain flinched hard in response, flattening against the far wall.

"That... That's close enough," she whispered, her voice suddenly small and scared before she remembered to act confident again. But the illusion was already ruined – Villain's bravado was fake. Yes, she was pissed at Hero, but she was also terrified. She didn't know why though ��� maybe it was a fear of finding out that Hero had loved her, and chose to betray her anyway. Or maybe it was a fear of learning that Hero still loved her even now, that would complicate things.

Or… maybe it was the possibility that she still loved him, somewhere past the many layers of hate and hurt, that frightened her most. Because what would that mean, then? That Villain was loyal to a traitor who could turn on her once again in the future?

"Is it so hard to believe that I care enough about you not to want you dead, with no ulterior motives?" Hero groaned.

"Yes! IT IS!" Villain snarked. "You betrayed me once already -- why would you care about doing it a second time?

"Maybe it's because I want redemption," Hero huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Or maybe it's because I came to care about you far more than I thought I would, and only realized what I had lost and given up when I betrayed you."

Villain blinked dumbly at him. She hadn't expected the honest confession. She searched Hero's face for a lie, for what she wanted to see -- deceit, manipulation, anything -- but he seemed genuine. And she wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"This doesn't change anything between us," she croaked.

"I know," Hero whispered, averting his eyes. "I just... wanted you to know that."

"I will never forgive you for what you did to me."

"I don't expect you to. And I know I don't deserve it anyway.” Hero awkwardly cleared his throat, then slowly reached into his pocket, and Villain tracked the movement like a hawk, standing stiff and rigid pressed against the wall. She half expected him to pull out a syringe with the necessary drugs to knock her out again, but he pulled out a small orange bottle instead, rattling the contents around as he showed it to her.

“I'm assuming this is what you were looking for?” He chuckled far-too-smugly, switching the topic along with the mood.

Ah. Pain pills. So that's where they'd gone.

Villain gave a single shallow nod, eyeing him warily.

"Can you ask me nicely for them, then?" Hero raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Villain scoffed, rolling her eyes. Playing games now? Seriously?

She stalked toward him with limping steps, snapping her fingers demandingly and holding out her hand.

"Give it to me," she growled, voice absolutely dripping with venom. She made a grab for the bottle, but Hero lifted it out of her reach.

"Nicely," he emphasized, and Villain's face reddened with humiliation. She didn't want to give in to Hero's demand, but... the pain was becoming unbearable.

"Please," she forced out through gritted teeth, shuddering in disgust.

Hero smirked, and placed the bottle of pills in her waiting palm. If she had the strength, she'd punch him square in the teeth right now to wipe that look from his face.

Villain uncapped it and swallowed two little blue pills dry, angrily slamming the bottle onto the bathroom counter when she was done before shoving past Hero -- and this time he let her.

"Do you need help walking back to your room?" He called after her, oh-so-helpfully.

Villain aggressively gave him the finger and kept on hobbling down the hall. She knew Hero trailed her to make sure she didn't collapse on the way, but she was determined not to rely on him, so she forced herself to walk step by step until she'd reached her bed again, even though it would have taken half as long if she'd let Hero help.

She smiled at that small victory as she crumpled onto the mattress, dragging herself over to lay her head on the pillow. Today had taken everything out of her. But at least the painkillers were finally starting to kick in, taking the edge off her suffering, and sleep followed not long after.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson @whatwhump

@writing-with-olive @and-we-shake-the-iron-hand @art3m1zz @enigmawriteswhump

[werezmastarbucks]

f!8th member x yoongi timeline: bulletpoints pt2

part one

part three

protective!bts, brothers!bts. feral, bold! emotional!reader

wc: 6038

routine and relationship dynamic description. very gradual, turned out long. mentions of the harsh idol life, harassment, hints at sexual advances; jaded view of idol life; mentions of dieting and body image; passing mention of self-harm twice!

fourth year: dynamic with Yoongi

from the very beginning, three years ago, you had the feeling he is deeper than he lets on

you weren't told by the management that you can't start anything with the boys. you had no conversation like this but you didn't need to. too focused on not fucking up

soon, you started perceiving them as brothers of various closeness: Namjoon is the most brotherly brother, and Hoseok and Seokjin are the brothers who need a little bit of oiling. Yoongi always seemed the quietly protective dude who began treating you with dignity and unconditional kindness from the very beginning. you were spending a lot of time returning this kindness to him, when he allowed it

three years in, he still isn't totally open to you. you find he is simply an introspective person who prefers to keep to himself. he isn't dull or anything: when he is relaxed, drank or happy, he is just as loud as the others. in fact, Yoongi is the one to suddenly produce a feral shriek out of nowhere just to release some pent up energy.

however he is the only one who feels like a total adult because with you, he never shows weakness. you see it from afar. you register his suffering. chronic pain. depression. disfigured left thumb. drank slurring during filming. wincing

Namjoon likes to come to you with his frustrations and you listen to him. but Yoongi keeps his pains to himself or shares with the boys

when you try to poke him out of his shell, he performs the gentlest pushbacks you've ever experienced. he is either too nonchalant about his injured shoulder, or makes a joke out of his failures, or brushes off his rejected songs.

and he does suffer with the shoulder. once or twice he blacks out with pain, and you have the conversation with him about how fainting is the extreme that didn't need to happen if he just told someone he has the shoulder ache.

he listens to you with the hair on his eyes like he is just waiting for you to shut up

in public, you are all a completely impenetrable mass, picture-perfect team. you all stand up for each other no matter what

in reality, Yoongi still prefers to keep you at an arm's length when even the depressive, closed-up, sometimes unfriendly Hoseok had let you in and shares his nightmares with you

the boys start treating you like a sort of a psychologist with time, sensing your willingness to help them with anything

Yoongi doesn't want to add to that weight. he also is burdened with a drawback that isn't a problem for the others: he is in love with you. he naturally avoids eye contact with people = he almost never looks you directly in the eye. he naturally likes his personal space = he almost never hugs you. he is a mature and quiet person = he never gossips or fools around with you. sometimes he tenses up under your touch. he asks to not have the joined parts with you during the performance, going behind your back. he says it's because of the shoulder, and things like lifting you, spinning you, might injure him further. there are rumours in the company he doesn't like you

he doesn't deny you conversations though. he is the person with whom you can speak seriously about Jungkook and his child complex, and how to hop over that critical moment when he becomes an adult, without still making him feel like a kid. you talk about your lives before the company, and your cancelled plans 'in case of a complete failure'

you once tell Yoongi he reminds you of seagulls. he pouts a little. you clarify that you love the seagulls when they wake up at four in the morning and start flying above the dorm and shriek. you say they remind you of sea port cities, and summer; you love the sea; you love seagulls.

you speak about your favourite music from your childhood and teenagehood;

of course you also speak about all those things with other guys; but it hits different with Yoongi. like he is singing the same tune. like he understands before you finish the sentence. he looks at you like he knows you

you also give them compliments. you grow very affectionate with them; replenishing the affection you lack from your family, unable to have close female friends, you develop a habit of pecking them nonchalantly, holding their hands, hugging them without a warning. they also grow to be okay with it and return the gestures. you like to pat them on the heads and ruffle their hair, call them 'your boys' and lean onto them when you want a nap.

you try to assign each of the seven a certain position in your mind. Yoongi is really hard to define for some reason! he is reserved, but very kind, but closed-up, but totally honest, but helpful, but mysterious, and he is super reliable and protective of you, but doesn't need the affection back. you decide he is the Protector

Namjoon is the Older Brother

Jimin is the Partner because you sing in the couple

Jungkook is the Baby. even when he grows up and stands much, much taller than you, when he becomes so big that he can lift you easily with one arm, he is still the boy who sobbed in the narrow space in between the kitchen table and the clothes rack. he will always be the Baby you protect. he jokes about it with his mom

Hoseok is the Keeper, surprisingly, you grow really close speaking about trauma and bond over keeping each other's dark secrets. he is the only one who knows about your self-harming habits and stops them by opening up

Taehyung is the Best Friend who knows what you're about to say before you say it. he is the only one who never babied you, never gave you a pass because you're a girl; he always snaps back at you when you deserve it. he calls you a bitch if you act like a bitch. he carries you on his back when you tear off the nail on your toe in open sandals. two people = one braincell

Seokjin is the Sage: a completely different person from you, he has grown in a different place and was a total adult when you met. he has a different philosophy to life, and different attitude, he doesn't have the problems that you have. it makes it impossible to grow bored with him. you watch him learn to have you around, accept your clinginess. you always follow his advice.

how Yoongi's love sips through even though he is chill about it:

he constantly tries to stay away from you and stand on the other side of the line. only moves closer if he is moved.

the second there's a whiff of a threat, he is magically at your side with the most bored look

gives up the best seats

when your earphones die in the middle of a long bus trip, he gives you his and says he wasn't using them anyway (he was)

just, infinite support

when you doubt yourself, he doesn't protest loudly like the others, but makes a point of showing it later.

when you joke that you seem to be the least popular member, a day later he sends you a link to a fansite where fans gush over you

brings you up in the cutest ways, with the most unaffected face

"who is the most annoying out of all of you?" Yoongi: "Y/N never seems to need makeup. we take forever to get ready to look good, and she just gets out of bed", blinks rapidly, punching his cheek with his tongue, crossing his arms.

when you cut your hand really bad, and he bandages it, makes a bow on top with the tips of the elastic tape

takes your lyrics and suggestions very seriously. treats you like a contributor, even though majority of your songs get rejected because your lyrics are always too aggressive or the wrong genre for BTS.

never forgets what he promised you

never grants you a hajima. infinite patience

when dispersing during free time in travels, and you end up having to go somewhere alone, he tags along

he is the one who catches on the predatory nature of the industry early. he is the one who sees you for the first time and realizes you will be the target. he is the one who realizes that you are the shield for the boys, because you get the most harassment. so, he becomes your shield and teaches others: let's see through her letters and throw away the bad ones. let her sleep a little longer. check out that guy, he is staring too long. go stand on her side, that photographer is too close. sit her in between us

during one of the award ceremonies, him and Jungkook end up punching a guy in the stomach after he asks if you give good heads

Yoongi becomes the filter that spares you of a lot of bullshit from the management. no, she won't be wearing that. no, she won't be performing that. sometimes you want to lash out at him: you can stand up for yourself and say no! but his overprotectiveness is measured. Yoongi never makes a big deal out of it.

when there's nothing to be done about the sexualization of you, he is just close, looking a bit bored, but by your side

he never breaks the hand hold first. he just keeps holding your hand.

writes songs about you, without you knowing. draws inspiration from you

it's by default for him that every romantic gesture for fan service, or a reference to a girl in a song is based on you.

"i like the rain". - "hmm". later he samples rain sounds and gives you a track as a present with no purpose. it's just what he does, you assume. he's always on his computer, like he is glued to it. you listen to the rain sounds to a soft, lofi beat that compliments the hiss, and catch on faint seagull screams in the background

Yoongi chooses the unsociable persona for the public image, the "intimidating, quiet SUGA" so that he never has to flirt with anyone

he slowly, painfully unhurriedly lets you in. first, he stops moving away from the hugs. then he opens up about the shoulder. still refuses to ask for your help on serious matters because "i don't want to bother you more, you already have six of them". he unintentionally makes you feel like you are parents to six kids, once or twice. it fees weird

public interactions with members:

regardless of what the public thinks, you eight go with the more authentic version of your dynamic; there have been multiple orders to pedal the ship agenda, the most popular being you and Jimin because you have the natural, easy chemistry. him, flirty, light and charismatic, and you, tougher, but playful, a bit snappy and confident. you've tried it at first, but it dissipated into the natural affection you and the boys have for each other

so the company weaponizes "the sister" image for you

you hug without restraint, and the fans seem to respond well to the genuine trust you have. they appreciate it when they see you care for the boys, find it entertaining how you are ready to throw hands against a cameraman twice your size, when he gets into Hoseok's face. the videos where you push a camera away or lash out at the director, become viral

as the fanbase slowly accepts you, the people start loving your non-romantic but very affectionate persona

you become the Dragon Chihuahua and are loved for that. you make a point to refer to them as your brothers. you navigate the deadly scrutiny of the people little by little. a month when you aren't called a pick me is considered a success.

you are the most affectionate publicly with Taehyung because he just feels like your twin. Jungkook is naturally drawn to you: he has learnt the nonchalance from you. if he is given shit for clutching you in a hug for too long, he makes that face that is impossible to crack, and nods, without listening

by the time you make it for real, the company, and you eight, realize that your plan of succeeding in spite of their cruel, exploitative experiment, worked. the turmoil has bonded you for life

first signals:

realization that Yoongi might be in love with you doesn't occur for a very, very long time because of how tightly knit you are. you have slept, been sick, travelled, worked, collapsed, cried and vomited together with them, and nothing tips you off

he hides it well but also isn't torn about it. Yoongi still knows you're not going anywhere. he gets to see you. you do not refuse his touch. you like him a lot. he is slightly tugged by the understanding that loving you steadily, the same passionate way, for three years, without actually dating you, is an indicator of something deeper. and he is surprisingly okay with that

he knows also that the day will come, when the management can't hold the sword above your necks anymore. when he will be freer and he will call the shots on his life. when it's safe for everybody, he will approach you and tell you how he feels, and he will take whatever response you give him

at least that's the plan

you both are night creatures. you still get occasional insomnia, plus, Namjoon snores like he is FUCKING NINETY, with moans, and some nights when you fail to fall asleep before him, he makes it impossible to sleep at all. even in earphones. you stride into the kitchen and some nights Yoongi will show up as well, but to him, it's a raid for a snack or a coffee, because he is hungry or needs to stay awake to work

"i can hear Namjoon's snoring even through the wall" and he gives a chuckle that is entertained

you make him a coffee if you run into each other

you find that you really like his whispering voice and sincerely tell him it sounds super sexy and he should incorporate it into music somehow

"i love the purring"

he laughs shuddering as the edges of his jaw go slightly pink

you have these occasional night talks and on the third time, he stays longer, forgetting that he wants to get back to work. speaking with him is easy and interesting. he is deeply intelligent and humble, but also has that dark sense of humour where he doesn't hide that he wishes to commit homicide as life experience.

you think he is the cutest of the bunch but of course you never compare them

they are all your favourite

you don't need to learn to dodge those uncomfortable questions because it's true. it's just the fact that you find him to be objectively handsome. his brooding pout, the outward cuteness of his fluffy hair and the glimmering eyes, and the internal maturity are an attractive combo. you had been asked numerous times by tactless interviewers, who is the prettiest member. sometimes Yoongi'd fence off that question like he always protected you. sometimes you could just say, that of course it's the WWH Seokjin. mostly you say Namjoon because he gets the most hate for his "non-standard" looks. sometimes, if you felt tired or cranky, you'd say something snappy back, like "me" or "Bang PD" or "if you saw these guys in the mornings you wouldn't be asking that"

but the simple subjective truth is that Yoongi is the prettiest in your opinion, and it doesn't add or take anything away. in a group of people, someone is bound to be the most good-looking

his smile is paralyzing

seeing that he is naturally reserved, you never fail to give him compliments. especially in private when he knows it's sincere. especially when you learn Yoongi apparently doesn't think he's pretty? wild

when you do, he always makes that face that looks like he suddenly gets sharp stomach ache

once he actually does, and turns out he has appendicitis

"you gave me internal inflammation Y/N". - and suddenly it feels so personal. he is in the hospital bed, the most vulnerable you've seen him, and he's still gently snarky with you

he asks you to tell him about the seagulls and the sea port city often. like it's a fairytale he likes? you just tell him without cracking your brain about it. this is not the strangest thing that's happened. other boys have WAY weirder habits:

Seokjin demands that you massage his scalp with your long nails when you start getting them. he also INSISTS you're present every time he cooks because he is hell-bent on teaching you to cook

Jimin needs to stand REALLY close to you before going on stage, to "catch your breath" because it's his lucky charm. the worst part is that it's not sexual at all. come on, breathe on me. do it or we'll fuck up

Taehyung likes to slap you around like you are his beer drinking buddy. he also needs to match socks with you or he has a mental breakdown

Namjoon has gotten a wild random idea that you want to collect plants (projection) and he just. keeps. bringing you plants. all the time. the room is full of dying plants.

Hoseok doesn't get how pushing you right in your crotch is inappropriate because ever since he's seen blood drip down your legs as you ran into the bathroom in the morning, he has been traumatized and gone bonkers. he is your main dancing coach who helps you do the splits and stretches you, so his hands have been everywhere, even in places you'd prefer nobody touched you. Hobi has touching area blindness at this point, and you simply learnt to smack his hands away.

Jungkook insists on doing your hair. he needs to align your favourite superheroes with his favourite superheroes. he sometimes writes down your dreams that you tell in the mornings, into the note app

in comparison to all that you find Yoongi's love for the seagulls image sweet. you tell him again and again about how you want to stay at a place where there are pines outside, and in the mornings, seagulls soar above the building, and shriek happily, and then there's the deep, tantalizing steamship hoot. the sounds of sea. small trams rattling down the streets. the blue of the morning sky and the snow-white of seagull wing outside the window. the peace of being unknown, quiet, in a little city from which boats drift away to bigger places. fish market. sea birds stealing food. the stillness of a morning when you don't need to go anywhere except you will catch one of those boats later, and sail away, watching the seagulls dancing around, above water. and that's what Yoongi feels like. you find his company peaceful because he is like a person from a very well-written book about comfort. he is gentle with things and people around him. he is never rude

when you are completely drained, lonely, when you are tired of it all, of this race, of this competition, the constant criticism, the bullying, the pressures, the makeup on your face, the smiles, you find yourself in the kitchen of the dorm, completely lifeless, in the shape of a puddle. sometimes you cry, sometimes you scream, sometimes you're mute and your body doesn't perform even the basic operations. the three people who are next to you in those moments the most are Namjoon, Seokjin and Yoongi

it finally clicks into place when you win the first Daesang. in the hotel room, damp with sweat, exhausted from happiness, with your sore feet, you keep dancing in circle and then finally land on a soft place to drink. you've drunk together before and never has anything weird happened. you never got the urge to play bottle or do something that was off. yes Jimin got more flirty when drunk. Hoseok grew quieter. Namjoon became more chatty and Yoongi, more relaxed and approachable. but on that insane night when everything finally changed you find yourself collapsing onto his lap and sit there for too long. the first several minutes it's totally normal. you sit on Namjoon's lap all the time, you may do that with others, too. they sit on each other's laps for variety shows. but now it's too comfortable. Yoongi is too lively as he lightly keeps his hand on your back. as the time passes, you catch Taehyung's curious stare, then the same one from Jungkook. they say nothing and nobody tries to make it awkward, but you slowly get off. Yoongi's hand falls relaxed on the bed next to him as you sit away

you start noticing the way he looks at you and you have no idea if you're reading into things

you know one thing: you are twenty-three and you are a virgin and you haven't thought about dating in years. also, apparently you find Yoongi attractive. you start getting nervous when shooting together, when he is forced to be agitated, fun and loud. when it's playful bickering, or hugging for the camera, or the touch on stage, it comes out sensual. suddenly you start realizing how monstrously much time you spend together. he's there like, the whole time

finally you get why the boys were bothered by you changing in front of them. back then, you'd get irritated: we're in the same boat, get over it. now, when you see Yoongi change, even though he never does it in your face, you are bothered. you see the growing muscles in his shoulders. his back. his belly button. the small appendix scar stares at you, pink.

you spend the days pondering on whether you have seen too many male belly buttons in the last three years

you can tell the boys apart by their belly buttons and you ask yourself if it's too much of information

Taehyung pulls you out of the thinking by smacking you on the back of your head, and you blurt out that you never want to see his belly button again

in response, he pulls up his shirt and puts his belly button right into your face

how it begins:

the night meetings in the kitchen aren't regular. you don't necessarily have an insomnia schedule, and Yoongi doesn't always get hung up on his laptop all night

you ask him to show you what he's doing, and most often he says it's not ready yet. but sometimes he shows you later, in the afternoon

life has been changing: not all the boys spend the whole nights at the dorm now. some of them sleep somewhere else

it's quieter

when Yoongi surrenders a window seat to you nowadays, you give him longer looks, trying to read what he doesn't speak

when he gives you the better part of the sandwich, you try to give it back and he pushes your hand away

you stop holding hands again

when he is standing next to you, he will often stare into space, his eyes alerted slightly

but when he looks at you, you notice this unsettling softness in his gaze

bitter gentleness that gives you whiplash. yeah i memorized you said you like this very specific type of drink that is only sold in Vietnam, and brought it to you, and already put the straw in, now fuck off type of behaviour

you will brush his hair into place with a serious expression in between the takes when shooting. he doesn't flinch anymore but relaxes like a family dog

this is like rooting a tree. you can feel the base going into the soil and settling

once, when you are alone in the room, Hobi comes in super eager, speaking loudly, and shoves himself in between you two because he suddenly needs to get this particular fork, no, topping, no, bottle opener from the cupboard. you have been simply talking, but you both are forced to step aside

the other time, when he is making you laugh too much during dance practice, Jungkook falls onto your lap and joins, his infectious giggle breaking the moment

and another time, when Yoongi is about to take the suitcase from your hand, Seokjin steps to you and takes it first, nodding at him: how's your shoulder? don't bother

and another, and another time. you do nothing out of the ordinary, don't overstep the lines, there's no lingering looks even. they see that Yoongi looks too happy, and rush to break the moment

until one night, while Namjoon is snoring and Jungkook is fucking someone somewhere (he is twenty!!!), you collide in the kitchen again

you make him a coffee

he reports to you in a slightly coarse, whiney voice

shakes the seagull-wing white hair away from his eyes and stares into yours

the small light makes him looks so cosy

accidental touch of the hands above the table results in the wildest burst of goosebumps you've experienced in years

before you know it, you're kissing, and it scares you

it doesn't last long, for around ten seconds, then you break it. you're terrified and elated at the same time

you touch his throat and find it very warm

you mutter that you need to go to sleep and he lets you go, nodding, but there's no going back to what it used to be

how the boys react:

Namjoon has a serious conversation with Yoongi and comes out of it way less alarmed than he was previously, but instead with a feeling of doom

Yoongi is older than him, he has never let anyone down, he is the mature one in the group. it's bizarre seeing him break the rules, especially when he knows it can affect the others

he gives Namjoon his word it's going to be okay. he has no idea if Namjoon knows that you already kissed. it's only that the others feel this tension growing and growing, and it's an almost inescapable situation. the swelling will burst sooner or later, Yoongi says. the feelings have been there for almost four years. he could remove himself from the group, of course

literally nobody wants that, and Yoongi doesn't mean it

he wants to be there. with his band. with you. with his dream. with his pace. with his slowly, slowly growing freedom

it's not a big apartment still, where you live. it's not a town where a word can travel. the word doesn't travel. it settles onto everybody at once, everybody silently understands that something is happening

Yoongi is happier, and you are jumpier

"you remember about the rule?" Jimin asks him cautiously

there's nothing going on. no hookups, no dating. it's just the realization, and it's not that either of you can help it

everything becomes heightened

when filming, you now notice every time he touches you

during photoshoots, you see clearly when the concept is for the shipping purposes

now you hear absolutely everything he says

you giggle

when he looks at you, it's long

when you're paired together, people agree you are electric

pretty soon there's a new popular ship: you and Yoongi, and it gets a dedicated fandom

the boys try to be cool and generally manage that; they agree it's actually none of their business. drama doesn't ensue; they don't catch you making out; as an additional bonus, you both seem happier

Yoongi gradually lets go of his habit of drinking before filming because he is less stressed. if earlier, it was stress and chronic pain, now it's only chronic pain

how it's going:

"you know, a day before you arrived for the first time, Bang PD gathered us in the studio and told us that there's only one rule. if any of us... uh..." he's thinking, his head turning towards his laptop. he is holding you on his lap, "makes a move at you or even looks in your direction, that person is out of the band".

"i don't give a shit anymore"

his studio is locked, it's sound proof, and there are no cameras. it's literally the only safe space

you write prose, he picks the lyrics out of it

you sit on his lap while working, or chill on the couch

hand on the neck, palm on the waist, clutching your thigh, fingers behind the ear

holding hands in the kitchen during the dinner, under the table

sneaking glances while in the dressing room

kissing goodnight at the speed of light in the dark spot of the corridor between the ceiling lamp light and the threshold to your bedroom

night dates in the kitchen when Namjoon snores

Namjoon doesn't know that he has become The Facilitator

"i don't feel well, i'd rather go to the hotel for the rest of the day, if we're done here".

"yeah, i am falling asleep, i'll go too"

managers watch you like hawks

the other six will give you the dead eye but they never stop you. little by little, they accept that it's not just an irresponsible desire to stir up shit, but that there's some feelings going on

Hobi becoming the designated lookout:

he hiccups as a signal to move away from each other when someone else comes in the room

on Run BTS, they stop giving you the spy role, because you fool Yoongi every time, or he straight up gives in to you

going on walks deep in the night around the neighbourhood when there's zero people on the street

as it goes on, you ask yourself if there will ever be an opportunity to actually be together?

Taehyung comes to the dorm to the sound of laughter from Yoongi's room and realizes he wants to protect whatever is going on between you two

"you are my music"

when he tells you he had a crush on you from the DAY HE MET YOU, you realize you hadn't known a Yoongi who isn't in love with you

sex only happening in his studio because you are both paranoid

"no making out on my bed!! you hear me?" Seokjin is the only one who is paranoid even more. one month the guy suddenly gets an idea that you two must fuck every chance you get, on any surface, when in reality you barely have time to share a drink together

no texting because the management monitors all your phones

they ask Yoongi why he's been calling you so much lately. they see the spike and immediately inquire

he gaslights them the way only Min Yoongi can. rolls his eyes. shakes the mint hair off his eyes. "we've been writing songs for the last four months, that didn't tip you off? I also call Namjoon every day. gonna ask about that?"

it becomes obvious that the rest of the members all get on board and try to protect this... "relationship"?

sitting on the ground, watching the trams pass by, eating ice cream, not touching because there are cameras everywhere

even surrounded by staff, people, members, and the city, he finds a moment to say very quietly that he loves you

not "i am in love with you", not "i have feelings for you"

"i love you" and then he licks his orange ice cream

when the rumours start going around that Yoongi x Y/N ship is getting popular, Taehyung suddenly grows super affectionate with you and starts taking you out for coffee every week

you start asking Namjoon out to go to museums and you post pictures together

Jimin creates a joke where he tells you on the stage that he is jealous but never mentions why

all it does is creates additional drama, but at least that one picture in which Yoongi looks at you like you are his precious treasure, is drowned

that's the main problem: you have no trouble not making out, you do not do PDA, you never get caught. the issue is the way you exist around each other, like you adore each other too much

saving the cutest pictures of Yoongi into a special folder on your phone as you name it "references"

Jungkook and Taehyung get matching bracelets, but you don't get to

Seokjin and Namjoon get a vacation together, without the cameras, just spending time together, but you don't get to

your thighs start growing because of the hormonal shift after losing your virginity. it becomes less easy to maintain certain weight

your personal manager, a girl, clocks it pretty early on, and she is irrevocably another one of your protectors: she doesn't ask extra questions and buries a lot of things, but doesn't necessarily encourage anything

kissing senseless in the kitchen at night

chairs creak too much

one time you even manage to take a shower together while everybody is sleeping, except Jungkook who constantly dicks around somewhere at nights. he comes to the dorm exactly when you get out, and you three stare at each other in the corridor. you give him the pep talk in whispers about the dangers of unprotected sex and one night stands, while Yoongi is drying your head with his towel

admiring Yoongi from a distance. it's easier than it seems because you're constantly in a bunch and often watch each other

fans marry you in memes

fights:

Taehyung still often fights with everybody over food. he has never shaken off his older brother complex when his younger siblings stole all his food.

Jimin bickers with everybody because with time he grows more and more into his diva persona. it's super sweet but sometimes he is whiney and demanding

you are whiney too. years of being spared of certain responsibilities, constant compliments as they try to lift you up, the protection, the love bombing, the special treatment, make you a little entitled. you allow yourself to be capricious from time to time, seeing that your seven brothers most often give in to you

Seokjin fights with Hoseok and Jungkook over the littlest shit, like them breathing too loudly. he also never fails to mention how you left your toothbrush three millimeters away from the designated spot

they do not leave the dishes to soak in water. they put the fucking plates on the side of the sink and the crust becomes stone and you BREAK those plates in blind rage

fighting over what movie to watch

as they are all growing, the dorm becomes smothering small for you eight, and conflicts actually pile up. they are never profound, but irritating like mosquitoes

Namjoon is obsessed with catching and killing ALL mosquitoes in all rooms and keeps bothering everybody, climbing over sleeping bodies following the ringing in his ears

when playing Alias, and it's not Jin's turn, Jin will still yell the answer out, just to be a bitch

Jimin tears out a handful of his hair

them fighting over their videogames

and you becoming livid if they win and gloat

Yoongi is super patient with everybody. he never snaps, but he has another drawback: he is painfully straightforward and has always been. if something doesn't fit, he will immediately tell. if he thinks the joke didn't land, he will let you know. when he is tired, he forgets to make sure his comments are gentle and not cruel

you have an argument about your lyrics where he says it's a bunch of rambling but fails to mention he likes it when you ramble because it's introspective and a stream of consciousness makes a beautiful song

you explode and he shuts down, it's the first time that you are fighting with Yoongi, and you and all the boys huddled in the kitchen realize this visceral reaction that you have is because Yoongi occupies the special position for you. you go to your room and smash your laptop

it's not good because while you are still on a strict contract, you do not really own anything. the blanket is not yours, it was given by the company. the computer was bought with the company's money. the clothes you are wearing, the makeup, shampoo, phones, it all belongs to them and you do, as well

Yoongi is forced out of the room by the sound of your laptop being destroyed and says that your temper has been getting worse lately. only him and Seokjin ever say it out loud, but everybody feels relieved that it's been pronounced, because it's true

Hobi takes you to the store to buy a new laptop

you don't speak with Yoongi for two days. you don't hide it. on the weekly group talk that you have with the manager who is a kind of an HR, this is brought up, and the boys say that they are super stressed by your attitude sometimes. it doesn't sound out loud again, but they mean they think they had spoiled you

the truth is, you have been dieting, you have been sick, stressed, and now that popularity grows, you get a lot of "sponsor" and "yachting" type of invitations. you have been told your band may get an American nomination if you spend an evening with an important person. you had to live with the guilt of saying no. majority of your songs get rejected even when Yoongi works on them, because they are just "not that". you have been struggling with food. and then the person you are in love with tells you your silly little writings are all rambling. you are the least popular member of BTS, people bring posters to the shows sometimes, that say that you should quit and the boys will be better off without you. sometimes you fantasize what it would be like for them if you really quit. the corporate gynaecologist doesn't believe you when you tell her you've only had one partner. she laughs at you. many male peers ignore your existence during award ceremonies, preferring to chat with the boys. finally, when you get an award collectively, you never take the microphone, even when Namjoon shoves it into your hands, because you feel like they won, not you.

you crash the chair you're sitting on into the wall and say all that, well, not say, you scream about all this, rape invitations included, only leaving out the being in love with your bandmate part

Jungkook sobs, and you are caught in the vicious cycle again where you feel like you are not allowed to express any negative emotions, because it affects them. in your mind, you hold the full responsibility for Jungkook, and if you make him upset, it bugs you for the rest of the month. Namjoon approaches you like you're a rabid animal and hugs you, begging you to please stop

he is holding you to himself until you stop shaking. you tell him you hate Yoongi. he says you know you don't

the HR decides to finish up here, and Yoongi is the first to leave the room

you know you are still badly adjusted to this life. even depressive Hoseok and sensitive Taehyung are doing better than you.

[kngstrnz]

Sorry for the sudden reblog OP, especially because we aren't mutuals, but I couldn't help myself upong reading Anon.

Anon, I understand how you feel. I actually used to struggle with that sense of "paranoia". Funnily enough (and this might help ease some of your worries, maybe?), I had this feeling of not being enough for the fandom by writing in ENGLISH and not my first language which is Spanish.

I am a small writer. Always have been since I created my AO3 account and used to go by another username and wrote a bunch of misawa fics before deleting all my works and rebranding myself. But that's not so important here. Thing is, even if you were to write in English for that "wider reach", chances are you still won't be able to stand on the same pedestal as the "Big Writers" and you know something, anon? I think that is more than okay.

Anon, I apologize if this may come of as rude, but the reality is (and this applies to anything and EVERYONE, really) that not everyone will like what you write and that's okay! That's why there's a lot to choose from!! But, the most important thing here is to not give up. I was close to just... never writing again. But that's the thing for all of us writers, even when we don't want to, we always end up going back to writing.

I know it can be hard and even when you write in that "popular language", the spotlight might never shine on you. But don't be discourage, because when you feel like no one is looking that's when we feel the most free. Anon, I say this because it happened to me, but you WILL eventually find someone who loves your writing so much, they will let you know in every chapter and in every new story you make how amazing your performance is.

Don't look at that empty seats. Look at the one espectator that is seeing you for who you are and clapping and cheering for you. All you need is to be patient. And it may take years (I have been writing since 2011 and just last year, I found that someone and it wasn't until this year that we started talking in private). But you know what they say, you can't rush perfection!

Just because you aren't "big enough", doesn't mean your writing is bad. Though, if you want to try and translating your fics in english, I do encourage it if you want to!! It hasn't been long since I started translating my own fics in my native language and to tell you the truth anon, I have more fun writing in Spanish than English because I can add my own country's idioms amd phrases that make me laugh and that's all it matters at the end of the day. For your writing to be for one reader and one reader only: yourself.

I don't know if this is the right place to vent this, but since this is a writing/fandom blog, I'll give it a try. Apologies in advance if my message feels out of the place.

So... has anyone, like me, ever felt "unwanted" by their fandom?

Context: I write for a small fandom (1,500 works on AO3), and I write there from the beginning and foundation (4 years). The thing is: I don't write in English, I write and post in my first language, so my audience was always been very restricted, even if there were (and still are!) a couple of kind souls who translate with Google my stories and read it. I am the most prolific writer in this fandom. And that's a fact: counting the numbers of words published, I am the one who has written more in the whole section. Despite all of this, I have never gotten the chance to become a "fandom big" because of the language barrier. That's okay, I can survive, and I still write every day to update my ongoing longs. Anyway, since this fandom is very small, we are also thirsty for content. Every time an artist posts a single fan art on Tumblr (good or bad or mid) everyone flocks and reblog, putting nice tags and kind words of support. Every time I update a fic (I'm the only one writing regularly)... radio silence. I know they don't own me anything. And it's okay if they don't want to try to engage with my writing, but still... it breaks my heart. It's like I'm invisible. And what's worse... when people talk about our fandom stories on Tumblr they always refer to old fics, to authors who didn't update their stories in years... it's always like they are excluding me on purpose. And I don't know why. When I try to engage, to leave a nice comment on a fic or on a piece of art... they don't even acknowledge me. They always act super enthusiastic when an artist makes a new drawing... but when I put a new chapter, a new story... nothing.

And what's worst: when a "fandom king" makes a post about a headcanon or something... it's always something that goes against something I've written in one of my stories. As they're trying to say: "Don't read those stories. What the author is trying to say is just rubbish. Don't even acknowledge them. "

I don't even know if I'm just being paranoid because I have always been ostracized as a kid and even in my teen years... so it's like a curse I can't wash off myself, and I see people pushing me aside because I'm still suffering from this.

Sorry for the vent... I just would like to hear another voice about my situation. I don't have friends, and even when I try to make "fandom friends", well... I'm not so lucky, as you can see.

Thank you if you would like to read my message. I send a big hug to anyone who is suffering from this kind of issue.

anon, I fully believe this is a language barrier thing. you can’t expect people to engage with you when they can’t engage with something that’s, I assume, in language they don’t understand. and don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing wrong with writing in other languages that aren’t English. but the thing is that you can’t expect people to engage with something that’s not in the language they know, it’s… just not possible. because even if they want to, they just don’t understand what the work even is about.

and Google translate is actually shit when it comes to actually translating. you only get what the text is about (and even then there’s still a 50/50 chance the translation will be off completely) but not the actual feeling, something that can only be translated by humans and not robots, that’s why most people don’t use google translate to help read fics or books in languages they don’t understand. I also know when most people search for a fic to read, they only search for their language and filter out fics that aren’t in their language altogether. so that’s why. I don’t think they’re trying to exclude you, I just think that it’s impossible for them to engage with your works. and I want to make it clear that I am in no way saying you should only write in English, all I’m saying is if your works are in languages that (some) people don’t speak, then they’re not gonna be able to read your works because google translate sucks at translating and if they don’t even have a glimpse of what the works are about, they’re not gonna bother trying to translate them in the first place.

again, this isn’t to say “oh you should write in English” or “works that are written in English are better” at all. write in the language you’re most comfortable with because at the end of the day you should be writing for you. just, you know, don’t get discouraged if people can’t engage with your works.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[keypostos]

caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.

caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.

when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.

he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.

[kthologue]

if i can't have you— gojo satoru

contents. fluff, clanhead!gojo, yandere tendencies, oblivious!reader, he’s a little sick in the head but reader's an enabler

notes. a little concept i thought of. not proofread sigh

clanhead!gojo, who you’ve known your entire life. born into two of the oldest jujutsu clans, you were raised side by side. you were the only constant in a world that demanded everything from him before he even had the chance to ask.

clanhead!gojo, who swears that you’re like a little sister. always an irritating and reckless thorn in his side, always throwing yourself into things without thinking. he says it like a joke, like a punchline, hoping the words will sound true if he repeats them enough.

but he knows it is not. not with the way clanhead!gojo has practically been obsessed with you since his youth. who has everyone falling at his feet. who abuses his power in order to keep you by his side, no matter the cost.

clanhead!gojo who remembers many years ago how he had persuaded you, with that devil-may-care grin, that it would be a brilliant idea to practice your first kiss together. “come on,” he’d said, “wouldn’t it be better to do it with someone you trust?”

clanhead!gojo, who feels invincible when you finally kiss him for the first time, as if everything in his life had led to this moment. in that instant, he knows that there’s no way he’s ever letting you slip away.

but now clanhead!gojo is stuck listening when your aunts gather in hushed tones over tea, whispering about your latest courtships, your hopeful suitors, the potential match your clan is eyeing. he pretends not to care. he tells himself he doesn’t. that he's gotten over you. that he's gotten over a silly childhood infatuation. and yet his jaw tenses. his eyes narrow. his hand curls into a fist beneath the table where no one can see.

he tells himself it’s just instinct. old habits. protective, brotherly concern. he’s always been like that with you, hasn’t he? watching your back. hovering too close. stepping in even when he shouldn’t.

but it’s not concern that keeps him up at night replaying the sound of your laughter, or the way your smile lingers like a bruise on his chest. it’s not brotherly to remember the curve of your shoulder when you walked ahead of him at the last clan gathering, unaware he was staring.

it’s not family that makes him hate the idea of you belonging to anyone but yourself. or worse—anyone but him.

and yet he says nothing.

but he listens. and he watches as the stranger sits beside you at a clan meeting. 

the room is filled with hushed chatter and the clinks of porcelain dishes. it’s a formal clan dinner, with every head of every allied family gathered around the table. gojo satoru sits at the head, uncharacteristically silent, fielding endless questions about the clan’s future.

but he’s not listening.

he can’t.

all because you had walked in with a man he doesn’t recognize, smiling and practically glowing, introducing him as a dear friend from a recent trip to kanazawa.

and satoru’s blood has been boiling ever since.

honestly, don’t you have shame?  bringing home a man you have yet to commit to—what are you trying to prove? 

he clenches his jaw and bites his tongue as elders speak around him, voices muffled beneath the sound of your laughter floating down the table. that bright kind of laughter he used to hear in private back when it was just the two of you skipping meetings and chasing dragonflies.

“sato?”

the nickname cuts through the room like a knife.

you’re smiling at him. that teasing, knowing smile that makes his chest cave in.

“what are you brooding over there for?” you ask, tilting your head just slightly. innocent. unbothered. as if you hadn’t just upended his entire sense of balance with your presence.

the sound of his name, that version of his name slips from your mouth like silk, soft and far too familiar for the way things are supposed to be now.

he stiffens, a flush crawling up his neck that he prays no one notices. he used to bristle at that nickname—sato—when you first gave it to him. but now? it’s the only name that makes his heart stutter.

 “i don’t think you’d be able to handle the thoughts in my head right now,” gojo says smoothly, his voice a little too soft to be casual.

it’s almost convincing, except even he can’t make sense of the storm in his chest.

you tilt your head, eyes glinting. “are you calling me dumb?”

gojo chuckles, the sound warm and real. it was the first genuine laugh that’s passed his lips all evening. “no, no. i’d never dare. i’ve seen you with a fan and a grudge. i fear for my life.”

you lean forward slightly, lips quirking. “smart man.”

he raises an eyebrow, playful. “i have my moments.”

“few and far between.”

he grins. “yet somehow i’m still your favorite.”

you roll your eyes, but the fondness in your gaze betrays you. “you’re delusional.”

“maybe.” he lets his eyes linger on you a beat too long. “but i’m not wrong.”

there’s a pause.

just long enough for your date, who’s been quiet through the exchange to glance between you two and clear his throat.

“i didn’t realize you two were so… close,” he says, the question barely hidden in the statement.

gojo doesn’t look away from you when he replies, voice lighter than air. “old friends. we go way back.”

you smile politely at your date, but there’s something wistful in your expression. “some habits are hard to break.”

and gojo swears he sees it—that flicker of doubt in the other man’s eyes.

good.

let him know you were never his to win.

that’s why when you storm into the compound three days later, hair slightly tousled and annoyance written all over your usually composed face, tossing your phone on the table with a dramatic sigh, clanhead!gojo can’t help it.

he feels elated.

he plays it cool, of course. reclines back on the tatami mat, long limbs stretched out, lips twitching at the corners.

“what’s got you in a mood?” he asks, already knowing the answer. already hoping.

you shoot him a look and groan. “he ghosted me. just disappeared.”

gojo raises an eyebrow, biting back a smile. it was a good thing that bastard made himself scarce before gojo had to intervene.

“how long has it been since the dinner, three whole days? should we send out a search party? put up flyers?”

you scowl. “i’m being vulnerable and you’re making jokes.”

he holds up his hands in mock surrender, but the grin sneaks in anyway. “sorry, sorry. it’s just... shocking. who wouldn’t want the pleasure of being haunted by you on a daily basis?”

you glare at him, but it’s softened by the way your lips threaten a smile. “don’t make me regret confiding in you.”

he shrugs, letting the silence settle for a moment. then, more quietly,  “maybe he realized he was in over his head.”

you look at him, surprised by the shift in tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

gojo meets your gaze, and for a second, there’s something else there.

“not everyone’s built to handle someone who actually matters,” he says, voice casual, but his fingers tap a restless rhythm on his knee.

you blink. “well. that was weirdly nice. are you feeling okay?”

he rolls his eyes. “i'm always this kind.”

but you’re still looking at him, eyebrows furrowed, like you’re trying to piece something together.

“i just...” you hesitate. “it’s starting to feel like maybe i’m not supposed to end up with anyone. like i scare people off.”

something flashes in gojo’s eyes, too fast to name.

“you don’t scare everyone,” he says quietly.

you don’t respond immediately, but your gaze holds his  like you're trying to decipher something he hasn’t said. gojo doesn’t break eye contact either, and it feels like you’re both trapped in a trance.

then, you scoff, breaking the silence.

“you don’t count,” you say, your voice light but filled with an edge.

he raises an eyebrow, half amused, half confused. “what? why not?”

you tilt your head slightly, lips curling into a half-smile that feels a little too vulnerable. “i don’t know… you’re different.”

gojo’s expression shifts, softening just enough to make his heart beat a little faster. 

“i mean…” you trail off, awkward for a moment before you manage to push the words out. “it’s not a normal relationship to practice our first kiss together.”

he blinks, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift in tone.

and then, it hits him. his teenage self’s desperate, pathetic attempt at wooing you.

right. that. the kiss.

gojo sometimes forgets how much of a charmingly conniving little shit he used to be. the memory of his teenage self trying too hard, fumbling with the moment, comes rushing back. a rush of warmth rises to his cheeks, but he hides it behind a sarcastic grin.

you shift, and for a moment, there’s this quiet understanding between you both. 

he looks at you, really looks at you, the usual teasing spark in his eyes replaced with something different. he opens his mouth to say something, but the words don’t come out right away.

"you know..." he starts, his voice lower than usual. "maybe we never really practiced that first kiss. maybe it was just the first time we... realized it was something we should've done a lot sooner."

you blink at him, your heart unexpectedly catching in your throat.

“wait…what?” you say, laughter bubbling nervously at the edges of your words, but the way your voice trembles says something different.

gojo just looks at you, the corners of his lips curling into something that almost resembles vulnerability. “didn't you feel something too?” he steps a little closer, eyes fixed on yours like he's trying to read the unreadable.

and maybe you finally realize it then, like a wave crashing over you that he’s been trying to say this for so long. 

you take a shaky breath, locking eyes with him. “you’re not saying that you have feelings for me...?”

gojo rubs his temples, letting out a frustrated laugh. “i have been at your mercy my entire life, how much more obvious could i be?” his voice is a mix of exasperation and something deeper, the smirk on his lips faltering for just a moment, his usual cocky demeanor slipping as his frustration becomes clear.

he leans in slightly, his tone turning more intense. “i made all of the guys at jujutsu tech swear off to you." the words hang between you two, and for the first time, there’s no playfulness in his voice, just the truth, raw and unapologetic.

you freeze, disbelief painting your face. your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to process his words, before you finally manage a shocked gasp. "that was you?!"

his posture casual as though this is nothing new, but there’s a subtle intensity behind his playful demeanor. "well, i didn’t trust anyone else around you. "

your heart beats louder now, your breath quickening. you know you should be angry, that you should call him out for his overbearing actions, for crossing boundaries in a way that feels almost possessive. yet, despite your better judgment, a twisted part of you can’t help but feel… pleased.

but it’s still too much to say all at once. so, you take a deep breath, and you can’t help but laugh softly. the years of hesitation comes crashing down.

your voice quieter now, more certain. “so... what do we do about it?”

“get married. have ten kids. move to a cozy cottage in okinawa,” the words almost slip out, unbidden, but gojo stops himself. it’s too much to ask, too soon.

instead, he finds himself leaning in, his fingers gently cupping your cheeks, the touch almost trembling despite his usual confidence. his thumb brushes against the soft skin of your face, and for a moment, everything else fades. he realizes in that moment that nothing in his life could possibly matter more than this.

you blink up at him, and in the way your eyes look back at him so widely, so softly—he feels like he’s been holding his breath his whole life, just waiting for this. waiting for you to look at him like that. he could drown in that gaze, could get lost in it forever.

gojo leans closer, his heart pounding, each beat louder than the last. and then, finally, he kisses you.

it’s not rushed. it’s not like the first time, awkward and fumbling, full of uncertainty. no, this time, it’s everything he has wanted and more. his lips move against yours with the kind of certainty he’s never known before, and when he pulls away just a fraction, it feels as though the world has stolen his breath, leaving him gasping for air.

so gojo goes back in for another.

[catcatb0y]

I ran out of tag... (It's mostly like two things that end up becoming annoyingly intertwined the more the series goes on). He was only powerful when it was convenient to the power scaling, which led to him being constantly put in otherwise intensely traumatizing victim situations solely to spur the main character into saving him no matter the cost. Which normally would have only furthered his unrealistic inferiority complex (and also his fear of weakness as well as distaste for weak people given how many people VICTIM BLAMED HIM, which you'd think would only confirm his fucking bias??) which OOPS was made into a... realistic inferiority complex?? Somehow solely to show that the MC somehow managed to grow past the underdog he never fucking was, and since the fans adored this, that became his only character! Yeah, somehow THAT was his big character growth...

He went from a complex, morally grey character to UwU empty ship fodder, and the fans of the series ate it up SO much that one of the main villains (one of the only people who genuinely acknowledged the strength and horrible treatment of my silly guy) telling him 'You're useless actually, I just want to kill you to make that other kid sad lol-' is seen as his PEAK. That. That's his peak. That's the "good ol days" the shipdom romantacizes. A villain poking at his weakness and deepest insecurity is somehow the canonizing moment of the ship (and it doesn't even happen, MC gets mad at his best friend's death for three seconds and then effortlessly kicks the villain's ass, as like the shittiest cherry on top) < it only gets worse from there!

I was also a shipper back in the day, and, in hindsight, I really should have seen the whole shitshow coming, but unfortunately I went on to dedicate six years to this hyperfixation that continues to haunt me three years after I attempted to quit the fandom cold turkey. It didn't even work.

reblog this with one canon thing you dislike / think is flawed about your blorbo and/or the way they were written

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Mobster

Chicago - 1931 The Height of Prohibition The mafia is earning top dollar smuggling alcohol into the country. And one mobster has his eye on you.

Yandere! Mobster who's a made man, who drives a nice car even after the stock market crash forced most people to sell theirs.

Yandere! Mobster who wears a tailored suit and fedora, his black hair swept back. Who everyone in the neighbourhood says is a good guy, a decent man, even if he does work for the don.

Yandere! Mobster who pulls up next to you when you're walking home from work. It's late and clouds are scudding across the moon.

Yandere! Mobster who leans out his window and offers to drive you home. Who says these streets ain't safe for a pretty girl like you.

Yandere! Mobster who's known you since you were children. Two kids from immigrant families, playing together in the tiny bits of open space your apartments could offer.

Yandere! Mobster who keeps looking at you and marvelling at how grown up you both are. Where did that scruffy little girl go? And when did you get so pretty?

Yandere! Mobster who spends the whole drive chatting about old times. Who makes you laugh at his stories about running from the landlady and stashing his school books behind the canteen.

Yandere! Mobster who leans over you and pulls the door closed when you move to get out. Who looks you dead in the eye when he asks if you're having trouble with your rent.

The mob is a big part of the community afterall, and he knows just about everything.

You drop your eyes, embarrassed. Your brothers have their own families to care for, you say. Things are hard but if you pick up a few more shifts at the factory, you might manage it.

Yandere! Mobster who sighs and digs in his suit pocket. Who pulls out a stack of cash and counts it right in front you.

Yandere! Mobster who offers you enough for two months of rent. A small fortune to someone from your part of town.

You shake your head, horrified. You can't afford the interest, you tell him.

Yandere! Mobster who scoffs and asks if you really think he's offering a loan when you've known each other for years? It's a gift, to keep your mama out of the cold.

Yandere! Mobster who smiles at the hesitant way you accept the money. You're too proud to ever ask for help and he knows it. Just like when you were kids.

Yandere! Mobster who gets out and opens the car door for you like a gentleman, even if he knows the whole apartment building will talk about it.

Yandere! Mobster who grins that charming, good guy smile even though he has a gun holstered under his jacket and a shovel in the trunk. Who says he'll consider things even if you cook him dinner some time.

Yandere! Mobster who visits your ma while you're at work. Who tells her he's interested in you and wants her blessing. And your ma is all too happy to give it. He's such a good boy, she says, and she knows he's always had a soft spot for you.

Yandere! Mobster who insists on driving you home after work everyday. Even when you blush and complain that he's going out of his way.

Yandere! Mobster who gratefully accepts the gifts you offer him. Fresh baked bread, jars of your mama's famous marinara sauce, homecooked meals... Who eats so much better when you take care of him.

Yandere! Mobster who eventually runs out of luck and straight into trouble. What was supposed to be a routine whiskey delivery turns out to be a sting operation.

Yandere! Mobster who sees his partner get a hole blasted right through him and almost die. Who fires at the cops until his tommy gun is red hot and smoking. Who ends up with so much blood on his hands he ain't sure it will ever wash off.

Yandere! Mobster who finds himself at your door afterwards, his coat drenched by the rain.

Yandere! Mobster who doesn't resist when you pull him inside and strip away his jacket and shirt. There's blood on your hands after you hang up his coat, and you pretend not to notice it.

Yandere! Mobster who can see your curiosity fighting against your sense. In the end, you don't ask him a single question about it.

Yandere! Mobster who sinks gratefully into the bath you draw for him. And who falls asleep the second his head hits your pillow.

Yandere! Mobster who's gone by morning. His bloodstained coat gone with him.

Yandere! Mobster who asks around about you and finds out you've got a whole score of fellas vying for your hand.

Yandere! Mobster who let's it be known that he's interested in you and watches with satisfaction as all your potential suitors drop away.

Except for one. He just spits and says you're a grown woman and can choose your own man.

Yandere! Mobster and his buddies pick the guy up after a late shift. Tie his hands behind his back and gag him before they toss him in the trunk.

Yandere! Mobster who beats the shit out of him. Who breaks his nose with a knuckle duster and his ribs with a crowbar. Who grabs his hair with bloody fingers and hisses that you're off limits.

Yandere! Mobster whose buddies lounge against the warehouse wall and smoke, never bothering to question what a simple dock worker did to deserve such a brutal beating.

Yandere! Mobster who sniffs your hair when you hug him. He's like a dog - always making sure other men haven't left their scent on you.

Yandere! Mobster who let's his hands wander when he takes you out dancing. Who kisses you goodnight and let's his lips brush your neck before he pulls away.

Yandere! Mobster who goes home and jerks off to you, his teeth bared and head bent forward. Who snarls at you to take it, take it like a good girl.

Yandere! Mobster who tells his don about you - how pretty you are, how clever, how discreet. The man leans back in his chair and pulls on his cigar.

She'll never make a liar of you. You should marry her just for that.

Yandere! Mobster who shows up at your door a week later, an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket.

Be my girl. And I promise I'll take care of you.

You think about the night he came to you covered in blood and not speaking a word. You think about your friend from the docks and the way he dissappeared. You think about the way people look away when you're with him in public.

You say yes, as though you have a choice.

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [THINGS THEY SAY DURING 'IT'] ¡! ❞ @ - Part 1.

TW: MDNI - NSFW, sexual themes obviously lol

SUMMARY: Title :)

CHARACTERS: Aether Albedo Al-Haitham Ayato Baizhu Capitano Childe Cyno Dainsleif Diluc Dottore Freminet & Gorou x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.044

A/N: idk just a random new idea, watch me get more and more unserious with every character you pass

Aether

❝Agh-...shit...❞ - he holds back his sounds as he moans and curses into his hand

❝ Mh-no, like that, yeah...move like that...good❞ - he bites his lip as his lust drowned eyes stare up at you, holding your thighs tight for stability

❝Slower?...okay❞ - speeds up with a slight laugh, stopping seconds later to slow down again

Albedo

❝This spot? Yeah?...knew it...❞ - it's rare for you to see him smug, but that smirk he will give you when he finds out his guess was right is something else

❝Hold still for me...yes?❞ - he pushes your thighs apart, settling down comfortably between them as he dives in

❝Some interesting sounds you make...❞ - and he will carve them into his mind. When you're away he will remember them, will miss them, miss you and everything about you

Al-Haitham

❝Keep quite...❞ - there's no harshness in his words, just slight desperation as he breaths those words in your ear as he fucks you on the couch in his shared house with Kaveh, while he is asleep in his room

❝Tell me what you want...come on, you can do it. Speak up.❞ - sometimes the way he talks to you is infuriating, like he's talking to a stupid child. It not only embarrasses you when he speaks so teasingly, it makes you angry, frustrated, and maybe a bit turned on

❝If you can't watch your hands i won't watch my teeth.❞ - you tugged on his precious hair, so he can't help but tease you even more as he eats you out

Ayato

❝Mmm...yeah...❞ - he's rather quite, Ayato hums more, right in your ear with such a disgusting smirk because he knows any sound he does will drive you wild

❝Don't overestimate yourself, hm?❞ - he always says the same as you sink down on him. He knows exactly that his tip just puts too much pressure on your cervix. He might tease you, but he doesn't want to hurt you

❝I got you...don't worry, i got you...❞ - while you come down from your high...did he came himself? No, but it's okay. You're his number 1 priority

Baizhu

❝So...warm...❞ - no matter how many times you two have sex, your warmth will always overwhelm him

❝Shh...you don't know who might come in.❞ - he doesn't take many risks but god he can't hold himself back when you help him out in Bubu Pharmacy

❝I'll take care of it...don't worry.❞ - look, he's a doctor, a people pleaser and helper, ofc he only takes care of you and not of himself

Capitano

❝Take it slow, theres no rush.❞ - says the big guy with the prettiest cock and he doesn't even know it

❝Do you need a break? No?...heh...alright then...❞ - proceeds to rearrange your guts

❝What did i tell you?❞ - he means please, tell him please, ask nicely with manners like he taught you

Childe

❝Naww, someones needy huh? It went riiight in, with no problem.❞ - I bet you can practically hear and see the smug look on this abominations face

❝Look baby i don't wanna hurt you, yeah? You need to tell me when i go too hard.❞ - just a little nice check in for him. He wants to make sure you know you are always free to tell him off, he doesn't want to force himself on and in you

❝Good? Hah-ah-...yeah...thought so...❞ - sometimes the smugness will flatter, especially once he's close...you don't know who enjoys it more, him or you

Cyno

❝You hear that?...Thats you...❞ - he pumps his fingers in and out of you, slow and fast, changing pace. But no matter how fast or slow, he absolutely loves when you're as wet as you can get

❝Are you certain that you really want th-! Ouch why'd you slap me-❞ - he always asks the same, over and over again, it's nice that he keeps asking for your consent but at this point it annoys you like...bro you already been between my legs for like 30mins I had enough time thinking about it

❝Where?...ah-quick tell me-❞ - whenever he doesn't wear a condom and realistically...I don't think condoms exist in genshin lol

Dainsleif

❝So desperate...it's almost cute.❞ - he knows it's basically a long distance relationship considering he's almost never there. That's what makes it even "better" for him when you two see each other. He can't help but tease

❝Calm down, we're not in a rush.❞ - basically the first, same vibe, call me lazy lol

❝Still...gh-taking it so well...❞ - uhhh yeah we have a theme here

Diluc

❝You look cold...i could warm you up...❞ - sometimes him being smooth works, sometimes not, and sometimes he just sounds like a cheaper version of himself (Batman)...or sometimes he does what Kaeya says-

❝Where's the 'please'?❞ - he's so well mannered it's scary, so he expects the same for you too. Say please and thank you

❝Maybe if you would've behaved like I told you to, we wouldn't be here right now.❞ - he says it so calm as he fucks you against the cold stone wall behind Angels share in the middle of the night where any drunken idiot could see...or the patrols...that are very much sober (hopefully???)

Dottore

❝Hm? This? Oh, thats just for documentation.❞ - he records your voice...he literally studies your reactions and change in voice.

❝I won't tell you again, hold still.❞ - he isn't scared of tying you up at all so either hold still or be held still

❝...hm...you're too quite...❞ - he literally wants the Tsaritsa to hear like???

Freminet

❝Ngh-h-hey-calm down or else-!❞ - WE LOBE SUB BOYS, I WANNA HEAR YOU SCREAM, WE LOVE SUB BOYS

❝This is...new...yeah...❞ - he's a explorer but he also wants to be explored sksksksksk

❝So-warm-!❞ - uhm...self explanatory. When he enters you it's warm lol

Gorou

❝Wdym I'm in heat AGAIN?!❞ - he can't help but not be horny like?? Have you seen yourself??

❝Agh-...i tried to br gentle but you just-❞ - no self control, smh

❝Right there? See...told you i won't forget.❞ - he's eating you out, and still remembers your most sensitive spots like it's craved in his mind...because it is